My journey with adoption as a birth-first mother has transformed my life so much. It has changed my ability to love. I say it but truly mean it that when I saw Phoenix for the first time, and his red hair stuck up in a million directions that my heart grew.

It has changed my capacity to love people in terrible situations but also I think made me more opinionated about certain things. Like life, and choosing life. Knowing what he did for me by simply being a squirmy lovely newborn I grew miles from a self centered and delusional girl. I had to make a decision and I did.

Sometimes I wonder what he would be like if he had stayed mine. It scares me, considering the lifestyle I was living, and the lack of structure I had. Yet the sometimes never lead me back to regret about placing. “I Gave You All” is a song by Mumford and Sons.  The song is slightly reminiscent of regret, but for me, it’s my adoption song.

I would like to add some lyrics when the pain arises and I don’t know what else to do but cry, like;

I would do it for you again,

I’ll always be there when you’re ready,

whenever you need me I won’t run away,

I didn’t run away, I ran forward.

Of course lyrically those ideas would not work, but you get the idea. Yeah it hurts and sometimes birth parents feel regret etc, but our love, speaking from knowing some powerful and wonderful women in my life, our love for our children is with us.

We never forget.

In fact it became part of the foundation of who I am today. The strength it took to place willingly has given me a powerful perspective in my life. I have been through worse. I know what grief is, so while I may be grieving in a sense the loss of a relationship, I am so much more powerful and alive then I was 5 years ago.

Sometimes the hardest experiences make us stronger, but in the process of growing stronger, we need to break apart the old. It was the best decision I could make at the time with what I had. Sometimes it is the only thing that consoles me, and sometimes it just reminds me that I am a better person, a stronger person, more loving, and I am not nearly as afraid of what the future holds.

Hang in there, and remember that you will be alright. Just keep swimming..

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I miss spring, flip flops and long hair. I miss waking up in my own apartment, living by my own rules. I miss my queen size mattress.

I also miss feeling important to someone, wanted even.  I miss the small hand clasped in mine as we walk down to the library, now that my oldest son’s hand is much bigger and he is much older. I miss reading “Guess How much I love you” and tucking my little boy into bed.

I miss, more then anything right now, the opportunities that are overwhelmingly available for those who choose to parent.

I do not miss the fear, not knowing where I would be living, and not knowing what would happen.

I have faith, hope and trust in God that he see’s my aching heart and that he fills it.

In placing Jimmy, as I have surely spoken of before, I gave those opportunities up. Yet, the effects of placing him, and knowing his well-being, his confidence, and his silliness bring me a smile that cannot compare. I know he is loved beyond measure, and adored. As part of his family , he brings joy and happiness to everyone around him.

I can’t help but smile when I think of him. His picture is a reminder of the love I have, the courage it took to place him, and the grace of God. Placing him nearly destroyed me, but because of it, I was reborn.

From the ashes and tears and sorrow have come joy that fuels me, and has also given me the faith that I am so much stronger then I think I am. Recently I was having a bad day and I was so angry and everything felt impossible. I was walking through a dark forest I call depression, and in a moment of sorrow I thought of the sorrow–true deep immovable grief that used to define my life.

I thought to myself “If I can get through that, I will overcome this!”

I don’t always want to compare my past  experiences, whatever they may be, but in this case I needed a simple reminder that the forest was nothing compared to the deep drowning sea of despair.

I ask myself now, in the midst of my trouble what can I change about the situation? Can I do or say anything that could make it better? If I can’t do anything with it at all, I give it up to God and deal with stuff as it comes. Life really is about choices, and how we choose to make decisions regarding those choices.

My goal is to live without regret, and be at peace with humanity. Love and respect people, even if they upset me and forgive even if they don’t deserve it. Not forgiving doesn’t do me a lick of good after all–it s like taking poison and expecting the other person to get sick.

So live well, love well, and have a great day everyone. I hope you find the peace and answers you need, and remember, you are not alone.

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Now if I haven’t talked about Jimmy before that is because Jimmy is my son whom I named Phoenix. Tara and husband and kids enjoyed the time we had together. I had a nice clean house to call home to host in, handed out presents and spent time with a curious little four year old who holds my heart so delicately in his hands that he doesn’t even know it’s there.

