Here, yet not

The new Blogger seems not to be compatible with an Ipad. Boo! Be back when I can. Try not to miss me too much! : )

Radiation Red

Last night I celebrated my final radiation treatment for my breast cancer.

First, after work, I met and had drinks with my best girlfriend. We've been friends for a good forty years now and we had a great visit as always. We toasted me and talked about how great I am and I even allowed her to talk a bit about herself and the struggles she's been having lately in life. We left happy and refreshed with thoughts about taking a trip together somewhere this summer.

After that, I grabbed my husband and we went for dinner and indulged ourselves with whatever we wanted off the menu. I'm all for rewards when we achieve or conquer something and I feel like I've endured and conquered quite a bit these past 10 months so stuffing myself with rich food and wine for one night seemed like just the right thing for me. I even ordered dessert.

Today I awake knowing I am finished my radiation. I think back to the beginning when I didn't have a clue what to expect. I think about the good information and support I got from people I know who've survived cancer and realize I am now one of them. Another club I belong to.

On my second last day of radiation, while I waited for my technician to fetch me from the waiting room, a woman with a cane wearing a turban sat down near me. It was hard to tell her age but I did feel she was a few years older than me. I had arrived a little early so had poured myself a coffee and mentioned it tasted pretty good when I noticed the woman looking at me. We got to talking and it turns out she herself has survived breast cancer. She'd endured a double mastectomy (and all the other procedures that lead up to that point) and had been cancer free for 9 years. Now its been discovered she has brain cancer and she's enduring all that that entails. The ease with which we discussed such a terrifying and exhausting situation blows me away when I think about it. I only teared up when I talked about her to the radiation technician and then my husband the next morning. I will remember that lady forever and wish for her to eventually be well again.

I'll also remember the older gentleman I saw on my first day of radiation. As I waited for my name to be called, a total newbie amongst cancer treatment veterans, some with hair, more without, a man's name was called. It was a gentleman of 78 (which I knew because they ask our birthdays every time we receive treatment) and as he walked with the tech they excitedly talked about how it was his last day, and he told her how he was going to celebrate with a bottle of Boost. Too cute.

There have been a ton of special people I'd never have even known existed had I not had to do this cancer thing. It's been tough in ways I could never have anticipated, easier than I thought it would be in other ways, and I have no reason to believe I haven't beaten it. At least for now.

I've seen too much in my life now to not know that shit happens, so I am as prepared as I can be for anything. If its good shit, I will enjoy the hell out of it. If its bad, I'll fight as hard as I possibly can to kick it's ass.

I still think they should make a paint or stain colour called Radiation Red.

Maybe donate a portion of it's sales to cancer organizations?

What seems to always happen

See, this is what seems to always happen.

Strong blanket statements are made and then I feel an obligation to contribute, compelled to say how I feel about being adopted. I don't get why that is so surprising to anti-adoption activists since it's what they themselves are doing.

I do not feel abandoned and that's because of having been adopted. Had my biological mother left me on a doorstep with no attempt to ensure my safety or my having a family, then I'd feel abandoned.

Not every adoptee feels or should feel that way, we're all different with unique experiences, but that's how I feel and how I feel matters just as much as anyone else. I also feel very much a part of my family, more so than some friends who are biologically related to each other.

To those of us who were provided with a family through adoption and aren't angry about our own situation, it's impossible to be completely against it even though we're not stupid enough to think reform isn't needed. Is that so hard to understand?

I wish every child conceived could be kept and raised by the people who created it but that's completely unrealistic. We all need to work toward helping parents plan their parenthood, make the best, most informed decisions when unplanned, unexpected, and unwanted pregnancy occurs. And, it does occur. We do each other no favor pretending every human is born to be a parent.

Sensational or sugar-coated blanket statements are no help to anyone as they so easily dismissed.

If you don't care, why not?

I've been reading around and there's some discussion on people making comparisons in adoption, such as comparing adoption to slavery or the Holocaust.

As I read I think about what I could compare adoption to and I realize, it's just not that simple. It's too personal and there are too many portions or aspects to an adoption to make it comparable to much.

I could take a portion of a specific person's adoption experience and compare it to the Holocaust I suppose. The problem though, with a general comparison of adoption to something horrific, is that adoption isn't horrific for everyone who has been involved in one whereas I think in the Holocaust, we can all agree, it is.

