Moe Challenges, Moe Love

Last week was a stressful week for many in the country. We had a bit more chaos in our home for another reason: we added another family member. Meet Moe.

Moe had a rough life before landing in our home two days after the election. He was found alone in a field in Lubbock, Texas with puncture wounds from a wild animal or large dog on his hind legs and neck. The shelter where he was taken does not provide medical care, so they put out an APB to rescue organizations. Doodle Rock Rescue answered the call, had him flown to Dallas, and provided him with medical care and a foster home. After two weeks, he was too active to stay in the first foster home, so he moved to a second. And two weeks after that, he moved in with us. ♡ His forever family.♡ He fit right in with our crew and now plays all day with our 4 year-old golden doodle and sleeps with our 9 year-old daughter at night. 

Moe is a resilient little bugger. His life changed so much in just one month, and he is taking it all in (tiny dog) stride. His journey has me reflecting on the following:

• Even when we are at our lowest point- wounded, alone, and afraid- a life-changing blessing might be in our near future. And it will be worth the wait.
• This Fred Rogers' quote, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' "  Moe had a lot of helpers over the past month. A lot of people that gave of their time, money, and love so one little 13 pound dog could have a happy life. I'm so grateful to them all.
• We won't always know the outcome of our efforts. But we put in the effort anyway with the hopes of a positive outcome. I'm certain the person who scooped Moe up in that field, could not have predicted that in a few short weeks, this dog would be a pampered pooch several hundred miles away.
• Be present. Don't dwell on the past or worry about the future. Be present! (This one is such a challenge for me. I had a reminder tattooed on my wrist. In hindsight, I needed it on my forehead.)
• Family are the people who love you. (Now we have three adopted children- one with 2 legs and two with four.) All three came to us in their own way and in their own time.  With each one, we felt it was meant to be. 
• Sh*t happens. And when it does, hopefully it's on the hardwood and not the new rug.
• And finally, our scars are reminders of how much we've overcome. Moe's many scars remind us he is one BADASS little doggie! 

I hope Moe's story inspires you today. Remember, you are stronger than you think, Dear Reader. 

Feel free to leave a message of resilience, hope, or faith below. Someone might need to hear your words of wisdom today. 

Reflections on Becoming Unexpected Activists (Or Our Life went Crazy Pants)

 Photo Source

Here's what I learned when my husband opened his mouth, cried on international TV, and our life went crazy pants:

1. You really NEVER know what is coming next in life. Good or bad. Control is an illusion.  
2. Pack a basic black dress you can wear twice OR pack a second dress. (See number 1.) You just never know what is coming next. Like, that time we were asked to meet the President the very next day and I only had packed one dress- that I was already wearing that night. On T.V.
3. Be present on the journey. Whatever you are experiencing will likely end soon, so hold on tight and enjoy the ride. (Or throw your arms in the air and scream like hell.) Maybe take notes and take pictures. But be sure to FEEL the wind in your hair and your stomach dropping on the downhill. It's a challenge to be present- I'm a work in progress on this one. But I'm committed to the practice and I've gotten somewhat better through the years.
4. Don't read the comments. (I did not do well with this one, I admit.) It amazes me how people watch the same video yet receive messages that are polar opposites. It's a bit scary, actually. But as Brené Brown says, the bystanders' opinions don't matter. The only opinions that matter are the ones in the arena. Frankly, I think when people automatically assume the worst of someone, it reflects more on the judger than the judgee. (I'm pretty sure I made those words up. And I'm going to keep them in here anyway.)
5. Don't be afraid to DARE GREATLY. Brian and I read Brené Brown's book, Daring Greatly as our own little book club. Brian feels it was life-changing. (And therefore it's life-changing for me too, as my life changed/changes when his does.) Brian only moved people at that press conference because he was courageous enough to be vulnerable. He showed emotion and people FELT that. Vulnerability leads to connection. (If only he had shown emotion the first 14 years we were together...but hey, that leads me to the next point.)
6. Live for the now and believe in the future. Breathe, believe, receive. GREAT things are coming your way. (And excuse me now- I'm going to get a bit spiritual and use the G word) God's plans for you are SO MUCH BIGGER than you can possibly imagine. He will use your pain for good. He will take a man who hadn't cried for 35 years, break him open, and then have him cry on international TV. He took a man who very rarely spoke about race with anyone, who was incredibly private, who turned down press interviews in the past and gave him the courage to Be the Change. I'm telling you- if a year-and-a-half ago you would have told me my husband was going to cry (just cry!) I would have laughed IN YOUR FACE. I used to tell him that I could die and he still probably wouldn't cry.   

Here are a few links from some of my favorite interviews from that time:

Dallas Trauma Surgeon Reflects on Irony of Treating Wounded Police Officers
With Ari Shapiro on NPR All Things Considered, July 15, 2016  (5 min 40 sec)

A History of White Delusion
Nicolas Kristof, The New York Times, July 14, 2016

Parkland Doctor's Candid Words Resonated with Black Professionals
Maria Halkias, The Dallas Morning News, July 15th, 2016

Surgeon Who Tried to Save Dallas Cops
BBC World Service, August 4, 2016 (50 min.)