Jimmy and I played the piano together and he insisted that we sing Christmas carols together, namely only two, as that was all he knew. He insisted that I sit next to him and sing carols with him, and that we sing “jingle bells” and “Baby in a manger”.  He ate the frosting off of his cupcake and devoured any candy he could find. This brought a smile to my face and joy to my spirit…it may be one little thing but that kid is so much like me when I was a little girl.

We played with toys and he was a super silly kid, very fun to be around. I hadn’t seen him in two years so to see him and hear him person to person, well my soul felt nearly complete.

I came to a place of revelation this visit. The one he called mommy was not me, and I was Nellie…eventually he will know he is my birthson, and he will know that I love him, but for now I know two things.

1)I will never be his mommy, not in the sense I would like.

2)I always knew that, even if I never understood it before today.

I gave up those things years ago as I passed him into the nurses arms and let him go. When I placed him in the care of his parents, I said goodbye to being anymore then who I already am. I think the hard part about all this is that I never felt like I had a choice, even when I said I did. The options weren’t to care for him and raise him, not with my life the way it was. I am partly thankful for that, and part angry I didn’t try harder. I understand he is better with his family, and I chose this life for him, but in my heart I look at his pictures and see our son, not just the baby I placed lovingly into adoption.

Some have said, time heals all wounds. No, surely not. Four years after placing my son for adoption, I am stronger and have better coping mechanisms but I still cry for him, still long to hold his hand, still wonder what it is like to read a story to him at bedtime. I don’t have that time anymore with my oldest son, and I feel as though I never shall again.

I am looking at going back into counseling, and going to get better, be better then I ever was before. I want to believe that  God can heal my pain, heal all pain, if I let go more and more. I want to know how to look at a child his age and not think, “i wonder what he is doing right now?” .

I am sure I am not the only person in the world to think these thoughts, to think about the past in terms of a point of view skewed with what could best be described as regret or sadness..

I feel I have come to a place where I can look at the past I carry with me and feel strongly, that i did the best I could with what i had at the time.

Rumi once said, “Happiness is an inside job”. This has been a holiday season of overcoming for me, realizing how far I have come and where I want to go. I feel I need more then ever, an outside look on the inside of me, so maybe I can make some peace with the rest of my life, not just the birth mother part.

I hope this post doesn’t take away from the others I have written, I truly am happy for the choice I made, and blessed beyond measure, but my heart still aches. This has not changed, and a part of me believes it wont change, not for a very long time. Truth is, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Have a late happy Holidays everyone, and my heart is with all of the families out there, missing someone today..

With Love,

Nellie

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The writer in me jumped into high gear as my muse returned from whatever cold land she returned from.

How long had I been holding this wonderful feeling from myself?

The revelation struck my heart with joy; Life is a miracle.

As I revisited memories earlier this week, I was looking for the familiar pain to arise but the same grief I always seemed to write from wasn’t there. I personally consider that to be a huge milestone for me, and am grateful to God for the healing he is doing in me.

Life truly is a miracle. One little budding of cells changes the hormones and senses of a single woman. Her body aches, and she grows and sometimes even glows. I hated being pregnant in the beginning, but mainly for the uncertainty. My heart was torn in so many pieces and I felt so worthless and unwanted, yet within me, a child grew, cushioned and protected from the darker intents of my heart.

I languished in my pain instead of the miracle occurring inside of my whale like body. I embraced the fear instead of the joy. It was one of the hardest things in my life, letting my bio son go. Phoenix not only grew in my womb but in my heart. It took 9 long months for me to come to terms with the fact that this was really happening, and that I could do the hardest thing a mother could do.

I let go. The feelings I felt were a journey to themselves, as they reformed me, and everything I believed about who I was and who I wanted to become.

Today I felt anger creeping in, indignation, and doubt…and as I lay staring at the ceiling, it hit me between the eyes that because of the miracle of life, a family was made whole, even when my own was being torn asunder. When I chose life I chose to see the sky again.

In the hospital room, our time as mother and son was growing painfully short. That cold January day as I stood looking out the window I saw the brightest, most vibrant colors of blue. For the first time in months I saw the sky again, beautiful as the love I held cradled in my arms.

I do not regret my decision to place him for adoption and I thank God for the love that he brought back to my heart for my God, family, and friends. I can honestly say that today, I feel I am a different and better person.

