Chapter Six – The Joy of Motherhood
Before I knew it, I was young mother of two healthy, wonderful children. I was only twenty when Joshua was born. It was only two days less than a year later when Alexandra was born. I really didn't know what I was doing. But, I loved being a mom. If you had asked me then, I would have told that I wanted to just keep having babies until I couldn't anymore. I was very much in love with my babies and with being a mom.
When Josh's birth was nearing, I had asked Mom to be there through the labor and when he was born. She was very nervous about that. My mom had confessed in the weeks leading up to Josh's birth that she was both excited and anxious about meeting her grandchild as she had never cared for or even held a brand new baby before. My brother was six weeks old when Mom and Dad brought him home, and I was five months. My mom felt ill-equipped, but I assured her that she would be fine. As things would have it, Josh was born by cesarean and Mom and Dad were on their bi-annual hunting trip when the time came. They made daily trips from their campsite back down to the highway to use a phone and check in with us. They came home when he was born. They got to come meet him the next day. It was very moving to see my mom hold Josh. Tears streamed down her cheek as she kissed him over and over. Dad just smiled from ear to ear the entire time he held the baby.
In the weeks that followed Josh's birth, my mom and dad came to visit as often as their schedule and I would allow. Mom felt so bad that she wasn't able to offer advise or insight as I struggled with breast feeding. However, she was such a proud Grandma, and enjoyed learning right along with me.
Grandma and Grandpa continued to spend as much time as possible with Josh during his first year. Then, came Lexi. Also born by cesarean, my parents were again thrilled to experience a newborn grandchild. When it was time to come home from the hospital, my mom came and picked us up. Mom had recently had surgery herself and was not yet 100%, but would not pass up the opportunity to stay with me for a week or so while I adjust to having two babies and recover from surgery. As exhausted as I was, and as foggy as my memory is during those first few days home, I do remember that I was loving sharing the experience with my mom. I think we bonded on a whole new level.
Through those early years of being a mother, I would occasionally consider my birth mother. I wondered if they had let her hold me or even see me. I imagined how hard it must have been to do what she did. I think that most women who make the choice to give up a baby for adoption must feel like someone just ripped a part of their heart right out. Even under the most horrific conditions of an unplanned pregnancy, there is an undeniable bond between a mother and the child that stirs in her womb. I cannot even fathom the amount of emotional pain one must go through to make the choice to give up a child. Nor do I want to.
I am just thankful that my birth mother put herself second and me first. The painful sacrifice she made is the reason I am who I am. She gave me life, twice. Not just by giving birth to me, but also by loving me enough to give me a better life. And nothing has given me more gratitude for her choice than becoming a mother myself, and watching my parents be the loving grandparents that they are.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Story of a Girl, Chapter 5
Chapter Five - Chosen
There is something that happens when you are expecting a baby. You start to imagine your child and their future. You get to thinking about all the possibilities for this new life you are carrying. Naturally, looking into the future often leads directly into considering the past. I was no exception to this. I suddenly found myself with a lot of questions about my birth mother and her family history. It was a little disconcerting as a first time expectant mother, when I was hit with a barrage of questions about my families medical history at the doctors office. Were there hereditary diseases or conditions? How about pregnancies? Was there a history of problematic pregnancies or births? I didn't know. I didn't even know if I was born early or late; or big or small. These are questions my parents couldn't answer for me. They had not been informed of any medical history. We had to assume that no news was good news.
Then my mom remembered that when they adopted me, they were told that there was a 50/50 chance I could have some form of mental retardation, due to some minor complications during birth, and they probably wouldn't be able to tell for sure until I was around two years old. My parents chose to take that chance and adopted me anyway.
I felt a renewed sense of respect and awe for my parents. Would I have made that choice if I were in their shoes? I considered the baby I was carrying and knew that nothing would stop me from choosing him. But with adoption, you could say, “No, I'll wait for the next available child.”
My parents explained that they had felt that I was their child. As soon as they received the call about me, they knew I was meant for them. They had been waiting for a long time for me, and nothing would keep them from choosing me.
Read the whole story
.
