To: K-list
Recieved: 2003/01/29 13:25
Subject: Re: [k-list] my dad
From: Rita Metermaid
On 2003/01/29 13:25, Rita Metermaid posted thus to the K-list:
Dear Lady Joyce -
:-)
--- Lady Joyce <ladyjoy AT_NOSPAM voicenet.com> wrote:
> Rita and others wrote> You are right. They (and we)
> need to learn this, to
> > make our own way, or else we will not integrate
> it, it
> > will not be ours to know or experience. Thank you
> for
> > all you have written here.
> >
> > love,
> > rita
>
> Dear Rita and others who posted on "my Dad..."
>
> Dear Rita...As you know, you are one of my
> favoRitas.
Blushing now, thank you, and you are one of my
favorite Joyces! :-)
> Many of you know that
> I am an adoptive mother.
Ah, I did not know we both were touched by adoption.
Another small world coinkidink?
> My two beautiful boys got
> to me the way God wanted
> them to get to me. They were meant for me, just not
> for my body...
Such a nice way of phrasing this!
> I had
> written the post below this past Thanksgiving. I
> wanted to write something
> to you who were adopted to tell you how special you
> and your birth parents
> are, but I can't do any better than what I have
> already said below...
>
> Except, do let me say that the more the conscious
> "we" feel removed from
> others and maybe alone, whether it be because I
> think a parent does not love
> me, or other people think I am weird (that happens
> to me all the time :-),
Weird is beautiful, right K-list, as we all are in our
own beautiful ways?
> or maybe because I somehow feel alone in the world
> because I am not sure why
> my birth parents did not keep me...the more we find
> our way to God, if we
> want to. God is always there, loving all of us
> because God Is all of us.
> So, Rita, your loving mothers, fathers, sisters and
> brothers, are infinite.
> Know that we all love you so much, in the oneness of
> infinity. There is a
> reason for everything. May I surrender as my
> everything unfolds.
This all resonates, very nicely.
For some reason, my mailer has truncated the rest of
your message at some point below, and the more I type
it seems the more of the message is truncated for some
reason (?), but what I want to say is this: Lady
Joyce, you are an awesome force of Love and Light and
we are so Blessed to have you in our worlds. The story
that you have shared, of your adoptions and
pregnancies and all, is just so poignant and
heart-rending and moving and intimate... You have
given us such a gift with your tender insights and
raw, honest emotions here. Our connections with each
other, our friends, sistersbrothersmothersfathers, are
more than just blood and dna and geographical
proximity and environment - they include the touch of
Goddess, the hand of God - and are so much more than
we can ever imagine, as we all share OneHeart. Thank
you for all that you share with us, always.
love,
rita
:-)
>
>
> As this Thanksgiving, 2002, falling on November 28,
> approaches, my mind
> wanders back.. It is a few days before Thanksgiving,
> 1984...
>
> I...I LOVE YOU TOO, MOM
>
> ...I can still feel the pain of
> going...going...gone...when I think of the
> last time I spoke to my mother days before she died.
> It was right before
> Thanksgiving in 1984. This would be the first time I
> would not come home for
> Thanksgiving with the family. Every year, I
> faithfully drove to Wilkes-Barre
> to spend this holiday with them. This time I would
> stay home. I don't even
> remember now who called who. We talked for awhile.
> Things were always a
> little strained ever since I had told them about
> Carty.
>
> We ended our conversation. After we said goodbyes, I
> put the phone down to
> hang it up. I heard her say..."I love you." just
> before it hit the base and
> turned off. My mother was not one to say that to us.
> I always knew she loved
> me but she was not one to say it to us. I was
> surprised. I almost called her
> back to say, "I love you, too," but I did not. I was
> not used to saying it
> to her either. I let it go and ignored my little
> urge to call her back. Two
> days later, she was dead. I love you too, Mom.
