Looking Back

You never know how bad it really was until you look back and see what you just went through.   I didn’t know how sick I was, I really had no idea.  The only one who possibly had any clue was my husband.  He watched my quick decent into sickness, but I don’t think even he could really tell how sick I was.  It took me a while to realize that this wasn’t a passing thing. 

It took me even longer to realize how not normal I had become.  Normal people don’t pass out every day.  Normal people don’t get so tired after going to church that it takes two whole days to recover.  Normal is not being so weak that it was difficult to lift a laundry basket or getting winded by going up and down the stairs.  It was a slow realization two years ago that I was truly ill.  It has even been scary, there have been ER visits, many times of passing out, a few times of passing out and then being unresponsive, but mostly it has been extreme exhaustion.

This illness started to affect my thought processes.  My thoughts were foggy and I lost words in the middle of sentences.  I would go to do something and then forget about it for days.  I missed two very important conferences for my son.  Even reading became a chore because I couldn’t keep my train of thought for long enough to finish more than a few pages. 

My husband and I started referring to the “Old Heather.”  The one that seemed more vibrant, that got out and did things, that wrote, that had ideas, and so much more.  The worse it got the more I feared that something was desperately wrong, but the less able I was to make concrete decisions to help myself.

Then one day in November of 2010 I got a break through.  I got on an elliptical machine with a heart monitor.  I watched my heart rate soar into the 200’s almost immediately.  I suddenly became lightheaded and wanted to pass out.  I did it again another day with the same effect.  Finally I was able to go to the doctor with two concrete symptoms; passing out and a high heart rate.  Finally a doctor took me seriously.

It took almost a year but I was able to finally see the specialist I needed.  I finally got an answer; Dysautonomia.  It’s a big word that means your autonomic system is out of whack.  Your autonomic system controls all of the unconscious functions of the body, including the cardiovascular system, gastrointestinal system, metabolic system, and endocrine system.  All of mine are severely messed up.  It’s not fun.  It’s also rare and so it is not something most people or even medical professionals even know about. 

Bad day

I got to go on a steroid for a while, but that caused major side effects that made everything worse.  Honestly the worst side effect was that I was bleeding constantly.  One of my biggest struggles is that I don’t have enough blood.  Thus I have low blood pressure.  Not the good kind of low blood pressure, really low blood pressure.  It’s the kind that makes me exhausted all the time, I don’t get enough blood to my brain and that makes it hard for me to think, I pass out because my body is trying to get blood to my brain and it makes me fall down for gravity to accomplish that. 

So all the traditional therapies didn’t work for me because my blood loss was too great every month.  The older I got the heaver my period got and thus the more blood I lost and couldn’t reproduce it fast enough.

This was compounded by my miscarriage in 2010.  I almost died when I lost Elya because I almost hemorrhaged to death.  We didn’t know about my blood issues at the time or I think different steps would have been taken.  After the miscarriage I was severely anemic.  For six months I struggled to get that under control.  My doctor thinks I never recovered from the miscarriage and that is why between that and the monthly bleeding I was getting worse with every month. 

If I wanted to get better I had to stop my monthly cycle.  In my case the only way to do that was to have a uterine ablation or a hysterectomy.  Either one meant the lost of my ability to have any more babies.  It was devastating for me.  In March of this year I had a uterine ablation.  It was an awful experience and I ended up in the emergency room later that day because of complications. 

Even with all the complications a couple weeks later I started to notice a difference.  I had energy.  My mental confusion started to lessen.  I looked around the house and was horrified about how messy it had become.  How did I not notice this before?  I looked at the relationship between my husband and I and saw how much it had suffered, and the same for my children, my friends and my family.  I had been afraid to drive because I passed out once while I was diving.  I realized how much time I had spent at home. 

Everyone around me had suffered because of me and I still feel a tremendous amount of guilt about that.  If you are reading this and you are one of the people I have let down in the last four years, I am sorry.  Terribly horribly sorry.   

So now here we are five months after my surgery.  I’m not all better, not by a long shot.  I’m still learning to manage my chronic illness, but I can manage it now with traditional therapy.  Learning to take care of myself is difficult, it doesn’t come naturally, but I’m trying one day at a time.  There are days I forget what is required of me, or days I’m lazy and just don’t want to.  But I know now how sick I was and I don’t want to be there again.  It’s a learning process and I still haven’t figured it all out yet. 

