Unreal

I read quite a few adoption blogs and it's pretty much the same old, same old most of the time. Yesterday though I ran across a little tidbit that made my blood boil, and then run cold.

"I've always prepared for my adopted child to say "You're not my real mommy, I hate you, I want my real mommy." And do you know what I will honestly think? "You're not my real daughter, and I DO want my real daughter. But I LOVE you. No matter what.""

I have a few problems with this, not the least of which is that this person adopts period.

Who says shit like this? Who says to their kid who is adopted that they aren't their real son or daughter? Who tells their kid who is adopted that they want their real daughter, their daughter who died?

I note that the person said they will honestly "think", not necessarily say the words but you know what? Thinking it is bad enough.

If you don't intend to think of your adopted kids as your real kids, really, don't adopt.

For mothers who have lost a child, an invitation to share

Ever since I wrote this post   I've had people arriving on my blog looking for real answers on what to do for moms who have lost a child. They are increasing in numbers as we inch close to Christmas as the question becomes "what to give mothers for Christmas who have lost a child".

Normally, as in searches on headstones, I feel kinda bad for a minute and then carry on with my life but this is not sitting well with me. I've been there supporting a woman, who just happened to be my mom, that had lost her child, her only boy, her youngest, to a sudden death at the sickeningly young age of 38.

It's impossible to know what to do, what to say, how to deal with Christmas and other holiday times. I don't have the answers, I'm sorry.

What I can do is offer personal thoughts and ideas. I can share respectful, helpful comments from others who have "been there", either as a mom who lost a child or as one who supports a mom or dad who lost a child.

There are two things that stand out in my mind that are concrete things I did for my mom. The first is a poem I sent my mom that suited our circumstance, her relationship to my brother, to me, her life philosophy.

The second is specifically gift related. Growing up I quite often would buy my brother's gifts to my mom or let him go in on gifts that I had purchased. It was no secret, and likely not that uncommon a thing for many siblings to do.

On the very first gift giving occasion after my brother's death I signed the card with my gift to my mom from myself and from my brother, just as I'd done many, many times before. I did it only the once after he died and for us it was just the right thing. My mom was very touched and got why I had done it.

I did it because he is still and always will be a part of us and I know he would care very much about my mom at these times and it was once again like I was doing something for him, for my mom, that he couldn't do himself, but would if he could.

I'm going to ask my mom what she would tell someone to say to or do for a mom who has lost a child, at Christmas or anytime and will put it in the comments.

*edited to supply this link

For mothers who have lost a child

I just read a post over on Susie's blog. I commented but decided to write a post on the subject myself. I've talked about this before either in comments and/or posts, but whatever, I think it's important. You can take it, and I know you will, in whatever way you want. Some will be hurt, some will be offended, some will be triggered, and some might just hear and take what I have to say to heart.

Understand it's said with the best intentions, with your alive and present children's feelings in mind.

Here's what I said to Susie.

You know, what I've found in life Susie is that nothing ever stays the same. Yeah, it doesn't necessarily always get better but it also doesn't always get worse.

I guess what I would say to you is accept this less than rosy time, which you appear to be, and know that there will come a time, a day, a moment that will fill you with happiness or excitement or some other feeling that's good.

In the meant time, be careful not to let those you do have in your life, your raised kids, feel like they're less than Christopher. That they aren't enough to make their mom happy at Christmas. That the family you actually do have isn't good enough.

I'm sorry it's this way for you, and even sorrier for your kids if they know it. 

I come at this from the point of view of an alive and present kid, albeit an adopted one who is in contact with her bio mom. I am also the daughter of a mother who has lost a child to death, her baby boy, someone whom I myself miss dearly. My little brother.

I know what it's like to be here and present and it just not be good enough.

My mom doesn't do it anymore. She doesn't make me feel this way, this frustrating mix of hurt and compassion. Compassion for a woman who has lost her child but yet hurt by a mom who can't be cheered, who doesn't embrace what she has left, can't be thankful for at least that.

When my mom did make me feel this way, I eventually told her. It was not when my brother initially died. I, being a mom myself, knew how devastating this was to my parents. I'm the one who had to tell them.