You Only Have to Bloom.

I found this quote today and wrote it in my art journal (along with a little doodle). 

Something inside me was pushing to post it on here too. 

So, who else besides me needed to hear this message today?

Transformation doesn't ask that you stop being you. 

It demands that you find a way back to the authenticity and strength

that's already inside of you. 

You only have to bloom.

-Cheryl Strayed

That Day We Met the President (Unexpected Activists- Part 5)

Here it is. The post you have been waiting for. (Is anyone still out there reading this? Bueller, Bueller?) I know, I know. It's part FIVE. (In my defense, I don't like long blog posts. Reading them OR writing them. So I apologize in advance that this one is a bit long. Part 6 just seemed like toooooo much.) You've made it all the way from Part 1 through Part 4. And now we're ready to meet the President of the United States of America.

Thursday July 14, 2016
We woke up early that morning after only a few hours of sleep. Brian and I packed and got dressed and we then attempted to wake Beni. Normally, she is up at the crack of dawn and trying to pull me out of bed. But I swear, whenever we HAVE to be somewhere, she sleeps in. After some coaxing, and a reminder that she got to wear her new sparkly dress, sparkly shoes, and sparkly accessories, she allowed Brian to dress her while she laid there. He even brushed her teeth with in-bed service. We left the room sometime after 6:30am and grabbed a cab to Penn Station. 

Cab ride to Penn Station

At the train station, we found a Dunkin Donuts (I've missed you, DD coffee) and grabbed some coffee nirvana for me and some munchkins for the munchkin. And us too, of course! Public transportation, I've missed you too. Although, I realize it's easy to miss you because right now it's not cold, raining, and something I HAVE to do. Every. Single. Day. But it was incredible to be back on the East Coast and experiencing the hustle and bustle of a "real" city. 

After a short wait and some people watching, we boarded our train. Somehow we ended up on the quiet car, but it ended up being a blessing. One man was asked to leave after talking on his cell phone and I told Abeni he was kicked off the train car because he was too loud. (That was technically true AND was effective in keeping her quiet the whole way. Score one for Mama!) We all fell asleep with the gentle motion of the train and the sound of the wheels. But not before I posted this message on Facebook to my friends:

After arriving at the DC train station, we headed to a hotel near the ABC taping venue. Brian's hospital had sent a communications expert (thanks Mike!) to provide him with guidance about what he could and could not say (nothing about legislation since B was a state of TX employee.) We had lunch, freshened up in Mike's room, and all left in a rush to make it to the venue. 

Arriving at the DC train station

Once at the venue, we waited outside while the Secret Service swept the theater for security. We entered through metal detectors and they did a quick search of my purse and Beni's koala backpack. It was loaded with activities that would hopefully keep her entertained while Brian and I were at the taping. Once inside, we waited for quite a while longer. I sent this update to my Facebook friends. 

And then, without any warning (for a last minute potty break), Brian and I were ushered to our seats. I called out to Mike, "Take good care of our precious treasure!" Brian was seated in the front row and I was seated directly behind him. David Muir came in and talked to us for a while, and then THE PRESIDENT walked in. I'm trying not to use the word "surreal" too much, but that's the overwhelming feeling that filled me. 

That's Brian's big head there on the left. 

After two-hours, David Muir said- this is the last question- and it was over. Brian was disappointed he did not get to ask his question. Then the President went around the room to shake hands. Brian got a quick handshake. Everyone had a few seconds with POTUS as he walked around the circular room. Brian urged me to move from my second row seat and move into his path so I could meet him. I tried to maneuver into his path but the Secret Service agents were human obstacles.  

Brian chatting with David Muir, ABC newscaster

And then, there he was. The President of the United States was looking right at me. 

Me: (grabbing his hand) It is such an honor to meet you, Mr. President. 

Obama: Thank you.

Then there was a pause. I assumed he would keep moving on to the next person, so I didn't say anything else. But he didn't move on! 

Obama: So, what is your name?

Me: (very animated) I'm Kathianne Williams. My husband, Brian Williams, (I gestured to Brian behind me. B had strategically placed himself to get a photo of me with the POTUS.) was the surgeon who took care of the policemen that were shot in Dallas. 

Obama: (to Brian) Oh hey man! (shaking B's hand and then grabbing B's tie) Yeah, he dresses like a surgeon.

And then, miraculously, there was another pause. I had NOT planned anything to say. I wasn't even sure I would get to meet the President. So, I don't know WHERE this came from, because I am usually kicking myself later for not saying something "better." But I opened my mouth, and this came out of nowhere:

Me: (grabbing his hand and pulling Obama even closer) I just want to tell you, that when you were ignaugurated, I wrote a letter to my biracial daughter. I wrote to her that I was so happy that she would never know a world in which only white men were president. 

