It’s the Same Old Song: People Say the Darndest Things, Part II

Dear Ms. Feverfew –

I saw this come across the news the other day. It’s an article titled, “Kaepernick’s birth mother speaks of trying to connect with son” by Katie Dowd.

(Photo by Seth Perlman/AP)

As you can imagine, the article is about the 49’s quarterback, Colin Kaepernick and his “not-real mother,” Heidi Russo.  You know the pretend one that just birthed him, like any old brood sow could do?  Yeah, that not-real mother. (Sorry about the snark this early in the morning. I don’t have my filter on yet.) I decided to highlight some of the comments left by readers, just in case anyone was wondering if people’s attitudes about not-real birthmothers/birth mothers is any different once the child is a grown adult. (If you are busy this morning, I can sum it up so you don’t have to read all the comments: Nope, nothing changes in people’s attitudes about not-real mothers if those not-real mothers have waited a lifetime to reconnect with their now-adult children.

Enjoy with a cup of strong brew this morning (and perhaps a barf bag).

M.

P.S. I’ll save my personal commentary so others can draw their own conclusions about the comments.

Linky-loo to original article: http://blog.sfgate.com/49ers/2012/12/05/kaepernicks-birth-mother-spea/

“… Back off and clam up, lady. He moved on 25 years ago, and it’s time for you to do the same.” (outa_here 9:39 AM on December 6, 2012)

I’m wondering if she really has an ulterior motive and is attempting to only get to know him for financial gain…” (
mbonhamwolv 4:18 AM on December 6, 2012)

“It’s sleazy of the media to give her a platform for self-promotion at his expense.” (plano453 7:59 PM on December 5, 2012)

Hey Heidi, Colin is not your son, and you are not his parent.” (BlockHead2u 7:52 PM on December 5, 2012)

“…did she have permission or approval from adoptive parents when she went to visit him during college days????????????? (michol0808 5:34 PM on December 5, 2012)

A birth mother is not the same thing as a Mother.” (MsWest 4:53 PM on December 5, 2012)

“Hey Colin? Maybe you should tweet this to her. You had a chance to be part of my life but you bailed.” (hoosier1 4:33 PM on December 5, 2012)

“…she has a pair of brass ones to describe herself as a “parent” when she hasn’t actually done any parenting.” (finnlandia 2:09 PM on December 5, 2012)

I wonder what she needs the money for.” (dr_mojo 2:09 PM on December 5, 2012)

“OF course she wants to renew her relationship. HI son, it’s your mama, can I have some money. I really didn’t mean to give you up.” (R8derMan 2:05 PM on December 5, 2012)

“… you are no more his mother than any other female posting on these pages.” (nixonstheone 1:47 PM on December 5, 2012)

“GOLD DIGGER ALERT! Lets welcome the newest 49er gold digger…NOT! How nice it is to seek some fame now that her son is famous. This loser probably now wants everyone to know that she is his “real” mother. Some people have no shame. (sloan111 1:27 PM on December 5, 2012)

“…outside of biology, she probably didn’t shape any part of what Colin is today. That’s from his “real” parents.” (d2010 12:43 PM on December 5, 2012)

He know’s [sic] who his parents are and it ain’t you Heidi Ho and I use Ho loosely !” (boise49ers 12:10 PM on December 5, 2012)

Maybe she’s angling for a book deal. Title “How I got rid of my baby boy, but now want him back since he’s a big $tar” (
sanfran126 12:05 PM on December 5, 2012)

Piece of work that lady…. FYI: You are not his parent, you gave birth to him. The folks that adopted him and raised him, are his parents!” (Apetez 11:40 AM on December 5, 2012)

Oh my gawd. You are not his parent. You gave up that right.” (wahwah 10:40 AM on December 5, 2012)

What once was lost, now is found: I’m an auntie!!!

Dear Ms. Feverfew –

I have this brother in law, The Samoan. He was adopted as an infant while his parents were living in Samoa and then brought to the US.  His adoptive mother is the sweetest of little Mexican women, Grandma A. and his adoptive father is white.  The Samoan was raised thinking he was 1/2 Mexican and 1/2 white. He speaks fluent Spanish and can cook up some pretty mean Mexican food.

When he was 16, he found out he was in fact neither of those two things, but a full blooded Samoan.

Needless to say, it was a tough adjustment to discover that not only was he adopted but his entire cultural identity was founded on a lie.  Fast forward to four years ago – one of his aunties from his first family found him. Within the last year, he has met his clan and discovered he has countless cousins, uncles, aunties, and even a bunch of siblings.  When he met them, they fell in love with him and welcomed him home in true Polynesian style. (Have I ever mentioned that in the Samoan language there is no word that means “family” as in one mother, one father, and children? Their word for family means cousins, uncles, aunties, grandparents, brothers, sisters, moms, and dads).

Now to rewind a bit, when he was much younger, he had a girlfriend. They did what boyfriends and girlfriends do. Eventually they broke up. Then right before he married my fabulouslyamazing sister in law, Maryann, this old girlfriend showed up and said, “Uh, Samoan. I thought I should let you know that this little boy is your son.” She was married at the time and no one knew quite what to do. The little boy thought his mom’s husband was his dad and so they just let it be.

Fast forward to Christmas Eve. I have known about The Samoan’s son for several years and I have often wondered if he would try to find him or if his son would try to find The Samoan.  As I contemplated our un-reunion, I had this feeling about his son….and somehow knew that something was afoot in the universe. It was weird, don’t ask me how I knew. I just did.