I've been there for my parents really forever and in this things were no different, but after a while it got to a point where it just felt wrong. I was here, my son was here, why were we now no longer enough to bring joy or pleasure? When would we become enough again, the way we were before my brother died? Maybe we just never were as important as he was but I'll be damned if I were going to carry on "being there" for someone who I wasn't good enough for. I missed my brother very much too!

I've come to realize that this conversation can evolve into a discussion on "what's worse", although in my mind there's no comparison. If you feel the need to go there, be my guest, but as a mother of one and the daughter of a parent who has lost a child to death, you'll never convince me it's worse to have a child alive and well that you don't see or talk to enough than to have a child that breathed his or her last breath. That there's no hope for reuniting, no hope for a hug or a touching of hands, no possibility of hearing their voice or even reading an email they've written.

That's not what this post is about though. It's about us, the kids that are still here. Your children who call, who visit, who care, who feel so badly for your loss. Who love you, are dedicated to you, and want you to be happy with what you have. Us.

We know that we can never be or do enough to take away the pain. That this person, who we may love and miss ourselves, holds a power to change the way things were, the way things should be, just by their very absence.

As a mom, I get it. I feel sick at the thought of losing my son. I don't even want to imagine what it would be like. I am so so very sorry for any parent who has lost a child.

As a daughter, I implore you to think about what you still have, and embrace it.

edited to supply this link

Got your headstone, assholes.

Going to buy a headstone today. Finally.

It's not an easy task, keeping my mom on track sometimes while keeping my temper. I have to keep my temper, or she tells everyone I'm having "mood swings". Hah, writing that actually made me chuckle.

I'd made an appointment about a month ago to do this but ended up canceling because I realized that we weren't in fact going to buy the headstone but instead I was just going to be chauffeuring my mom on a second shopping trip to a place she'd already been. Thankfully she'd said "oh, I'm not planning to buy anything today, I'm still looking around" to which I replied call me when you've decided on a place and we'll go. There was a bit of "oh, well, ohhh kaay, *sigh* I'll buy it there" but I'd said nuh uhh mom, not having you going around feeling like I bullied you into using this place. Do what you have to do and get back to me.

So, here we are, going to the same place to actually get 'er done.

I spent much of the day yesterday with my mom, first driving her long time girlfriend to the airport, then, back to my mom's to figure out this headstone business. I got her to dig up the paper confirming proof of purchase and location of the four plots my dad had bought at his home town cemetery for $25 dollars in 1982. I vaguely remember him buying said plots, and inquiring as to why there were only four plots when there was five people in our family. I think his reply was something to the effect of "oh, I'm sure at least one of you kids will get married and want to buried somewhere else".

Now, the shopping around for the best headstone price isn't wrong, or uncharacteristic of my mom. Both my parents were/are frugal so my dad would be happy to have not paid too much for his headstone, I know this. But I also know he'd be right pissed off if the plots he paid $25 for in 1982 went to waste and he sat (in the form of ashes) on the entertainment unit in their living room for eternity, even though he and my husband did assemble the unit together and both were quite proud of the achievement.

He'd be happy to know, and I think pleased with me, for using the following in my closing argument in presenting the case for this particular headstone store to ultimately convince my mom to commit. My closing argument was that they're actually getting a fantastic deal since the headstone will in fact be for three people, not just dad, as my brother will be included on the headstone as will my mom when her time comes. I mean just think about it, one headstone for three people. That may even be environmentally friendly too!

My mom has confided to me she's a little hesitant to let the ashes of my brother and my dad go. That it's kind of far away, my dad's home town. And, she doesn't like to drive out to the country herself anymore so it will be hard to visit the headstone. Anymore? Shaking my head I remind her she's never been one to drive herself out to the country and that although I understand, she really has no choice in the matter. These are my dad's wishes and they must be honoured.

It's important to my mom, and to me, that my brother's daughters are able to see a memorial to their dad somewhere on this planet. After drawing a headstone on a piece of a paper and playing around with a few words we've decided to include that my brother was "devoted father" to his daughter's names and something like "I'll love you forever and always" as if he is saying it to them. I like the idea, and I think if I were them it would be meaningful to see something like that.