There is something that happens when you are expecting a baby. You start to imagine your child and their future. You get to thinking about all the possibilities for this new life you are carrying. Naturally, looking into the future often leads directly into considering the past. I was no exception to this. I suddenly found myself with a lot of questions about my birth mother and her family history. It was a little disconcerting as a first time expectant mother, when I was hit with a barrage of questions about my families medical history at the doctors office. Were there hereditary diseases or conditions? How about pregnancies? Was there a history of problematic pregnancies or births? I didn't know. I didn't even know if I was born early or late; or big or small. These are questions my parents couldn't answer for me. They had not been informed of any medical history. We had to assume that no news was good news.
Then my mom remembered that when they adopted me, they were told that there was a 50/50 chance I could have some form of mental retardation, due to some minor complications during birth, and they probably wouldn't be able to tell for sure until I was around two years old. My parents chose to take that chance and adopted me anyway.
I felt a renewed sense of respect and awe for my parents. Would I have made that choice if I were in their shoes? I considered the baby I was carrying and knew that nothing would stop me from choosing him. But with adoption, you could say, “No, I'll wait for the next available child.”
My parents explained that they had felt that I was their child. As soon as they received the call about me, they knew I was meant for them. They had been waiting for a long time for me, and nothing would keep them from choosing me.
Read the whole story
.
Friday, April 15, 2011
EC: Rite-Aid and Food Pavillion 4-15-11
My first time out extreme-couponing (from here on out known as EC).
First Rite-Aid:
My out of pocket was $32.98 so this time my coupon savings, $11.55, was only about 30%, but not bad I think considering that I saved $9.00 alone on one item by stacking coupons. I also earned a $1.00 +Up reward.
Food Pavillion:
My out-of-pocket: $12.83, savings of $11.22, for 46.65% savings. Go me.
Not a bad start I think
First Rite-Aid:
My out of pocket was $32.98 so this time my coupon savings, $11.55, was only about 30%, but not bad I think considering that I saved $9.00 alone on one item by stacking coupons. I also earned a $1.00 +Up reward.
Food Pavillion:
My out-of-pocket: $12.83, savings of $11.22, for 46.65% savings. Go me.
Not a bad start I think
Story of a Girl, Chapter 4
Chapter Four - Traveling the Road Paved With Good Intentions
By the time I graduated high school, I had come to the conclusion that I did not want to have children of my own. Oh, I liked kids. In fact, I wanted to gear my career towards working with children somehow. But, I had convinced myself that it was never going to be in the cards for me to be a mother. This was mostly because I believed that no man would ever want to marry me. I had, by the ripe old age of seventeen, convinced myself that I would be alone forever. You have to love the insecurity, and tendency towards drama of a teenage girl.
Imagine my surprise when I found myself married only two short weeks before my nineteenth birthday. About a month after we were married, we went on our “honeymoon”. I don't remember how much time we took, but we had decided to travel to Vancouver Island. There were some places my husband, Cam, wanted to visit before we made our down to Victoria for a couple days.
It just so happens that I was born in a small town on Vancouver Island. So, seeming as how we were in the area, I asked if we could visit that town. I wanted to see the hospital where I was born. And it wasn't so much that I wanted to go there to see if I could find my birth mother. I just wanted to see where I was born.
All my life, everyone else seemed to know so much about the day they were born. For example, everyone else seemed to know what time they were born, how much they weighed, how long they were, and how long their mothers were in labor. All I knew was the name of a hospital, the date of my birth and that I was extremely jaundice and spent some time in intensive care. I was jealous of people who knew the whole story about their birth. This is the only hang-up I had over being adopted. I felt a little ripped off that the social worker who handled my adoption didn't give my parents a moment by moment account of my birth. I wonder if my mom felt that way too. I will have to ask her some time.
As Cam and I drove up to the hospital, he asked if I wanted to go in. I was a little surprised. I really just wanted to drive by, but seeming as how we are here, maybe it would be neat to see the nursery where I spent the first couple months of my life. As we wondered the hall through the maternity wing, Cam stopped a nurse and asked about speaking to someone about birth records. I remember thinking, “What is he doing? Why is he doing this?” But it was all a little surreal to me. I was feeling a little disconnected and confused. I followed along behind as the nurse lead down to an office corridor and introduced us to someone in records. I can't really remember the details of the conversation that followed, except that Cam asked a lot of questions and we were told that under the circumstances of my adoption, my records would be sealed and the only way to access them would be to apply to some government agency, and see if my birth mother also applied. Only when both parties have submitted application can those records be opened.