It always comes back to credibility for me.

I read stories of parents who have had their babies stolen from them. It's horrific to imagine. I read stories about adopted people who landed in horrific adoptive families and it angers me to my core. I think about how I don't really know the circumstances of my conception and birth, who my biological father is and, if I let it, it pisses me off.

When I talk to my friend who was adopted by a woman who just had to have her little girl and then ended up ditching her with a father who never wanted her, it makes me really mad. I marvel at my friend's resilience, her ability to be a great mom in spite of the fact she herself never had one.

When I look realistically at specific negative incidents, circumstances, situations, or experiences people have in adoption I can get on board with reform. No problem. It makes sense. It's believable.

You tell me adoption as an entity is like slavery or the Holocaust? I think you're hysterical, dramatic, self-absorbed, and/or attention seeking.

I and many other people needed adoption. We needed families who wanted us. There are many people who will need families and never get one. Even a subpar, adoptive family would be preferable to many people who have nobody.

The problem I have with comparing adoption to something universally terrible, to crimes against all humanity, is that for this adoptee, it doesn't compare.

Don't we care what non-adopted atrocity victims' and their descendants' reactions are to these kinds of comparisons? Care what the would-give-anything-to-have-been-adopted's reactions are to these kinds of comparisons? Care what people who are completely satisfied with their adoption experience think? And if you don't care, why not?

You already have each other's support.

It's Ok, Stop On By, It's Not Contagious

So, I've been doing a bit of breast cancer for the past six or so months.

I hadn't really planned to write about it until I saw this documentary and felt inspired to, at the very least, share the doc and draw attention to the website for the Harold P. Freeman Institute for Patient Navigation.

"Successful patient navigation supports those diagnosed with suspicious findings by eliminating barriers to timely screening, treatment, and supportive care of cancer and other chronic diseases. Patient navigation saves lives and improves resolution rates of patients. When implemented at the organizational level within a community, it results in increased efficiencies and improved outcomes"

See, I'm in Canada and I haven't had to pay, nor am I in debt for, one red cent for the amazing care I've gotten and continue to get. I do pay for the Letrozole I am now taking and will be taking for 5 years but thankfully, one of the benefits from my employer is to cover a (significant) percentage of my prescribed drugs. Otherwise, it's about  $100 a month. For 5 years. I could pay for it if I had to and no doubt my budget would feel it, but it's doable. I'm lucky.

After watching the documentary my heart was breaking for those who can't afford to treat their breast cancer, or any life threatening disease, early enough and have no insurance, benefits, or publicly funded health care system.

How does one experience this and also worry about money? There are already so many things to think of and try not to worry about, I can't imagine pulling this off if I also had to worry about paying for my care.

So there it is. You have the links. You know I'm doing breast cancer. If you want to talk about it, welcome.

I've had tons of support, support from family and friends who have and have not had breast cancer but not everyone is as fortunate as me. So, here I am. If you want to talk about mammograms, biopsies (fine needle or core), lumpectomies, sentinel node biopsies, lymphedema, radiation or any other breast cancer related topics on which I am no expert...I'm here if you need.

I had so many people to talk about it all with when I needed that the thought of someone having no one literally brings tears to my eyes.

Feel free to use this post to talk to me, to each other, or just to vent. I will still write a post here and there about this experience, there's one in particular I need to write, a post where I need to talk about my friend who died from cancer in the summer, an old friend that I drew tons of strength from through this insanity. The grace and dignity with which she conducted her battle against cancer left a huge impression on me and little did I know at the time I was learning such a valuable lesson.

Hmm. Life. Doing our best to love and appreciate it while we have it.

Guest Post: more on telling the truth in adoption.

Telling Your Other Children About The Surrendered Child


BY Mary Anne Cohen
From Origins NJ Newsletter,revised 2004. 2012

One of the hardest but most necessary tasks facing first mothers is telling their other children about the surrendered brother or sister.

The longer a mother has kept the secret, the harder it is. Some mothers want to search but feel unable to come out to their families. These women are not deliberately deceptive or cowardly. They have the best motives towards all their children, but are frightened and confused about the possible ill effect of revealing their secret. They fear that the knowledge will harm their children, and add more guilt and damage to their already fragile self-image as adequate mothers. This is even more common in mothers who are found, who thought that the surrendered child would be a secret forever. Some may have husbands who are opposed to telling the children, which adds an extra source of anxiety.

