Well, I've been meaning to do this for a while and am finally getting around to actually posting this. Since being in Singapore, one of the things I've dabbled in is spoken word poetry, attending and participating in poetry slams, competitions and performances. Only a few events under my belt and I'm certainly not prolific enough to become a serious contender, but I've enjoyed getting my toes wet. Another thing I've enjoyed about it is the freedom of self expression. There is something about spoken word, in which all of your sentences don't have to make sense or be completely coherent, that releases me to communicate what is really in this jumbled mind of mine. This has been especially helpful in dealing with some of the emotions and reactions I've had concerning Reed and the whole open adoption process thus far.
This past July I had an opportunity to let others hear some of those thoughts as well, when I was invited to perform at a Lit Up Singapore, an annual event promoting the literary arts. It was a small gathering, nothing too big or fancy, but it was my opportunity to get out 3 pieces I had written; I call them my healing poetry. I wrote them through much tears, trying to cut through to what I really wanted to say, and performed them that night attempting to keep most of those tears back. It was very intimidating for me, laying myself open to the friends, co-workers, acquaintances and strangers who attended.
Thankfully, one of those acquaintances whom I know from my book club (thanks, Cheryl!) recorded it with her phone, which is why I'm able to present them here. Like I said, nothing fancy, and you'll have to bear with me as I stumble through some kind of an introduction to the first poem. So here's the first one... (btw, sorry if your computer screen is like mine and doesn't show the whole frame of the video; I have to watch it full screen to even see myself. Maybe it's time for a new blog layout...)
This second 'poem' (I know, it doesn't seem like a poem if you're use to thinking of it in a traditional poetry sense, but remember, spoken word is different) is my reaction to judgement I've seen, heard and felt, both from external and internal sources, about my decision to place for adoption. Some of the words I speak here are words I've heard verbatim from others, some are from arguments I've had in my own head as I've tried to hash out every side of the multi-dimensional coin. The couple of words that are cut off are, "The lightbulb swung casually..."
The final piece is something I wrote specifically for Reed. These are words I hope he hears as he gets older, that will make more and more sense to him as he experiences life and all of it's complexities. The first sentence is a bit cut off, it starts, "There is a way things are suppose to be, there are certain people we are suppose to appease..."
Coming up is something I'm pretty excited about: the Open Adoption Roundtable's interview match-up. The participants are those of us who blog about adoption from any side- birth parents, adoptive parents, adoptees- and we are paired up to conduct our own interviews. This happens in November, so stay tuned, and if you or anyone you know who has been affected by adoption in some way would like to participate, you can check out the link on the right side of this page. :)
Showing posts with label labor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label labor. Show all posts
Friday, October 14, 2011
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Revisiting Thailand
There are so many things I could have been writing about since I last entered anything into this blog, but time passes, procrastination happens, and then the things add up so much that I don’t even know where to begin.
After my visit to see Reed and everyone in Colorado which I wrote about in my last post, I got back to Singapore and hit the ground running. I moved from my tiny room in a condo unit to a ground floor room with an Indian family, jumped back into my normal working schedule, planned for the book club meeting that I facilitate every month, and prepared for the arrival of my dear friend Staci.
Staci and I met as roommates on the cruise ship we both worked on in Hawaii in 2007, and from the day we first boarded and met each other, we became fast friends. A year later, we took a road trip together from Oregon to Alaska where we worked in Denali National Park. A year after that in 2009 she was still in Alaska and I returned for my second summer of working there. I had just flown straight from Thailand where I had spent a month on vacation, where I found out I was pregnant. She picked me up at the airport and as soon as we got in the car I told her the news. “Well, I guess this won’t do you any good now,” said her boyfriend, tossing the wine bottle holder that they had gotten me as a gift into the back seat. We laughed and they both gave me their immediate support.
(Staci and me in Alaska, summer of 2008)
When she arrived in Singapore for her 3 week visit, it was the first time I had seen her since that summer in Alaska. We wanted to make the most of her first trip to Asia, so we booked a weekend in Bintan, a small Indonesian island that’s just a quick ferry ride from Singapore, and one to Krabi, Thailand.