Obama: Thank you. Please tell her I said hello. She must be what? Eight years old now?

Me: No, five.

And then he moved on to the next person. I hope he put it together that I wasn't confused on my timeline; it was just that I wrote the letter to my daughter before she was even born. Because I had to do A LOT of waiting for her, remember? And do you remember the blog post I wrote several years ago about my letter to Beni on his inauguration? (Please follow the link and read that one.) Looking back now, it all feels magical. I wrote the letter to her in January of 2009, published the blog post in January of 2013, and then met the President and told him about it in July 2016. It was a full-circle moment. A moment when everything seems to fall into place and the Universe is in order.  

Can you tell from this photo that I am squeezing his hand kind of hard? 

I was holding his one hand with two of mine at one point. Ha! 

Brian said that the President wasn't going anywhere with my grip.  

Meanwhile, Brian was saying to me, "I thought I had to be quick to take the photo, but you were talking to him forever! After a while, I just held the button down and took a burst of photos." Sadly, we didn't get a photo of Brian with the President, and he didn't really get to say much to him. He's still a bit bummed about that. Frankly, I am just amazed at myself that I thought on my feet and took advantage of the moment. Yippee!!! 

We then collected Beni from Mike (she was alive and happy and had eaten a lot of candy and played with the young relatives of Eric Garner). It was a rush to get back to his hotel for our bags, then into a car for a long drive to BWI airport. Then it was a long flight back to Dallas. We landed at Love Field, but our car was at DFW (from the NYC flight) so we had to take a car service back to DFW. Then drive home from there.  

All in all, it was a VERY looooong day. So long, in fact, that the memories we made will last a lifetime.

*

 

Please stay tuned for 2 more posts. One is a final reflection on the events from my point of view. The other is an interview of Brian H. Williams, MD. He was interviewed by Don Lemon of CNN, Ari Shapiro of NPR, and Gayle King of CBS, but he has not faced the toughest interviewer yet! Kathianne Williams of Nourish.Create.Bloom!!! Feel free to write any questions you might have for Brian in the comments below. 

Accidental Activists- Part 2

On Tuesday, I posted Accidental Activists- Part 1. Thank you, dear Readers, for your blog comments, Facebook comments and shares, and private messages. Most of all, thank you for your support for Brian and me on this roller coaster journey. 

Before I get to part 2, I want you all to know that I have B's permission to share all of this. In fact, he is one of my proofreaders. We both believe God has a hand in all of this and we (B and I) are just the instruments. (To show you how much all this affected him, I'll tell you a secret. He could not verbally articulate a belief in God or a greater power prior to all of this happening.) We feel B's role in these events is bigger than us and our "small" problems. Without seeking it, he was given an incredible platform and a chance to give a voice to the voiceless. 

Now, here we go with part 2: 

Monday, July 11th, 2016

9:47 am- I received two texts from Brian (he was at work): 

Can you please call me? And then a minute or so later,

I am reaching out. I need help.

I was just leaving the grocery store but called him back immediately. We talked about how he was feeling and what he was thinking. He mentioned a press conference was scheduled for that afternoon at 1:00pm CST. He was asked to attend. We discussed the possibility of him not doing it because he was feeling very emotional. I told him I thought he had a unique perspective on the Dallas police ambush that no one else in the world had, but that I was also afraid he might "lose it." I wasn't used to him being emotional or him asking me for help. This was all new territory for us. At the end of our call, I encouraged him to try to rest at work, if possible, and to meditate and focus on his breaths.

Here is an abbreviated exchange of the texts we sent to each other after our phone conversation.

B: I will speak from the heart. I will not lose it.

Me: Even if you do lose it and the world comes crumbling down, I will stand by you.

B: Thank you. I'm heading over now. [to the press conference]

Me: Let me know how it goes. Remember, God put you there [at the hospital on the night of the shooting] for a reason. 

B: [Walking into the press conference.] CNN is here.

Neither of us had ANY clue that the press conference was going to be televised live nationally on CNN, MSNBC, or FOX News. And by the time he sent that last text, I was on my way to the gym (and had not set the DVR.) I was on the elliptical machine but hopped off when I saw him on the TV. I held up my phone Say Anything-style, and recorded his close captioned statements. I tapped the guy next to me who was working out on another elliptical machine. He had to pull out an earphone to hear me. "Hey! That's my husband!" Then I proceeded to wave to all the other people in the cardio room and point at the TV screens with one hand (while still holding up my phone and recording with the other hand). "That's my husband!" I'll bet no one heard my excited yell given they all were wearing earphones, so I'm sure that made me appear somewhat unstable. But I was (and still am) such a proud wife. I'm proud that he courageously spoke his truth and expressed his complex feelings regarding this tragic situation. I know him better than anyone else on this earth, so I know just how difficult it was for him to speak out. I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen him get choked up. B very rarely talks about racial issues with others, he is private (people have said he's an enigma) and he does NOT desire to be in the limelight. He didn't know what he was going to say that day, but he told me he felt his mouth open and the words just came spilling out. This was so out of his comfort zone, I'm telling you all now- this was nothing short of a miracle that we all witnessed televised live on national TV.

