Giving Thanks

I can't turn on my computer, phone, or tv without seeing a list of things that people are thankful for this time of year. 

I have many many things to be thankful for, and not just because Thanksgiving is later this week. But hey, if people want the list now, then now they shall get it.

I am thankful for my family and friends. Duh. Of course I am thankful for them. But if I want people to read my words, I need to find a way to make my list different from the rest. So here goes.

I am thankful for my sense of humor that allows me to get through the darkest of days. I am also thankful that Miranda recently said I was the funniest person she knows. Even funnier than her uncles. That is a major win.

I am thankful for the Weight Watchers app which has taught me (AGAIN) how to eat properly and take care of myself with correct nutrition and has assisted me with becoming the person I want to be.

I am thankful for the people that listen to my stories and want to hear about both of my daughters.

I am thankful that Miranda is enjoying kindergarten and has such a passion for learning. I am also so glad that her teacher just invited me to come in during Hanukkah to teach her class about the holiday and hand out dreidels.

I am thankful that we joined a synagogue this year and that Miranda sees it as a safe place where she can learn and sing and be free. 

I am thankful for the way my husband looks at me.

I am thankful that I found a job this year that is way more than a "job". WAY more.

I am thankful for each and every butterfly that I see that reminds me of Allie.

I am thankful for our two new kitty cats which have brought such joy and light into our home. (I am not as thankful for vet bills and kitty litter).

I am thankful for people sharing their stories and lives with me. What an honor.

I am thankful that I am so loved.

Take a few moments this week to think about what matters most to you. Then give thanks. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

First snow!

Visiting Allie's Creek

Adoption In My Heart

Today was the Adoptions From The Heart Annual Picnic. We love this event. It is close to our house, it is early enough in the summer that it's not too hot, and it is a wonderful place for Miranda to see other kids like her. Adopted kids.

We have never shied away from using the word adoption in our house. We have read books, colored pictures, and even "adopted" a toy puppy for Hanukkah one year. We have explained how adoption works and how families are formed by love first, and genetics second. She has never questioned anything we have told her about how families come to be, and I thought we were handling it very well.

Until Miranda asked me recently what it was like being in my belly.

Uh oh.

Then she put a ball up her dress and said, "Look! I am a mommy now, too!"

Yikes.

Then, the icing on the cake at lunch on Friday.  Miranda looked at me with a mouth of grilled cheese and asked, "Mommy, did I hurt you when I came out?"

Crap.

Gary and I decided it was time to have "the talk". We had been talking about it for months now. We knew the day of the AFTH picnic would be as good a time as any.

We sat Miranda on the couch and took a seat on either side of her. We began by telling her how much we loved her. Then we reminded her that we were going to a picnic today that celebrates adoption. We asked her if she remembered what adoption meant. She shook her head no. So we said it is a word that means families are formed in lots of ways. 

In a brief sentence or two, we told her that after Allie died, we couldn’t get another baby in my belly. So we found M who already had one, but was unable to do everything she wanted for her baby. So she picked us to be Miranda’s parents. We all met before Miranda was born and decided that mommy and daddy would be the ones to be the parents of this little baby. We brought her home from the hospital, and she’s been ours ever since. 

That was pretty much it. I said something about how M will always be in her life, and if she has any questions, she can ask her or she can ask us. And it did not have to be today - it can be whenever she thinks of them.

Exhale. 

Miranda simply smiled. Gary asked if we could all get hugs. Miranda happily complied. And that was that.

The foundation has been set. At the picnic, we made sure to point out that many of the children there were adopted. She seemed more interested in the ice cream truck, to be honest.

I think we are over one hurdle, but I am not sure what obstacles are still going to be in our way.

I hope that as long as we are open and honest with each other, we will be able to face anything.

I love being Miranda's mom. I know how lucky I am that I get to be the one she turns to, day in and day out. I know Gary loves being a dad - her dad - more than he ever thought possible. Here's to hoping that our love is enough to answer her questions and settle any fears. After all, love is all you need, right?

Leaving My Mark

For as long as I can remember, I have always had this fear of not being remembered. I do not know how or why it was so important to me, but I never wanted to be forgotten. Who does?

Yesterday, my mom and I took Miranda to the local high school to see their spring musical, Fiddler on the Roof. While that high school will not be the one that my daughter attends, it was the one that I went to many many years ago. 

Miranda was excited to see where her mommy and uncles used to go to school. It's much bigger than her school (after all, it has a pool and a planetarium), but she was not too overwhelmed. She liked walking the hallowed halls and looking at the lockers and was very worried about where the students ate their snacks. Then we walked her into the back of the auditorium where my name was displayed on a plaque stating that I was the "Best Actress" for my senior year. There it was. In wood and bronze. Proof that I was to be remembered.

