Going Camping...

He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things 

which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has." 

- Epictetus

This is one of my favorite quotes when I'm missing Peanut.


I can't speak for any other birthmothers or people who have experienced a traumatic loss, but I feel like I spend my life in one of two places: feeling the pain of my loss very acutely, or feeling almost numb to it because it's fullness is too great to bear. Neither of these places make me feel like I'm living fully in myself; one makes me so devastated it's hard to function, and the other leaves me feeling like I'm not fully appreciating and loving my son. 


My challenge lately has been to camp right in between these places: to truly acknowledge my loss, and simultaneously rejoice for what I have. To understand that my son is not my own, but also that he never has been. To know that in my unhappiness over losing him, there is great joy in having given him life. To remember, once again, that the deal I made with myself and with God was that I would handle the heartache if it meant Peanut wouldn't have to. 


I hate to challenge Epictetus (because, really, who am I??), but I think, at least when it comes to loss, grief has an important role to play. The grief is my evidence of the depth of my love for Peanut, the reminder of the sacrifice, and the outlet for my sadness. To live in grief forever would be counter-productive, but to never visit? That seems equally unhelpful. And the rejoicing...the happiness is my evidence of the depth of my love for Peanut, the fruit of the sacrifice, and the outlet for my gratitude. While living here forever has sounded nice, I have found that it acknowledges only half of my experience. To never visit grief is to deny part of the truth of what Peanut and I went through, and life cannot be really lived unless it is lived in truth. 


I guess what I'm saying is that I think Epictetus has it mostly right. When I'm stuck in grief, this quote helps remind me that I have a lot to rejoice about. But I think he would agree that grief has its place, too, when it acts as an outlet for true pain and sorrow.


So wish me luck, I'm going camping : )

Goals...

November is the month that Aims (Community College) told me that they would let me know if I made it into their radiology tech program. This is a big goal for me and I really want to get in, which is making November go by v.e.r.y. s.l.o.w.l.y. But, it has given me a lot of time to think about some of the other goals I have in my life.

To be clear, I am not a goal-oriented person. At least, I'd never thought of myself as one until I got pregnant. Making sure the Peanut was well-cared for and happy became my most important goal and I am so grateful that I was able to accomplish it. It also made me realize that I want to be the kind of person who my son can look at and, I dearly hope, be proud of. And THAT started to change the way I thought about my goals, or at least the big ones. So I went back to school this summer and took all the pre-requisite classes for the program I wanted, submitted my application the first day I was able to, and then sat back and have been waiting ever since. Accomplishing that goal didn't feel hard; I didn't love spending every waking moment working, being in class, or studying, but I was happy to do it for the bigger thing it was accomplishing. That goal? Not my hardest.

The goals that I really struggle with are the day-to-day goals. And, oddly enough, they are the ones that (with the exception of 'get married' and 'spontaneously acquire the ability to please all of the people, all of the time')are entirely dependent on my own behavior. For example: Exercise more. All I have to do to accomplish that goal is, well, exercise more. For some reason, though, this goal seems huge, daunting, and completely impossible. Mostly because I really dislike exercising. But huge, daunting, and completely impossible, nonetheless. Making sure Peanut was taken care of was a big goal, and a really important one. Getting myself back to school was a big goal, and a really important one. So why do I struggle with the smaller goals that are entirely within my power?

I don't actually know the answer to this, but what I do know is that I don't want to be the same person that I was before I got pregnant. I want to be a different person; a bigger person (and not just because of my apparent inability to exercise). I'm learning to see self-discipline, especially in the areas that make me want to cross my arms and pout, as a building block to becoming more than I currently am. To see that even if it feels like a small, frustrating goal the greater good that it is accomplishing is worth it. To see my goals as opportunities, period; not opportunities for failure. This change of attitude is, not surprisingly, slow going, but I'm finding hope in it. The big goals I have accomplished were inspired by Peanut and, in turn, the hope that I can be more than what I am. Seeing my little goals in that light make me want to do a good job, not bemoan the fact that I have to work at all. 