My sister texted me that she was watching with her kids and they were "glued to the TV." Apparently, they were as excited to see Uncle Brian on TV as I was. My sister's 6-year-old said it was cool that Uncle Brian was now famous but that it was still very sad. Meanwhile, I was trying to read the closed captioning from two different stations- FOX news was playing on a wall-mounted TV and MSNBC was playing on the elliptical machine I was now only standing on. Sadly, I missed the shout out when he said I was helping him get through this tragedy. But, I'm still grateful he said it!  

Brian's text to me after the press conference said it all:
Made my decision out of love, not fear.

After that press conference, he received numerous print, radio, and TV interview requests. Everyone wanted to talk to him. People came out of the woodwork (in a good way!) and were texting and calling and emailing and Facebook posting that they saw B on TV. I continued with normalcy- picking up our daughter from summer camp and taking her to gymnastics class- but things started to feel surreal. While still at gymnastics, Brian texted that Don Lemon wanted B on his CNN show that night. I got a last minute babysitter (thanks Jennifer!) so I could be there to support him, and we headed to a studio downtown.  

Getting ready for the live interview via satellite

Brian got emotional for the second time (in one day!) on national television.

Click below to see segments of the CNN Don Lemon interview.
Dallas Trauma Surgeon: This has to stop 
Surgeon describes treating Dallas officer Part 1
Surgeon describes treating Dallas officer Part 2

When we got home Brian casually mentioned he had more media interviews scheduled early the next morning and one was with Gayle King from CBS. Gayle King, Oprah's BFF! As you all know, to say I am a fan of Oprah is a ginormous understatement. I (not so casually) asked him to please tell Gayle that I am Oprah's biggest supporter. Then we collapsed into bed, wondering just where this roller coaster was headed. 

***

Stay posted for more of our extraordinary journey including: NYC and the CNN Town Hall, DC and my conversation with the POTUS, and also- are Gayle and Oprah coming for dinner?  

***

Did Brian's emotional statements impact you in a positive way? Do you feel "the miracle" involved in all of this now that you have some insight from "behind the scenes?" Please let me know your thoughts in the comment section below.   

My Mom and Alzheimer's- Forever Grateful for Just ONE Moment

Me and my mama, Jacqueline Joslin Sellers.
In this photo, my mom is 39, the age I am now.

I had a "normal" mother for the first 30 years of my life. But by my wedding date, she was no longer the mom I knew.

My mother has Alzheimer's Disease.

When I finally became a mother at the age of 36, the "loss" of my own mother became more apparent. Strands of this deep loss are woven into my extreme joy. I see how my friends' mothers interact with their grandchildren and I feel sad. Sad that my daughter, my mother, and I were all robbed of generational experiences that I now long for. 

My mother will never know my daughter. My daughter will know of her maternal grandmother, but she will never know her. Not on this Earth, or in this lifetime anyway. I am comforted by a vivid dream my sister, Marilee, recently shared with me. In it, my mother told Marilee that when she wasn't here (mentally present), she was with God and it was beautiful. Marilee said my mother radiated peace and that Mom was the happiest and most beautiful she'd ever seen her.

I'm embarrassed and saddened to admit I never truly appreciated my mother until I became a mother myself. Until then, I focused on her flaws and her parenting faults. But now I want to ask her how she did it. How did she manage birthing and caring for my four brothers all by the age of 26? How and why did she manage to have six children when I find one overwhelming? How did she sacrifice so much to raise us all? How did she not seem to be tired, stressed, or depleted? These are questions that will go unanswered.

At the end of September, my little girl (I call her Beni-Bird) and I flew from Texas to the east coast to visit my family. We made an overnight trip to my hometown and got a chance to see my mom. 

My brother, Paul, and Marilee tried to prepare me as I hadn't seen her for two years. Mom is now in a wheelchair, they said, and sometimes she is unresponsive. Paul said he stayed only three minutes last time because it was just too painful to see her in that state. 

As fate would have it, when I saw Mom it was a "good day" for her. She was awake, and alert, and in a pleasant mood. I knew Mom wouldn't know who we were. But still I was unprepared when my brother, Mark, introduced my sister and I and she asked, "But where are the real ones?" 

My active two and 1/2-year-old seemed to sense the seriousness of the moment. She was very still as I introduced her. "Beni, this is my mama, your grandmother."

At the end of our visit, we all wheeled Mom back into the dining room of the Alzheimer's unit. We put her at the table amid the other unit residents, some who needed to be fed by an aide because they had forgotten how to feed themselves. Mom asked us not to leave her because then, "Who will I talk to?" 