For my dad, it's simple. It will say "this was the best life I ever had" as that was always what he said no matter if it was a vacation or a home cooked meal or sweet dessert (butter tarts). It was always the best he ever had.

If my brother and my dad could read this or know I blogged about their headstone, well, I think my dad would kind of smile, roll his eyes at my mom and all the hassle, and pat me on the shoulder. My brother, well, he'd just think it was funny as hell and laugh and tease me about it all.

To which I'd affectionately mutter, "assholes".

I'll take mine well done please

Death is a constant subject in my life, and in my heart and head. Most days it tries to rule my thoughts. Many times now I let it, as it helps me keep perspective.

It's not my death I obsess about, although of course I think about that too. It's the possibility of the death of those I love and need, and the deaths of two very important people in my life that always hovers near by, waiting to rein in the temptation to make a bigger deal out of something relatively unimportant. The temptation to get more angry at my son or husband than a situation truly warrants, the temptation to hold a grudge or drag out a disagreement to make a point or to punish a loved who's "done me wrong". I most always will ask myself, is this how you want things to be if this important person were suddenly plucked from your life? Poof, gone! It straightens me out every time.

Some may think it's unhealthy to think about the possibility of death as often as I do, so for the most part, I keep my thoughts to myself. There are those there is no need to do so with though, and those are the members of the "I know shit happens club". My son is one of those, something for which I'm sad and grateful. Sad because he had to do important, sudden deaths so much younger than I had to which not only makes him have to feel a sense of loss for much longer than I will and experience a loss of invincibility that I got to enjoy for many more years than he did. Grateful because he doesn't feel invincible which makes him more careful and caring of those who he loves.

I've recently observed someone who's just joined the "club". It wasn't that he'd not experienced loss before, but he's just experienced that kind of loss that shocks and rocks you to the core. The kind that makes you realize we're all not here forever, in the capacity we know anyway. The kind that makes you go wtf am I holding on to shit for?!? Why am I wasting time living without people I could lose forever in an instant?

I don't like being part of the "club", but I am. If I weren't part of it I wouldn't worry so much, or rather exist in a constant state of controlling my worry, not allowing it to consume me but instead using it to guide me and put it to good use in forcing myself not to sweat the small stuff. To let anger and hurt feelings go if the recipient or cause of it are worthy and are someone I'd regret never seeing or talking to again.

I've just been reading about a mom who feels she's not doing her grief of losing her son right and it made me wonder if there is one right way and I don't think there is. What I do think is there are ways to survive grief, that some grief, as in the case of a loss of a child, never goes away. It evolves, it takes on different weights and shapes and sizes, but it never goes away.

For me, it's what I do with my grief that is important. And what I do is use it, control it, feel it when it's safe, share it when it's necessary or relevant, and keep it close and private sometimes to protect loved ones who are still alive. Is this doing it right? For me, I can honestly say, yes. I do my grief right.

How do you do yours?

See no evil, hear no evil

 I'm a proponent of talking about things with kids so they're prepared.

When reading one excellent post on talking to kids about the Russian child who was sent back to Russia alone I cringed a little when the poster discussed hiding the television news with the hope that the children would remain untouched by the story. I remember something similar when Michael Jackson died and my nieces, especially the older one, were mesmerized by the muted CNN coverage playing in the background on my sister-in-law's tv.

I can't remember the specific questions that were coming up but my approach to questions from kids are to answer them. So, in my attempt to do so, I was silenced by "the look" from their mom. It was explained to me in hushed tones over their heads that they were too young to understand, that it would be upsetting to them.

My question to mom was didn't she think it would be better if we discussed it with them before they talked about it at school with their friends? For whatever reason, mom did not think it was a good idea and so it was left, left to the imagination while the tv remained on muted in the background, CNN being quickly passed over when channel surfing for the rest of my visit.

For some it makes no sense to compare this situation to the Russian child who was returned by his adoptive mom but things like this are relevent to the people involved, what their experience is. These two girls' dad died when they were around 6 and 3 years of age and they were very present when their grandpa died a couple of short years later. They're no stranger to loss, they know death happens, and in our world of ever present media any kid over the age of  four or five can easily be exposed to the news story of the day.

