Stephanie’s right.

I am so grateful for today. I am grateful I grew up. And that I am a part of these kind of people’s lives. Because we give a shit about tomorrow’s children’s family’s. Especially their Mamas.

Our stories blow the lid off what the status quo was. And I say was because I know what Adoptees go through. And this is a check mate kind of moment in time. When trillions flip the script. And take over the mike.

Standing out.

Being adopted means: that you stand out. Because adopted is part of your story. It’s means explaining who a biological Mothers is and why you call your Mom that. It’s means birthdays are kind of a joke. Because it reminds you that your birth Moms not there to share it with you. You grow up kind of hating the fact that you must explain the characters all day so people even get what you mean.

Being Adopted means that your family life is strange to many. And your life is a dream come true to some, who don’t really know that to be adopted means, you don’t get to ever see your birth Mama. It’s means you have a hole in your heart only she can fill. It’s means you had to make room for another within your heart.

Being adopted means family is made up of strangers that become family. It means that you work hard to be a team player in a world where you were the reason family is at all. You feel the weight of everyone wanting you to adapt and to embrace your new family. It means that people want you to forget where you came from. Forget your pedigree, your roots.

Being Adopted means that you will be expected to grow new roots and not bat an eye!! Are you done yet? What’s taking so long? Being adopted means that many things just don’t make sense. It means you have to learn a new way and throw out the way you are. Being adopted means don’t take about you Bio Mom in front of Your new family.

Being adopted means you will always be a bit apprehensive and over sensitive because you really don’t want to have to learn a new family again. It’s means you mourn a loss no one can see. Alone. Without your Mom to comfort you. And everyone tells you you have a Mom and they don’t get you already had one, she’s gone and now you have a new one. A replacement.

My question is this:

Can another woman take a Mothers place? Does the child not remember from 9 months of being with her every move, their own Mama?

Can I trade you Mothers?

Why not?

Or why?

I’ll answer that question. Because I’ve been there.

No. Another woman can not take a Mothers place. A Mother has her own place within a child’s heart and being. No other woman can take her place.

She will have to make her own place within you. She will have to forge a new bond. Children are not machines that take a new Mother cartridge and just move along. We form attachments within our Mamas womb.

Strong attachments form between mother and child for a reason. The bond I have with my Mama, which is very strong has helped me survive.

So. If a strong attachment exists between Mother and Child, why do we separate children from Mom at all? If Mom is key why are we messing with Nom like this? And why are we not trying to make it better for Mom to stay with child.

My life has shown me that, Mom is the biological foundation we come from?

And its clear we bond while inside her?

It’s plain we never get over the loss of her. It’s well documented that no one ever, including those who have been raised by their Mamas, get over the loss of Mama. She’s is our core.

Adoption changes our location. But can never make our love for Mama die. It’s programmed within our body to long for our first home. Where God created each of us from her. She’s key.

Especially key when removed.

For me it felt like an alarm had been turned on. My body felt her absences deeply. So deep that I burrowed within me to find her. To remember her. To follow my meme iris of her. To become her. So I would never be without her. My version of her. The best parts of her. The parts I felt were best. Because the parts of her I encapsulate are what kept me alive.

And helped me follow Mama Jean and try to listen. Even if she did not do it like Mama. And she heard about that.

Mama hid me Long enough. She and I do things different. But we have found ways to make it work. She can’t be my Mama. Many think that’s mean to say. But it’s not. My Mama left me. I don’t want her to me like Mama. Not like that.

She’s a friend. And that does not me she nice and friendly all the time. She hard and stern. Because I don’t see things like she. And we talk different. We had to make a new language and learn to understand each other. Friends for me are those who say the hard things.

Mamas should be friends. They care the most. And a true friend is faithful. And honest. And forthright. Courageous. Fierce. A friend will tell you the truth as they see it. And a friend will let you fall down. A friend will help you back up.

And a Mother is a friend forever.

Being adopted is complex. It’s take mental moxy to forge such a bond with someone you did not come from. It’s take truth to form a sure foundation. Doing this makes me stand out.

Reaching out to Mama is a huge gesture of love.

She left me. And her actions hurt me. Which hurt Mama Jean to have to witness me struggle with such a hole in my identity. Working each day to figure out my body and mannerisms that are not like Mama Jeans at all.