I put Beni in front of her and once again told Mom this was my daughter, her granddaughter. Mom just kept repeating, "she's so beautiful, she's so beautiful" and even got teary as she said it. This was my ONE moment. My mother acknowledged my daughter on an emotional (and dare I say spiritual) level. 

Then, with tears streaming down my face, I knelt down by my mother's side and told her she was a good mother. I told her I loved her very much and I gave her a hug. And then I got a second gift- she told me she loved me. 

There is a lot my family lost to Alzheimer's disease. But on that visit, I was given one precious moment of my mother, myself, and my daughter all together; and my mom was as aware as she could possibly be. She was moved to tears by my child, and it was a beautiful ONE moment. That moment is all I will likely ever have. So I will hold onto it. And repeat it often to my daughter. And forever be grateful. Forever grateful for ONE moment.

***

Dear Reader, please take note:

November is the month to celebrate gratitude. It also happens to be my mom's birthday month and National Alzheimer's Awareness Month. For all of these reasons, I dedicate this post to my loving mother, Jacqueline Joslin Sellers.

Several years ago I wrote a post about my mom's Alzheimer's called Reflections from the Old Folk's Home. This was before her mental state deteriorated so much that she needed to be moved away from my father's care and into full-time care in the Alzheimer's unit.

A version of this current post first appeared on Voices from the 'Ville.

Sending Love to Boston

Boston has a special place in my heart. 

It's the city that brought me together with my BFF, and where we both trained to be dietitians. It's where I first hailed a cab, rode a subway, and lived completely on my own. It's where I learned to love Grey Goose dirty martinis and public transportation; where I learned to say "wicked pissa."

It's where I met my husband, where we got engaged, and where we spent the first several years of our marriage. When the Red Sox broke the 86-year-old curse and won the 2004 World Series, we lived three blocks away from the ball park.

I moved to Boston three times! Just when I thought I had escaped the long, dark New England winters, my love for the city called me back. That, and the incredible friends that I had (and still have) there.

Today, while I watched the interfaith prayer service to honor the victims of the Boston Marathon bombing, I created this to express a bit of what I was feeling. I am sending love, peace, healing, hope, and light to the people of Boston.

Boston will always be in my heart. I lived there for ten magical years. 

Maybe someday I will move back for a fourth time. I would do it in a heartbeat (as long as we could live in a warmer city during the six-month Boston winter.) 

But for now I'm stuck in Dallas. So I'll just have to send my love. 

Powerful Serendipity

Serendipity fills me with awe. It's a split-second in time when I can sense the order in the Universe. When all the stars are aligned and I feel that we are all connected. That everything is and always has been ok. That love is all there is.

I had a serendipitous event last week. It was so powerful, I had to share it with you, my dear readers.  

Last week I headed to a follow up appointment for my recent mouth surgeries. The first floor of the parking lot (where I always park) was completely full, so I parked on a higher level and took the stairs. In the stairwell was a mama of a newborn. She was lugging him down the stairs in his carseat, quite a few steps ahead of me. 

For some reason, I felt drawn to them. When close enough to get a peek, I noticed her baby had a double cleft lip. It was not yet repaired. I'd never seen someone without the repair. (In fact, it was only a few years ago that I first saw my newborn photo. I was moved to tears, seeing myself before my lip was sewn together. Somewhere in my kid brain, I thought my parents were embarrassed by my birth defect so they didn't have any pre-surgery photos.)

I called down the stairs and asked how old he was.

"Nine days," she replied.

He looked at me so sweetly from under his pale blue beanie. He was blissfully unaware of the long road of surgeries, dental issues, possible speech therapy, tears, and insecurity that can come from having a facial birth defect. His mama, however, had a troubled look.

"He's going to be okay," I told his mama. "I too have a cleft lip."

She stopped walking and leaned toward me to inspect my face. "Yeah," she said, "Your repair looks really good."

"It will make him a stronger person," I said, as goosebumps covered my whole body.

"Thank you, thank you for that," she said with a smile. She seemed genuinely grateful for my remarks.

And then we parted. It was a brief moment in time. One that I feel will stick with me for a long while. I even have goosebumps now, as I type this.

God put us on that stairwell at exactly the same time. I am sure of it. 

Of course, I didn't tell her that I was on my way in to see the doctor because at 38, I am still dealing with issues because of my cleft palate. Hopefully, with medical advancements in the treatment of cleft palates, his journey to healing will be much shorter than mine. 

At first I thought our paths crossed because she needed to hear that her precious baby was going to be ok. Upon further reflection, I realized I needed to see him too. I thought of that baby boy when I was at my doctor appointment and thought, Be strong for him, Kathianne. It doesn't make any sense, really, but it did give me strength. And perspective. 

This little guy is just starting on his path to healing. And after 38 years, I am (hopefully) near completion. 