I am alive and healing, and I feel alive. Life  is not always pleasant but in this moment of perfect clarity and hopeful outlook, I thank the Lord for his transforming power in my life, and the gift of life and miracle my son is.

Grief can hold you back and keep you captive or you can move forward, and in the moments you feel the sorrow creeping in, you feel it. You embrace it and let it go. You tell it the truth–that yes it hurts but it was worth the cost and you are stronger and braver, and better because you chose life. I wouldn’t change a thing in my adoption journey for one moment.

Why?

Without Phoenix I wouldn’t be who I am today.

Life is so many things, hard and trying, exciting, hurtful, loving…and life truly is a miracle.

I am really looking forward to tomorrow, with this hope renewed once more. One day at a time, one step in front of the other, I want to see the good in the world around me.

So live today, because Life truly is beautiful and a miracle to behold, if one only takes hold.

As American writer Charles Swindoll once said “We are all faced with a series of great opportunities brilliantly disguised as impossible situations”.

Impossible is only a challenge, after all.

Hang in there, and much love to all my readers.

~Nellie

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This continues and you think, “Maybe I am ok?”

There is a deep pain in birth-parents, and it is the loss of being a parent. Hold a baby and try not to cry. I dare you not to think about your child you placed.

Last night, I cried for the first time in awhile over my baby. Funny how things work out. In church today I sat with a 2 month old baby while Mom and Dad got some ministry.

Later as I chatted with Mom, I was blessed to be able to hold this baby. The weight hung in my arms and reminded me of the residual ache I experience. It reminded me of the pain anyone who has lost a child has felt.

Grief and sorrow are often times the companion of those of us who placed. Anger and self hatred grows unless we monitor it and grow, and are willing to be open to healing.  Part of healing is releasing the guilt and shame, and saying and truly believing that we are worthy of the love we gave selflessly. (read other blogs, I cover that topic, often.)

However one chooses to heal, it is vital that it must not be an escape, a recess from the reality of what you are feeling. What I experience, what you feel, whatever it is, hear me on this; YOU are OK. It is ok to cry and let out the pain, in fact it is therapeutic.

A friend once said that depression is anger turned within, and I used to be so bitter and full of hate. That isn’t saying I don’t get angry but now, because I have walked through healing I can see the symptoms and do the things that aid me, not set me back.

So who am I, if I am not a mother? Today I don’t know the answer, but through continued perseverance and knowing I have peace of mind and heart, I can find myself and dig myself out of the rubble of the experience and hopefully, help someone else out of their rubble too.

Today I choose to live for the moment and for the little joys of my existence. I dare you to dream and hold your hand out and help someone out of their pain, because when we move past our own needs, we often times more then not find the answer we were looking for.

Love to all my readers,

Have a beautiful day!

Nellie J.

Signing off parental rights.

I have a unique adoption story and anyone reading this knows their own story. Every story has a different flavor and experience, but we all share something similar.

Phoenix was 8-9 months old when his birth-first father and I signed off rights. We had each been pulled aside by our court appointed attorney’s and asked if we wanted to do it apart. Apparently we both agreed to stand together in front of the judge, and I will be frank, I don’t remember a whole lot about that day.

As we stood before the judge, he read us the termination of rights, and it was like being slowly stabbed, slowly and painfully flayed for all to see. I was giving up my chance for him, to hold him as my own, and to be anything to him. It would be up to the adoptive parents to tell me and let me in, no longer me.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I replied with a soft resounding yes in agreement to let the judge know I understood just what I was doing.

I walked back to the wooden seats and sat next to Tara and grasped her hand, and looked her in the eye as the attorneys discussed whatever they were saying and I told her,

“I am so glad you are his.”

Even now, I feel that sadness, I feel a sorrow I can’t ever replace, but I have also walked through my adoption experience and worked and prayed and continually been open and honest about it.

There have been days where the only thing keeping me here was knowing I did the right thing, and if you look at some of my previous blogs, the phrase “To Live is To Love” has been a powerful motivator for many reasons, somewhat previously discussed.

Becoming a birth-first parent is when you boil it down, a choice. The prices and scars left from that choice echo for years in the lives of those around us, and it changes you.

