Happy 81st Year Day

Today is my father's 81st birthday. Because he and my mother are devout Jehovah's Witnesses, they don't celebrate birthdays. Ralph  reminds me every year when his birthday is coming, so I can be prepared. My job is to get chocolate cake (his favorite) and ice cream for everyone in their nursing home to enjoy after their supper. Just for fun, not for Ralph in particular. 
NOTICE: WE ARE NOT celebrating my dad's birthday. I am just being generous with his favorite treat. It could happen on any day of the year. (I hope this disclaimer covers me with the Jehovah's Witness Big Guy upstairs. I am not sure what the official procedure is regarding birthdays, but I want to make sure Ralph is in the clear with his God.) 

Ralph in all his 81st year glory.

Cake and ice cream for all!

If you asked him, Ralph would be the first to tell you that he has outlived both his parents ages when they passed, and that he is sort of surprised he made it this long. Not that he is afraid of dying, he isn't. As a religious man, he is comforted by his faith traditions and that is a gift when you live in a place where people slip quietly away, never to return to the dining hall again.

 If Ralph had his way he would be behind the wheel of a RV, living the life of an American wanderer. He isn't so much a tourist, as a visitor. He likes to try new places on for size, moving on when things get boring or annoying. I can relate, I inherited his itch for new sights and sounds. Nothing soothes my soul like a good day trip to see something interesting.

 It is hard for Ralph to be landlocked, without wheels to take him to freedom. The least I could do is bring him cake and ice cream on his most important 81st year day.

Adoption is a Trauma

                     

My brother Rex, with our birth parents, Ralph and Claudia, and Ralph's mother. 

I had a phone call from a woman who recently read Ezra and Hadassah: A Portrait of American Royalty. She wanted me to know she sat down to read it and didn't stop until she was done, 8 hours later. Besides complimenting my writing style, she told me she was an adoptive parent of two adult children, and that after years of struggle, she has come to the conclusion that adoption is a trauma.

 When she and her husband adopted their children years ago, there was no acknowledgement of the possibility that adoption could have long-term repercussions on a child, especially days old infants like their son and daughter. 

Mainstream science is just now beginning to acknowledge the impact of early childhood poverty, abuse and neglect on the physical health of adults. How stress hormones affect a pregnant woman who is contemplating adoption, while simultaneously growing a baby within herself, should be the next topic of scientific study. Along with maternal grief, fear and anxiety, it doesn't seem illogical to assume the central nervous system of the developing fetus would also be affected.

The caller told me that if she had known when she was handed her babies in the 1980's, that there could be long-term physical and emotional effects of adoption for her children, she would have sought out advice and assistance that could have helped with their healing. Her biggest sorrow in life is witnessing the struggles her adult children continue to have, recognizing they come from deep places involving genetics and feelings of loss that have nothing to do with her relationship to them.

Not every child feels so deeply the pain of separation from their mother of origin. Every human has their own unique way of absorbing stress. Just because there isn't overt pain for one child, does not mean that every child who experiences adoption should also emerge unscathed. Instead of assuming that adoption trauma is rare, adults should assume just the opposite. Healthy maturation without support, is what is rare.

 Acknowledging that adoption is a negative activity that results from the dissolution of the primal relationship of an infant to its parents, does not negate the healing power of second parenting. Adoption is not an either/or activity. Instead, the truth of adoption is that it is an action of also. I love my birth parents, and I ALSO love the other people in my life who love me.

The historical (and still common attitude) that adoption is the mere transfer of legal ownership, is to dismiss the reality of connection between all parents and their children.

Emelia Is Gone

My sister Emelia's birthday on January 11th.  My birthday is on August 11th. We are exactly 5 months apart in age.  We were introduced when we were both 7 years old, and we became sisters and roommates the same day we met. 

We are now both 48 years old. I am older, and because of the way school cut offs work, I was a year ahead of her in school. That made it easy for me to ignore her in public. We had different classes, different friends and led different lives. Even though we shared a bedroom for most of the years we lived at the same address, we were never close.

