Mama Carrie Makes

Thankful Thursday

I am thankful for old friends.

There’s nothing quite like the comfort of shared history. The secret language of adolescent friendship, a person who knows who you are because they understand the events that have built you.

“Our little group has always been and always will, until the end.” ~ KC




Truthy Tuesday, Adoption Lasts a Lifetime

I am an adult adoptee.

I was permanently separated from my mother at birth. I don’t know if she held me or fed me or counted my ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. (I like to presume she did, because mothers love their children, right?)

I didn’t know her name until this summer. I don’t know what she looks like, what her voice sounds like, where she lives, if she’s funny, like I am. Crafty, like I am. Broken, like I am.

I don’t know the story of my conception and birth.

I know what I’ve been told, but as an adoptee you learn that people lie: to protect you, to preserve the image of adoption, to make themselves feel better, to hide the fact that they don’t know the answer.

I may never get to meet her or hear her story.

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Truthy Tuesday, Adoption in 1978

There has been much movement in my current adoption story over the past week. I had this post ready to go a few weeks ago, and I’m gonna stick with it. I don’t feel ready to discuss the current news so quickly, but be on the lookout for an update a little later this summer.

Until then, please enjoy some random snippets from my “Petition for Adoption”, written in 1978…

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Truthy Tuesday, Changes Part II

I struggle to write this one, a continuation of this post.

To say that my life as a thirty-something is different than my mom’s was at the same age is like saying that the national debt is just a little bit bigger than it was in 1985.  That there are just a few more cars on the road today than there were in 1985.

The difference is huge.  HUGE.

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Truthy Tuesday, Changes

Another episode in over thinking it.  This week I wanted to analyze how different KidMakes’ childhood is from my own, sociologically and emotionally.

When I think of my own childhood, I remember pain and turmoil and sadness.  I know that’s not all there was, but that’s what stands out in my memories.   My mom had a breakdown when I was 7, which led to a diagnosis of Manic Depression, now commonly referred to as Bi-Polar Disorder.

I remember that day.  She was talking about how we couldn’t go outside to pick my brother up from tennis lessons because the world was going to end, and it was her fault.

I convinced her to get into the car and drive the mile or so to pick him up (not the safest thing, from my adult POV).  He had started walking home and was pissed until he got a look at my face.

Since that day, I have felt the need to protect my mother.  I think that day my childhood ended.

My child will be 7 in a couple of months.  This is bringing up some…stuff…for me.  To manage my anxiety around this, I used this post to show myself how different her life as a child is from how mine was, and in turn how different my life is now compared to my mom’s in 1985.

(Mother’s Day also brings up stuff for me, so there’s that as well…)

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This is the end, Beautiful Friend

My last day with hospice is fast approaching.  Even though the last few years and especially months have been extremely challenging with no signs of oasis, hospice is my home away from home.  I have bonded with many of my co-workers, simply by the nature of what we do together and what we support/have supported each other through.  I have found a meaningful career path and success here.  And I will miss it.

With immenent departure comes reflection, and I remember how very lucky I am to work here, to have found this job when I did.  Working with someone like Violet* is a once in a lifetime experience.  Now, almost 7 years after her passing, I can acknowledge how her life and death changed some integral part of me.  How I view my life and my power over it.

I started the Milestones series to discuss working at hospice, but lost the thread after 2 installments.  This is the 3rd and final.  I always did love a trilogy.

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