Krabi is a special place for me, but I didn’t know how surreal it would be going back there. That was where Reed became real to me, his presence came into my life. In the spring of ’09, I was traveling through Thailand when I got sick, and stayed sick for the next 6 months. About two weeks into my trip, I realized I was pregnant, despite all my arguments with myself that I surely wasn’t. There was a snorkeling trip we took though, where I had come to accept the fact that I was, and as my mind was reeling and my face was underwater looking at these beautiful blue and yellow fish in clear turquoise waters, I thought, “I’m not alone, it’s not just me anymore. It’s you and me, baby, we’re doing this together.” They were my first thoughts towards Reed, the first of many words and thoughts I spoke to him.
After that snorkeling trip, I spent another week or so with him alone in my thoughts. Then I broke off from my traveling partner Rene (who, incidentally, will also soon be making a visit to Singapore!), and spent a couple of days alone on the beautiful beach of Railey, often considered one of the most stunning in all of Thailand. It was there, sitting on the beach at night digging my toes in the sand gazing out over the ocean, that I really spoke to Reed about where we were, what we were doing, and about adoption. From there I took a ferry to Krabi on the mainland, found a drugstore, and finally took a pregnancy test.
(Railay Beach Thailand)
Later, when I was in North Carolina going to birthing classes, we were coached to have an image or object to focus on through the contractions. I had chosen a print of a painting that someone had given to me that had special meaning for me, but when the time came and I was in the bathtub pushing through labor, my mind automatically went back to those clear, turquoise waters, those blue and yellow fish, surrounded by the tall rock walls jutting out of the water in a semi-circle to form a cove, and me telling him, “we’re doing this together, baby.”
So there I was, two years later, back in Krabi. I send a postcard to Reed from every place I visit, and I definitely wanted to send him one from there. I found a shop and looked for cards from Krabi, but then I found one of Railey Beach, and I knew I had to send that one. I sat down and thought about what to write to him, and was able to send it off immediately with tears in my eyes. Staci waited patiently for me, and then we were off to find some sunscreen. My thoughts were a bit distracted when I followed her into a drugstore, but as soon as we stepped in, I recognized it immediately. I pointed out to her the corner where the pregnancy tests were, and told her how I had to mime what I wanted to the non-English speaking woman behind the counter.
The next day, we went on a snorkeling trip. Not just any snorkeling trip, but you guessed it, the exact one from 2 years ago. Every spot was as beautiful as I remember it, and of course we went to Loh Samah Bay. So much came flooding back to me then, from my first acknowledgement of Reed up to his birth, all tied with this scene I was in. I put on my snorkeling mask, dipped my head in the water, saw the blue and yellow fish swimming around me, and started to cry. Have you ever tried crying into a snorkeling mask? It’s not easy! I would come up to take a breath and recollect, then dip my head back under and start bawling again. All of the feelings, amazement, fears, wonder and questions came barreling back, and I realized why that place, that moment was so special to me; that was when he was mine. All mine. I hadn’t told anyone about him, I hadn’t decided on adoption yet, no one knew about him, I wasn’t sharing him with anyone, he was all, completely, utterly, unquestionably mine. That may have been the only time he was really mine, that it was just him and me, because it didn’t take long for me to realize that he actually belonged to someone else, plus I wanted to share him with Bill as soon as I could. I wasn’t thinking this two years ago, but oh, that sweet, wonderful moment when he was mine…
(Loh Samah Bay, July 2011)
This of course begs the questions: Then do I wish he were still mine? Do I regret the adoption? Should he have been mine?
No, I do not think ‘yes’ to any of those. I think I will always struggle with the concept of loving him so much and yet not wanting to keep him. Yup, I said it, I didn’t want to keep him. This statement conjures up images of women dumping their babies in garbage bins, leaving them at friend’s houses for days at a time, abandoning them to whomever will take them off their hands. But I never said I didn’t want Reed in my life, that I wish he had never happened. Even before I took the pregnancy test, when I thought about the possibility of having a miscarriage or any other way to get out of being pregnant, my soul cringed and my heart cried out. Once he was there, I didn’t want him to not happen. And yes, it was beautiful when he was all mine, a feeling I’d never experienced before, a feeling I’m sure so many other mothers know well.
