To my son; Happy 35th birthday. I love you.

35 years ago, today, at 8:09 a.m., the world received a beautiful baby boy. His head was covered in shiny, dark, straight hair and his eyes were showing flecks of gold and brown. He weighed exactly 8 lbs.

The refused to let me see him; the powers that be *my parents and the doctor that would later sell him to the highest bidder in his wealthy circle of friends* but one 3rd shift nurse whom refused to violate Pennsylvania state laws with the risk of losing her nursing license, took me down to see him at 3:00 a.m. in the morning of March 3 - he was almost 2 days old. Because I was weak from being so ill and my body being so stressed, she had to wheel me down to the nursery in a wheelchair. Western Pennsylvania Hospital in Pittsburgh had A LOT of babies in that nursery! As we walked down the hall and passed by the dozens of babies in the nursery, I saw a nurse standing near the door, feeding the baby she held in her arms - I knew, in that instant that he was my son. The nurse wheeling me laughed and said "with all of these babies in here, you think that's yours?" Crying now, I said "Yes. He's mine."

We get to the entry into the nursery and another nurse comes to the door to greet us. My nurse tells the nursery nurse that I'm here to see my son. The greeting nurse enters the closed door into the nursery and speaks to the nurse feeding the baby and, to the shock of the nurse that wheeled me down, the nurse holding my son walks to the doorway and introduces me to my son. Now, the delivering physician had tried to do everything within his power to keep me from meeting and seeing my son - as per my parents request - but laws outweigh adult's instructions, thank God, and I was allowed to hold, kiss and speak to my son, although it was brief, I'll never forget the way he felt, the way he smelled, the way he looked and the noises that he made when I held him...like he knew it was me, too. *I know now that he DID know it was me*

It's been 35 years and not a day has gone by that I don't think of him, wonder about him and send him love. Not a day. You see, I loved my son. I WANTED my son. But, at 16 years old, with a family like I'd had, my choices were to be homeless with a child in Pennsylvania or to not fight and have a place to live. Having BEEN homeless while pregnant, I didn't want to EVER have my son in that situation because of me so I gave in. I sat through the adoption hearing, listening to the lies my parents and the doctor had made up about my not knowing who his father was so that they wouldn't need to find him and fight for consent - sobbing. I could barely utter a word because the sobs wouldn't stop.

Some birth mothers never care about the child after she's given them up *like my birth mother* but I'm not one of those first mothers. I loved my son from the moment I realized that I was pregnant and have not stopped for 35 years.

So, who ever he is, where ever he is, I hope he 'knows' that he WAS loved.....still IS loved and always will BE loved.

On the eve of my son's 35th birthday; Whomever you are, where ever you are, son, I love you. Always have. Always will.

Well, here I am. Into the day that I was admitted into the hospital and a little less than 31 hours before my son was born. It's been 35 years. 35 years of wondering. 35 years of worrying. 35 years of wishing I could go back and could change what happened.

Not a day has gone by in the last 35 years that I haven't wondered and worried about my son; did he have the same bad luck that I'd had in being adopted by cruel, hateful, unloving people or had he been luckier than I had been? Looking over the medical records from my stay in that dreadful hospital and reading about his birth transports me back - like time travel. I can see his beautiful little face and his head FULL of dark, shiny, straight hair. His eyes already turning brown. If I close my eyes, I can feel his warmth on my arms as I held him for those brief seconds a lifetime ago.

Adopted children are often told stories of terror about their first mothers and, I'm sure, some of those stories are true, but our story wasn't one of his being 'rescued' from some horrible, irresponsible teenager. Our story was one of love, loss and heartbreak. My entire life all I had wanted was to be loved. When I realized that I was pregnant, I knew that the baby I was carrying would be my chance at FINALLY being loved. He had been created out of love so I knew that he'd BE love. I fought. As hard as I could. But all I could think of was what it was like to be a homeless, pregnant teenager - alone, hungry and cold in the forests of Pennsylvania - and I KNEW that I couldn't allow my unborn child to live that way. Adding that I didn't want those whom had raised me so viciously, heartlessly and without love to be anywhere NEAR him; I wouldn't let them do to him what they had done to me.