I have a lot of happy high school memories. Many of them were on that stage. I can close my eyes and still smell the costumes, the paint from the sets, the blisters on my feet and the nervousness in my stomach. I can feel the stage lights on my face and the feeling that washed over me when the audience responded to my different characters.

Some nights, before the curtain would open, I would reach up as high as I could and put my fingerprint on something that I thought might not get wiped down right away and therefore serve as proof that I was there. That became something I did whenever I would go somewhere new. I used to try to leave my invisible mark as a sign that I was there. In my old dorm rooms. In the house I lived in during my college years. In my first apartment. Before selling my first car. I never used ink or anything permanent. I just had hopes that if someone wanted to know I was there, they could somehow see my fingerprint and know.

I did not do it in the hospital after I delivered Allie. I am not sure I ever did it after she was born. I have often said that her death changed me. Not all of the change was good. Her death took away my innocence and naivete, and it was not until I was in my old high school yesterday that my old tradition came back to me.

The thing is, I have finally come to terms with the fact that I will be remembered. I have been fortunate enough to impact and be impacted by so many people. Most recently, I have chosen to go back to work in a field that directly lets me help others, thereby solidifying that I will not be forgotten.

So if you see me reaching up high and pressing my index finger upon a surface, simply smile and let me be me. 

Here's to leaving our mark!

4 Days Till 7

My Dearest Allie,

Your birthday is this weekend, and yet we have no party planned, no presents purchased, no outfits picked out. Somehow, you would be seven years old on Sunday. I cannot wrap my brain around that. 

I just witnessed your cousin Ella turn the same age. She was born two weeks before you, you know. You two were supposed to be the best of friends. Well, your sister has made sure that the strong bond of friendship is there so don't you worry about that! They are adorably close, and Miranda idolizes her.

Speaking of Miranda, I like to think that you are someplace watching over her, but I will fill you in on her activities nonetheless. She just turned five, and we had a super fun party at Chuck E. Cheese. Miranda was glowing with all the attention that she got, and there was so much love in that room. Many of our family and friends were there to celebrate her, and she loved every second.

Your little sister is heading to kindergarten in the Fall! How can that be? I was not my best when I went to register her. I was feeling your absence pretty strongly, and kind of yelled and huffed and puffed when they told me I needed forms I didn't have. Oops. I guess even at my age, I am still learning appropriate versus inappropriate behavior. 
 
We are gearing up for the "adoption" talk. Miranda commented Grammy last weekend about growing in my belly, so we know it's time to really explain what adoption is and not just use the word here and there. I do not anticipate that it will be a hard conversation. The bottom line is that after you died, we knew we still wanted to be parents, and so we found the best way to do that. It's remarkable if you think about it.

Selfishly, I wish you were here to help us tell her. But then I wonder if she would be here at all if you were still here?

Daddy is doing well. He was traveling a lot for work, but that seems to have slowed down a bit. I am glad because we work well as a trifecta and I do not like it when he is not here. Your daddy thinks I am strong, but truth be told, he is what keeps me going some days. Lots of days.

Everyone else is also good. But I suspect you know that.

My new job is not so new anymore, but Allie, it's great! It's super fulfilling, and I feel like I am making a difference. It's nice to be in the non-profit sector again. For me, if feels more about the work than the bottom line. I fit in there, and I look forward to going in three days a week. I know, crazy, huh?

Well, the weather around here has been really off for April, so I am not sure how we are going to celebrate you on Sunday. If the rain and cold stay away, we will visit your tree. Miranda wanted to go to a playground and laugh and have fun on your birthday, and I have no issue with that! Maybe we will pack a picnic lunch. We will probably also release some balloons at the end of the day so be sure to look for them.

Alright, my sweet girl. It's time for me to go. I do not talk directly to you too much anymore because it hurts my heart, even after all this time. Today, though, you were exactly what I needed.

Allie, I love you more. I always will.

Love,
Mama 

All You Need Is Love

For most of my life, I hated February 14th. It seemed the whole world was celebrating love and I had nothing to celebrate. My dad had left. I didn't date much in high school. My prom date was gay. I was destined to be alone and loveless forever.

Thank goodness we are not teenagers forever. As I got older, I became less melodramatic. I would protest Valentine's Day by buying up all the leftover chocolate the day after the holiday and devour my feelings with the buttercream.  It worked...until it didn't.

Eventually, my dad and I reconciled. He would send me a big bouquet of flowers every year, and if he was in town, we would go to dinner. He tried to make up for the lost years and sometimes it even worked. 

Then I met Gary.  Just like that, Valentine's Day took on new meaning. I saw it for the true Hallmark holiday that it was, but I did not care because I had love in my life! (And sometimes diamonds).

