weekending

my favorite image from a very long and trying weekend.

outside my window

there is a robin couple who are building a nest

right outside our living room window in one of the shrubs.

the shrub has become a bit of a tree

and it rests along the last window so we are able to have

a first hand, close up experience with this little robin family.

it has been a few days now of constant activity

and the robins spend the majority of their day transporting little items to the nest

and stopping to eat worms and hang out in the grass.

it needs to be cut but i am thinking we should wait a few days until they are done

their building because long fresh grass is much more appealing that lawn mower clippings

for nest construction.

and besides, there are more places for bugs to hide in long grass

and that translates into more food for the robins.

it seems ridiculously hopeful to me. this nest building.

they are preparing for an event that has not yet occurred.

there is no egg at the beginning of this process. just the hope of one.

the expectation that there will be eggs. maybe one. maybe three.

who knows.

no guarantees by my goodness these robins are tireless and they seem so optimistic as they hop around on the grass and flutter from tree to ground and back again.

they are preparing.

i am in a place of hopelessness today.

where it seems like there is nothing concrete to continue to build.

where all the resting and the special eating and the not working and the medicine

all those things that i was doing to prepare for recovery. for remission. for getting to the other side of this disease. are not working.

it's as if, like the robins, i've been dancing around with hope and optimism and then the baby robins didn't arrive.

the nest remained empty.

the colitis didn't go into remission.

the hopeful behavious seemed not to matter.

that's where i am today.

i love the robins and while i know they are bullies in the backyard sometimes,

and i want to go out and say

"play nice with the little birds-play nice!"

i love them because they are tireless in their hopefulness.

i am watching them carefully and trying to extract some of that energy and take it for myself.

soon, i am sure, there will be eggs, and lots of nest sitting and then one morning

we will have a noisy serenade that goes onfor days

as the baby robins demand from their parents

everything they need and want for their survival.

i am hopeful for those red chested robins;

and thus, i am hopeful for myself.

what choice do i have to be anything but?

it's just super hard some days.

days like today.

what i didn't know a year ago...

looking back over this past year,

these are the lessons that have been woven deep into my heart.

finding a tribe is easy once you start being authentic and vulmerable.

 We want to connect with each other.

 Genuine friendships are born through the acceptance of ourselves.

We need each other. I need to have other women in my life.

Reframing and gratitude

 are the most valuable daily tools i have.

 Every circumstance contains goodness.

there is always a gift. always.

Love and kindness cannot be overdone.

Constant, daily authentic exhcanges and offerings of these to each other does soften hearts and restore relationships.

Love is always the right response.

Speaking our truth, our pain, our joy, our gratitude, our confusion and our love frees up so much room to grow and bless.

to wiggle within ourselves.

 Our stories help others with their own stories.

We grow together.

It's okay to storm heaven, to bombard God, to beseech Him.

He's up to the challenge.

It's also okay for me to make peace with my own definition of faith.

and finally for me,

remembering the moments, the details and the mundane

honouring the daily. rejoicing in the dishes.

recording my days through journaling, photographing, arting.

i want to remember as time goes by so fast.

these are my lessons from my 43rd year.

birth.day.

look! this is where i was born.

this is the very building i spent the first ten days of my life in.

the building seems old and serious and very well behaved doesn't it?

this journey to piece together some of my birth story has been so freeing.

my emotions and reactions have bounced from shame to elation to anger to outrage to peace to

 "how dare they!"

and i know that the pieces are falling into place for me.

i can't change the past. i can't undo the harm and sorrow that my birth mother experienced.

what i can do is honour her.

 and the 100,000 other women who passed through the maternity home in the long years it was open.

the last one was in 1986 i believe.

(i'm still researching that)

every girl there gave up her child for adoption.

it wasn't an option.

that's alot of heartache.

