Adoption writing every day: NaBloPoMo and NAAM

What do you know about  NaBloPoMo? 

What about NAAM? 

What happens when you smoosh them together? NaamNaBloPoMo? No! 

A month of blogging about adoption. 

NaBloPoMo was inspired by NaNoWriMo - National Novel Writing Month - where writers everywhere tip-type away to write 50,000 words during the month of November and, voila!, at month's end, the've written a novel (though usually a not very good one - but that's okay, they can still say, "why, yes, I've written a novel"). 

Well, out in the blogosphere, they thought there should be a blogging counterpart, so NaBloPoMo was born. A blog a day, every day, for the month of November. Cool, right? 

But, wait, there's more! The Lost Daughters (a collaborative blogging group authored by adult women adoptees that covers the wide expanse of the experience of being adopted) realized it was also National Adoption Awareness Month (NAAM) so they put together writing prompts to inspire writers who focus on adoption-related issues to post blogs on shared topics. Yes, not unlike what Kate and I do with Mothertone and ReunionEyes for Kathleen~Cathleen.


I will continue my Wednesday posts with Kate where we cover the same topic from the birthmother and adoptee perspective. In addition, I'm going to do The Lost Daughters challenge and write every day on the prompts from the list.  They'll be a bunch of us doing it, so it should be pretty interesting to see all the perspectives on the same topics. And, it'll just be a great experience to be compelled to write every day - maybe it will help me make it a habit!

Birthmother Birthday

I was going to send Kate a birthmother birthday card, just to be kinda funny...this was the closest one I found to half-way decent...
http://www.greetingcarduniverse.com/birth-mom-birthday-cards/to-my-birth-mom-203472

But since Kate hates the term, "birth-mother," I decided to skip it.

I called Kate and left a guilty voicemail today. I hadn't gotten her anything. It's impossible for me to get things out in the mail, I don't know why. I think about it, I just don't do it. But, thankfully, Kate understands. She says it's a Power-family trait, they're (we're?) just not good at birthdays and such. Kate said I was the first to wish her Happy Birthday, so I was ahead of the game. But when it comes to my adoptive family, they don't get why I can't get the responsible woman-thing down when it comes to things like birthdays and thank-you cards and so on. So I'm happy that calling can be enough for Kate, even if it still feels lame from my point of view.

Above is a picture from when I was first in Portland. Like, brand-spanking-new in Portland. That first winter, I guess. I had my mom sent out my warm Jersey winter coats, only to find I didn't actually need them in Portland. I was 22, so Kate would have been 41 there - my age now. Weird, weird, weird. I would have been out here for her birthday that year - I arrived on the 4th of July, so her Birthday was just a few months later. I have no recollection of what we might have done for her birthday, or how I might have felt about it.

This picture was taken (by whom???? Mary?) when I was first here - that first summer. We went to a Ceili, which is an Irish line-dance sort of thing, at the time I had no idea what it was. I thought it was kinda strange and yet caught my interest - and that really sums up reunion for me - strange and yet fascinating, because somehow, in the core, these foreign things resonate. The far left is Abby, my sister through Kate, so half-sister, 9 years younger, so she was around 13 there? 

Here's a picture of Kate when she was pregnant with me...

So, I was in Kate's belly during that picture. And then, here's when I met her, 18 years later. 

I guess our profile picture on the Kathleen-Cathleen facebook page is the closest we have to current. 

https://www.facebook.com/KathleenCathleen

So that's Kate throughout the years since I've known her - or a few snapshots anyway.

to view my birthmother's blog on the same topic, go to: http://mothertone.wordpress.com/

Anxiety

In the process of writing about my adoption/reunion experience, I've been reading a lot more about adoption and reunion.

I've joined, and have been following, the Lost Daughter's blog, which I LOVE. It has successfully created what I had originally hoped to create in this blog but never got off the ground- a forum for adult adoptees to discuss their shared experiences.

One of the themes that seems to come up time and again, is anxiety. It reminded me of how unwieldy anxiety was in the early years of reunion, and it made me wonder where anxiety sits in a reunion that has been going on as long as ours has (in 2013, it will be 24 years since we met).