Still in a fog, I was feeling a little resentful that my husband was pushing me. He actually wanted to go find out right then and there to find out where we could go to submit this application. I, however, did not want to do that. I just wanted to be a new wife on her honeymoon. Seeming as how I am one to avoid confrontation at almost all cost, I quietly made excuses as to why we should just forget about it for now and continue on our way. I stared out the window and tried not to let Cam see the tears that were rolling down my cheeks. He would surely interpret them as disappointment in regards to what we were told at the hospital. I didn't want to have to tell them that they were tears of disappointment, but not because of what we were told, rather for the fact that he even asked. However, I stuffed the bad feelings down and decided to put it behind us. After all, he meant well. Right?
Read the whole story
.
By the time I graduated high school, I had come to the conclusion that I did not want to have children of my own. Oh, I liked kids. In fact, I wanted to gear my career towards working with children somehow. But, I had convinced myself that it was never going to be in the cards for me to be a mother. This was mostly because I believed that no man would ever want to marry me. I had, by the ripe old age of seventeen, convinced myself that I would be alone forever. You have to love the insecurity, and tendency towards drama of a teenage girl.
Imagine my surprise when I found myself married only two short weeks before my nineteenth birthday. About a month after we were married, we went on our “honeymoon”. I don't remember how much time we took, but we had decided to travel to Vancouver Island. There were some places my husband, Cam, wanted to visit before we made our down to Victoria for a couple days.
It just so happens that I was born in a small town on Vancouver Island. So, seeming as how we were in the area, I asked if we could visit that town. I wanted to see the hospital where I was born. And it wasn't so much that I wanted to go there to see if I could find my birth mother. I just wanted to see where I was born.
All my life, everyone else seemed to know so much about the day they were born. For example, everyone else seemed to know what time they were born, how much they weighed, how long they were, and how long their mothers were in labor. All I knew was the name of a hospital, the date of my birth and that I was extremely jaundice and spent some time in intensive care. I was jealous of people who knew the whole story about their birth. This is the only hang-up I had over being adopted. I felt a little ripped off that the social worker who handled my adoption didn't give my parents a moment by moment account of my birth. I wonder if my mom felt that way too. I will have to ask her some time.
As Cam and I drove up to the hospital, he asked if I wanted to go in. I was a little surprised. I really just wanted to drive by, but seeming as how we are here, maybe it would be neat to see the nursery where I spent the first couple months of my life. As we wondered the hall through the maternity wing, Cam stopped a nurse and asked about speaking to someone about birth records. I remember thinking, “What is he doing? Why is he doing this?” But it was all a little surreal to me. I was feeling a little disconnected and confused. I followed along behind as the nurse lead down to an office corridor and introduced us to someone in records. I can't really remember the details of the conversation that followed, except that Cam asked a lot of questions and we were told that under the circumstances of my adoption, my records would be sealed and the only way to access them would be to apply to some government agency, and see if my birth mother also applied. Only when both parties have submitted application can those records be opened.
Still in a fog, I was feeling a little resentful that my husband was pushing me. He actually wanted to go find out right then and there to find out where we could go to submit this application. I, however, did not want to do that. I just wanted to be a new wife on her honeymoon. Seeming as how I am one to avoid confrontation at almost all cost, I quietly made excuses as to why we should just forget about it for now and continue on our way. I stared out the window and tried not to let Cam see the tears that were rolling down my cheeks. He would surely interpret them as disappointment in regards to what we were told at the hospital. I didn't want to have to tell them that they were tears of disappointment, but not because of what we were told, rather for the fact that he even asked. However, I stuffed the bad feelings down and decided to put it behind us. After all, he meant well. Right?
Read the whole story
.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Story of a Girl, Chapter 3
Chapter Three - Considering Mothers
As a teenager, I did a lot of babysitting. I had a few families that I was the babysitter for. I enjoyed being with the kids most of the time. I had few bad experiences with out of control kids, but mostly I liked the kids and they liked me. But, what I loved the most was looking after babies. Oh sure, there is a lot about caring for babies that is not glamorous. However, there was nothing like rocking a baby to sleep. Or seeing a chubby little face light up with a smile when you walk into the room.