" the 1960's were a very dark time in birthing

 with the twilight sleep, generous episiotomies, forcepts, the husband stitch..."

most every woman who gave birth in the 1960's didn't have the greatest time.

in all fairness, in 1990 in my birthing room there was some pretty dark stuff going on too

with an inexperienced doctor, a baby Caleb who had no interest in being born

and a young mom who didn't know any better.

these are the stories i find when i google about girls giving birth in the 1960's and coming from maternity homes.

these are the abreviated stories that outrage me.

i've had long labours...4 of them.

fully supported by loving people but grueling and painful all the same.

so i know the backdrop these snippets are not telling us.

 and i was blessed. rewarded. honoured with a beloved child at the end.

not with empty arms.

" at Maywood we were not instructed about pregnancy, labor, delivery;

we were left alone during labour and delivery."

 "The matrons would drop us off at the door

or send us in a taxi."

"(A nurse) started strapping up my right wrist. I was puzzled, I didn't know what she was doing, and then she secured me to the side of the bed... I became unconscious. And I don't know how long I was unconscious for, but when I eventually came to, my daughter was gone."

"we were refused to see, touch and hold our babies"

heavy stuff. hard for this momma heart to read and imagine and hold for these girls.

there is room for sorrow here and i am willing to sit with it for today as a way of remembering my birth mother and her story.

here's what i have pieced together

about my birthday

and it is very little.

i presented posterior and therefore,

would have given my mother a painful back labour

(if she was even awake..which is unlikely by the readings i am doing)

i was born  on April 26th

(that's today! yay!)

and i weighed 7 lbs 12 oz,

was 20.5 inches long

and

my birth orders were for immediate adoption.

my mom and dad got the call

and came and saw me through the glass window within 24 hours of my birth.

they went home to "decide"

 but i know they decided immediately they wanted me by the memories they share with me.

 For 10 long days I waiting for them.

those ten days shaped me more than i reilized.

there's more  to share on that subject

but right now, i am off to be spoiled at the garden center by my son.

piecing together a story.

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because it has never been my desire or intention to search for my birth mother

i have access only to the public files that are held of my birth, my parents adoption process and my birth parents non identifying information.

it still makes up for 50 some odd pages of reading.

i ordered them years ago and have read them a few times

but when i read through them again last night

with fresh intention and bright eyes

i found enough nuggets of information to answer my questions and piece together a story i can make peace with.

my birth mother's name was Jaynee.

i should not know that.

it is whited out on every line except in one description.

"...is 5'2" tall and weighs  about 105lbs. she is a very cute, bright looking young girl with brown hair worn short and bright, and bright, shiney brown eyes. Although              considers her complexion to be dark because it tans easily, worker believes her complexion would be medium to fair. It is very clear and Jaynee has rosy cheeks much of the time.

hello Jaynee! Thanks for taking such care of me for 9 long months. I appreciate you.

"since her arrival at Maywood some three months ago, she has had weekly telephone conversations with her parents...her adjustment to the maywood maternity Home has been good in that she gets along well with alot of the girls there and has done her best to keep herslf active in the activities they provide and involved in their program so that she does not have excess amount of time on her hands."

she spent a long time at the maternity home and interestingly, her parents moved to the entire family to Mission just before she went into the home in Vancouver. Despite their close proximity there was only one visit between Jaynee and her family during the three month confinment. I was so happy to see that she was able to talk on the phone with her mom so often.

"              and                   dated steadily for a period of over a year. Her family moved to Mission, late last summer and since that time she has not seen                in person, however, they have corresponded regularly.               and his mother are providing full support during the time she is in the Maywood Maternity Home. In addition to this,                has been sending her spending money which he has earned on his part time job."

this sounds to me like two teenagers trying to do the right thing the only way they knew how.

i can weave that nicely into my story. i believe strongly in doing the right thing the best way you can. even if it is hard. and at 16, this was hard.

so there she is.

and i believe that having just enough information is enough for me.

there is more of course, but these are the passages that stood out to me as i read.

i feel like she made the best of a tough situation.

that she found the gifts in being where she was, she reached out and she remained connected.

those are characteristics i am proud to share with her.

tomorrow, she gives birth.

freeing up wiggle room

the unravelling continues

and i am becoming increasingly aware of the gifts of vulnerability.

