So this past Saturday evening, the phone rings and Rye gets it. It’s his mother who goes to tell him that she didn’t want me to feel so alone, so on the way to Walmart to grab coffee, she trips over her feet and falls, and yes: Breaks her humerus bone in her arm. We had friends over. Actually, it was a deju vu in a bad way kind of…
A few weeks ago, my dear friend Lena hit me up on Facebook with a question: “I was going through some stuff and found some old letters you wrote while you were in Boston. Would you like to have them?” Of course, the answer was yes, because as much as I lived through being 19, pregnant, away from home, alone and about to have my first child and relinquish him for…
Judgement. Choices. Lack of True Choice. Variations of this theme have been running through my head for a long time. To some the birth mother is a saintly figure. Wise. Sacrificing. Selfless. A builder of Families. A deliverer of dreams come true. Adoptive families want to thank her. Poor girl, she is just in a sad situation, but through her wisdom she can make the best of the situation and…