It sounds corny by I feel like I’m starting a new part of my life.  I want “Old Heather” to be the sick Heather.  I want my identity to become something that is different than what I have experienced the past four years. 

Thus I want to chronicle my victories.  A victory is anything that I do that is creative again, or organizing a closet out of chaos, or turning my chaos into cleanliness, or just writing again.  It is being with my family in a real way, or having fun with friends.  A victory is anything that I haven’t been able to do these last few years. 

I can’t wait to start this new part of my life.

"October Baby" Gets it Wrong

October Baby is the latest feel good film from the Christian film industry.  I loathe the premise behind this movie.  Lets break it down shall we?  A note: there are plenty of spoilers in this review.

If you want the quick version of my criticism it is this: This film is full of adoption cliches that are largely believed by society, mainly Christian society.  It once again proves that the telling of a story to propagate a pro-life agenda is more important to filmmakers than finding out the intricacies of adoption and portraying them in a realistic light. 

The protagonist of “October Baby” is named Hannah.  She is an aspiring actress that finds out though a series of events that she is adopted.  Let me repeat this: a full grown woman does not know she is adopted.  This rarely happens today.  This is an idea that takes adoption back fifty years when it was shameful to adopt, and therefore must be kept a secret.  It propagates the blank slate theory that says that adoptive parents can mold a child to their family just like the child was biologically theirs, so it is not necessary to tell the child they are adopted.  This has been proven not to be the case, we now know that biology forms a great deal of who a child is as well as nurture.  It is not just appearance that gets passed down from mother to child.  And yet the film makers make their first move in propagating old adoption myths and stereotypes thus setting the tone for dated ideas about adoption, adoptees, birth mothers, and even adoptive parents.  


Hannah finds out that she was adopted because she collapses following a play and the ensuing medical tests that are the result.  When Hannah confronts her adoptive parents they admit that she was born early and she was adopted.  It frustrates me here to no end that the adoptive parents hid medical information from their own daughter.  Even as an adult, they kept important medical information from an adoptee thus treating her as perpetual child.  This is something that adoptees know all to well, being treated as children.  Adoptees are denied their original birth certificate and therefore have no access to their medical history.  Once again other people have decided for the adoptee what is important for them, something that those of us that are not adopted will never have to struggle with.  Yet the film doesn’t seem to be about the anger that Hannah has at her adoptive parents for lying to her and keeping secrets from her, it’s about forgiving her birthmother.

“October Baby” shows adoptive parents as insecure people that need to hide secrets instead of the post-modern adoptive parent that often realize how important identity is in a child.  Most modern adoptive parents know that even though biology might be threatening to them, the emotional well-being of their adopted child is more important than any insecurity they have.  Sure eighteen years ago in 1994, when Hannah was supposedly born, open adoption was new and semi-open adoption was being touted as the perfect solution because open adoption seemed scary to many.  Regardless of that fact, in 1994, there were hundreds of books out about raising an adopted child, and none of those advocated lying to your adopted child and telling them they were yours biologically.  There were even a few book that talked about fully open adoption, agencies touted semi-open as healthy alternative.  Instead of doing research about adoptive options and attitudes in 1994, the filmmakers took adoption and adoptive parent’s attitudes back to the 1960‘s to suit their pro-life agenda.

When the adoptive parents reveal to Hannah that she is adopted they also reveal that she is the result of a botched abortion.  Here is where I personally take the biggest issue with this movie.  Yes, this is a possible story.  Yes, there are women that have abortions that do not work and the result is the mother giving up their child for adoption.  But this story line?  It makes me angry.  The vast majority of birth mothers love their children.  The vast majority of birth mothers did not consider abortion for their child.  In 1994 the preponderance of women giving up their children for adoption where white, middle class, christian, nineteen year old college freshman, that were told by the church that adoption was the right thing to do.  These women were sent to maternity homes, they were kept in their parents houses away from prying eyes, they were told to be quiet and that they needed to pay penance for their sin of fornication by giving up their child for adoption.  The majority of these girls in 1994 were strong pro-life Christian women who only considered abortion if their mothers took them to an abortion clinic to keep the shame away from them. 