One such baby that I cared for was Christina. She was as cute as you could get. I started babysitting her when she was about 5 months old. Just a couple hours here and there at first. She was a little fussy with me, but I didn't mind. I enjoyed taking her for walks in her stroller and getting her to laugh. Over time, as I started babysitting her quite regularly. We had developed our own little bond.
Then it happened that I was asked to look after Christina overnight. I was a little nervous. But, she was a little older now, about 9 months old I think. Everything went well until about 3:30 am when I was awaken by the sound of a baby crying. That was a little startling as I was only 15 or 16 at the time, and had never experienced that before. As I groggily made my way into her room, she looked at me and cried a little harder. It was a first for her too. I lifted her up, and gave her a little cuddle, changed her diaper, then sat down in the rocking chair, wound up the music box and starting humming in her ear.
As Christina relaxed in my arms and started to doze off, a thought came to me that I had never thought before. I wondered if my birth mother had ever had another child. Did she ever sit and hold a baby like this and think of me? I prayed for her that night, that she could somehow know that I was okay and had a good family.
And, as I laid Christina into her crib, I thought about what it would be like to one day be a mother myself. And then my thoughts drifted to my Mom and Dad. Memories flooded back to me. I remembered baking with my mom when I was still too little to reach the counter and had to stand on a chair. I remembered my mom holding me and comforting me as I had to get some stitches. I remembered my dad reading bedtime stories and giving me piggy-back rides. I knew that they were going to amazing grandparents one day. I gave thanks to God for them and went back to bed.
Read the whole story
.
As a teenager, I did a lot of babysitting. I had a few families that I was the babysitter for. I enjoyed being with the kids most of the time. I had few bad experiences with out of control kids, but mostly I liked the kids and they liked me. But, what I loved the most was looking after babies. Oh sure, there is a lot about caring for babies that is not glamorous. However, there was nothing like rocking a baby to sleep. Or seeing a chubby little face light up with a smile when you walk into the room.
One such baby that I cared for was Christina. She was as cute as you could get. I started babysitting her when she was about 5 months old. Just a couple hours here and there at first. She was a little fussy with me, but I didn't mind. I enjoyed taking her for walks in her stroller and getting her to laugh. Over time, as I started babysitting her quite regularly. We had developed our own little bond.
Then it happened that I was asked to look after Christina overnight. I was a little nervous. But, she was a little older now, about 9 months old I think. Everything went well until about 3:30 am when I was awaken by the sound of a baby crying. That was a little startling as I was only 15 or 16 at the time, and had never experienced that before. As I groggily made my way into her room, she looked at me and cried a little harder. It was a first for her too. I lifted her up, and gave her a little cuddle, changed her diaper, then sat down in the rocking chair, wound up the music box and starting humming in her ear.
As Christina relaxed in my arms and started to doze off, a thought came to me that I had never thought before. I wondered if my birth mother had ever had another child. Did she ever sit and hold a baby like this and think of me? I prayed for her that night, that she could somehow know that I was okay and had a good family.
And, as I laid Christina into her crib, I thought about what it would be like to one day be a mother myself. And then my thoughts drifted to my Mom and Dad. Memories flooded back to me. I remembered baking with my mom when I was still too little to reach the counter and had to stand on a chair. I remembered my mom holding me and comforting me as I had to get some stitches. I remembered my dad reading bedtime stories and giving me piggy-back rides. I knew that they were going to amazing grandparents one day. I gave thanks to God for them and went back to bed.
Read the whole story
.
Story of a Girl, Chapter 2
Chapter Two - Repetitive Conversations
It's funny how people always have endless opinions and advise about something that they have no experience with. I have had so many people tell me how I should feel about my birth mother, or my parents. Not one of those people was adopted. Not one of them lived my life or had the experiences I had. Yet, somehow they knew what was best for me. It used to make me really mad when people would ask me about my birth mother, and even after I said that I have no interest in finding her, would still ask if I was going to look for her. I had more than a few conversations that went exactly like this:
Friend: so you're adopted?
Me: Yes.
Friend: Do you know anything about your birth mother?
Me: Not very much, but I'm okay with that. I don't really have an interest in her.
Friend: Why?