Then we got pregnant. And just like that, I knew the love I had for my unborn baby far surpassed any other kind of love I had ever known.

And then she died. Before I had a chance to say hello. Before I had a chance to tell her how much I loved her. Luckily, she could feel it for those 37 weeks. I have to believe she could feel it as she grew so close to my heart when she was alive.

Once our hearts were mended and we were open to the possibility of parenting again, we were rewarded with the best gift ever. My daughter who was born from our love, if not from our bodies, has taught us both about unconditional love. A love that I never knew existed until she was placed in my longing arms.

This morning, before the sun came up, I raced downstairs to get the balloon I purchased for Miranda. I wanted it to be the first thing she saw when she woke up. I gave her a card from mommy and daddy that appropriately had a big rainbow on the front and lots of little hearts on the inside. In a few hours, I will march proudly into her school and help her hand out her cards and cookies and lollipops and celebrate this day with her and remind her, as I do every day, that I love her to the moon and back and to all the places along the way.

I am blessed to have so much love in my life. I am honored to be able to return much of that love. I wish I had not spent so many years thinking that love was out of my grasp. Maybe, though, love is that much sweeter since I waited for it extra long? 

Happy Valentine's Day. Here's to appreciating all kinds of love and never taking any of it for granted. Here's to no longer dreading February 14th!

 

Living in the Present; Remembering the Past

Gary is traveling for business this week. Today he is in The Netherlands and tomorrow he will be in Sweden and Norway. We have certainly been apart before, but never for this length of time. He will not be home until Saturday night.

Our house is off balance without him here. The three of us work in such harmony that when one of us is gone for any extended amount of time, we feel it. A lot.

I often say that I barely remember what life was like before Miranda. I remember the raw grief and gut-wrenching pain of Allie’s death, do not misunderstand. In many ways, though, that seems like another lifetime. This lifetime feels like it belongs to Miranda. 

Today I was trying to remember what life was like before Gary. We will be married eight years in May and together for ten years in October. So I went to my memoir, which is so hard to write that it is taking FOREVER, and saw this excerpt. I felt it was appropriate to share now.

_____

I am not sure how many frogs you have to kiss before you meet your prince. I kissed my share. And I did more with a few others that I really should not have done. After many diets, I finally felt positive about myself, and I was ready to share my life with someone. I was in my thirties by this point, and I felt like a late bloomer. I had a good job. I had my own place. I was ready! Many of my friends were married and starting families, and I wanted in on the fun. 

So I played pool and went bowling and met for drinks and agreed to dinners. I went on online dates and blind dates and any date that came my way. One low point was sneaking out the back of a restaurant during one particularly awful date. I just kept at it, though…what other choice did I have?

One warm June night, I was sitting on the lap of a date, kissing my face off and thinking about how he wasn’t so unattractive if didn’t open my eyes. When we came up for air, my date asked me what kind of engagement ring I wanted. I got up and looked at him – really looked at him. He was a husky fellow, with a grease stain on his big and tall shirt, and beads of sweat forming on his brow. I silently banged my hand against my forehead. What was I doing???? Not to mention that he looked nothing like his online profile. I guess he used his Bar Mitzvah picture which was a good 15 years old. I wonder now if it was even in color? This guy was not what I wanted. Not now. Not ever. Maybe it was time to take a break from the dating world.
 _____

Gary and I started dating that Fall. It was all an accident, really. We were co-workers who went out for drinks to celebrate a recent job promotion. The rest is history.

I know how lucky I am. I really do. I found someone who is just as likely to laugh with me as he is to laugh at me. I hope I never take it for granted, although I am sure that I do. I hope that I do it less as more time goes by.

Four more days till he is home... 

The Seven Year Theory

At least a decade ago, I was introduced to the theory that your body shifts or changes every seven years or so. I can't remember how it related to me at the time, but it made a lot of sense to me then.

I was curious about it now, so I looked it up:

"Are you the same person now that you were fifteen years ago? In fact, are you the same person you were just seven years ago? Most of us have heard the old saying that every cell in the body is changed over a period of seven years; but recent investigation has uncovered facts of far more significance to us as human beings. This concerns the emotional, physical and mental changes that seem to occur in approximate seven-year intervals. Of course there are no fixed boundaries and so one may achieve these levels of maturity at any period of our life." Credit: Tony Crisp

So why am I thinking about this theory now? It's simple. Allie would be seven this April.

Something has shifted or changed in me over the past few months. Although I miss my first baby so much, I also feel like I need to let her go a little bit. I do not want to live in my grief anymore. I am taking a step back from publishing articles about stillbirth and loss. I want to move forward and stop standing still.