SO, to that end, I have made a (small) goal for next week:

In the interest of good nutrition and smart budgeting, I am going to bring my lunch to work with me every single day. And eat it.

And it will be awesome : )

Dear Peanut...

You are the mother,

The mother of your baby child,

The one to whom you gave life.

And you have your choices,

And these are what make man great,

His ladder to the stars.
-"Timshel," Mumford & Sons

Days Go By...

(I have been encouraged by my doctor to blog, as he thinks it is therapeutic for me. This summer has been busy, however, with school, moving back in with my parents, and work, and somehow blogging fell by the wayside. However, as it is 12:08 a.m. and I am desperately in need of a little therapy, here goes...)

My Peanut is now 14 months old and is doing all kinds of things that little boys do. He's walking, playing with trucks (and making the cutest little buzzing sound when he does!), and...talking. I am surprised at how hard this latest milestone has been for me to accept. Part of it (well, all of it) is because he's saying "Mommy." And every time I think of that, I hate myself a little bit because he's not saying it to ME, and I'm the reason he's not. Don't get me wrong, I know he's in a great place; I know he has everything he could ever need and more than he could ever want. The problem is that I don't get to have him. The problem is that sometimes I miss him so much I can't breathe. The problem is that now I can't sleep because I can't stop thinking about him.

The problem is that I did the right thing.

Mostly that's what it feels like. I know that I did the right thing, for the right reasons, for the right people, but sometimes it feels like the worst thing I could have ever done. Tonight is one of those times. I miss my little boy, and I want him here with me. And that is that plain, albeit selfish, truth. The guilt of feeling like this, by the way, just compounds the grief. I should be, and am in all reality, unspeakably grateful for my son's adoptive family and for his happiness, health, and safety. But tonight I just feel like it's not fair that he's all of those things in someone else's house. I want him to be happy, healthy, and safe, and sleeping in MY arms...

I don't feel like this all the time. In fact, most of time, I can "self-soothe" with the best of them. Instead of wishing that MY life looked different with Peanut in it, I am usually grateful that HIS life is so happy, even if that means I'm not with him. I am so blessed to be the mother of such a precious little guy... sometimes I just get jealous that so many other people get to be so special to him. 

But this was the deal I made with myself when I decided to give Peanut up for adoption: I would deal with whatever messiness came with the adoption in exchange for him not having to deal with any of the messiness that would have come from me keeping him. And since the messiest his life has been so far has been when he's dumped his toys all over the floor, I know I made the right choice. And so, even when it's that last thing I feel capable of doing, I will choose to be happy about that : )

Happy Birthday, Peanut!

"You are invited to the festival of this world,

and your life is blessed."

-Rabindranath Tagore

The Graduates...

I was driving home from Castle Rock today and thinking about a graduation party I would later be attending. It was fun to think about the graduate: excited that she's finally finished with high school, about to embark on a life that she is more able to call Her Own, ready to do Something... and I started wishing I could recapture those feelings I had when I graduated from high school. Those anticipations are exciting, but I think we've all found ourselves getting bogged down in the 'exciting life' we've created for ourselves post-graduation. This got me thinking: Why can't I feel like that more often? What's stopping me? If I've learned anything over this last year, and good Lord I hope that I have, it's that we 'graduate' from life's experiences all the time. We made it through a tough project at work...graduation. We resolve an argument with a loved one...graduation. We keep our cool when we really want to lose it...graduation. When I make it through something like this, I would like to feel grateful that I made it through, a little wiser for it, and more prepared for what comes next. In other words, I would like to feel like a graduate. I want to have a little party in my mind, say "Good job, Julie!" and eat a cupcake in honor of myself. But this is not my gut reaction. My gut reaction is to be frustrated at the situation, worried that I didn't do well enough, and anxious that it will happen again. This makes me think about what I've been learning lately about the power of Intentional Thinking; that is, realizing that our thoughts do not control us, we control them. It sounds so simple, but I think this is my biggest obstacle in this area. Intentional thinking can stop us from reverting to what feels instinctual and teach us to replace it with something else. It can teach us to say "Yay!" instead of "Ugh..." and to pat ourselves on the back instead of slapping ourselves on the wrist. It's not easy, of course, and it's not quick (if it were, believe me, I would be an expert - I am AWESOME at things that are easy and quick!), but it has the potential to save me from boatloads of anxiety (Yes. My anxiety is such that it is most accurately measure in boatloads). It has the potential to make me feel excited not only about what I have already accomplished, but about the new things I will now be able to accomplish as a result. Just the thought of feeling that I've surmounted something instead of it surmounting me is enough to motivate me. So this is my goal: to hear Pomp and Circumstance each time I walk away from a challenge!