That’s the struggle, how do I reconcile those two seemingly opposing sides- that I love him dearly and deeply with everything I am, yet I didn’t (don’t) want to keep him? As Reed grows older and comes to understand more, how will he deal with the fact that his mother didn’t want to keep him? What about when he hears that I don’t regret placing him for adoption? These are all harsh questions I have to ask myself, and I don’t have answers for. In the video posted on this site made when I was still in NC, I read an excerpt from the journal entry I wrote after taking the pregnancy test, which said, “is it possible to truly love something that you don’t want to keep?” What didn’t make it in the cut of the video was the sentence I wrote immediately after, “I don’t know how it is possible, but my heart somehow tells me that it is. And now, it’s reality to prove it, and for my life to live it.” I may not know all the depths of how it works, but I am still able to confidently say that I am glad he belongs to Doug and Maura and that he was meant for them and not for me, even say that I am glad he is not with me, and at the same time profess my undying, unconditional, inexhaustible love for him while producing tears galore from missing and longing for him. Like I said, I don’t know how it works to fully love something you don’t want to keep. Maybe the beauty of it is that I don’t need to know, that I only need to listen to my heart that tells me it is. And my life is certainly proving it true.
The rest of Staci’s time in Singapore was wonderful and way too short, and my summer continued to get busier. My next post will come soon, with another project I was working on for the month of July that had to do with Reed.
After my visit to see Reed and everyone in Colorado which I wrote about in my last post, I got back to Singapore and hit the ground running. I moved from my tiny room in a condo unit to a ground floor room with an Indian family, jumped back into my normal working schedule, planned for the book club meeting that I facilitate every month, and prepared for the arrival of my dear friend Staci.
Staci and I met as roommates on the cruise ship we both worked on in Hawaii in 2007, and from the day we first boarded and met each other, we became fast friends. A year later, we took a road trip together from Oregon to Alaska where we worked in Denali National Park. A year after that in 2009 she was still in Alaska and I returned for my second summer of working there. I had just flown straight from Thailand where I had spent a month on vacation, where I found out I was pregnant. She picked me up at the airport and as soon as we got in the car I told her the news. “Well, I guess this won’t do you any good now,” said her boyfriend, tossing the wine bottle holder that they had gotten me as a gift into the back seat. We laughed and they both gave me their immediate support.
(Staci and me in Alaska, summer of 2008)
When she arrived in Singapore for her 3 week visit, it was the first time I had seen her since that summer in Alaska. We wanted to make the most of her first trip to Asia, so we booked a weekend in Bintan, a small Indonesian island that’s just a quick ferry ride from Singapore, and one to Krabi, Thailand.
Krabi is a special place for me, but I didn’t know how surreal it would be going back there. That was where Reed became real to me, his presence came into my life. In the spring of ’09, I was traveling through Thailand when I got sick, and stayed sick for the next 6 months. About two weeks into my trip, I realized I was pregnant, despite all my arguments with myself that I surely wasn’t. There was a snorkeling trip we took though, where I had come to accept the fact that I was, and as my mind was reeling and my face was underwater looking at these beautiful blue and yellow fish in clear turquoise waters, I thought, “I’m not alone, it’s not just me anymore. It’s you and me, baby, we’re doing this together.” They were my first thoughts towards Reed, the first of many words and thoughts I spoke to him.
After that snorkeling trip, I spent another week or so with him alone in my thoughts. Then I broke off from my traveling partner Rene (who, incidentally, will also soon be making a visit to Singapore!), and spent a couple of days alone on the beautiful beach of Railey, often considered one of the most stunning in all of Thailand. It was there, sitting on the beach at night digging my toes in the sand gazing out over the ocean, that I really spoke to Reed about where we were, what we were doing, and about adoption. From there I took a ferry to Krabi on the mainland, found a drugstore, and finally took a pregnancy test.
(Railay Beach Thailand)
Later, when I was in North Carolina going to birthing classes, we were coached to have an image or object to focus on through the contractions. I had chosen a print of a painting that someone had given to me that had special meaning for me, but when the time came and I was in the bathtub pushing through labor, my mind automatically went back to those clear, turquoise waters, those blue and yellow fish, surrounded by the tall rock walls jutting out of the water in a semi-circle to form a cove, and me telling him, “we’re doing this together, baby.”
So there I was, two years later, back in Krabi. I send a postcard to Reed from every place I visit, and I definitely wanted to send him one from there. I found a shop and looked for cards from Krabi, but then I found one of Railey Beach, and I knew I had to send that one. I sat down and thought about what to write to him, and was able to send it off immediately with tears in my eyes. Staci waited patiently for me, and then we were off to find some sunscreen. My thoughts were a bit distracted when I followed her into a drugstore, but as soon as we stepped in, I recognized it immediately. I pointed out to her the corner where the pregnancy tests were, and told her how I had to mime what I wanted to the non-English speaking woman behind the counter.