I was promised by Dr. Norman E. Scott, my mother's friend and the delivering physician that 'arranged' *a.k.a. sold, according to his first wife* my son's adoption that my son and I would be brought together once my son turned 18 and Dr. Scott kept that charade going until shortly before he died. It was only as he laid dying that he admitted that he had lied to me for over 17 years in telling me that he'd introduce me to my son. Dr. Scott added that he fed me the lies to keep me from 'making any trouble for his *adoptive* parents' because there had been so many violations of Pennsylvania laws in the adoption of my son; ie: they ALL lied on the birth certificate and the adoption papers in telling the authorities that I didn't know whom had fathered my son when they knew full well whom had fathered him - all so that they wouldn't have to locate him and get his consent.

35 years and it still hurts like it was yesterday. My life has never been the same. I have never been the same. I'm blessed with two amazing, intelligent, kind and compassionate,beautiful daughters and a step-son whom I love like he's my own but nothing can replace my first born son. Nothing. The hole will be in my heart until the day I find out he's been loved and cared for through his childhood as he grew up. My daughters can't wait to meet and get to know their big brother.

Another year. My heart and mind say 'maybe this will be the year!' Maybe THIS will be the year? I love you, son. Who ever and where ever you are. Happy 35th birthday from your first mom and your sisters.

A Perspective on Resistance

It's been years since I've posted on this blog and I apologize; life has been a little crazy. Things are settled down now and life is peaceful, happy and beautiful. Nothing but good from here - because it's what I'm creating for myself, my amazing children and this beautiful life we have come here to experience.

With all of the natural disasters, hatred, bigotry and mockery of our *America's* government at the center of human attention, it's been difficult for me to enjoy perusing social media because of the negativity surrounding our daily lives. Lately, I've been tuning into those that claim to be 'awakened' and in the process of ascending to a higher vibration and have noticed something rather troubling. It seems that so many people are fixated on resistance; resistance of our leaders, resistance to hatred, resistant to freedom and also towards varying beliefs in what damage humans have done to our planet and how to correct/fix/end it. This got me thinking and contemplating on what the energy of 'resisting' does, cumulatively, to all we're trying to do.

You are all aware that energy is contagious, right? That, based on quantum physics, the type of energy that is drawn back is based upon the energy that's sent out. Like attracts like, to state it simply. So, if that's scientifically proven, then what are WE, as a whole, sending OUT by 'resisting' or pushing against what we don't want?

Resistance is about believing that we are vulnerable or susceptible to something not wanted and holding a stance of protection - which only holds us in the place of not letting in the Well Being that would be there, otherwise. When we keep thinking constantly about what we don't want then we are in a state of resistance; pushing against something rather than focusing on what we want. It's the equivalent of rowing upstream.

Resistance eventually manifests as illness, poverty, dysfunctional relationships,etc. There are a great many in this world right now whom are pushing against and trying to control the uncontrollable; paying to much attention to the negative outcomes that are created by the vibrations of others. That is resistance.

How do we change/shift our focus to change this? The opposite of resistance is allowing. When we truly begin to understand and grasp the full meaning who we are, knowing that the greater part of us is in the spiritual *energy* and fully connected to Source Energy *where we originated from and to where we will return once this experience is over* we can then begin to release the resistance that we have been carrying along with us in this lifetime.

The key to shifting from resistance to allowing is to focus more on the thing desired and not the lack of it or how it's going to manifest. You've all heard the quote by Mahatma Ghandi: "Be the change you want to see in the world," right? It's actually THAT simple! For example: We want a new car to replace the one falling apart. If we are predominantly thinking about our beautiful new car, then it is steadily making its way to us. However, if we are predominantly thinking about our undependable current car, then we are in a state of resistance and our fabulous new car will be slow in coming to us.

Our emotions are perfect indicators of whether we are in resistance or allowing. Allowing feels good; resistance feels bad.

Imagine the thing desired as already happening and pretend what it would feel like when it's here. Or you can look for things that are already like it in your life and utilize those feelings of gratitude, happiness and love to raise the vibrational signal you're sending out.