Please excuse me while I go work on changing my perspective...and get myself a cupcake : )

Mother's Day...

I would like to wish a very happy (and early) Mother's Day to all my friends who are mothers! Each one of you has tackled motherhood and its various challenges with a love and commitment that I hope to emulate.

This past Sunday I got to see my Peanut. I have to say: I am in awe of him. I'm sure all mothers feel this way (at least, I hope they do!), but I think seeing him so infrequently gives me the advantage of not getting used to that feeling. Every time I see him I am amazed and grateful all over again. This visit, however, had a bittersweet quality to it. When I arrived he had just woken up from his nap and was getting his diaper changed. I walked into his room as his mom walked out to fix him a bottle. He looked past me, out the door and started crying for his mommy. My heart just about broke as I realized that the mommy my son was crying for wasn't me. And yet, this was exactly what I hoped for when I gave him. My goal, since before he was born, was that his birth father and I would be happy extra's in Peanut's life, never essentials. But seeing that... seeing that is a very different feeling. But the rest of what I got to see that afternoon and evening more than made up for my sadness. I got to see Peanut crawl around, stand up, eat Cheerios, take a bath, and play peek-a-boo! I also got to see how hard his mom works to provide a happy, stable and loving life for Peanut and his big sister.

His mom works part time, and spends the rest of her time with her kids. She's an amazing mother: she bakes with her three-year-old daughter, plays pretend, cooks, cleans, reads, watches more kids movies than any mother should ever have to, and loves loves loves on her kids. She changes diapers, cleans up 'accidents,' and has washed chocolate syrup, eye shadow, and countless other substances out of her carpets (and her daughter's bedroom!). She is patient, kind, and endlessly loving. She is as much in awe of Peanut as I am, and believe me, that's not an easy thing to be. She is a mother who deserves far more than one day of recognition!

My own mother is another one of those. The mother that raised me is very similar to the one who is raising Peanut. We played Ice Cream Shop on the basement stairs, Barbie's, Cooking Show, and Play-Doh. As I got older she gave me invaluable advice about dating, friends, school, work... everything. She has taught me so much about what faith is, and who God is. She's the first one I want to call when I've had a good day or a bad day. She, more than anyone in my life, has doubled my joys and halved my sorrows. I owe every good decision I've ever made to the guidance she and my father gave me growing up, and I owe every narrow miss of a mistake to her wise advice. I am very grateful for her.

So, to all mothers out there... thank you for what you do! I know mother's who are struggling with everything from their children's devastating health problems to the devastating choices their teenage and adult children have made, yet they have all decided that their love is greater than their fear or frustration. They have chosen to love even when they weren't sure what that would look like; they have chosen to believe that even the injustice's they have been dealt are a worthy price to pay for being a parent; they have been brave, understanding, exhausted, frustrated, and heroic. Mothers, you deserve far more than a day for the lifetime you have spent, or will spend, doing what you do. I hope I get the chance to be a mother again; thanks to you I have a lot of women in my life to learn from, and a very high standard to live up to!

Happy Mother's Day!

: )