The next day, we went on a snorkeling trip. Not just any snorkeling trip, but you guessed it, the exact one from 2 years ago. Every spot was as beautiful as I remember it, and of course we went to Loh Samah Bay. So much came flooding back to me then, from my first acknowledgement of Reed up to his birth, all tied with this scene I was in. I put on my snorkeling mask, dipped my head in the water, saw the blue and yellow fish swimming around me, and started to cry. Have you ever tried crying into a snorkeling mask? It’s not easy! I would come up to take a breath and recollect, then dip my head back under and start bawling again. All of the feelings, amazement, fears, wonder and questions came barreling back, and I realized why that place, that moment was so special to me; that was when he was mine. All mine. I hadn’t told anyone about him, I hadn’t decided on adoption yet, no one knew about him, I wasn’t sharing him with anyone, he was all, completely, utterly, unquestionably mine. That may have been the only time he was really mine, that it was just him and me, because it didn’t take long for me to realize that he actually belonged to someone else, plus I wanted to share him with Bill as soon as I could. I wasn’t thinking this two years ago, but oh, that sweet, wonderful moment when he was mine…
(Loh Samah Bay, July 2011)
This of course begs the questions: Then do I wish he were still mine? Do I regret the adoption? Should he have been mine?
No, I do not think ‘yes’ to any of those. I think I will always struggle with the concept of loving him so much and yet not wanting to keep him. Yup, I said it, I didn’t want to keep him. This statement conjures up images of women dumping their babies in garbage bins, leaving them at friend’s houses for days at a time, abandoning them to whomever will take them off their hands. But I never said I didn’t want Reed in my life, that I wish he had never happened. Even before I took the pregnancy test, when I thought about the possibility of having a miscarriage or any other way to get out of being pregnant, my soul cringed and my heart cried out. Once he was there, I didn’t want him to not happen. And yes, it was beautiful when he was all mine, a feeling I’d never experienced before, a feeling I’m sure so many other mothers know well.
That’s the struggle, how do I reconcile those two seemingly opposing sides- that I love him dearly and deeply with everything I am, yet I didn’t (don’t) want to keep him? As Reed grows older and comes to understand more, how will he deal with the fact that his mother didn’t want to keep him? What about when he hears that I don’t regret placing him for adoption? These are all harsh questions I have to ask myself, and I don’t have answers for. In the video posted on this site made when I was still in NC, I read an excerpt from the journal entry I wrote after taking the pregnancy test, which said, “is it possible to truly love something that you don’t want to keep?” What didn’t make it in the cut of the video was the sentence I wrote immediately after, “I don’t know how it is possible, but my heart somehow tells me that it is. And now, it’s reality to prove it, and for my life to live it.” I may not know all the depths of how it works, but I am still able to confidently say that I am glad he belongs to Doug and Maura and that he was meant for them and not for me, even say that I am glad he is not with me, and at the same time profess my undying, unconditional, inexhaustible love for him while producing tears galore from missing and longing for him. Like I said, I don’t know how it works to fully love something you don’t want to keep. Maybe the beauty of it is that I don’t need to know, that I only need to listen to my heart that tells me it is. And my life is certainly proving it true.
The rest of Staci’s time in Singapore was wonderful and way too short, and my summer continued to get busier. My next post will come soon, with another project I was working on for the month of July that had to do with Reed.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Pictures of THE DAY!!
I couldn't get these pictures in the order I wanted, but at least you'll get an idea of the people and the support I had during the incredible birth of this very special little boy.
We were so happy to finally meet him!
We were so happy to finally meet him!
Do they look like happy parents or what?
And finally... here he is!
I'm a big fan of water birth; the water supported me when my legs were shaking and could barely hold me up anymore, plus it was warm and soothing. The most uncomfortable I was during the whole time was when I laid down on the bed... I'm so glad I wasn't in that position at a hospital!
As soon as we got to the birth center, Bill, Shelley, Kathryn, Doug and Maura were quick to do everything they could to make me as comfortable as possible and make sure I had everything I needed.
Lots of helping hands; it was very empowering and healing.