Dear readers, please join me in sending out healing thoughts to this anonymous little boy.

Confessions from an Adoptive Mother

Thank you, Dear Readers, for the outpouring of support I received for my last post, Time to Confess. Your blog comments, Facebook comments, and emails reminded me that I have a "virtual village." I am honored you shared my words with your friends. I am grateful you took a moment out of your busy day to write a comment.

So, while I'm at it, I have some more confessions to share.

Once a month, I get angry at The Powers that Be. I'm working on letting go of my anger, because I know it only hurts myself. Anger is a stage in the grief process, and it's the emotion I feel every month when I am suffering from severe menstrual cramps.

Many years ago, when I was complaining to my sister, she comforted me by saying how cramps are the body's way of preparing the uterus for childbirth. So, for a few years there, her words provided a teeny bit of comfort. I felt like my pain had a purpose and one day, when I experienced the miracle of childbirth, it would all be worthwhile.

But I am not destined to be a biological mama. And each month for the past 25 years, I've been experiencing one to three days of severe cramps and/or associated PMS. It just makes me, well, a bit pissed off. Because, what is the point?!?!? Each month now, the physical pain triggers a deep, deep psychological pain. It is a reminder of what I will never experience. I will never carry a life in my womb. I will never feel a baby kick from the inside. I will never have a child with my legs or my husbands eyes. My genetic line (and I can trace my ancestry back at least four generations with photos) dies with me.

I'm still mourning the death of my dream. I sometimes wonder if I will ever stop mourning. The wound will heal, but will the scar remain or fade away?

Ironically, adoption was always a part of my parenting plan. I used to tell people that I just wanted to have one of my own first because I wanted to experience the miracle of pregnancy. I wanted to create life. I dreamed of witnessing my baby's first breath; of feeling overwhelmed with love when I held my seconds-old baby.

Adoption is a miracle. No less of a miracle than biological childbirth. I tell my daughter she is my miracle. Because of all the mamas and all the babies in the whole wide world, we found each other. I tell her mommy waited and waited and waited for her spirit to come to us and she was worth the wait. I tell her she is my wish come true and she made me a mama, something I always dreamed of. I'll tell her that for some reason, she didn't come through me, but she was always meant to be mine. A fellow adoptive mother once told me we adoptive mamas are the space holders. We are an open space for babies who need a home. Maybe this is the reason.

But I am dreading the day she realizes she did not come from us but instead grew in another woman's belly. We've never made her adoption a secret, it's just that now she's too young to understand what it all means. It pains me that she could feel a lifelong sense of loss because her birthmother chose to give her away. One adopted woman told me no matter how good she had it in her adopted family, she always felt a sense of loss because she was given away. I plan to tell my child she was always destined to be my daughter. We don't have a genetic connection, but we have a spiritual one. And that is the one that counts. That one is even thicker than blood.

Hours after she was born, her birthmother asked us to love her baby like she was our own. This now seems odd to me, because SHE IS OUR OWN. I can't imagine loving her anymore. I'm almost positive that could not even be possible. (Although, how would I know for sure? Sometimes I wonder, which is ridiculous, because why does it even matter?)

But here's another confession: it saddens me that I am not my child's ONLY mama. I know this is selfish. If a mother can love more than one child, I'm sure a child can love more than one mother. So I tell myself that she will experience more love. I should be happy about that. It's just that I have this fear that when she chooses to track down her biological family (if she does), that I'll be replaced. That she will want to spend holidays with them. It's not a huge fear, but it's still there.

Sometimes I forget she is adopted. But sometimes I'm painfully reminded. Once at Gymboree, a nanny asked me if she was my child. "Yes," I replied. "Are you sure?" she said, "She doesn't look anything like you." WTF!?! Of course, I started crying. People say the rudest things. Several people have asked me about her "real" mother. I now reply that I am her real mother. I'm the one who checks her in the middle of the night to make sure she is still breathing; the one that wipes her tears and kisses her boo-boos. I have been there for her since she was ten minutes old. (I wanted to be there sooner, but legally she wasn't ours then and it wasn't my decision. So I missed her entry into the world. When she took her first breath, I was feeling helpless from the waiting room. I heard a cry (hers?) and my arms longed to comfort her. "She needs me," I sobbed into my husband's arms. Although, to be honest with myself, it was me who needed her.)

So, maybe you can understand my feelings a little better now. My journey to motherhood was complicated. Just like all the other really great things in life, it was joy and sorrow, love and loss, pain and sheer bliss all rolled up in one. Because I am immensely grateful that my daughter is healthy, and beautiful, and exactly as she is. I honestly wouldn't change how she came to us. Because then she wouldn't be her. I am a better person because of my journey. I am for sure a better mother too. Infertilty and adoption were a challenge for our marriage, but my husband and I have grown closer as well.