I don't feel anxiety that I will lose Kate, or that there's much that can damage our relationship at this point. Maybe part of that for me is that Kate was the "pursuer" in our relationship. Maybe not at first...after all,  we each individually threw our hats in the ring when we both called the adoption agency the same day on my eighteenth birthday and said we were interested in finding each other. But, after we met, when I understood that she wanted to have some kind of a relationship ... well that was something I had never considered and that threw off my sense of balance. What would having a relationship with my birthmother mean? And what would it mean to my parents? If I had a relationship with my birthmother, or with my birthfamily for that matter (yes, the birthdad always gets off easy ; ), would my parents think that I didn't think their parenting was enough, that "our" relationship, "our" family, wasn't enough?

For me, where the anxiety sits, and where it has always been, is in the worry that my relationship with Kate will upset my parents. I should know by now that they are okay with it. They've told me as much, like when my mom said that she was glad that I had Kate in my life so that even when she and my dad were gone, I would still have family in my life. And they've shown me as much, like when we all had dinner at Kate's house on Christmas day. But, they are old-fashioned, Irish-Catholic, and talking openly about how we feel about things is not exactly a family trait. 

Now, almost 24 years later, I feel like there's no question that Kate and I have a solid relationship. We see each other every couple months, talk every few weeks on the phone, and email/text regularly. I might not have words for what I would call our relationship (not quite mother/daughter but more than "friends with baggage") but I am secure in what it is, whatever it is. 

And, at the same time, I don't feel like my relationship with Kate has any effect on the total devotion I feel towards my parents. Although, when I screw up, and I do that plenty -  I might not remember to call and sometimes I forget important birthdays or don't follow through on what I said I was going to do - I worry that maybe they might question the way I feel towards them. So, although I should know better, and not worry about things, and trust my parents know how I feel, I don't. Maybe I should tell them.

So, for me, where the anxiety sits is not IN my relationship with Kate, but BY having a good relationship with Kate. And, for that, I should count my blessings.

to view my birthmother's blog on the same topic, go to: http://mothertone.wordpress.com/

Coming to Portland

I took the greyhound bus from San Francisco to Portland on the Fourth of July in 1993. Next July it will be twenty-years that I've been here. Twenty years!

While I had come out to stay with Kate and get to know her better right after I graduated from college, I never expected to stay. That's what all the now-Portlanders say, actually. They come for a summer, and end up staying. However, I found that by starting with, "I came out to get to know my birthmother..." usually just led to a longer conversation than I was ready to have.

Right now, I'm working on the chapter of the book of that fateful trip out to Portland. Yes, fateful seems like a loaded word, but, man, now that I look back and see that it changed the course of my life, implicitly and unexpectedly, then, yeah, fateful seems justified.

Writing about the Portland of twenty years ago makes me nostalgic of that era of Portland, and I can just imagine how interesting it will be to read Kate's side, and her experience of Portland when she arrived in Portland about twenty years before me. Actually, I never put that together before - yet another synchronicity. She must have come out to Portland when she was about the same age as me? Eh, you the reader, will know better. Kate's writing about this too, right?

I went to the chiropractor today (Surah - do you read the blog? If so, then hi!), which is someone who is a friend of Kate's and the chiropractor Kate went to. I had never been to a chiropractor before I met Kate, but soon after I started working at Nike and was working in front of a computer non-stop for hours at a time, I got a crick in my neck and Kate recommended I go and it, too, changed my life. What a way to feel better!

Anyway, I found out today that Surah (the chiropractor)'s landlord is kicking her out. She works on Hawthorne in a great old classic Portland home / building. Meanwhile, around it, modernization is going up like crazy. Those who've been in Portland the past two decades know what I mean ... Clinton is not what it was, Division - the same, and now Hawthorne seems to be going that way as well.

You might think I'm complaining about modernization - condemning the new, multi-story structures that are replacing the old, classic Portland buildings that define the place. Truth is, I like both. I like how Portland continues to evolve and be an exciting, energized place to live with a new restaurant / bar / spot to go to every time we go out. I just don't want Portland to lose it's Portlandness... the "Keep Portland Weird" side (even if that was a phrase borrowed from lil-sister Austin).