I get angry when the church and pro-lifers say that adoption is the alternative to abortion.  It is not.  Life is the alternative to abortion.  Adoption is the alternative to parenting.  These are two separate decisions that should not be made at the same time.  Every woman that has ever been in a crisis pregnancy knows that first you decide if you want to have and abortion or not, then you decide what you are going to do with the baby once you decide to let the baby live.  Once again, adoption is not the alternative to abortion. 

Hannah goes on road trip to find her birth mother.  Once she finds her, she is rejected by her.  I admit, not an uncommon story.  It is however not always true.  Reunion is often longed for by birth mothers, sought after, hoped for, dreamed about, and generally wanted.  Of course that would complicate the movie too much, it is much easier to fall back on the “birth mother moves on with her life and forgets about the child” way of thinking.  From experience I can tell you that that is almost never true.  It is now known that giving up your child for adoption produces trauma in most women.  Birth mothers often have PTSD, need therapy, or have lifelong issues because of relinquishment.  Often rejection during reunion is because a birth mother’s coping mechanisms became overwhelmed during post placement and she needed to shut down and shut out all memories to emotionally survive.  Birth mothers do not forget, we do not simply move on.  Healing is a process that really is never fully complete, pain, loss, and grief for most of us are part of our daily lives.  It becomes bricks that we carry around with us and we learn to carry them, thus becoming stronger people, but yet so bogged down by the weight of it all.  

There is a scene in this movie were Hannah’s birth mother is carrying a little girl.  It is estimated that 40% of birth mothers go on to have secondary infertility and are never able to have children, some just choose not to, the trauma being too much for them.  It false the idea that birth mothers can "just have another baby."

In conclusion, “October Baby” proves that it is pro-life propaganda instead of a honest portrayal of adoption.  It makes me sad that adoptees are going to go to this movie and once again hear the myths and stereotypes that they are all too familiar with.  It makes me sad that people will see this movie and think they know about adoption instead of an accurate portrayal of what adoption really is.  It is upsetting that once again birth mothers will be vilified and yet at the same time portrayed as heroes for giving their child life.  It angers me that this will be a catalyst for someone to adopt, not knowing the realities of adoption. 

October Baby is just another film that gets adoption wrong.

I'm tired. weary. sad.

I'm cleaning out the basement.  Something I've been trying to do for almost a year.  

Mostly there are baby clothes, maternity clothes and baby toys that I need to go through.

Most of the maternity clothes are brand new, from a baby that only lived inside of me for eight weeks.  There are tiny brand new clothes clothes were meant for a baby that I can't hold in my arms right now, a baby that is only a memory.  There is a dress that is 16 years old.  There are two teen boys out there that once hid inside that damn ugly maternity dress that I can't get rid of.  I wish I could see those boys this Christmas.  I can only dream about it as I have for the past 14 years.   

Such an ugly dress.  But so beautiful really.  That girl was beautiful.  What was inside her was beautiful.  That smile, it was not clouded with the trauma that befell her just weeks later, trauma that haunts me today.  The picture on the right was from the Elya.  That picture is beautiful to me too.  A beautiful tiny little life inside me that no one will ever know.  Elya's presence is missed in the house today.  Would she be annoying me trying to take the ornaments off the tree or marveling at the lights on it?   

There is no hope for any more children to come from my womb, and so I want everything out of my house.  It's just stuff.  It will never replace what I've lost.  I want to stop the pain.  I want to be free of the hurt that I know will never go away.  I hope that getting rid of these things will help, even though I know it won't.  

What I really want is my babies back, all three that I've lost.  I want to be a mommy to them.  I want all five of my children to be celebrating Christmas with us this year. 

But instead I'm just so very tired.

Judy

My friend Judy passed away last night.  I wanted to reflect on what she meant to me today.  

I started blogging in 2005 not long after my son was born. I wanted to explore my feelings about adoption. The birth of my son brought up many emotions I didn't expect. My identical twins that I had given up for adoption were nine at the time. The adoptive parents had suddenly closed the adoption when my boys were 18 months and I was still devastated from their decision 7 years later. Noah's birth opened me up to all I was missing in my twin's lives.

I was experiencing motherhood for the first time and the trauma of realizing all I had lost with my twins flooded over me and overwhelmed me. There wasn't a single book out there to help me, no support groups, not one avenue that I explored led me to the help I so desperately needed. I started searching for help online and found a small group of blogs that were written by birth mothers like me exploring their experiences and emotions. It wasn't long until I started reading adoptee and adoptive mama blogs too, we started all talking in the comment sections of our blogs, sorting out feelings together.