This morning, I was chatting on the phone with my fabulouslyamazing sister in law and she said, “I had the sweetest Christmas imaginable.” And then she told me that The Samoan’s son had contacted him on Facebook a few days before Christmas. He then joined them for the annual Case of Christmas Eve Crabs when the whole crazy family comes together and enjoys cases and cases of Alaskan King crab legs on Christmas Eve, courtesy of Uncle Jesus (so named because of his long hair, beard, and placid nature).

I couldn’t stop crying as she told me about their wonderful experience. I am so happy for my newly found nephew and for his younger brother and sister who are equally delighted to discover they have an older brother and for The Samoan. The New Nephew is now my friend on Facebook and I am eager to get to know him.  My fabulouslyamazing sister in law warned him of the ghost of aunties past but he basically said, “Bring it on!” and that he was excited to get to know us too. Woohoo!!!!

It is a good day today. Maybe someday I can write about you joining us at The Samoan’s house for a Case of the Christmas Eve Crabs too.

Much love and belief –

M.

National Adoption Awareness Month ~ Day 23: Still Here, Not Gone

Dear Ms. Feverfew –

I am still here, it’s just that any thinking brain cells are being fully utilized as I write my dissertation proposal. My hope is to have it submitted by the end of this week (yes, that means I will be working over the holiday – my excuse for that is at least Mr. Amazing Man will be home and I can get some good work done without having to worry about kid wrangling or meals!)

Back to the matter at hand: I am working ridiculously hard to get this degree done by May 2011. It is requiring a multitude of sacrifices on my part and on my family’s part – we will all be so glad when it is over.  Between nursing little Penelope, being in an uber-traditional marriage/family life, and having to think high-level, pointy headed thoughts for hours and hours each day,  I don’t have a lot of space left in my brain.

Today, it dawned on me that perhaps it is for the best that you are still resistant to the idea of establishing communication with me. Knowing myself, that would eclipse anything else in my life and everything else would have to climb into the back seat and stay there for a good long time.

So maybe there is something good to come of all this waiting. I finish my degree, you keep maturing and growing. And eventually it will all work out in the end.

That being said, if you were to call/text/email/IM/carrier pigeon/smoke signal me tonight or tomorrow or the next day or anytime between now and graduation on May 6, I would be overjoyed. Thrilled. Ecstatic. Over the moon. Dizzy with relief and happiness.  Just so you know, I would give up this degree to know you again.

Much love,

M.

Still it Comes Ringing, Clearer than Clear

Dear Ms. Feverfew –

A few weeks have gone by, I am getting more sleep now and the crazy post-partum hormones are settling a bit. Consequently, I am more able to deal with the “Toad’s Wild Ride” of emotions that adoption brings up. It’s amazing what sleep can do for a woman.

I was pretty dramatic in that last post, wasn’t I? I guess I could go delete it, but I was truly feeling that way at that moment – defeated, despondent, and full of grief. The truth of the matter is this: I can never, have never, and will never lose the hope that someday, we will know each other again as adults. That someday we will be friends, that you will eat waffles with strawberries and whipped cream at my house for breakfast one day, and that your brothers and sister will get to know you and you will get to know them. I will never give up believing that someday I will get to introduce you to my amazing husband and he will finally be able to meet this daughter-now-woman that I have cried for, prayed for, loved, and cherished from a distance for all of these years.

It has been difficult find that balance between the hoped for future and the here-and-now, but I think I am getting better at it. Now that I am not in constant physical pain, I am much more graceful at dealing with the emotional part of all of this. Speaking of the here-and-now, I can her her hollerin’ for mama over the baby monitor. Until next time –

Much love and belief,

M.

P.S. I still think your parents should have given you that package like they said they would.

What the Sam Hill???? When Adoption Reunions Go Awry

Dear Ms. Feverfew –

I have another post in the works so be looking for it later today, but I just had to get this one out there.  Take a look at this article: http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/2954310/Gran-and-grandson-to-have-baby.html#ixzz0maSV2FzO

To sum up, granny had a baby girl when she was 18. Her Catholic parents forced her to place the baby for adoption.  She later went looking for her daughter but never found her. Lo and behold, a few years ago her grandson shows up on her proverbial doorstep. Turns out her daughter had died of cancer and he had gone looking for her natural mother.

So far, not to strange. But then they meet, 72 year old granny and her newly found grandson fall in love and are now having a baby together via a surrogate!!!

So strange I am at a loss for words.

Much love,

M.

Please Tell Me: What Do You Want?

Dear Ms. Feverfew –

Your birthday is in a few short months. Your 18th birthday. I weep as I write those words.

It means you will be of legal age, an adult.

It means I have to decide: What do I do?

I wish I could read minds. I wish I knew what you wanted me to do.

Do you want me to send you a letter and let you know that I am here, always loving you, always wanting to have you in my life again? Or would a phone call be better? Or do you want me to let you make the first overtures towards rebuilding our relationship? Do you even want to rebuild a relationship with me? And how do I even explain how all of this came to be like this? Do you even want to know or are you fine in your life, knowing only what your adoptive parents have told you of me? Since you will be a legal adult, do I need to go through your adoptive parents? Or are you really an adult, independent and autonomous? Can I send letters directly to you? Friend you on Facebook? Follow you on Twitter?

Most importantly: Do you want me to?

I know what I want, but I have the feeling that this must be about what you need. After all, you were the innocent, voiceless part of this whole equation.

So my dearest Ms. Feverfew, please tell me: What do you want?

Love,

M.