Me: Because I have my Mom. I have my Dad. I don't want or need her to feel secure or know who I am.
Friend: Are you ever going to look for her?
Me: No, I don't think so.
Friend: Why?
Me: (insert head explosion here)
I am not exaggerating. Well, maybe about the head exploding part. That loop played out in conversation many times in my life. I had similar conversations with people who had known me for years and knew how I felt. Even they somehow felt that I must be wrong when I said I didn't want to find her.
Here's the thing; my feelings about my parents, being adopted and my birth mother are very personal. Just as those feelings are for any other person who is adopted. I'm totally okay with it. I have known other adoptees who feel like I do. And others who long for answers and feel incomplete without them. Even within one family with multiple adopted children, each child can have very different perspective and feelings. One should never automatically assume that just because someone is adopted, that they have a big hole in their life and long for a reunion with their birth mother. They could be totally at peace with it. I was. I have known many others who were.
Read the whole story
.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Story of a Girl, Chapter 1
Anyone who knows me personally knows that I was adopted. For some, being adopted is hard. It leaves them filled with questions, confusion and a sense of loss. It wasn't like that for me. This is my story.
I don't remember finding out that I was adopted. I just always knew. As far back as I can remember, my parents told me that someone (my birth mother) loved me enough to give me a better life. They knew very little about her, but told what little they knew when I asked. I never had a burning desire to find my birth mother. I had a mom. She loved me and I loved her and that was enough. As a child, I never really gave it a whole lot of thought.
Occasionally, a friend would ask about it. Once, when I was about 7, a friend came over and we were sitting at the kitchen table coloring and having a snack. My mom was making dinner. My friend asked what it was like being adopted. I shrugged and said that it was fine. She asked where I was born. I asked my mom, because I couldn't remember the name of the town or hospital. Then my friend asked one of those questions. The ones that can pierce the heart of an adoptive mother. She asked, "Don't you ever miss your real mother? Do you wonder where she is?" Now, I was 7, so I didn't know that this conversation was tearing at my mom, as she kept her back to us and made dinner. She didn't say a word.
Again, I shrugged it off. "Not really", I answered. "I have a mom."
Later, after my friend went home, my mom asked me how those questions made me feel. Mom was clearly hurt that I did not correct my friend as describing my birth mother as my real mother. I knew this was bothering her, because she told me. I was 7 after all. Not all that perceptive yet at that age. My mom cried, and told me I hurt her. I didn't understand why she was so hurt because of course she is my real mom. That other lady, the one who gave me up, she was just someone who loved me enough to give me a better life. I was confused, but I knew that I never again wanted to hurt my mom.
A couple things happened in sixth grade that changed my perspective on being adopted. Not some life changing, cloud parting, angels singing kind of thing. Just a couple of events that deepened my feelings and made me feel different.
First, I met someone else who was adopted. We talked about it. He too, was okay with it. He too wasn't driven to find out about his birth mother. He was the first person I talked to about it who said, “Really? You're adopted? Cool! So am I.” For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like there was something wrong with me because I didn't want to know more about her. It's funny, how all the people who questioned me and made me feel bad weren't adopted. They had no idea what it was like, yet they all somehow knew that I should want to find my birth mother. But, now I had a friend who understood. I didn't have to explain to him.
Then she came. She was the teacher who came to take over the job as our sixth grade teacher, as Mr. Shaw had to leave. We all loved Mr. Shaw and therefore automatically, she was the enemy. As I write this I can't even remember her name. One afternoon, as I sat in detention, I asked her for help on an assignment I was working on. Until then, she was still the enemy. It was her fault that Mr. Shaw left. But, as she helped me with my assignment, I noticed that she looked a lot like me. She was short, like me. She had a bumpy nose, like me. Her smile was a lot like mine. She smelled good. I liked her laugh. Then it happened. For the first time ever, I wondered if she could be my birth mother. Or, at the very least, I wondered if my birth mother was a lot like her. I don't remember if I told anyone about this, as I wasn't suddenly wanting to know once and for all. But, I was curious, for the first time.
