From Hello to Goodbye

The add in the magazine continued to draw my attention, month after month.  Each month I would dismiss it...until I couldn't anymore.  I acted...pages and pages of paperwork...appointments and tests followed.

It was a fall afternoon as I was walking across campus, just before my 44th birthday.  The wind was blowing, and the colors were popping, oranges, yellows and reds.

"Your pregnant! " she squealed!.  "I wish I was there to hug you and kiss you and squeeze you right now!". The excitement in her voice was contagious..  My heart jumped...I was thrilled....we actually did it, I am pregnant.

The ultrasound tech announced," there are two embryos!"...Twins...wow...

9 months, growing belly, swollen feet, saltines, breathlessness.  The gift of life to a couple who could not do it on thier own.

People would ask  "Isn't it going to be hard to give them up?"

I would say. "Of course not, they are not mine.  I am just the oven doing the baking...a temporary apartment"

Empty space inside, broken heart, crying spells...the sadness hung on my heart, like a lonely and empty swing that was waiting patiently for a child.

I couldn't get it.  How could my birth mother have done it? Given me away like that...or is that just it? Was I given life, so thar I could give life in return?

Pete Rose

out about Pete R
I was born in 1963,  and adopted in 1964... I had jet black hair, lots of energy, a little clumsy and built sturdy; "stocky" they called me.

I flunked kindergarten art and finger painting....I was too messy and didn't stay in the lines.  My mom was mad at the teacher for squelching my creativity.

My brother, 2 years older,  adopted as well, had strawberry blond hair, freckles, was tall and skinny- my exact opposite.  He could draw, he could write, he was artistic and creative.  I was like a bull in a china shop.

As we grew I wanted to be his friend.  I wanted to be just like him.   I tried to play ball in the backyard with him and his friends, but always ended up getting hurt.

At 8 years old I started recreational softball, with my dad as the coach.  I was a hard worker...I could throw and run like a boy.  That made me feel special.  I could play any position.  I was strong, tough and fearless, and still had short black hair.

One day my dad and I were watching the Red Sox, and Pete Rose* took an amazing head first slide into home plate.  He was strong, sturdy, fearless and had short black hair.  I said to my dad with my 8 year old innocent  grin " I wonder if Pete Rose is my natural father?".

He smiled broadly  and nicely said "well, you certainly slide like him!".  To this day, it is one of my dads favorite stories.

* Just to be clear,  this was long before the gambling scandal that broke about Pete Rose!

Let's dance

Dark hair, rugged build...cute, very cute. I have seen him in the halls.  He is a football player, a good one.  I think he plays baseball too...nice.  He smiles at me, I smile back and send him my athletic vibes.  Will he ask me to dance?

"Shhhh, he is coming! Don't look!" I say to my friends as we dance to the music.  He comes up behind me and asks me to dance.

Beatles....Love Me Do...we hold hands, twist and move to the rhythm.  My body feels the immediate energy travel from my fingertips to my toes.  "Is this what love feels like?" I wonder to myself.  We dance and dance and dance. The night is magical, unfortunately i remember that school let's out for Christmas vacation tomorrow. Ahhhggg! Please god, don't let him forget about tonight...

There it is again, a tap on my shoulder.

"Hi, remember me? Can I buy you a soda?" he askes.

A warm smile crosses my face, my body feels warm and tingly, my stomach does a somersault.  All that comes squeaking out of me is a meek "Sure".

One night, that is all it took.  Passion, desire, hunger.   Amazing, wonderful, terrifying....WOW

It is September, I am supposed to be back at school...
Now I sit in my room, alone.  The radio blares out:
Love, love me do, you know I love you...I'll always be true....so pleeeease, love me...

I close my eyes and place my hands on my stomach.  Pregnant, outcast, isolated.  I look down at my growing belly and speak slowly..".this song will always remind me of you..."

"You will grow up loved and do amazing things....I just know it.  You can be whatever you want..."

My hands still on my stomach, I feel my baby kick, I smile, hmmm, maybe a soccer player?

October 1963, I am born in Boston and named Donna.  Placed in foster care.  JFK is  assassinated in November.  By late January 1964, I am on my way to Kentucky to join my new family.

They have named me Anne.

This is my own fictional story of how I came into this world...through love.  That is what I choose to believe.

It is 2015... What are you going to believe in this year? I am going to live in the moment, and move forward and write.

Happy New Year".

Today is the day...isn't 88 just great?

Today is my moms 88th birthday.  How blessed I am to have both of my parents still here with me.  Her birthday falls the day after Christmas. When I was a kid, I made her wait until her birthday to open her presents.  She always wanted to(and now does!) to open them on Christmas day.  

You see, I have really just now started to get to know my parents.  

About 4 years ago I got divorced.  With my first marriage that lasted 17 years, I saw my parents a few times a year.  The standard holidays and occasional birthdays.  Visits were tense...my girls were young...and all I wanted to do was get through the visit smoothly.  I was always worried about what they were thinking.   Not only of me, but also about the behavior of my children and husband.

I met a man shortly after my divorce.  Certainly not my intention...but yet this man met my parents a month or so after we started dating.  That was the start of them getting their daughter back.  

I had been lost and had forgotten myself...it took this man for me to begin my journey back to myself....and because of this man I am ready to share my story "through the A's".  ADOPTION, ADDICTION, ANOREXIA, ACTIVITY and ACCEPTANCE.   Not necessarily in that order.  

This blog is about my journey toward forgiveness...acceptance and grace.  What better day to start than my moms birthday.