I will never take being a mama for granted. I want to always remember how much I loved and longed for my baby before she even was conceived (in a state far away, in a different woman's body, just waiting to reunite with me, her own, real mama.)

It's just that, even while somewhere in me I knew otherwise, I was still kinda hoping maybe I would get pregnant too. Deep down I was hoping that my parenting plan was just reversed. I was hoping maybe the pregnancy would come after the adoption.

But that won't happen. Last month I decided to go back on The Pill. After almost five years off of it, I can't take the pain anymore. By choosing to take it, I am completely closing the door on my dream of a biological baby. While I'm pretty sure the door was closed already, my hope had kept it just a teeny bit ajar. I visualize that hope as a light seeping out from the edge of the door. But now, that light has gone out.

My Big Day with Oprah- Take Two

Did I mention I was in the same room with Oprah?!?!

Being present for the taping of two Oprah's Lifeclass episodes was just a bonus. And sitting next to my bestie in the front row (stage right) to boot! Dreams really do come true.

"My" shows already aired live on Oprah.com and will air on television (OWN- The Oprah Winfrey Network) in January 2013. I'll try and give you a heads up on an exact date if possible. But only if you promise not to laugh if you see me jumping around like a crazy woman.

The theme of my Lifeclass episodes was Living with Purpose and Rick Warren was the guest. Warren is the author of The Purpose Driven Life; the #2 best-selling non-fiction book of all time. Second only to the Bible. I had forgotten that President Obama selected him to give the invocation at his inauguration (which, by the way, upset a lot of social progressives.)

I wasn't excited when I discovered Rick Warren was going to be the guest. I knew he was an Evangelical Christian minister at a religious right megachurch, and that made me a bit skeptical. (But it didn't really matter who the guest was because I was going to be in the same room as Oprah!) Of course, I shouldn't have doubted my Oprah. Warren turned out to be a great guest and I learned a lot from him. There were a lot of ah-ha moments, a lot of murmered mmm hmms, and a few Amens! from the audience. It was a great reminder for me not to prejudge the messenger; to just listen to the message and then let my heart judge it's truth for me.

Which reminds me of a great quote from another spiritual leader:
Believe in nothing, no matter where you read it or who has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense. -Buddha

Here are the notes (quotes, concepts, and meaningful phrases) I furiously pecked into my phone during the taping:

In the poker game of life, we are dealt five cards:
1. Chemistry- our physical make-up, appearance, DNA
2. Connections- our relationships
3. Circumstances- we give them too much power
4. Consciousness- how we talk to ourselves, the voice in your head
5. Choices- this card can make or break your entire hand

Nick Vujicic was dealt an incredibly rough hand. If you are not familiar with his story, please take the time to watch this YouTube video. The 4 minutes and 11 seconds will undoubtedly be the most inspirational of your day. It's a great reminder that 95% of the things we worry or complain about are miniscule in the grand scheme of things. Warren's only request for his appearance on Oprah's Lifeclass was to have Vujicic on the show. It was powerful to see him in person- he radiates positive energy and an authentic power despite his enormous physical limitations. (I am happy to report that Vujicic just got married and his wife is expecting their first child. Doesn't that make you smile inside?)

And now on to more show notes:

God's plan for us/ our life's purpose is like a Polaroid picture. It starts out just a shadow, and with time the picture becomes clearer and into focus. If you don't yet know God's plan for you, just wait. It will become clear in time.

Hope= Holding On Praying Expectantly

If you live by the approval of others, you will die by their rejection. -Rick Warren

The two things that will cause you to miss your life's purpose:
1. Envy- I must be like you to be happy.
2. People Pleasing- I must be liked by you to be happy.
You must live your life for an audience of one.

We often look for love in our accomplishments, acheivements, and appearance. To be authenically powerful (significant,) we need to find a way to give our gifts in service.

Stages of a Dream
Dream
Decision
Delay
Difficulty
Dead End (Death of a Vision)
Deliverance

I'm sure you can relate these stages to a situation in your own life. To illustrate the idea for you, I'll use the example of my dream to be a mama: Once Hubby and I decided to start conceiving, we were met with significant delays. Followed by significant difficulities. Then our dead end- IVF failed and we were told we wouldn't have our biological child without a miracle. Then 5.5 long (and yet now seemingly short) months later, a stranger birthed our baby. The baby destined to be our child. In fact, the one we were always waiting for, we just didn't realize it. Deliverance!

Miser- the root word of miserable. Not a coincidence. We receive by giving.

How do you find your life's purpose? Look at the things that shape you:
1. Spiritual gifts (I'm not 100% sure what he meant by this. Anyone have input?)
2. Heart (What are your passions?)
3. Abilities (What are you good at/ with?)
4. Personality
5. Experiences (Jobs, education, family, painful experiences)

Our greatest strengths often come out of our pain -Rick Warren

God never wastes a hurt. We might, but he won't. He will use it for good.

The way you serve God is by serving others.

It's all about love.