Fast forward to 11th grade when I was given an assignment to write a persuasive essay on a social issue. We had a long list of issues and ideas to choose from and we were advised to choose something that would mean something to us. One immediately jumped out at me. Adoption. I decided to write about open adoption. It fascinated me, as my adoption had been typical of the era. It was a closed, government handled adoption. The files were locked. I knew someone at school who was pregnant and was choosing open adoption. She wanted to meet and choose the parent herself, then keep in touch through the years to receive pictures and hear how the child was doing. All I could think was that would create a lot emotional stress for her and the parents. I wasn't sure if I was going to write from a pro or con viewpoint yet. I had to learn more about this. I starting my research right away.
I gathered magazine and newspaper articles. I sent away for some brochures from adoption agencies. They were sent to the school. I didn't tell my parents.
My mom had a habit of looking over my homework when I left it on my desk, as I rarely showed her what I was working on unless I needed editing. She was doing just that when she saw all the brochures. Now, you should know that I wasn't trying to be deceitful, or anything. I was just avoiding having uncomfortable conversations with my parents, which I knew would inevitably come up if I told them. Turns out, it was much worse. Mom kind of freaked out. But, she didn't want to talk to me from an emotional place, so she had my dad talk to me. I always hated when he sat me down and started our talk with, "Your mom is very upset because....". Those were always very long talks. We had a few of those through the years.
Once Dad explained that Mom had found my brochures and was hurt because she thought I was searching out my birth mother behind their backs, I got my turn to explain. I told my dad that I was researching open adoption for an essay assignment and that I still have no interest in finding my birth mother. He told me again, as he and Mom had told me many times before, that if I ever feel like I want to find her, that they would like to know, and offer whatever help they can.
I would never take them up on that offer. I would never choose to actively search out my birth mother. However, I would wonder if I looked like her, if we had the same eyes, nose, smile. But, I would never really want to find her. I mostly just wanted to see a picture.
Read the whole story
.
Chapter One - The Girl is Alright
I don't remember finding out that I was adopted. I just always knew. As far back as I can remember, my parents told me that someone (my birth mother) loved me enough to give me a better life. They knew very little about her, but told what little they knew when I asked. I never had a burning desire to find my birth mother. I had a mom. She loved me and I loved her and that was enough. As a child, I never really gave it a whole lot of thought.
Occasionally, a friend would ask about it. Once, when I was about 7, a friend came over and we were sitting at the kitchen table coloring and having a snack. My mom was making dinner. My friend asked what it was like being adopted. I shrugged and said that it was fine. She asked where I was born. I asked my mom, because I couldn't remember the name of the town or hospital. Then my friend asked one of those questions. The ones that can pierce the heart of an adoptive mother. She asked, "Don't you ever miss your real mother? Do you wonder where she is?" Now, I was 7, so I didn't know that this conversation was tearing at my mom, as she kept her back to us and made dinner. She didn't say a word.
Again, I shrugged it off. "Not really", I answered. "I have a mom."
Later, after my friend went home, my mom asked me how those questions made me feel. Mom was clearly hurt that I did not correct my friend as describing my birth mother as my real mother. I knew this was bothering her, because she told me. I was 7 after all. Not all that perceptive yet at that age. My mom cried, and told me I hurt her. I didn't understand why she was so hurt because of course she is my real mom. That other lady, the one who gave me up, she was just someone who loved me enough to give me a better life. I was confused, but I knew that I never again wanted to hurt my mom.
A couple things happened in sixth grade that changed my perspective on being adopted. Not some life changing, cloud parting, angels singing kind of thing. Just a couple of events that deepened my feelings and made me feel different.
First, I met someone else who was adopted. We talked about it. He too, was okay with it. He too wasn't driven to find out about his birth mother. He was the first person I talked to about it who said, “Really? You're adopted? Cool! So am I.” For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like there was something wrong with me because I didn't want to know more about her. It's funny, how all the people who questioned me and made me feel bad weren't adopted. They had no idea what it was like, yet they all somehow knew that I should want to find my birth mother. But, now I had a friend who understood. I didn't have to explain to him.
