Category Archives: Guest Post

Christmas Box: Unlocking the Pain of Separation

Three years ago, my friend Linda Schellentrager released her son into the care of someone else. She wrote this post about how this experience gave her a new sense of empathy for another mother who also experienced such a pain of separation.

My Own Christmas Box

I am an adoptive mom. An oh-so-proud adoptive mom … I feel like a mom in every way to my only child Eric, who is almost 20 years old. My love for him spills over and oozes sometimes so much that I am regularly teased about it from co-workers at Adoption Network Cleveland — and my family, too. And, Eric just smiles when I get mushy with him. He knows his mom. He knows my appreciation that I am his mom.

This holiday season has been a challenging one and it has brought forward feelings that I’ve never had before … and has brought to the surface some feelings that have been long locked in a box.

christmas box

On November 14th, Eric left for 13 weeks of Marine boot camp in Parris Island, South Carolina. We’ll have no phone or email conversations until we see him in Parris Island for graduation in February. We’ve shared amazing letters back and forth, but we’re only halfway through this first extended time apart.

This separation from him has been enlightening to me. It’s brought his birth mother to my heart in a new and deeper way. We’ve all known her these 20 years with our open adoption, and I’ve known and felt her sadness, yet I didn’t feel the magnitude of it until now. This separation is hard stuff. It rips at the soul. It doesn’t feel right. Something is wrong with the universe. Families should at least be together at the holidays.

Yet, I’ve been doing a good job keeping these feelings shoved down and locked into a box. To have them out in the open is too hard. Tears might come. Or worse. I often have wondered all these years why his birth mom hadn’t joined a group of other birth moms to talk about her feelings. Now, I know. That involves going to that box and opening it.

On Christmas Eve, something surprising happened. I was with a relative who is experiencing infertility and when I started to talk to her about knowing the feeling of facing another holiday without a baby, the tears came. It’s the first time since November 14th that I have allowed myself to do that. I was catapulted back to 1990 when I was in depths of infertility sadness. Then immediately, I snapped back to the present day, thinking, “My God, it’s Christmas and I can’t see or talk to or hug my baby.” What the heck? I am healed from infertility! And, I thought I’d been doing so well with Eric away. (Writing him daily has helped keep me sane.) So where are these tears coming from?

Then it dawned on me: I’ve been healed from infertility but I am not healed from knowing how to deal with separation. And, here I was in front of an open box. At least, while I was with that relative, I felt safe. Together, we shared tears. I cried for her facing another holiday without a baby and she for me, facing my first holiday in 20 years without my boy.

When Eric’s birth mom and I have talked about him joining the Marines and being away from both of us, I shared with her how her years of separation from him is affecting me in a whole new way. I said that I have a new appreciation for how hard it’s been on her. Her response surprised me. She said, “You’re not used to being separated from him. It’ll be harder on you.” Whew.

Then I imagined how hard it will be when we both see him in February for just a few short days and again, will have to say goodbye for a while. These next four years of his Marine commitment will have many hellos and goodbyes – much like the countless hellos and goodbyes his birth mom has endured with him over these 20 years in our open adoption.

This revelation has brought big emotions to me this holiday season. Sure, I expected for it to be hard for these first 13 weeks of separation, but I didn’t expect the feelings to go so far and deep –- and to have any connection to my adoption journey. I didn’t expect to approach those feelings long locked away.

Opening the box is good for healing, but for now, back inside you go.

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adoption separation guest postLinda Schellentrager is an adoptive mom who was among those who embraced open adoption early in the movement, in the 1990s. Her son, Eric, is now 23. Reach Linda directly via openadoptmom@gmail.com.

Linda is also Communications Manager for Adoption Network Cleveland. This post was first published on Adoption Network Cleveland (c), with permission to reprint.

Box image courtesy artur84 at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.
Image of Linda courtesy Adoption Network Cleveland.

#flipthescript — What’s an Adoptive Parent to Do?

I am drawn to the writings of articulate, gentle-yet-incisive people. Barbara Freedgood guest posts today about the impact the #flipthescript movement had on her as an adoptive mom and therapist. She addresses the question that many readers may have had last month as they read the not-so-secret thoughts of adult adoptees:

So now that I KNOW, what do I DO?

Please welcome Barbara Freedgood into this space.