the whisper i breathed outloud in the restaurant

has freed up wiggle room in my heart.

being able to speak truthfully

and not have the world crumble at my feet

allows me to continue forward and face my story with bravery and firm footing.

in just a few days time,

i have gone from a whispered confession of

"it wasn't a happy day"

to a humble

"my birthday is sad for me. i am changing that"

but i am able to say it clearly, without shame to anyone who might inquire.

my empathy for my birth mother continues to overwhelm me at the most inopportune times;

this of course, keeps me humble.

not being in control of my emotions all the time cements in me the reminder that vulnerability and fragility are the foundations of strength

when i am willing to follow them through and receive the gifts that are waiting.

and the lessons.

(there seem to be a lot of lessons here.)

i feel stronger even though i am raw and tender.

i can imaging myself at peace with where i came from

and i am able to translate some of my emotions and awareness into concrete activity and words.

with my birthday taking center stage these days,

i neglected to call and rebook my treatment date until yesterday.

they seem eager to see me and i am going in a few hours..

this does not thrill me at all.

and like my resistance to celebrating my birthday

i feel a resistance to going.

i am freshly reminded that strong resistance on my part usually means

 something is going on below the surface

(and perhaps it means that for everyone)

so i am sitting waiting to find out what is happening in my head and my heart.

there is so much love and support that flows into my life and i am so grateful for the blog comments, the emails and the facebook comments from you, my friends.

leaning in.

"Lean into the sharp points and fully experience them.

The essence of bravery is being without self-deception."

those words sum up pretty perfectly what has been going on for me this past week and particularly on Saturday.

i have been compelled to sit with the grief i am feeling this year for my birth mother and the newly discovered  emotions i have about the day of my birth.

 Saturday night i sat across from Owen, desperately trying not to burst into full on sobs

(we were out in public) as he gently pushed me on the subject of not celebrating my birthday  this year  i felt my strong resistance rising to the surface again, i knew there was more going on than the

" i'm too tired to do anything" reason that i have been using heavily this year.

there was a new awareness and when i was finally able to recognize and articulate and accept it,

my heart found room to breath again.

i continue to be amazed at how hard it can be to speak out our raw emotions.it is a fight. i become silent and quivery and my body does this dance of denial. i shift in my seat and feel hot tears under my eyelids and i know in my heart exactly what it is i need to recognize and honour but i just don't want to.

this was what Saturday night looked like. and it didn't help that we were at the end of a trying week, and we were out in public and i was hungry and tired and full of unseen pain. non of those circumstances helped but they are not  reasons for me to igore my story and to lean into the emotions that come with.

i need to clarify here that growing up, i loved my birthday. i often celebrated with my brother as we have birthday's a week apart. celebration, cake, presents, balloons, love and joy were a constant source of delight on my special day. my family and friends made sure of that. i also love to celebrate other's birthdays..

i am not a hater of the birthday.

i love a good party. i can throw a pretty decent one i am told.

and there is nothing much better than presents tied up with pretty ribbon.

but as the years have gone on my birthday week has become a time of sadness for me

and this is the year that i lay it all to rest. this is the time in my life to face my birth story and make peace with it.

it's a lot of work. that i didn't expect. but i am grateful for.

and i share it here

because this is where i come to work out my days. and to honour them by putting words to the emotions.

my birthday was not a happy day.

there wasn't any rejoicing or celebrating.

family wasn't waiting to hold me and whisper love into my ears.

i spent my first days of life, swaddled in a basinette in a hospital

waiting.

(thanks for getting there as fast as you were allowed to mom and dad)

this reality breaks my heart.

this is what i sit with. i started my life alone.

and i know that i am the sort of person that needs to be held in the shelter of others.

i always have.

so, on saturday when i was able to whisper to owen

"my birthday wasn't a happy day. how can i celebrate that?"

we both looked at each other with tears in our eyes and resolved to change the story.

i think i have a plan

(and i love a good plan)

more tomorrow about that.

this is a slow unravelling of my heart going on here. patience is necessary with myself.