Then she came. She was the teacher who came to take over the job as our sixth grade teacher, as Mr. Shaw had to leave. We all loved Mr. Shaw and therefore automatically, she was the enemy. As I write this I can't even remember her name. One afternoon, as I sat in detention, I asked her for help on an assignment I was working on. Until then, she was still the enemy. It was her fault that Mr. Shaw left. But, as she helped me with my assignment, I noticed that she looked a lot like me. She was short, like me. She had a bumpy nose, like me. Her smile was a lot like mine. She smelled good. I liked her laugh. Then it happened. For the first time ever, I wondered if she could be my birth mother. Or, at the very least, I wondered if my birth mother was a lot like her. I don't remember if I told anyone about this, as I wasn't suddenly wanting to know once and for all. But, I was curious, for the first time.
Fast forward to 11th grade when I was given an assignment to write a persuasive essay on a social issue. We had a long list of issues and ideas to choose from and we were advised to choose something that would mean something to us. One immediately jumped out at me. Adoption. I decided to write about open adoption. It fascinated me, as my adoption had been typical of the era. It was a closed, government handled adoption. The files were locked. I knew someone at school who was pregnant and was choosing open adoption. She wanted to meet and choose the parent herself, then keep in touch through the years to receive pictures and hear how the child was doing. All I could think was that would create a lot emotional stress for her and the parents. I wasn't sure if I was going to write from a pro or con viewpoint yet. I had to learn more about this. I starting my research right away.
I gathered magazine and newspaper articles. I sent away for some brochures from adoption agencies. They were sent to the school. I didn't tell my parents.
My mom had a habit of looking over my homework when I left it on my desk, as I rarely showed her what I was working on unless I needed editing. She was doing just that when she saw all the brochures. Now, you should know that I wasn't trying to be deceitful, or anything. I was just avoiding having uncomfortable conversations with my parents, which I knew would inevitably come up if I told them. Turns out, it was much worse. Mom kind of freaked out. But, she didn't want to talk to me from an emotional place, so she had my dad talk to me. I always hated when he sat me down and started our talk with, "Your mom is very upset because....". Those were always very long talks. We had a few of those through the years.
Once Dad explained that Mom had found my brochures and was hurt because she thought I was searching out my birth mother behind their backs, I got my turn to explain. I told my dad that I was researching open adoption for an essay assignment and that I still have no interest in finding my birth mother. He told me again, as he and Mom had told me many times before, that if I ever feel like I want to find her, that they would like to know, and offer whatever help they can.
I would never take them up on that offer. I would never choose to actively search out my birth mother. However, I would wonder if I looked like her, if we had the same eyes, nose, smile. But, I would never really want to find her. I mostly just wanted to see a picture.
Read the whole story
.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Couponing - Go Extreme or Go Home?
My latest obsession? Extreme couponing. (Like I need another obsession!)
But hey, let's face it. We are a one income family, and we need this.
A lot.
Huge.
You.have.no.idea.how.much.we.need.this.
I'm just starting out with this concept. I am not willing for it to take over my life, like it does for many of the people you see on the tv show, Extreme Couponing, however, there is definitely something to this. Living in a small town, the idea of planning for and making 4-5 shopping trips in a week is definitely not an option. But, what I can do it plan to maximize savings for my weekly grocery shop at Safeway. I can start taking advantage of some of the made savings over at Rite-Aid each week and plan for one trip into town a week to hit Target and Fred Meyer.
Sure, I have been using coupons for long time, but not like this. The trick here is to combine the coupons with sale items, stack 'em (that is using more than one coupon per item) where possible and use the resources available and stock pile on items when you can get them for crazy cheap.
I am not going to give lessons on how to save, as I am not an extreme couponing rock star, but here are a couple of websites of people who are:
Krazy Coupon Lady - this site has daily posts matching up coupons with sales prices at major retail stores, as well as huge database of coupons, how-to's, coupon matching by store and links to all the printable coupon sites.
Coupon Mom - also with how-to's, lists of major retail advertised specials, coupon match-ups and links
Living on a Coupon - daily posts with match-ups and how-to's
Then there are the actual coupon sites.
The big three:
Coupons.com
SmartSource
Red Plum
I hope to have some great savings stories to share coming soon!!!
.
But hey, let's face it. We are a one income family, and we need this.
A lot.
Huge.
You.have.no.idea.how.much.we.need.this.
I'm just starting out with this concept. I am not willing for it to take over my life, like it does for many of the people you see on the tv show, Extreme Couponing, however, there is definitely something to this. Living in a small town, the idea of planning for and making 4-5 shopping trips in a week is definitely not an option. But, what I can do it plan to maximize savings for my weekly grocery shop at Safeway. I can start taking advantage of some of the made savings over at Rite-Aid each week and plan for one trip into town a week to hit Target and Fred Meyer.