Humility- It's not about denying your strengths, it's about being honest about your weaknesses.

There are accidental parents, there are no accidental babies.

You can waste your life, or you can invest it. Invest in what will outlast you, people and love.

Please share if any of these notes touched you in some way. I know I'm going to buy the book. Anyone else? I'd love to have some people to discuss it with chapter by chapter.


*FYI: The first seven chapters of The Purpose Driven Life are available free on the book website.

Life is a Roller Coaster

I'm immensely grateful to my readers who have been asking for a new blog post and a surgery update. Thank you for your interest and concern. It warms my heart to know that my words have been missed and that in my blogging absence, I've still been remembered.

Much has happened since my last post. Here are some highlights:

1. We put our little bird in preschool 2 days a week. With my newly cherished "me time," I've been working on my book and making progress. The first 50 pages have already been sent to my book coach. I plan to give you, my dear readers, previews along the way. Stay tuned.

2. After at least 6 years of trying, I got tickets to Oprah! I went this past Friday and it was amazing. That will be the next blog post I write. Hopefully this week.

3. Surgery update: The good news is that 2/3 of my surgery was successful. Yay! The bad news is that 1/3 wasn't. Boo! So I am in for another surgery. Boo! But I've been assured it will be significantly less painful and recovery will be only a day instead of a week this time. So, Halloween morning is the day. While you are eating your candy, think of me. I won't be eating anything but liquids and pureed foods. Boo! After surgery there is a 4-6 month wait to see if the bone around the cleft in my jaw healed correctly. If not, I am in for another surgery with a bone graft. I'm hoping it works.

4. And here's the big one: For those of you who have been following my (in)fertility and then adoption journey, you know it has been a roller coaster. I received crazy and unexpected news over a week ago that I could possibly get pregnant. I wasn't even looking for this information- it just fell out of the sky (or from my new Ob/Gyn's mouth.) Then, as easy as it came, it was quickly retracted when my lab work came back. I was elated for a week, then devastated again. While I wouldn't change a thing about how our daughter came to us, I am still grieving my inability to experience pregnancy, childbirth, and a baby that is 1/2 me and 1/2 my husband. I was again feeling it was hopeless, but some serendipitous events (you know how I LOVE those) have my mind and heart in a tailspin. Is the universe sending me signs? Did I give up on my body too soon? Is my dream of getting pregnant and carrying our biological child possible? I'm reevaluating, wondering, and very scared to even get on that roller coster again. But this time, it's different. While it would still take a financial and emotional investment, most of the pressure is off. We already have a child and I know that adoption is no less of a miracle. So I'm going to try take deep breaths, be still, and listen to what my heart has so say on the matter.

Prayers Please

I haven't written in while, but it's because most of my limited free time is now spent working on my book. Frankly, I am so far behind on making and mailing out gifts to friends and sending thank you notes and cards, that I am amazed I get to blog at all. Since we aren't ready to put Baby Girl into nursery school, I'll just have to blog less and be behind on just about everything. I remind myself that this phase in her life is so short and in time things will get done.


I do have a big (and unwelcomed) event coming up so I somehow found the time today to blog. I am writing to shamelessly solicit prayers, well wishes, and healing vibes.  Whatever positive energy you are willing to send, I'll take.

On Wednesday, I am having extensive oral surgery which will hopefully (fingers crossed) be the last attempt needed to repair my mouth. I was born with a cleft lip and I also have a cleft in my upper jaw. Even though my lip was fixed through several surgeries during my childhood, the cleft in my jaw has caused lots of significant (and expensive!) issues into my adulthood. The last surgery, at age 27, attempted to graft some of my hip bone into my jaw. It was unsuccessful. Let's hope this one is the last.

You would think that with 4 surgeries for this issue under my belt already, I would be a pro. But, as I cried to my husband last night, I am scared. I draw strength from the son of my high school friend, Jodi. Ari, who has VATER syndrome, has had over 65 surgeries already and he is only four. If that brave little boy can make it though all of those, I can make it through one more myself.

And I am in good hands. My doctor pretends to be tough, but he is such a softy. His assistant told me he moved us his shoulder surgery up just so he would be ready for my surgery.  My mother-in-law (Miss Gwen) is coming to take care of Baby Girl while I recover. I won't be able to bend over or pick her up for 3-4 days (which I can't imagine.)  But I am grateful for Dr. Parel and Miss Gwen and also my hubby who took the day off from work to take me to and from the surgery.

Last night, during my teary conversation with my husband, I told him something I wanted him to know- just in case. "If something bad happens during my surgery and I die, I want you to know that I died happy because I finally became a mother."  Now, I don't think I am going to die, but you never know. My husband is a surgeon, and he comes home with crazy stories all the time about people who died during seemingly routine surgery.  So when he tried to tell me I wasn't going to die, I reminded him of his stories and he was silent.

So, prayers please dear readers.  For me and little Ari.