Category: Open Adoption
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Open Adoption: Real Lives. Real Impacts.
My daughter, all of nine and I are standing, facing each other. I hold a tube of cucumber face pack and apply the goo in an even layer all over her face. I avoid her fine blond hair, so pale that I have to look carefully to even see it. Up close, her face is…
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Open Adoption Goes Both Ways
“I am bored!” The words seem to resound, bounce off the walls of our home over the weekend. If they were not out biking or prone on the sofa, eyes glazed over, watching something inane on the television, they start like cicadas, a lone voice, growing, amplifying into a resonant chorus until I either yell…
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Essay: Motherhood, Cleaved
An essay I wrote earlier this year reflecting on how my mothering my children feels cleaved is now online on the Adoptive Families Magazine website. If you are not a subscriber, you can read the piece here: Adoptive Motherhood_Cleaved.
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Motherhood, Cleaved
cleave1split or sever (something), especially along a natural line or grain.“the large ax his father used to cleave wood for the fire” cleave2stick fast to.“Rose’s mouth was dry, her tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth” adhere strongly to (a particular pursuit or belief).“part of why we cleave to sports is that excellence is…
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Mommy, Mommy: The Soundtrack To My Life
My hands circles her tiny body, my face pressed against her back as she sits and turns the pages of the Llama Llama book I got from the library. Her voice falls up and down, the cadence of it lulling me into a sense of bliss. I am almost asleep when she abruptly flings my…
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On Fears And Expanding Horizons
I park and zip my rather loose fleece jacket as I step out the driver’s seat. I open the passenger door and Ammu and Pattu clamber out. I remind Ammu she needs her light jacket. She pauses as if to challenge me and reaches for her old faded grey fleece. I remember to lock the…
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A Word Here, A Connection There
In the many years, I have been a blogger, I have often paused to consider what I am doing. I have often been asked why I share so much, put so much of myself online. The questions have made me reevaluate what I do, how I write and how much I share. The breaks have…
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Hypotheticals
“Amma, can we please let Snowflake free?” Ammu pleads with me, still sleepy-eyed at 6:30 AM in the morning. “After you are back from school,” I say. “But amma, imagine if you were stuck in a box for monnnnnths…” she continues, her angst making her drag out the words. “I am not an elf and…
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Of Struggling With Labels
“I don’t like my fake name” muttered Ammu, my first daughter. I was bent over the stove tossing rice noodles in a base of lemon and sesame oil. The heady aroma of tempered mustard and curry leaves almost made me miss the statement. A part of me always attuned to disturbances in the air peaked…
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Open Adoption – Reflections On The Journey
I sat at my desk browsing for gifts, ears keenly attuned to the sounds from the adjoining family room. I’d let my twins sit at their table, their art pads open and one single instruction. “Make a card and write a note in it for your mom’s birthday. All I ask is that you think…