Maybe you are struggling with your decision to adopt because you don’t want to see this hurt in your birth-parents. This is a choice, and with love and compassion and a willingness to see your family become whole, we become  a part of your story through it.

Open adoption has changed the way I see the world and made it possible to love in a greater capacity then felt ever before. I see pain etched in people’s faces and I know how deep the scars of life can run us down.

Adoption is a scar I chose, plain and simple. It also has made me a better, more complete person, even when I knowingly gave up my heart as a mother to allow for Tara and Family to have him as theirs.

See the world through Love today, because you have the capacity to love deeper then you ever thought when you choose adoption.

Loving you wonderful readers!

Nellie J.

Something in common with both pregnancies–

I ran away from responsibility, didn’t face the truth of the situation and when things got tough I found a way to cope. I escaped into video games, and TV and decided to not face the change that would happen, whether I was ready or not.

With the first born, Kenny, I celebrated and my pregnancy was very public and I was unaware of what it would take to become a parent. I had a ton of people come visit me in the hospital, and my family even welcomed me back into the fold after rejecting me for being pregnant out of wedlock and *gasp* a teenager. Funny how a baby changes everything.

Kenny was wanted, and I kept him. I loved him but for months I knew somewhere in my heart that he should have been placed. My mother was so latched onto him that I felt forced to do what I wasn’t ready and when I was forced to stand on my own feet as a young adult, I lost control and my life spiraled out of control. Parenting is hard–a blessing and if love could be all a child ever needed..well you understand, I think.

Fast forward to a 25 year old woman of a 7 year old son, loved beyond measure, and she falls in love, and gets pregnant. I thought I was sterile, thought it was impossible to get pregnant ever again.

I ended up homeless for a short while, and ended up moving in with my mother again. (disaster is spelled my mothers name, ha!) but this time, armed with experience and heartbreak over what was to come, I couldn’t face it. I made a decision to end my life when I had him, sign rights off and just exit this life. My emotions and life were in a tumble…

So what changed? As I wrote a note to all in my life I wrote one last line;

“Tell my children I love them.”

What a lie! My love would be worthless if I didn’t choose to live so a powerful phrase birthed from that moment–

“To live is to Love”

If love were all it took, who knows the path I would have taken, but I had to find a reason, an anchor to hold onto in the rocky times of my life. As a christian now, I anchor myself in Jesus, but that powerful reminder stays within me. I know where I came from, and today, I am who I am because I came through that fire, and out of what seemed a hopeless situation I lived.

People will have their thoughts on this post, and that’s ok. This isn’t for them–this is for you. I may not know your name, or your exact situation, but  know I understand how very difficult the decision you are about to make is. Sometimes we have to go through some very harsh experiences to get to that place where we find out just how very strong we are.

Hang on, hang tough–you can do this.

Love to all my readers,

Nellie J.

There is a lot one could say about this, on many topics, and situations–Let’s look at it from where I am today…

You know what I want? I want to stand up and proudly say who I am. I don’t want to sugar coat my life’s feelings and experiences, but I also want a positive outlook, more then that of a survivor. I was born to thrive.

As a birthparent, I want acceptance and as a woman, I want unconditional love and friendship–no flakes accepted into my life.

I hate dishonesty. Lets be open and allow the thoughts we have on adoption, on life in general to be shared. We were not made to hide behind a computer screen, but to interact with people and create relationships that make this world a place worth being  a part of.

In the same aspect, lets step out of the talking role, and just listen. The same struggles an adoptive parent may have may be something a birth parent struggles with. It’s called common ground and indifference is the enemy.

I am in a challenging mood, meaning I am seeking feedback and honesty on my facebook page. Some days I post lame things, but today I challenged my friends with a status that on any other day would make me go hide in a closet–

“What is one thing you as a birth-parent want more then anything else that is not material in relation to your adoption experience and role as a birth-parent?”

One friend wrote “Love” myself, “acceptance” and a friend said this moving piece.

“I just want my son to know that I love him more then anything else in this world & I would do anything for him.I hope as he gets older he knows that.”

She is going to see her bio-son tonight which is so awesome, and I honestly think and believe that he will.

Our love was not squandered when we chose adoption. It was planted and grows with each milestone and first step, tooth, etc. It grows with each moment of every day.