>
> II. ONCE YOU LEARN YOUR LESSONS, THE PAIN WILL STOP
> (Elisabeth Kubler-Ross,
> MD)
>
> Life continued, marked with racism and family
> shunning. I chose my path, so
> I lived it. Any thoughts about racism were lost in
> my grief from 1993
> through 1996. During that time, I lost four
> pregnancies. My first loss and
> surgery came on my 38th birthday in late August of
> 1993. Some birthday
> present....let's skip that and move ahead a few
> years...
>
> After that, I had to undergo surgery so many times.
> Or so it seemed to me.
> Some were to remove miscarriages. One was to remove
> a dead four month old
> baby girl we named Kara, which means "my heart." She
> was the result of In
> Vitro Fertilization procedures, the second of four
> of them. She was my third
> pregnancy loss. I remember it vividly still.
>
> It is the night after Thanksgiving 1995. I go to
> sleep tired but happy to
> finally be pregnant, four months into it. This is
> the farthest I have
> managed to get so far. Yet I am plagued by self
> doubt. I have been so
> hounded by misery that I can not imagine ever
> digging out of the hole. I
> want to feel optimistic, yet there is a nagging fear
> that keeps assaulting
> my mind. I try to ignore it. Don't look for trouble.
> Enough will come your
> way. No need to chase it down.
>
> I suddenly wake up as I feel a gushing of liquid
> between my legs. This
> should not be. I get up from the bed in a panic. I
> feel the sheets where I
> had been. They are soaked. What has happened? I go
> out to the other room to
> find Carty. I tell him what has happened. We call
> the doctor to tell us what
> to do, but I know in my heart that something
> terrible is wrong and there is
> no turning back.
>
> I try to banish this thought as we drive to the
> hospital. I know enough
> physiology/biology to realize that it had to be that
> my water had broken.
> This could not be good. It was not good. If the baby
> survives, it will be
> crushed inside of you because there is no water to
> surround the baby in
> protection. My uterus would be the vise of deformity
> to this child. How
> could I possibly try to keep this pregnancy? How
> could I let my own
> selfishness go so far that I would fight to keep
> this baby alive inside of
> me, knowing that any life that emerged would be
> horrific? Yet, I could not
> say-stop this pregnancy. I could not do it.
>
> In my heart I knew the decision was already made. I
> think I knew the
> decision would be taken from me. It was not for me
> to make and I had to
> surrender to that twisted gift of the fates. So I
> waited to see. The answer
> came two days later, in the morning of November 28,
> 1995. My little baby
> had died inside of me. My mother had passed on
> November 28, 1984. The irony
> of the dates did not escape me.........
>
> When the fourth IVF was successful, I was elated.
> What could go wrong now? I
> was floored when the doctor realized something was
> wrong about 10 weeks into
> the pregnancy. This would require another procedure
> as the fetus was too far
> along for any other method. The biopsy revealed some
> defect called
> trisomy13. I was 41. I was broken. I was defeated
> now. I finally
> surrendered to God. I was a willing subject now. "I
> will do what you say. I
> am defeated. If that is what you wanted, you got it.
> I am defeated. I will
> embrace the soul you send me."
>
> We were led almost immediately to Jason's birth Mom,
> I'll call her Manna,
> from Heaven, and she to us, through two different
> agency sources. As we sat
> across one another the day we met, she carried Jason
> in her belly, I carried
> my Trisomy13 nightmare in my belly, scheduled for
> surgical removal the next
> day, something she did not know at the time. So,
> death was in my belly, life
> was pulsating in hers. I chose life. The life of my
> first son, Jason, which
> means "healer." You see, my mission was not to bear
> children, but to adopt
> them. Once I accepted this, I had a baby in my arms
> in a few months. My
> Jason. He is the child who healed my broken heart.
> He is the child who also
> helped to bridge a little bit of the gap between me
> and my father.....
>
> III. MANNA, FROM HEAVEN
>
=== message truncated ===
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