I don't remember how I got to Judy's blog, but I did. She was the first blog I read about international adoption. She was one of the first adoptive mamas blog that I read. She had such compassion for Nate's first mother, she expressed such love for her. I was so raw from my twins adoptive parents decision to cut me out of their lives that this was a balm to me. When she wrote to me personally she was so tender, I knew that she was trying to understand my pain. She was simply amazing. Judy was not an adoptive parent that only gave empty platitudes about "how they were forever grateful to the birthmother of their child," and then happily forgot the loss that both her son and her son's first mother had experienced. She internalized these losses and ultimately her goal was to be the best mama she could be to Nate because so she could understood his loss too. She made parenting an adopted child about Nate and how she could best parent him and not her needs or wants. She was an unselfish mother putting away the fact that adoption can be sunshine and roses for adoptive parents if they choose to ignore the loss that brought them joy, but she waded shoulder deep into the pain that is adoption sharing with us her thoughts, emotions, heartaches, and breakthroughs in often a snarky or humorous way. That woman could write.

Honestly Judy taught me that all adoptive parents aren't bad people that just want a baby and then move on with their lives pretending nothing ever happened. She taught me that adoption is complicated from all sides. She helped ease my bitterness.

I remember when Judy was diagnosed with cancer. She went into the doctor because her breast was red and tender and she had leakage from it. Back then I didn't know about Inflammatory Breast Cancer. I thought you had to have a lump in order to have breast cancer. A little PSA - if you experience redness and/or swelling of your breast, it feels warm to the touch, your nipple becomes inverted or the skin changes go see a doctor right away. IBC is not like regular breast cancer. It spreads quickly and often isn't caught in time. Judy, when faced with this awful cancer was honest, and still shared with us. She really truly amazed me.

I was sad when she made her blog private a few years ago, I'm thinking it after she went through her first round of battling the cancer. She wanted to concentrate on her family. But most us that were blogging back then where doing the same. Emotions got to be too much, we had put too much out there - it was there for anyone to see. It wasn't such a small private group anymore, all of our blogs got thousands upon thousands of hits. It was nerve wracking for me too, so I understood. I started parenting my daughter, my second child and everyday life got too much and I had to cut back reading, stop commenting and and pretty much dropped out of the blogoshphere too around that time and made my other blog that talked solely of adoption private. 

I found Judy again recently when a friend posted on Facebook that she was battling the cancer again. I found her on Facebook and reconnected with her again. What a privilege it was to share in this wonderful woman's last year of life. Judy taught me about adoption, about breast cancer, about parenting, about being honest when things are really shitty, about smiling, about being a liberal christian, about planking and so much more. Judy you are amazing. Thank you for all you did for me personally. I'll be praying for Nate and your family this week.

If you want to read Judy's blog it is here, much of the oldest stuff is password protected - but the awesomeness that still remains is all Judy.

Judy, this week I will Just Enjoy Them. I will remember that ultimately everyday there is enjoyment beyond the pain, even when life is shitty I can smile and laugh and remember my Savior's love for me and all He has blessed me with.

Dear Sweet Elya Eden,

When Daddy and I first found out about you we were completely surprised. We were not expecting you. I had guessed 2 weeks before that you were a possibility, but I was surprised and maybe a little sad that I was pregnant again. See I was not sad about you, but sad that Mommy gets very very sick when she is pregnant with a baby. Daddy was instantly overjoyed and couldn’t have been happier about you, even though he tried to hide it, but he could not contain his glee.

We started planning almost right away for you. We looked at minivans, Mommy bought lots of maternity clothes so that she could show you off in her belly, and she even bought you some new clothes. I also started gathering all the baby toys around the house so that I could clean them. I started dreaming of your nursery, looking for new slings, thinking about your birth and how I wanted to bring you into this world.

I took pictures every couple days of my growing belly. I had to start wearing maternity clothes very quickly. I also started to get very sick. I planned out meals for your family that Daddy could make so that everyone could be taken care of. I found people to take care of your brother and sister so that I could concentrate on growing you in my tummy.