I stand out.

Adoption marked me.

So. I stand out.

And I feel like it’s time for Adoptees to break out. To be counted as some of the most amazing people on the planet.

And my Mama needs to see that fact.

That her baby she gave away, hid and moved on without, stands out and up for her and Mama Jean.

And gets how hard it was for us all.

Thanks for diving deep with me today. As I share from the vault of feelings stored from experiences. So we all can understand better.

Be kind to Adoptees.

They lost their whole

Life. And now build a new one.

Honor the woman adoptees came from.

Her bloods in our veins.

To dishonor our Mama and tell stories tears down what you try to build with your adopted child. Be kind.

Pray for her with your Child.

She is no competition. There is no competition for a Mama.

So. When you adopt a child? You stand alone now. Your not her/his Mama. You must know that you Mother, and nurture another woman’s child. That she shared with you.

Be grateful. Talk well of her. Be honest if drugs where there. Educate yourself about people like he. Educate her child.

Honor our heritage. Honor our race. Honor our customers. Include our customs. So. When we return we don’t have so much trouble reuniting.

We are on loan. Remember, we all do home.

Thanks for coming by.

God bless.

I never know…

Each Night as I lay down, I say a prayer for one more day. I wonder and wait, because I know how quick death can come, will today be our last? Will today be mine? I wonder a lot. And I am completely ok with that, this lifetime around? Has made me wonder, a lot, and about a lot. My teachers thought I wasn’t listening, and daydreaming? Maybe so, some, but maybe this mind of mine thinking of a better way. Mama Jean told me to play the quiet game a lot growing up. And maybe I didn’t speak properly? No ones really told me, except my kids, and my Mama.

But I love Mama Jean, even if we fight all day. Love is fight for something. A dream, of two crazy witches, woman, goddesses, Gods own, each from heaven, cloaked. Teachers in their own right. Different as hell, and yet friends. Because in 1963 these woman planted a garden, thinking it was just one plant, removed, and replanted. But I grew my roots back, and reached back to my Mama, and showed her what I did with what she gave me. And what Mama Jean helped me be.

Crazy is the definition of something we can’t understand. I have felt like that my whole life, growing, listening to people, trying what they say, failing at times and success. But I really don’t care if Mama thinks I am crazy, it would be nice if she could get me. Yeah, and I have had a fit about it. Yep. I own my fit. But, like, how do you tell your Mama she still won? That I came back and that is a win.

See? These two woman, so different, in this precious lifetime, show the power of love and Mother energy and how it comes together, even if we don’t meet. Woman are sisters above all. They may fight like cats, and scratch, but they love just as hard. And not all the same way. And I accept that and have displayed that here in my honest words.

My Mama’s don’t kiss and tell. They don’t have to, I tell. Meaning, I see what they have done. I have let the cats out of the bag, and told the terrible awful of my perceptions as a child growing up as Adopted.  And my anxiety about being cut off from my Mama. Like get over it, I had to? Ouch for us all. Ok? Everybody’s wounded, but I tend the wounded, because I tended my own wound. No one saw it, but me..

And I went through my growing up years being able to just power through. And be strong and tough, as boys to prove whatever I felt inside that needed proving. And Mama Jean gave me hell about it. She saw my insecurities, and she helped me be stronger, sometimes too strong. I work on it daily. Both, insecurities and strength, and tempering them.

But, I don’t want to go to bed at night wondering, “will I break through?”, or “will today be our last?” I so want more, of these woman. I know they are holding out, all woman hold out for the one. Now, I am not a man. But I am a Wo-man. Why can’t we make that work? I am so much better than a man. In of course a platonic if you must go there with your mind kind of way, I will clarify for the dirty brains.

I am going to bed now, and I pray, tomorrow is the day.

My dream comes true.

Thanks for diving deep with me tonight.

Gods blessing on you; always, and forever.

I love my Mama’s truly. But their minds can imagine some stuff! Look at me for one? And look how hard they are on themselves. When they can’t see me loving them both, with more than enough to go around, Chelsie Lynn will testify for that. Little poop. I love you.

Mama? You said you game me love and I threw it back?

Honey bun, I never let go of that love, what you talk bout?

LOL Always in my heart, mind and spirit. Forever in time.

Agape loves anyway. xo