I remember driving with them once and having the oldest ask me what would happen to them if their mom died, just out of the blue. I couldn't tell them their mom wasn't going to die, they know better, so I told them that if that happened I would get to them as soon as possible and make sure they were taken care of, that it wasn't something they needed to worry about. You could feel the relief from the backseat. I did go on to say that it wasn't likely their mom would die anytime soon, that she was healthy and would more than likely be bossing them around for many years to come.

I know it's sometimes frightening to tackle talking to kids about tough stuff, about things we may not even want to think about never mind talk about, but it's best if we try. Our words may not always be perfect, and maybe we'll need to take a few minutes to think about just exactly what we want to say before we do, but something is better than nothing, is better than being in denial about what our kids talk and think about.

Do I think our kids are forced to think and know about things too early in their impressionable lives? Oh yes, I do and it's sad, but, pretending it's not that way doesn't help anyone, especially our kids.

I wonder if this sad story of the Russian boy is affecting more than the kids who've been adopted, if kids all over are wondering if they can be sent away on a plane if their mom and dad don't want them anymore?

Ohh you just reminded me of him

I have two nieces. They're my little brother's babies and they won't even know him. He died 5 years ago of  what might possibly have been SADS, which means he basically died of nothing at 38. This guy was a great dad. He loved his girls so much and it's a huge, huge loss for them to not have him in their lives. I do what I can to make sure they remain in our lives but it's not easy. They live with their mom in another part of the country and we do our best to visit them and bring them to my home in the summer. When I'm with them I don't talk about my brother all the time, only when they do or if he comes up in regular conversation as he often does for me. I talked quite a bit about him before he died and I am not about to stop because he's gone.

My son was very fond of my brother too although in the last years of my brother's life he wasn't as available to my boy because he had a family of his own. My son has letters from my brother, pictures of the two of them together, a pair of his boots and wears one of my brother's leather jackets but even with all the stuff our memory of people fades as time goes on, especially if we're young when we lose them.

For a substantial period of time, before my brother had a family of his own, he lived with my son and me. I was still married to my son's dad at the time and although at times my brother's stay was a bone of contention for my ex husband, for my son and myself it was great! I'll always remember the three of us dancing in my tiny house to Lithium by Nirvana. My brother had faults as we all do, but he was fun and loving and positive and I'm thankful my boy got to have him in his life, and even though the memory is fading my brother will always be in my son. I see proof of it from time to time, these little glimpses of my brother in my son, little mannerisms or a certain look or way of doing something. It's just there.

When we're influenced by someone, good or bad, I think it stays in us forever, no matter who they are.

Sometimes we get lucky, and the influence is a great one, one that helps us remember and allows us for a split second to be with the person we've lost, to once again have the feeling of them.

I'm a lucky person to have had siblings who've been such a positive influence on my son.

Are you going to get a divorce?

A friend was telling me how his daughter's friends at school talk about how they don't get to see their mom or dad because their parents are divorced. He then went on to say that a family member is in the process of splitting up with their partner and that his daughter has had plenty of questions about that, would they get to see their uncle anymore, etc.? I asked him if his daughter asks if he and his wife will ever get a divorce to which he replied oh yeah, she does quite a bit. He said they tell her that of course not, mommy and daddy love each other and that it won't be happening to them.

After my brother died, his 9 year old daughter asked me what would happen to them if their mom dies. Wham! See, my niece and her younger sister lost their dad suddenly and within two years were present when their grandpa, my dad, also died. Two significant deaths within 2 years of each other, so these kids know, shit happens. So I tell them, of course, that it will likely be a long time before their mom dies and they'll be all grown up but I added to that. I added that if something did happen (which it won't) I would help them. That I'd be there in a heartbeat and make sure they were okay and that I'd take care of them. They didn't need to worry. You could feel the relief from the backseat of the car...

I think protecting children from bad or sad things is important but when they're worried or afraid of something that's real, that they see all around them, we shouldn't be afraid to reassure them about what will happen if the "bogeyman" does rear his ugly face, and what our plan is to deal with him.

To my friend I say, tell your daughter you'll be together forever. Mom and dad will never get divorced. But add to that and reassure your children that if it did (though it won't) you'll both love her and see her and take care of her forever. I think you'll feel the relief.