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barbara freedgoodNovember was National Adoption Awareness Month. The blog posts flowed in on my email. I found myself overwhelmed with input from all the voices being raised during this time in which adoption draws more of the spotlight.

Among the many things that came across my desk were generous offers from authors of greatly reduced prices on their books written about adoption to share their experience and hopefully help others. There were workshops offered on attachment and trauma. Adoptive Parents Committee held its annual conference, as it always does in this month of adoption awareness. And here in this space, Lori hosted “flipthescript” in which adoptees took the floor to offer their views.

Many adoptees raised their voices, claiming more space for their stories, not just those of adoptive parents and professionals. And many of their stories were tough to hear, especially as an adoptive parent. They expressed hurt and anger at the foreclosure on their grief in adoptions where their parents could not or did not know to discuss and understand their losses. They vented outrage at the expectation that they be grateful for being adopted. After all, they did not choose it and it would seem that adoption causes as much hurt as healing.  Adoptees mourned deep feelings of loss of birth family and birth countries and cultures.

It struck me that as adoptive parents, it is our job to hear and understand these feelings while at the same time feeling our own sad losses. How sad to have a child who suffers so. Unfortunately, in this outpouring of voices, adoptive parents as a faceless whole are sometimes painted as selfish people who just wanted a baby at any cost to others involved. No doubt there are people who fit this description. There are many, though, who simply followed advice that was given to everyone who adopted at that time, did the best that they could, and did not know a thing about what they were getting into. “On the job” learning is tough — one makes mistakes.

Fast forward to adoption in the 21st century. As a result of the great efforts of reform-minded adoptees, birth parents and adoptive parents to define better practices in adoption, things are changing. Thanks to this, openness is the order of the day and newly adopting parents are being counseled far differently than parents of the past who adopted under a system that encouraged closed adoption, closed records, closed connections, closed expression.

New adopting parents are now encouraged to do open adoptions so that adoptees do not lose their identities and biological connection. They are encouraged to talk about adoption with their children, not keep it in the closet as a secret, or brush over the differences that evoke questions and cause intrusions both external and internal from the outside world.

This is all good and important change. It is my hope that this will allow us all to have more nuanced stories about our adoption experiences. In the past adoption has traumatized all involved. Birth parents lost children forever. Adoptees lost birth families forever. And adoptive parents entered parenthood completely
uncomprehending of the damage this would do to all, unwittingly putting themselves on the front lines with trauma they had no understanding of or preparation for managing.

There will always be good parents and not so good parents, whether
adoptive or biological. There will always be issues of fit and compatibility. Adoption will always be fertile ground for fantasies of lives not lived, of grief for and idealization of parents or children that did not happen. However, if it is practiced with greater consciousness and room for everyone’s feelings we stand to have a lot less trauma in this way of making families, a great thing for all involved!

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Barbara Freedgood, LCSW is the mother of two children adopted at birth in the United States and psychotherapist in private practice in New York City. She is the author of the article: “Loss and Resiliency Form a Family: A Relational Story of Adoption” available through her website. She runs post adoption support groups for adoptive parents of children of all ages.

The Weight of Weight: Women and Body Image

Humorist Shannon Bradley Colleary is the total package — brainy, beautiful, bold and bodacious. She has a fantastic sense of humor and a healthy body image (wait ’til you see just how healthy). She treads regularly where Not-So-Feisty Lori only dreams of treading.

Shannon and I share a few things in common, though. We are both tail-end baby boomers, still in the throes of child-raising while many of our peers are facing empty nests. We aim to live more mindfully (an advantage that often comes with of aging), even as we watch our youthful appearance retreat in the rear-view mirror (a disadvantage that always comes with aging). We both would like to heal body image issues and love our bodies just as they are.

To that end, Shannon started her #LoveYourBodyNow project. Today I turn over my space to her for this guest post I’m sure you’ll enjoy.

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The Woman Formerly Known as BeautifulAt 48 my weight creeps up quickly. Two years ago I wrote the article Am I Really Fat? which went viral because I discovered, despite my intense self-criticism, that I was a completely healthy weight for a woman my age.

It’s been a cosmic shift for me to feel that 140 lbs at 5′ 6″ is not just a healthy weight but an attractive weight. I spent my young adult life weighing about 120 lbs. I could eat whatever I wanted and that weight just felt normal to me. So shifting to 20 lbs. up felt sinful. But writing the post and taking the subsequent TASTEFUL nude photos at age 46 helped me accept my now mature woman’s body.

