Fall From Grace

by Lori Lavender Luz on May 16, 2013

in Music

There’s a phenomenon I’ve observed in first-borns like myself, people who gain siblings around the age of 1 or 2 or 3.*

We experience a fall from grace.

For a time, we are at the center of the universe, as evidenced by the fact that our parents’ lives revolve around us. They delight in taking care of us. The are always looking for novel ways to make us smile and giggle. We get 100% of the peekaboos, the lullabies, the goofiness, the spotlight. We experience undivided attention.

And then, it divides. We gain a sibling and lose the limelight.

One of my earliest memories is of sitting in the back seat of our Dodge as Dad pulled into the hospital entrance to pick up my mom, who had been gone a few days after getting quite fat. Dad was giddy to bring her home again, along with something called a “baby sister.” Now, Mom swears this didn’t happen, but in my memory she was wheeled to the car with a pink bundle — pink because IT WAS WRAPPED IN MY PINK BLANKIE!

Mom says of course she didn’t use my blankie to bring my sister home in; Sheri had received her own blankie. No matter. In my mind, I was already sharing with this alien. First my blankie, then my room, and in the blink of an eye I was no longer the center of the universe. I was now forever to share the mom and dad who had theretofore been mine-all-mine. My universe was permanently rent.

A few years later, Sheri and I ceased being enough for Mom and Dad, and Tami came along, further dividing my world. But by then I had the cognitive skills to also see the addition of the situation. As you know, my sisters are among my greatest treasures.

* After age 3 or so, children are able to deal with the feelings of the fall from grace more rationally, using their advancing cognitive skills (as my husband did when his younger sister came into the picture when he was 5). But prior to that, it’s a sheer emotional experience, sans reasoning. You just know that you’ve always been 100% and suddenly, you sense you’re only half that.

~~~~~

Periodically I’m adding to my Off the Beaten Path playlist made just for you, reminiscent of the days when you’d painstakingly record songs from the radio onto a cassette for an important person in your life.

The way you are in mine.

Last month we were in the 1960s with the Mamas & the Papas and a little cover ditty from moi. This time I share with you a song from the 1970s, Andrew Gold’s Lonely Boy, that acknowledges one young man’s fall from grace.

What do you think of this Fall from Grace theory?

Lori's mix tape playlistAnd just for good measure, I’m adding in another song that my dad used to listen to in the 1970s. Loudly. The chords are simple and the lyrics are rudimentary, and Beautiful Sunday works because it reminds me of a simple, carefree, happy day growing up, hanging out with my parents and sisters.

Stay tuned for more off-the-beaten-path music. I’ll be periodically adding to this mix tape, made especially for you, and the playlist will gradually grow.

Image courtesy of coward_lion / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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Happy blogoversary to me! Six years ago today I popped my blogging cherry with a short post about my intent to join the Barren Bi+ches Book Brigade. We were soon to discuss Peggy Orenstein’s fabulous Waiting for Daisy, and that book tour turned out to be my entrée into the ALI (Adoption/natal Loss/Infertility) community.

popping a cherryI’ve been the participant and the host on numerous occasions, but on this day of note, I get to be the book club’s author answering reader questions. How perfectly aligned is that?

A few days ago, Mel led a virtual book tour for my book, The Open-Hearted Way to Open Adoption: Helping Your Child Grow Up Whole. Fourteen bloggers signed on to share their take on the book and answer each others’ questions about it. They also posed two questions to me, which you’ll find here.

Did you learn anything new about open adoption through writing this book? Did anything surprise you? If so, what?

I did. And that’s because, as Heather put it, “this is the adoption book the Internet wrote.” I learned a lot by asking others in the adoption constellaion about their experience with adoption. I learned from adoptees how it feels to be asked who your “real” parents are, and not to be able to get your own original birth certificate like others can. I learned alternatives to the dreaded family tree assignment in school. I learned from first mothers what has and hasn’t worked in their moving forward through grief. I learned from other adoptive parents cases for and against pre-birth matching, paying pre-birth expenses, and formalized adoption agreements.

Though it was unfunny at the time, I can now say that it was funny-peculiar that Crystal and I got a chance to practice what we preach. While writing Chapter 4 about establishing boundaries, a situation arose that Crystal and I had to work through. I was quite frustrated at first, mostly at myself, until I realized the incident was a chance for me to figure out something firsthand so that I could then teach what I knew, not just a theoretical concept. Crystal and I have had mostly smooth sailing over the years, and with our cruise control on I had gotten complacent. The situation required me to go off auto-pilot and figure out what was really bothering me by going deep within: breathe, be mindful, dig, gain clarity. Then zoom back out with clear communication with Crystal and a commitment to our relationship — and to Tessa.

It’s clear, in hindsight, that this uncomfortable episode was actually an amazing gift.

The additions from Crystal are a lovely and really informative piece of the book. I’m curious as to how this collaboration took shape. Did you develop the framework of the book together? Did you have an idea of where you thought Crystal’s voice would be most helpful and just ask her for that specific input? Or Did you work to find or create spaces for things she wanted to add to the conversation?

Crystal and I have talked for years about how we might help others develop the kind of relationship we stumbled into with each other. First we had to take a look at what we did and didn’t do and what has made our efforts a openness successful. For years we have taught classes in the Denver area (hi, Denver Laura!) to share not only that such a relationship doesn’t have to be contentious, but that it can also be enjoyable. More than anything we say in these sessions, people seem to get a lot just out of seeing a template for how an open adoption can look.

The framework of the book is mine. Crystal and I had extensive interviews about her thoughts and emotions at various points of our journey, as well as her own deconstruction of how we got to where we are. For a book that is largely about how adoptive parents and birth parents can be on the same “side,” rather than the traditional concept of competition between the two sides, it seemed important for us to work together on this book.

As for which came first, her words or a space for her words, I believe it was mostly the former. We had a few jam sessions in which we put as much on the table as we had in us. I took notes and the book began to take shape. Sometimes the book fit around her words and sometimes her words fit into the book.

I suppose in that sense, the way the book took its form is much the same way Crystal and I have taken our form.

I am deeply grateful to Mel, KathyApril, Luna, Jessica, Geo-Chick, BabySmiling, m, Esperanza, Leah Jane, AnneAndy, Liz, and Alicia for devoting precious time to reading my book, sharing their thoughts, and participating in discussions with each other about it. This has been an amazing experience for me and I thank you.

Image courtesy of ping phuket / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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A Quickie

May 9, 2013

Not a full post, just two alerts — one an invitation and the other an announcement: 1. Melissa at Stirrup Queens is graciously hosting a virtual book club tour of my book today. It feels a bit voyeuristic to listen in on conversations about my creation, but I’m enjoying myself immensely as I hop around [...]

Q&A: Adopted Reality, where adoption and mental illness meet

May 2, 2013

The word “bipolar” has called my attention twice in recent years. The first was during the time Roger and I  were waiting to adopt our second child (“Meaghan’s Baby“), and the second was this past winter when I read Laura Dennis’ memoir, Adopted Reality. Knowing her story makes me wonder how accurate were the ideas [...]

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