Your brother and sister overheard about you early and so we let them in on the secret of you. They were very excited about you. Your brother was so excited that he told his whole preschool class that Mommy was having two babies! We had to tell him after the ultrasound that there was only one baby and we didn’t know yet if you were a boy or a girl. Still, your siblings eagerly followed your growth and development in Mommy’s picture book.

The whole family was there for that first ultrasound. It was so fun seeing you. We got to see your heartbeat. You had a heartbeat of 130 bpm, it always is amazing to me that something so small has a tiny beating heart. I could make out your little growing arms. Daddy said later that he was so glad that he was there to see you when you were still here with us. I am so glad that I got to see you too Elya, alive and moving around and so tiny, but so full of life.

Little One I continued to get sicker and sicker with you. I thought I was doing really well, but I wasn’t able to eat much. I had to stop cooking, because I got too sick and too weak. I got so tired and almost everything wore me out. I started loosing massive amounts of weight. I wasn’t able to do anything. Taking your brother to preschool was almost impossible. I was sad and grumbled about you because I was not able to take care of your brother and sister. I am sorry now I complained, I didn’t know how little time I had with you. If it makes you feel better that I complained just as much with your brother and sister – but I always seemed to turn a corner when I stopped being so sick. I was waiting to feel better to start being super happy with you. Still, I was so excited to feel you move.

I do not know why but I craved all things lemon with you. I knew I was getting very sick when I could not even eat or drink lemon things with you anymore. I could tolerate no smells except mint. The peppermint shampoo that I bought while I was still pregnant with for you is finally gone. I used it all yesterday. I never thought I would be so sad about the end of a bottle of shampoo.

Elya I was on medication to keep food and water down to get to you. It wasn’t working right. I had to go in to the emergency room on Tuesday, February 2nd. I was so dehydrated Little One that I passed out in the middle of the waiting room. It was a little scary, but I wasn’t afraid for you. I should have been. I know that you left us around that time. In the ER I received fluids. I felt much better, but I do not know if I felt better because of the fluids or because you were already gone. The next day I had stomach pains that made it hard to breathe. I also had a few horrible pains on that previous Saturday. I do not really know when it happened Elya, when you left me for the arms of Jesus, but I know it was around that time.

On the Thursday I started to make cookies for your brother and sister. I ran out of time to finish them, so I put the dough in the refrigerator to bake them later. I should have guessed something was wrong when I was able to do anything at all in the kitchen. I had an appointment to talk to my doctor about a picc line. It is a port in your arm that runs IVs that would have kept me hydrated and medicated so that I could have stayed healthy. Then the doctor asked if I wanted to hear your precious heartbeat. She couldn't find it. The doctor wanted for me to have an ultrasound before the picc line was put in… just in case. I wasn’t too worried yet, the doctor did not seem worried yet. I had to drive through a snowstorm to a hospital because it was the only place that could do an ultrasound before the weekend - but they could do it right away. I was so glad - and I was so glad to get to see you again.

Dear Sweet Baby, I knew something was wrong when the ultrasound technician looked so sad. He would not let me see the screen. He did not give me any pictures. I was able to peek at the screen a little and I saw him try to measure your heartbeat at least three times. I sat in the waiting room of the hospital for over an hour for the radiologist to confirm what I feared. All I could do while I waited was thank God for your brother and sister. I knew. After an hour of waiting I received the phone call from my doctor, it was such a sadness that washed over me when I heard that you were gone. It still makes me cry to think about those moments. The ultrasound technician came back and was so nice. He told me some details. He told you stopped growing sometime that week. He told me that you had no heartbeat at all.

I tried to hold it together. I broke down in the parking lot and started crying. Noah asked what was wrong. I had to tell him that you were gone. It was so hard to tell them that you were gone. It was harder to tell your daddy. He was so sad. I took your brother and sister to their favorite restaurant that night. Daddy had to work late and I didn’t want to go home. I baked a small batch of those cookies that I had made earlier that day. After that day I could not stand to look at the rest of that cookie dough, your daddy had to throw it away.

I think the worst part of those weeks following was waiting for you to be born, knowing your body was still inside of me, but you were gone.

I was told that I should probably get a D&C. I didn’t want to do it. The day before I was suppose to get the surgery your sister got the flu and so I was not able to have one. I’m glad I did not. I decided after that day to let my body miscarry you on it’s own. It was the right choice.