I was at peace. Until I stepped on a doctor’s scale a few weeks ago and was told I weighed 147 lbs. What the what? Okay, I was wearing my clothes, but my shoes were off. What did this weight MEAN? Did it mean I was now on an ever-upward spiral that would end on The Biggest Loser?

I stood naked in my bathroom and perused my body from every angle. Maybe I was crazy, but it looked pretty much the same as it had for the last five years. I couldn’t really locate the extra 7 pounds. I could find them when I tried to button my pants, but naked, well, I still looked pretty good to myself.

Then I stood in front of Henry naked. “I’ve gained 7 pounds,” I said in a funereal tone.

Recognizing he was not in sensual, but rather dangerous waters he replied, “I don’t see them” with the flat affect of a person who recognizes the hitchhiker he just picked up is deranged and carrying a shiv.

“I don’t see the seven pounds either,” I said, “but apparently they’re there.”

“How dare they?”

“They’re sneaky little sh!ts.”

“Maybe I do see them. They’ve gone to your breasts. And maybe your inner thighs, which is good because you were too bony there and I was always getting bruises when we had relations.”

“When you say ‘relations’ it makes me never want to have sex with you again.”

“I’m a recovering Catholic. The seven pounds is hot.”

“I love you even if you almost have no hair.”

“I love you even if you have too much hair. And a slight mustache.”

look good in swimsuit near age 50

Shannon with 7 extra seven pounds. Totally beautiful.

Even with my husband’s approval and my own favorable impression of my naked body I decided to lose those 7 pounds. I had to close the floodgates somewhere and 140 was my Little Big Horn.

I began logging everything I ate through a free app. I was startled to discover that I eat enough food to fuel the entire USC defensive line. Part of the problem is the wine. Not that it’s so many calories, but after a glass I feel impervious to weight gain so I eat brownies followed by kugel, which, if you haven’t had it because you’re a shiksa, you should think again.

My daughters noticed me documenting all of my food which worried me because I don’t want them doing the same thing and becoming anorexic and dying from starvation. Yes. I go right there into the deep dark pit of hell. It’s the Irish in me.

MyFitnessPal told me I needed to eat only 1290 calories in order to drop the weight. 1290 calories is basically a stick of cheese, a spoonful of peanut butter and air. I didn’t meet my calorie goal for EVEN ONE DAY since I started my quest to reclaim 140. Not. One. Day.

So I cheated and decided to try to eat less than 2000 calories a day. That just seemed like a more sane approach. And then I ran across the most amazing article in HuffPo. Iris Higgins’ An Open Apology To My Weight Loss Clients.

In it Higgins specifically apologizes for putting women who were a perfectly healthy weight on a 1200-calories-a day-meal plan. Her conclusion was that anything between 1200-1500 calories a day is potentially damaging to a woman’s health!

This was a relief to me. I’m glad I’ve started tracking my food intake. I’ve been eating somewhat mindlessly. And also simply out of boredom in the late hours of the evening after spending a day working, picking up and driving children hither and yon and loading and unloading the dishwasher 5,623 times.

I will continue keeping track for a few more months so I can know what it feels like to be satiated and not overly full. So I will be aware of food before I’ve already put it in my mouth, chewed and swallowed. I want to eat mindfully, healthfully and in a way where I respect my body.

But my ultimate, and elusive final goal is to simply love and appreciate my body in all its incarnations. I’m a work in progress, but in writing about it I’ve found I’m not alone. That many of us grapple with loving our bodies and living in them fully regardless of their form.

What are some ways you love your body just as it is?

Shannon Bradley-Colleary blogs at The Woman Formerly Known As Beautiful. She’s also a contributing blogger on The Huffington Post; her favorite subjects being beauty, body, babies and larceny. You can Follow her on Twitter of Like her on Facebook. She’s also slightly mustachioed.

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Still trying to spot that mustache…

Visit Shannon to read my love letter to my body on her blog.

Have you signed up yet to read and discuss the new novel Apart at the Seams? Deadline to join this virtual book club is August 1.

Finally, to those who arrive here by googling “blogs that accept guest posts,” please see the second paragraph here first.