I still remember my dad (my adoptive dad) smiling at Portland after his third or fourth visit as he watched the people walking by, saying, "They relish the Bohemian, don't they?" I couldn't agree more - but where he saw it as cute and quirky, I saw it as essential - a place where I could breathe and feel at home in a way I didn't in New Jersey. No, I don't want to lose that part of Portland and have it be a generic city like any other, but I still want it to be able to grow, change and explore - that's the Portland bohemian spirit anyway, isn't it? Stay curious, experiment, try the new, but know what was important in the old.

to view my birthmother's blog on the same topic, go to: http://mothertone.wordpress.com/

Indigeny

Kate has been reading a book on indigenous cultures and so came up with the idea about blogging about what is "indigenous" to each of us.

What is first comes to mind in what is indigenous to me is Jersey, and not the Native-American past of the true indigenous New Jerseyans, but it is my birthplace, my homeland, and is so contrary to my personality and yet so rooted in who I am, that it is profound to me.

I was thinking about it a lot this week because I started a new job and the people there are so nice, it befuddles me. Although I'm mostly a "glass is half-full" type of person, I can't help but wonder if the other shoe is going to drop and that somehow this new job isn't nearly as wonderful as it seems to be.

I realized that part of my hesitation comes from growing up in New Jersey vs. Portland. For the most part, in New Jersey, you assume the worst in people and then allow yourself to be surprised if they turn out to be okay. It's a defense mechanism, you're always on guard, alert, ready to react. I was reminded of a time when as a young teenager, I was walking in my neighborhood. It was daytime, and I noticed a parked car had its lights on. Knowing the person would be bummed to come out to a dead battery, I rang the bell of the house that the car was parked in front of. A 20-something hispanic man in a sleeveless tee-shirt filled in the space behind the locked screen door, greeting me with a threatening, "What?"

     "Oh," I stammered. "I was looking for the owner of the car out front..."
     "What of it?" he said, jutting his chin toward me and stepping closer.
      "Well, the person left their lights on, so I just wanted to let them know..." I trailed off.

The guy turned toward the car and instantly he transformed - his shoulders dropped, his face softened, his eyes opened wide. "Oh, thanks!" he said, and went from this threatening presence to just a normal guy.

Only, the threatening presence is what is the normal first approach in Jersey. As the girl who goes up to strangers to tell them when they leave their lights on, this Jersey approach is obviously not my nature. Although that experience didn't dissuade me from trying to be nice to strangers, it's made me over-the-top appreciative when someone is nice to me.

So a couple years later when my Thunderbird ran out of gas and a guy came out of his house to help me out, I brought him an ice-cream cake the next day as a thank you. He raised his eyebrows and said it really wasn't necessary. I just smiled and silently disagreed. Just the week before, my boyfriend's car broke down and we went door to door to borrow a phone, and it took us almost an hour before we could find anyone willing to help us.

For me, my Jersey girl side is what is indigenous, where as who I am by my birthfamily, seems secondary. Even though that was always a part of me, I didn't realize what came from my birthfamilies until later so that side seems new.

to view my birthmother's blog on the same topic, go to: http://mothertone.wordpress.com/

Write Away

Kate and I decided to blog about the experience of writing away from each other. We typically agree on a time to blog and then agree on a rough subject and go from there.

There is something productive about writing together where we are both in the process of the book together. It's handy having a partner in a project. It allows for reassurance, confidence that you're on the right track. So when we're together, it's easy to feel inspired about the project.

When we're each working on our own, separately, it's different. The writing is one project competing with many projects (the kids, the house, the job, looking for another job, etc.) and then our story is one writing project competing with other writing projects (my essay class, my other blogs, my other projects that are brewing).

It kind of made me proud that we've been able to keep our focus on this project for so long through so much. Having children was a big distraction (albeit, a wonderful distraction, but still...). Being laid off from my job of eleven years was another. Life, in general, just gets in the way.

I do think it's an important story, one that I feel is worth the effort to get it out into the world. But, why? When we're writing separately, it easier to lose sight of why we are doing this.