Most mothers who surrendered in the years after WWII have told their husband about the surrendered child, and perhaps one or two close friends, but beyond that, it usually has not been discussed or shared. A few have not even confided in their husband or another living soul.

As a mother who is searching, chances are your home is suddenly full of adoption-related material, that you are glued to the TV whenever the word “adoption” is mentioned; that you spend hours on the Internet seeking search assistance, and that you have long phone conversations with your new adoption search buddies.

Although physically you remain in your ordinary surroundings, your mind and heart are caught up in a quest as profound, challenging, and consuming as any mythical crusade. You are in a state of emotional turmoil, as you face the challenges posed by each phase of search, contact, and reunion. Life is not really proceeding as usual, much as you might try to separate your home life from your “adoption life”. How can your family not notice that something is going on?

If you have been contacted by your adult child, either directly or through an intermediary, and are secretly corresponding, or in the hard place of trying to decide how or if to respond to the initial contact, your inner state and outer demeanor are probably even more upsetting and puzzling to those you live with, if you have not shared with them what momentous occurrence has transpired.

A secret like this has to come out, and it will, in ways that you may not like unless you take the initiative and control how your family is informed. Even if the found adoptee is patient and sensitive to your need for privacy for many years, the secret can take a toll on both of you and your relationship, and be revealed by some happening beyond either's control.

Your family are already affected by your search, despite your efforts to protect them. Why not let them be equal partners, persons you respect enough to share truth with, rather than confused spectators of something they half comprehend or misinterpret?

Children can draw some surprising conclusions from your unexplained erratic behavior. They may fear that they themselves are adopted, or that they have done something to upset you that is so awful you cannot talk about it. Older kids may imagine you have a secret lover, or are about to be divorced. They may fear that someone in the family has a fatal illness that is being concealed. The imagination of children is unlimited—and so is the needless suffering it can cause. Kids who have imagined any of these scenarios will be relieved when you finally reveal the truth, which in many ways has little to do with them, or their day to day family life.

It is important to realize that while your children may be interested in their lost sibling, and ask many questions, they will never have the intensity of feelings, especially painful ones that you have. They did not experience what you did; the birth, surrender, and years of secret guilt. They do not bring any of the baggage that you do to the whole adoption/reunion scenario. Telling them does not lay an equal burden of suffering on them. They may or may not eventually form their own relationship with their sibling.

We need to keep our boundaries clear and not project our feelings onto our children when contemplating “the talk” about the surrendered child. While the adoption issue is central to us, to most of our children it will be peripheral at most until they actually meet their sibling. Rather than experiencing a loss, some children are overjoyed to learn that they have suddenly “gained” a new sibling, often the big brother or sister they have always wanted, and approach the news with curiosity and wonder rather than horror.

A common reaction is, “Where is she? When can we see her?” If you have been contacted by an intermediary, or by your searching child, how wonderful to be able to reply, “as soon as possible!”. Another common reaction of adult children is that knowing you surrendered a child explains a lot about aspects of your behavior and emotional state over the years that may have been puzzling to them.

There is no ideal age to wait for. Right now is always the right time. It does not get easier with the passage of time, and can get more difficult. Teenagers and young adults may resent the fact that you underestimated their capacity to deal with reality, and treated them like babies rather than as maturing young people. They may feel betrayed that you were not honest with them sooner. Often, the oldest feels slightly displaced, and some sibling rivalry issues can be evident even if there is no reunion as yet.

Older children may be angry at having been deceived, rather than grateful for being “protected” from the truth for years. But like all things, this too will pass; just as it is never too early, it is also never too late. Many mothers who are already grandmothers have told middle-aged adult children of their other sibling, with no ill effects. Much as many of us fear that our subsequent children will fear rejection after being told that their mother gave up a child, I have never heard of any who voiced that concern, or acted as if that were a possibility. Your children have the right to know they have a sibling, and it is best that they hear it first from you.

Young children are generally trusting, and accept whatever you do because you are their mother and they love you. Children who grow up knowing that you had another child and placed her for adoption accept this as part of history, just as they would deal with knowing about a previous marriage of either of their parents.