That is the nature of living in an abusive, Hunger Games kind of family. We kids were pitted against each other, being rewarded with extra food and privileges when we ratted out each other's sins. I quickly learned to never tell my new sister anything. It was too dangerous. 

 As adults, Emelia stayed close to our adoptive parents and I couldn't leave fast enough. We tried on and off, for almost 30 years, to close the gap between us. Especially after Harley and Virginia died, it seemed like we would finally have the sisterhood relationship we both said we wanted. But it wasn't meant to be. The traumas of our childhood kept us apart, unable to break through the wall that separated us.

Emelia suffered in silence a much heavier burden than I did. She was sexually abused by a man our adopted parents invited into our home and claimed as an adult son. She suffered mental abuse that I was able to find solace in others from. She didn't have teachers and friends who rescued her. She didn't get the breaks in life that I did.

Emelia took her own life last Saturday. She will be 48 forever. My heart breaks for the physical and emotional pain I know she suffered. My heart breaks for her husband, children and grandchildren she left behind.

Life is hard. Be kind to one another. 

(from top left): Rex, Matthew, Emelia and Me on the first day of school in our new adoptive family.

Not all of our family, there were  older siblings that no longer lived at home by the time Rex and I arrived. 

Emelia and me, with Harley at a Daddy Daughter program at church. 

Emelia and me with our little sisters/ nieces. We were responsible for  the day- to- day care of the little girls. I washed their laundry and Emelia did their hair. She waa always better at the beauty stuff than me. 

Emelia in high school. I remember arguing over that sweater shirt. It looked better on her. 

Why I Am Voting For Bernie Sanders

Our Crew

I am voting for Bernie Sanders in the upcoming Iowa Caucus because I am wiped out. I am so freaking tired I am willing to publicly admit I can't keep doing this. I need help, and I need it to be real, substantial help, not just an offer of prayer on my behalf or a word of encouragement.

My family may be a tad bit unique in our life struggle, but I do not believe we are that far from the norm. I think we are one family in a large silent and suffering nation of families on the verge of crisis.

 Rob and I are responsible for 3 generations of our family with special needs. Our elderly parents with physical and mental disabilities, our 3 young adult children who each have Usher Syndrome, which causes hearing loss from birth and gradual vision loss, and our granddaughter who has autism. Rob and I are walking, talking encyclopedias on the emotional, financial and physical sacrifices that must be made to meet the needs of people who can't take care of themselves. We are constantly researching resources and treatments, trying to help our loved ones have decent qualities of life. Rob and I do not enjoy financial security ourselves because all of our resources go to keeping our fragile family ship afloat on the wicked seas of ever-shrinking federal and state programs for the poor and disabled.

I laughed so hard a few months ago when presidential candidate Jeb Bush suggested the way to improve the economy was for people to work more hours. Um, Mr. Bush, can I talk to you for a minute? Yeah, we need to discuss how Rob and I are supposed to work more than our full-time jobs, plus take care of the 7 people who are doing the best they can with what God gave them. You cannot accuse Rob or I of being slackers. We put ourselves through college by working, going to school and raising a family at the same time. The only official vacation we have ever taken was 23 years ago, when a charity for special needs children gave us the gift of a 5 day trip to Disney World. You know your family is officially under stress when strangers are willing to pay for you to meet Mickey Mouse.

I am voting for Bernie Sanders for President of the United States of America because he is the only politician I have ever heard who acknowledges that social and health care programs for the disabled and disadvantaged are necessary. As the Bible says, there will always be the poor among us. There will always be people born with special needs, there will always be illness, car accidents and random things that happen to good people everywhere. What America desperately needs now is politicians who understand this fact of life and are willing to act on it.

I hope you and your family enjoy lifetimes of excellent physical and mental health. I also hope that if you don't have that gift, there are supports to help you. Our family is doing everything we can to ensure you will have a safe place to land in the event of hardship. Won't you do the same for your fellow man?