So here are my reasons for why I am doing this:

• It's universal. There are elements that are universal to everyone - nature vs. nurture, coming of age, identity, coming to terms with loss - but that are story is able to crystallize because of the unique circumstance.
• It can help people. Not only people going through reunion, which is a small segment of the population, but with people who are questioning exploring a different layer of who they are. It may be a Pandora's Box, but, in the end, isn't knowing always better (or is it)?
• It's a good story. To me, that's as good as it gets. It's just a good story and that's enough validation for me there.

I will focus on these points when we're not together in writing, and hope it makes sense when it all comes together.

***

to view my birthmother's blog on the same topic, go to mothertone

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Thoughts? Reflections? Opinions?

Please comment!

First Rejection

Getting the story out into the world...

Although I've written about different aspects of the book, I don't know how far I've gone into just where we are in the process. There's a bit of the story on our facebook page, about how we got a call to go on Dr. Phil, but he didn't want us because our story was too "happy" (what would he have to cure if we'd already worked it out for ourselves?). For years, we had intended to write our story, after Betty Jean Lifton told us that we should (which is another story), and this just gave us the kick in the ass to do it. We decided on an outline and have been writing together/separately (not reading each other's work), for the past eight years.

We knew it was a big risk, and a big leap in faith (at least Kate's a successful songwriter, aside from our letters to each other, Kate had little to gauge of my writing). We didn't know if our writing together/separately would work, but we knew we didn't want to read it ourselves until it was done. Otherwise, we might change what we had written after seeing what the other had done. We wanted to share each of our stories, packaged together, but from our own unique viewpoint.

Luckily, Kate had met Barbara, an amazing editor/writer at Fishtrap. Barbara agreed to be our sacred in-between, the only person reading both sides of the story while editing our writing and coaching us along the way. The three of us have spent the past couple years refining the book proposal alongside editing the book. A couple weeks ago, we were very fortunate to have a really great recommendation to a an important agent, who agreed to read the proposal, (rather than just taking a look at the query letter). It was huge.

When we sent the proposal off to the agent, it was the first time I realized that it was a step onto a road of rejections. Even if we were successful in getting picked up by an agent, we then faced rejection from publishers. If a publisher agreed to us, then we would have to deal with getting rejected from the buyers who would sell the book, and so on and on. I was looking towards a series of unending potential rejection, which made me question why we were working so hard to get the story out. Aside from taking time away from work and family and whatever else, now instead of getting together to catch up or just hang out with Kate, we're always working on the book.

The agent didn't take us on. We got our first rejection. We knew it was a long shot, but that didn't mean it didn't sting. I worried that maybe our book won't get out into the world after all.

It was actually in putting together the book proposal (rather than just writing the book), that I realized I really, truly, genuinely intended on getting our story out into the world, that we weren't just writing it for our own edification. It was in the process of writing the story, that I was able to realize how much we had to say  - the inherent importance of connection to your family, for better or worse; the search for self; incorporating all aspects of who you are (whether you like them or not); coming of age; identity and so on and on.

We have gone through the ups and downs and dramas of reunion, and we have come out the other side of it, transformed. Maybe the transformation is subtle on the outside (or maybe not), but inside it's nothing short of life-changing. And it's the life-changing stories with happy endings that are so inspirational to me. I want to share our story not only with other adoptees, birthparents and families dealing with those issues, but for the sake of the story. It's worth being told.

It's still a little amazing to me thinking that we've gone eight years and still haven't read each other's sides of the story. I am ready, and eager to read it. I really want to know what the experience was and is like for Kate. I know on my level, but writing it down, rather than telling someone directly, allows you to be much more honest and closer to the truth - no couching things that might hurt the other's feelings, not leaving out the not-so-flattering parts.

But I won't read her side. Not yet. I'll continue with facing rejection to try to get the story out into the world. And, if that doesn't work, we'll self-publish. But if we can get an agent who believes in our story, then it just will allow us a broader reach. Because I do believe it's a story worth being told.

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to view my birthmother's blog on the same topic, go to mothertone

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Thoughts? Reflections? Opinions?

Please comment!