Some of you have long passed the stage of telling little children, and are faced with the task of telling teenagers. Many mothers of teens fear that their children will lose respect for them as people, and will flaunt their mother’s “immorality” when told by their parents to wait to have sex. “You did it at 16—why can’t I”? Some young people, mostly male, have reacted with anger, judgment, and disbelief, and have shown resentment at their mother’s supposed “double standard.” But they get over it.

You could use your unhappy experience as an example of the problems created by sex without adequate protection, commitment, or maturity. Teenagers respect honesty; they hate hypocrisy. They will ultimately respect you for admitting you were not perfect, and may become more open and honest with you in return. Once they know and have incorporated your story into theirs, your teenage and adult children can be your greatest source of comfort during search and reunion. Don’t shut them out of something that could bring you all closer together.

Present the subject in a way that is appropriate to the age, maturity, and temperament of your child. Each child is unique. Some mothers prefer to tell all their children at once, others take each aside and discuss it with each separately. You know your own children and family dynamic best.

Once your children know, don’t go on too much about the subject, but do involve them in all the important points of your search and reunion. Any picture you have of the lost child, either from infancy or any current one you have been sent is helpful in “making it real.” If your husband is against telling the children, try to educate him, and help him to see that honesty is best for your whole family, while secrecy is already doing harm. Go forwards towards reunion with courage, truth and love—and follow your own heart and sense of ethics. It may help to introduce the subject of medical information that could be vital to all your children, and how in reunion it can be exchanged both ways.

You may want to wait to tell the children about their sibling until after you have had some contact with the adoptee, and know that he wants you in his life. In this way, you feel you are protecting your children from disappointment and rejection. This is a very common assumption, but it is wrong. In fact, it is easier for all if your children know before any contact is made, no matter what the outcome. If the adoptee is delighted to be found, or finds you, he may want to meet his siblings right away, which means you will have to either put him off, or tell your other children in the midst of the turmoil of a new reunion, rather than letting them hear and absorb the news in a more relaxed fashion. It is not fair to the adoptee to contact them, and then insist on a covert relationship where they remain a “dirty little secret.” If you are found, in most cases your surrendered child will be understanding, but eventually you may want the secret to end and true openness to begin.

Wherever you are as you read this, if you have not yet told your family, the right moment is now. There will never be an easier or better time, no matter what your present situation might be. The past is gone, but you can take an active and honest role in the future.

In case of rejection, or finding something tragic or distressing, you will need the love and support of those in your family more than ever. You will not need the extra strain of grieving an additional loss or blow while continuing to hide your pain and secret. If you should die before being reunited, it would be best for your family to know of the other child, so that they could welcome her if she searched, or search for her themselves if they felt the need. Adoption and surrender are family matters for generations to come, not just your own sad secret.

The good news about telling your other kids is that so many of us who were just as scared as you are have done it, with no lasting ill effects, some of us many years ago. Many faced difficult situations, but all were relieved to have finally gotten rid of the burden of secrecy. The truth really will set you free.

Afraid of the truth coming out? Talk to me. Tell us what it's like.

"I wish I had her courage. I haven't told my kids yet about my first child, but my husband knows. Yes, I am terrified."


I just read this anonymous comment and I so want to talk to the person that wrote it. I want to ask anonymous about her story. I want to try to understand, to get a sense of what that fear is like, what it's actually a fear of.

What are you afraid your kids will think?

What are you afraid your kids will do?

Are you not afraid of them finding out before you tell them? Is it possible you prefer they found out another way?

What does your husband or wife think, want you to do? Has that changed over the years?

Have your own intentions when it comes to telling your kids changed over the years?

How old are your kids?

Would you expect them all to react the same? As in, would it be easier to tell one of them than the other because of what you know of their personalities?

Are you in communication with your first child?

Do you really even want to tell your kids and are just afraid or do you really wish it would all just go away? It's ok and best if you're honest with yourself about this one. There is no right answer, except for the truth.

If you're a first/birth/bio parent who is keeping your adopted out kid a secret, from anyone, talk to me. I really want to hear how you feel, what it's really like to be "terrified" of the truth, what you think could happen if it comes out.

Although I can't know what it feels like to be afraid of an adoption secret coming out, I assure you I have compassion for the circumstance you now find yourself in. I am completely dedicated to protecting the identity of anyone who comments here so please don't be concerned about not being able to comment anonymously.

I have helped my bio mom keep her secret for years now so know that you can feel confident I would do nothing to jeopardize yours.