As I leave off today to face the day, and everything it holds, I hope you find what you really truly want and are able to have an open and honest dialog with someone you need to.

Lots of Love for all my readers,

Nellie J.

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No greater love could there ever be a love that encompasses sorrow

Not even the darkest night can smother its heavenly light

It holds the broken and weary, embraces the torn parts and puts them together whole

This love stretches and grows within wiggles and kicks and sings lullabies

This love lets go leaving empty arms and leaves an ache that time cannot touch.

This love lets love go.

I was looking at a picture when I wrote this poem, of a mother’s hand holding a baby’s new little feet. In captions on the side it said “She did a beautiful thing”.

What can I tell you that you don’t already know? Or are you willing to see the point of another person, outside of your hurt and sorrow?

Sometimes we get stuck in our own ways of thinking, and that is OK sometimes but when sorrow is all you can focus on then what is its purpose? In adoption on all sides there is a sorrow that cannot seem to be touched or healed, but I believe that we can.

I have probably already blogged to death on this but the love you have for your children is the same love you deserve and sometimes when you reach that point where sorrow is your focus and you can’t see the light anymore, try something.

Look for the light in your life, for that moment that every time you think of it, you can’t help but smile. Can’t or won’t get out of bed because you feel you have no purpose? Get up, shower, wear something that makes you feel good, and do something that brings you joy.

I volunteer at a food pantry and when I get the opportunity to give to a family that truly appreciates the food they receive it makes my day. I know the food I may or may not have packed will be a reminder of joy for them. Sort of like a passing it forward thing.

I was sitting downstairs yesterday in the pantry for a moment and saw some food that was donated by a friend, and I thought to myself that it would go into a bag with the same spirit of giving that makes me happy to a family that would appreciate it.

I recently came to a point in my head and heart, a decision if you will about my relationship with my bio son Phoenix and life in general.

I decided that I was worth loving too.

When you choose adoption, it should be out of an act of selfless love, something bigger then yourself. The same love we didn’t know we had the capacity to hold is more then just for the children we place.

Wherever you are today, be gentle and try to not hold yourself by the same judgment you always have, and try to see yourself in the same love you are choosing for the life stirring within you.

Love,

Nellie J.

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My pregnancies were really difficult emotionally and physically, as I spent one preparing to parent and one to place 7 years after that. Both choices are hard, and both have long term effects on your life.

There was a lot of dark times when I was pregnant both times (ages 16 and 25), but I will focus on Phoenix’s for the purpose of this blog.

I remember fear so deep that it paralyzed me and kept me downtrodden, depression that could have capsized the Titanic with a thought. I didn’t have a lot of family support and spent my pregnant life simply trying to survive.

Needless to say I didn’t glow; I glowered.

In the last few months, though, as Phoenix’s approach became more real to me, I prepared by doing some paperwork and meeting with a case worker who didn’t tell me how hard it would be.

Becoming. What a powerful word. It is a word that in this written sense means a present tense. When you choose to place, you choose to become. You become a shadow in someone else’s life by choice, because of a sacrificial love that even you will be surprised and changed by.

Becoming a birth-first mom or dad is a sacrifice. Read the blogs of adoptive parents and you will see. Read the blogs on open adoption on this site and you will find sacrifice and love greater than you thought you may ever find, outside of Jesus Christ’s ever-abounding love and sacrifice for us. (Not trying to step on any “toes,” but I am a believer, so well, glean what you will from the blog as it aids you)

The sacrifice is worth the cost. In the middle of the night when you feel like you are going to lose your mind, when you can’t stop crying because it hurts so bad, it’s worth it. In the morning, even when sorrow lingers, you are stronger.

You may think you don’t have the capacity to go through with adoption as an option, but when you know, and I mean really know adoption is the choice for your child, you grow, and let me tell you–I have never met a birth-first parent who didn’t possess the strength of character that you earn with tears, fears, and mourning.

It is not something everyone can do, but to everyone who has gone through it, as hard as some days are, we are pretty awesome people. So don’t fret or worry. It will hurt but you will rise out of the ashes of your sorrow and find your way. It may take some time, but be patient with yourself.

Because that selfless love you have inside you for that life you want the best for is yours and you are worthy of that same love.

Be gentle and kind to yourself, wherever you are in the adoption triad.

Love,

Nellie J.

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