Little One those two weeks I waited for you to be born were so difficult. I felt physically better, but my heart was breaking. I looked pregnant, but you were gone. I talked to you so much. I felt close to you. I treasured the vessel that housed your life inside my body. I wanted to respect your little body, even if you were gone.

Elya I wanted you to come out and I didn’t. I knew that the time you had inside of me was the only time I would be able to connect with you on this earth. I know that you were already gone when you were born but I want to tell you your birth story. It is such a sad story, but I can not express to you the joy that it brought to your mommy to birth you and hold you and to be able to say goodbye. Here is the story of your birth I wrote out a few days after you were born:

Wednesday, February 17th I started spotting pink and it continued to get darker until Friday. Friday I started to have contractions. And let me tell you they were contractions. They were very painful contractions that came regularly. I started bleeding and passing large clots that night. They continued through Friday night - although I praise God they eased up in order to let me get some rest that night. Saturday morning they resumed again and the bleeding became a lot heavier and I kept passing clots. Daddy took your brother sledding (at my request) he came back with some food and coffee for us. My contractions were pretty regular and very heavy at this point and I felt like I had to push. At around four pm I delivered you sweet Elya. You came out completely in your amniotic sac with the fluid and placenta. You floated around in the so peacefully. I was able to see and hold you in my hand. I saw you had eyes, arms the beginnings of fingers and little tiny legs. I held you in my hand for almost an hour. At that moment and still now I feel so so so blessed beyond measure that God allowed me to hold you. I can not tell you the amount of comfort that it has brought to me.

Unfortunately things did not go well from there. I started to bleed excessively and got exceptionally lightheaded. I had to sit on the toilet because I was passing clots the size of my hand and couldn't walk around without soaking through a pad in a few minutes. So we had to go in to the ER. I was hooked up an IV and given fluids. The doctor did a pelvic exam and yes - I was very dilated and had gone through a small labor. He removed some tissue and said that it was probably the tissue that was causing the excess bleeding. I kept bleeding pretty heavily after that and they called the OB on call down to see if I needed a D&C. He felt that I didn't and so I was released to go home. I feel blessed that I live in a time where I was able to receive medical attention, or I might be up in Heaven with you Sweet Baby. I know that you will wait for me up there – God has other purposes for me down here. You have a purpose down here and I think that by me telling your story I can accomplish your purpose.

God is amazing. He worked some things out so beautifully even to the point of letting me miscarry on a Saturday so that Daddy could be here with me. We were able to get your brother and sister to a friend’s house quickly so that I could go into the hospital. I was granted wonderful doctors and nurses in the ER who gave me such kind attention. Although I have had many more than sad moments, God was faithful through that part of the journey.

I wanted to name you. We picked Elya Eden. Elya is pronounced ill-ee-ah and means "the Lord is my God." Eden means “paradise” remembering always that you are in heaven with your Father. We don’t know if you were a boy or girl so we tried to pick names that were gender neutral. Daddy and I think you were a girl though.

Elya we had such a difficult time deciding how to put you to rest. Your little body was so tiny. Daddy and I didn’t want to bury you ourselves, there is no place that is so special to us that we would want to leave you. I just could not imagine putting you in the cold ground anywhere. We wanted to cremate you but were told that there would not be enough ashes left. We decided to take you to the hospital so they could cremate you with other babies and your ashes will be spread in a special memorial garden. We will have your name put on the new memorial when it is done Sweet Pea. That was the best way I could think of to honor you.

I don’t know why you died. I think it is because I had a subchorionic hemorrhage that lead to a placental abruption. There was a day that, looking back, I felt like something was ripping inside of me. In a way it helps me to know that you might have been perfect, in another way it hurts me so much.

Your brother and sister still ask about you. They ask all the time “Mommy the baby died?” I answer “Yes honey, the baby died.” Your brother asks if you are with Jesus. I hope you are. I wonder all the time what happened to you, where you are, if you still are, what will you look like if I get to see you, who is taking care of you. I ask God about that, but He doesn’t give me any answers.

I think about you everyday sweet pea. We kept your pictures up for a long time. Mommy misses you so much. She cries for you. Not a day goes by I have not thought of you sweet baby. You will forever be in my heart.

I will never forget you.

I love you Elya Eden,

Mommy