Ovarian cancer is a nasty, evil disease.  On Monday, it took the life of my friend.  She was an amazing person who fiercely fought the cancer.  She was someone you wanted to be friends with because she was a wonderful friend.  Even when battling cancer, she still wanted to know what you were struggling with and what was going on in your life.  You would spill your guts and then later kick yourself for unloading on her your petty worries when she was doing battle.  She was always optimistic.  Even though she was afraid and she did not want to lose her life with her husband, I never heard her question why this was her lot in life.  She was loving, compassionate, and feisty.  I can’t believe that she is gone.  She was 32 years old. 

She always dreamed of being a mother.  She would have been an amazing mother.  When she and her husband were having problems getting pregnant, they had exploratory surgery.  You can guess what they found.  She found out she had cancer 2 days before my son was born, late in August of 2005.  After her initial cancer surgery and cancer treatment, they thought that she had beaten the cancer.  They began to explore adoption.  She received adoption applications in the mail shortly before she found out that the cancer had returned.  That was in June of 2006.  This time, the cancer was back with a vengeance.  At first, treatments seemed to be working.  Just a few weeks ago, she went in for a CT scan.  She had a feeling that the treatment wasn’t working as well as before.  She was right, the cancer was slowly progressing.  They stopped the treatment and suggested that she find an experimental treatment.  She was to begin that treatment yesterday.  Instead, the cancer attacked her with a vengeance that no one expected.  The physical pain she experienced was excruciating.  She is now at peace.  Her funeral is in the morning.  I dread going because then her death will be  reality.  Right now, it feels like I just haven’t seen her in a while.  I don’t want to feel the pain of acknowledging that she really is gone.

Her death has reminded me of the tremendous influence that even the shortest life can have – for good or for bad.  She changed so many people for the better, myself included.  We all know those people who have lived a long life but influenced few.  We also know those people who seem to leak poison and pain.  She brought joy and faith.  She made you feel cared for by her.  She had a huge impact on my life.  I have had 2 miscarriages.  Their tiny and brief heartbeats had a tremendous impact on my life, on my husband’s life, and on my boys’ lives.  Their lives made me a better person, and I don’t regret them.  My friend made a tremendous impact on my life.  I wouldn’t trade the pain of losing her for the joy of knowing her.  I believe she is in heaven holding my babies, being the mom that she deserved to be.  I miss you, sweet friend.     

I am still alive.  I am making big changes with my business which will hopefully lead to more free time:)  It will be crazy busy for a month or two.  In addition, I am about to have a houseful of company for spring break.  Busy but fun!  Hopefully I can get all my work done with company here.  I will be back soon.  Sorry I haven’t had time to read and comment.  I hope everyone is doing well.

Wraith has written an excellent post that I wish every potential adoptive parent would read. Check it out!

My birthmother died violently in 1977.  Her killer was never found so her case is now a cold case.  My brother and I have talked about contacting the police department to request that they re-evaluate the case.  We both have just never done that.  His philosophy is that someone who is that evil has probably done it again and has probably been caught.  He feels that the killer is most likely dead or in jail.  For me, I am afraid to find out.  What if he is not in jail and he finds out about me and targets me and my family.  I just don’t want to get that close to that much evil.  I don’t want that evil to seep into my life.  I don’t want to know anymore of the gory details of her death.  I hate that her life ended that way.  I wish she had a different story.  Why am I thinking about this?  The 30th anniversary of her death is coming up this month.   I so wish it didn’t end that way.

Sitting at a restaurant this week with my family my mom pointed out a little girl who was obviously special needs.  “Look at her, how awful for that family, aren’t you lucky and blessed.”  Since I have heard similar things from her my entire life, it didn’t phase me, until she started with my oldest son.  I stopped her right away.  I don’t want him to stare at this family.  Everywhere they go they are stared at by other people.  How would you like to have to deal with that your entire life?  I don’t want my son to think “poor family”.  The family may feel that they are blessed, not burdened.  I don’t want my son making those judgements about others.  I want him to see the beauty in every person.  She was annoyed with me.  I have heard a variation of this theme my entire life.  Out in public, my mom would often point out those who are “different” and then proceed to tell me how fortunate I was.  She was not referring to my adoptee status because she would do the same thing with her biological children.  She would also point out overweight people and ask if she looked like that.  The proper answer would be, “of course not”.  It took me years to realize why my mom is this way.  Her mother was very critical.  My mom was the “golden” child and her sister was not.  Her sister was overweight and A LOT of focus was put on weight.  My mom has self-esteem issues so she points out other’s faults in order to build herself up.  Differences are BAD!  How do you think she dealt with my adoptee status?  How about we just pretend that I wasn’t adopted?  How do you think she reacted when my second son was born with a cleft in his hand?  She still has issues with him which is her loss.  I don’t want this “look at her” trait passed on to my children.  I don’t want them feeling that they are better than others.  I want them to see the blessings in others.  I want them to see the beauty in being different.  There is beauty in differences.

Sorry about the last post. Too little sleep combined with an overwhelming work load will do that to you!

I am a person with issues. Some of them are related to my being adopted. Some of them are related to my brother calling me “big toe” and “bony butt”. Just guessing here, but I bet that anyone reading this has their own set of issues. I am fortunate that my “issues” are small and manageable. Other people do not have that luxury. My issues are petty when compared with the issues of people who have had to deal with true hardships. Potential adoptive parents often ask if they should even consider adopting because adult adoptees seem to have so many issues related to the adoption. So what. Don’t potential adoptive parents have their own issues, say maybe one or two related to infertility. I am not trying to sound harsh towards adoptive parents, truly I am not. I just think that some people miss the point.  The issue is not whether or not the child will have issues, the issue is whether or not the parents are willing to acknowledge and openly deal with any issues that do, and will, arise. Just as they would when their biological child had issues to deal with in their life. Issues are simply a part of life. You just deal with your own unique set of issues.

I am sitting at the edge of the ocean with my feet being licked by the occasional wave. I lay back and my head is on warm sand not touched by the water. I close my eyes and feel the warmth of the sand by my head and the coolness of the sand by my feet. The waves bring the water to my feet and take away some of the sand that my feet were resting on. In washes a wave of feeling insecure and lonely. Out washes a wave of knowing why I feel that way. Knowledge is power, right? Not every time. The waves creep up my body taking away the warmth. The waves continue – Lonely, insecure, lonely, insecure. What is wrong with me? My head can logically know that I am not being left out and that I do have friends but my heart is saying other thoughts. Waves of tears well up in my body waiting for release. Just the slightest provocation will send the tears flowing. I am fighting these inner waves.  I understand why I feel this way, but I can’t seem to stop the waves from creeping higher and higher up my body. Here I am being swallowed by high tide, but it will recede. Right?