This is the last picture of the "spectacular" belly. I was actually in the beginning stages of labor when this picture was taken, so I knew this was as big as it was going to get.Saturday, December 26, 2009
Labor Day!!!
My gorgeous, beautiful son was born on the morning of Sunday, December 13th. What an experience, I don’t even know if I can begin to describe it. I chose to have a water delivery at a birthing center rather than go the hospital route, and I’m so glad I did. Most of the labor I was able to do at home, which started very early Saturday morning. Finally, when the contractions were intense and frequent, we met the midwife at the birth center at 4:30 Sunday morning. Bill, Shelley, my sister Kathryn who was visiting from Texas and I arrived, and shortly after came Doug and Maura. There was an energy in the air, the kind that completely wipes out the feeling one usually has at being awake at 4am. Like waking up early to get ready for an exciting road trip… times 10.
During my whole pregnancy it was all about me. Someone who didn’t agree with my decision towards adoption had told me I was being selfish and that it wasn’t about me. My response was that yes, actually it is all about me. I’m the one housing this baby, I’m the one taking care of him, I’m the one (along with Bill of course) who makes the decisions for his life. In that particular conversation the person seemed to be extremely concerned with what happens to the baby and not at all interested in any aspect of my life. I told her she can’t get to the baby without going through me.
That’s true with any expectant mom. There is so much interest in this new life and people want to express that interest and concern, but everything must be channeled through the mother for the first nine months. I loved that channeling process. I loved it when a hand was placed on my belly. Someone was touching me, but it was meant for the baby. We were one. When I was at work in Alaska and my employees were constantly taking things out of my hands saying I shouldn’t be carrying anything, they were taking care of me and showing their concern for this boy they had never met. When someone became protective of me, they were protecting the baby. When someone saw me waddling into the supermarket and they opened the door and pulled the cart out for me, it was also for my baby. Everything was channeled to him through me, especially the love I felt from Bill, Doug, Maura, and their family and friends.
I knew that for that time it was all about me, I was the center of attention because I was carrying this incredibly special boy. All eyes were on me, but only because all of our hearts were on him. So at the birth center as we all gathered there knowing that the time was soon to come, I felt that channeling of love and anticipation even more intensely. Just as we had learned in our birthing class, my entourage of support were rubbing my shoulders, massaging my feet, bringing me water, putting cold towels on my neck, wiping my forehead, pulling back my hair. Some people may be intimidated at having so many people around when going through such an intimate and intense event like giving birth, but with every touch I felt strengthened and supported. I felt it even more because I knew it wasn’t only for me, but also for this life inside of me. Did that make me feel less loved? Or that it was only my baby that anyone was interested in? Not at all; my son and I were at that time so connected that any love anyone had for him I felt was equally dispersed to me, and vice versa. At one point, I was in the tub intensely pushing and every person in the room had a hand on me. How can I explain that feeling, that feeling of so much love and strength given to me by other people, so much energy from anticipation, and the feeling of me transferring that to my son? I don’t think it’s possible to translate that into words.
Everything for the past nine months had been leading up to this point. Lives had been rearranged for this moment. People had traveled thousands of miles for this moment. Every thing I had done for the past nine months; everything I had eaten, every walk I took, every yoga and birthing class I went to, every time I slept, every breath I took was for this little guy I was about to meet. Every kick or hiccup I felt reminded me that he was getting ready for this moment.
I was pushing so hard that I was making deep grunting noises. I was concentrated, focused. He had already crowned about half an hour ago, and I could feel the top of his head. I pushed and pushed, “come on Reed, come on baby,” I was coaching to him. And then, suddenly, everyone gasped. What? What happened? Then before I knew it I was leaning back in the tub and was being handed this beautiful, pink, dark haired baby boy! He had shot out so fast I didn’t even realize it! And there he was in my arms, the one whos’ every movement I had felt, who Bill and I and Doug and Maura had been dreaming about, wondering what it would be like to finally meet him. “So you’re the one!” were my first words to him. And then, as I had said to him every single day since I first learned of his existence, I said “You are so special to me.”
At that instant, every act of love and concern that had been showed to me became even more alive in him. We had been listening to a compilation cd of some mellow music that they happened to have at the birth center, and the song “blackbird” by the Beatles was playing on the cd player at the moment of his birth. How appropriate; “you were only waiting for this moment to arrive.”
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