Sure, I have been using coupons for long time, but not like this. The trick here is to combine the coupons with sale items, stack 'em (that is using more than one coupon per item) where possible and use the resources available and stock pile on items when you can get them for crazy cheap.
I am not going to give lessons on how to save, as I am not an extreme couponing rock star, but here are a couple of websites of people who are:
Krazy Coupon Lady - this site has daily posts matching up coupons with sales prices at major retail stores, as well as huge database of coupons, how-to's, coupon matching by store and links to all the printable coupon sites.
Coupon Mom - also with how-to's, lists of major retail advertised specials, coupon match-ups and links
Living on a Coupon - daily posts with match-ups and how-to's
Then there are the actual coupon sites.
The big three:
Coupons.com
SmartSource
Red Plum
I hope to have some great savings stories to share coming soon!!!
Friday, April 8, 2011
Not Sure What to Think
Yesterday, I took Samm into Blockbuster so she could use her Blockbuster gift card to rent a movie. She was told that as of that day, they are no longer accepting the gift cards. Of course, we chose not to pay for the movie, because if they won't honor their gift cars, I am certainly not going to give them anymore of my money.
So this morning, I decide to send them a letter asking what is up and requesting that they do the right thing and honor their gift cards, or reimburse their customers.
Their response?
And auto-response (meaning that probably no one will be reading my email), as follows:
I'm not sure how I feel about this. Okay, they are in the process of bankruptcy. But their doors are open. They are still accepting people's money, are they not? They have received payment for these cards, have they not? Is it the fault of the customers that they can't keep their company afloat and have to attempt to sell it?
Or, should I cut them some slack? Are their hands tied?
Not being a lawyer, I have no idea of the implications. But, it in the opinion of this simple small town girl, if you are keeping your doors open for business, then you should do business. Including honoring the "gift cards". After all, you have already received the money for them, so therefore, it doesn't cost you a thing to honor them. Let's face it, no one is beating down your door to rent your movies, so honoring the cards is not going to interfere with business.
Furthermore, the negative lash back is sure to be far more damaging than honoring these in the first place.
Perhaps Blockbuster just misunderstood and thought the gift of these cards was to them.
signed,
Miffed in Small-town WA
So this morning, I decide to send them a letter asking what is up and requesting that they do the right thing and honor their gift cards, or reimburse their customers.
Their response?
And auto-response (meaning that probably no one will be reading my email), as follows:
"Hi Shari,
NOTICE EFFECTIVE 3/23/11: On 8/23/10, Blockbuster Inc. ("Blockbuster") filed for bankruptcy in the United States Bankruptcy Court for the Southern District of New York (the "Bankruptcy Court"). On 2/21/11, Blockbuster filed a motion with the Bankruptcy Court requesting authority to sell its assets (the "Sale Motion"). A copy of the Sale Motion is available at http://www.kccllc.net/blockbuster. On 3/11/11, the Bankruptcy Court entered an order authorizing Blockbuster to proceed with certain procedures related to the Sale Motion. In connection with this sale process, effective as of 4/7/11, BLOCKBUSTER GiftCards® ("GiftCards") WILL NO LONGER BE HONORED.
Thank you
Blockbuster Customer Care"
I'm not sure how I feel about this. Okay, they are in the process of bankruptcy. But their doors are open. They are still accepting people's money, are they not? They have received payment for these cards, have they not? Is it the fault of the customers that they can't keep their company afloat and have to attempt to sell it?
Or, should I cut them some slack? Are their hands tied?
Not being a lawyer, I have no idea of the implications. But, it in the opinion of this simple small town girl, if you are keeping your doors open for business, then you should do business. Including honoring the "gift cards". After all, you have already received the money for them, so therefore, it doesn't cost you a thing to honor them. Let's face it, no one is beating down your door to rent your movies, so honoring the cards is not going to interfere with business.
Furthermore, the negative lash back is sure to be far more damaging than honoring these in the first place.
Perhaps Blockbuster just misunderstood and thought the gift of these cards was to them.
signed,
Miffed in Small-town WA
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