Is that the changing of my cells talking or my heart? Or both?

The recovery from my surgical procedure from last month has been much more intense than I anticipated. I have spent a lot of time sleeping and healing and reflecting and what I realized was that despite my best intentions, I spend a lot of time mourning the past or anxiously awaiting the future.

My family has always been my first priority. Lately, though, I feel more present when I am with them. Forcing myself to slow down helped me take a focused look around. That's what happens when you can't drive for over a week!

To quote Dear Evan Hansen which I saw last week in New York City, "No one deserves to be forgotten. No one deserves to fade away." Allie will not be forgotten. Not by me. Not by her dad. Not by her sister. And not by anyone that loves us. I think it's time to trust that love.

For example, in New York last week, I thought a lot of my dad. He loved that city and called it home for a good number of years. The sounds, smells, and energy all made him feel alive. I always shared that passion with him. I have not hidden the fact that my dad was a flawed man. A hurtful man, even. But I felt connected with him last week as the taxi cabs whizzed by us. I trusted the love that we did share and knew it would be there for me when I needed it. As suddenly as I felt him, I also felt him slip away. He is not forgotten. He has not faded away. If anything, the negativity of him has, leaving behind just the good.

I just turned 44 on Sunday. While that is not a derivative of seven, I feel a shift in my soul as well. Part of it is from the surgery. Part of it is that my daughter is heading to Kindergarten next year and I see this chapter of our lives closing and the next chapter getting ready to be written. Part of it is just the passage of time. 

I am excited about the future. I am even more excited for the present. It truly is a gift.

Souvenirs from NYC. No one deserves to be forgotten.

Love Makes a Family

Before we adopted our daughter, I knew a fair amount about adoption. I have a step-brother who was adopted, a cousin who was adopted, and my best friend from childhood was also adopted. Adoption was not a bad word or an uncommon word, and I learned from an early age that families are made in a variety of ways.

The foster care system, though, is something I know very little about. I did not know anyone who had come up through the foster care system. All of that changed earlier this year.

I have family that is going through the motions of (hopefully) adopting two brothers through foster care. These are adorable, passionate, fun-spirited, and energetic children.

Circumstances led them to where they are now, and it is hard to see the hoops that they have to jump through just to be placed in a loving home. It’s equally as hard to see the adults have to suffer in silence because their needs come after the needs of the children and the biological family.

Since my daughter is adopted, I know first-hand how difficult it can be to raise a child who came from someone else’s body. We have an open adoption and at each bi-annual visit, I have such anxiety in making sure everything goes well that I drive my husband crazy. Our daughter is four and a half years old. I know I am on borrowed time before I have to explain who her birth mother is and then have to brace myself for what my daughter wants to call her. Ultimately, it is her choice, and I hope that we are raising her to be accepting and to have room in her heart for all the people that love her.

We signed up for all of this when we decided to have an open adoption. We have a great support system and a pretty good relationship with our daughter’s birth mother. We all have the best interest of our little girl at heart, and I have confidence that everything will continue to go as well as it has these past four and a half years.

In the foster care system, the rules are different. From what I understand, the birth family is not as present, and it is not always their decision to place the child or children. There can be resentment and ill will. The best needs of the child can easily get buried under paperwork and bureaucracy. Any joy that the foster parents feel in becoming parents falls to the bottom of the pile of emotions. I have witnessed the children being confused as to what to call the foster parents. Mom and Dad seems disrespectful to the parents they know, and yet Miss and Mister seems formal for the people that have taken you in, clothed you, fed you and loved you.

In foster care, there are so many elements that need to be met before the child is placed permanently. Often the biological parents are still involved and maybe even resentful that foster parents are raising the child or children that the state decided they could not raise themselves.

While you are fostering a child, you can’t brag about that child on social media because the child is often split between the home they knew and the home in which they have been placed. It can be months or years before the courts decide what is best for the child. In that time, their lives are in flux. It’s stressful and complicated at a time in their lives where normal, everyday childhood events can also be a burden.

I am naïve just to want kids that need homes to be placed with the adults that can provide them. I know I am, and yet I want it still. I want every child to know the feeling of a safe and loving home, and it makes me so frustrated that is not the case.

I grew up in a far from perfect home, but I always knew I was safe and loved and wanted and that I would always have what I needed. I want all kids to feel the same way.

I am not trying to take on the foster care system. There are many out there who know way more about it than me. I just see two people that want to be parents and two boys that need to be parented, and I wish the road was easier for them all that it appears to be.

Love makes a family – pure and simple. Adoption and foster care exist so that there are homes for all children that need them. Love is the common bond that families share. If only we could use love alone to build all families. Instead, we have to rely on the systems that are in place and hope that they are enough. My fingers are crossed.