The question for our current situation is: Knowing what I know now, how do I function within a society where there is so much resistance? As we focus more and more on allowing, fewer and fewer circumstances of resistance will be drawn to us. We will begin to attract more allowers into our circle of friends and fewer resistors, as we are all mirrors of one another. Surround yourself with like-minded people and allow those whom choose to live in that constant state of resistance *and complaining IS a form of resistance* to drift towards those that are more like themselves; release them with love.

In the meantime, when someone constantly complains of chronic illness, don't sympathize. That puts both of you into the same negative vibration. Instead, speak only of wellness and positive things. Be encouraging...focus on the solution, not on the problem. If they speak of financial lack, do not beat the drum with them; speak only of abundance, change the subject or say nothing at all! If they say that their relationship is terrible then remind them that they have you! If you don't meet resistance with resistance it will dissipate dramatically. It just softens. The next time someone says "You're wrong and I'm right," tell them "You're right! You're absolutely right." And mean it! Don't mock. Don't be sarcastic. "You're right." And then watch them soften right before your eyes; their attitude changes instantly. They suddenly don't have the energy to blat you because you just removed the fuel from the fire. Demanding to be right when the opposer believes that he/she is also right IS resistance.

Focus on the word "allow." Sounds much softer than 'resist,' doesn't it? Notice how your body feels as you focus on each word. Does it feel uncomfortable or rigid in places? Does it feel anxious or jumpy? Does it feel exhausted? Resistance IS exhausting. Gently allow those feelings to drift away.

Anytime you are feeling less than good stop and say "Nothing is more important that that I feel good - I want to find any reason NOW to feel good. Life is supposed to be expansive and fun. My inner Being wants to have fun and so do I!"

Our true power lies in releasing resistance. We will never create a better world if we continue to focus on what's wrong in it. Stop 'resisting' and start creating. Together we CAN create a better world for all living things.

Don't panic...everything will be alright.

Aren't those the words that we all would like to hear whenever we're faced with a challenge in life? Don't we all just want someone to stand beside us, put their arm around us and tell us that THEY'LL be strong for us once in a while?

Over the last 14 years, I've changed immensely. I've gone from a person whom hated life, complained about everything and never really experienced joy other than the joy of watching, and being with, my children to someone that FEELS joyful about 90% of the time. Over the past decade I've done A LOT of personal work - focusing on the blessings in life rather than focusing on what wasn't so great and it changed my life dramatically! No longer did I walk around feeling as if there was a black cloud over my head! I no longer believed in 'The Carmella Curse' as so many of my family members did. Nope! I had awakened! I could see beauty EVERYWHERE and actually began to notice it! I no longer wanted to complain about everything that seemed 'wrong' with the world and everyone in it; I preferred to sit and watch the sky, the birds or the butterflies fluttering around the flowers or my kids doing their thing completely unaware that I was gazing at them with love.

Being in a marriage is tough on its own, if you ask me. Try it when one of you evolves and the other remains stagnant, negative and angry...it's even MORE difficult! After my health issues began a little over three years ago, I had a renewed lust for a joyful life. Through multiple emergency room visits and stays in the ICU, I realized that we're only here for a little while. This is my time so I want to ENJOY it. Sure, there are money problems *especially with my health problems and no insurance* but you do what you can do and don't stress about what you can't, right? That's my attitude, anyway. It's the times of trouble that you rely on those closest to you THE most - support, love, strength. It doesn't cost money to laugh, right? Having someone to laugh and be silly with is FAR more valuable than money, in my opinion. But, what happens when the person you're with doesn't grow or evolve? How do you decide when it's time to stop trying and just start over? If there are kids involved, it's even more difficult to make the decision; one one hand, staying together and working things through shows that love endures and is strong enough to survive the hurdles - or - on the other hand, do you stand up and say 'that's enough' because you KNOW that your life will be better not having to expend your energy repelling the constant flow of negative energy from your partner while you wait for their promised 'changes'? Tolerance or self-worth? Which is the better lesson? Just last week, my 13-year-old daughter came to me and said "You know, you're never going to find the 'perfect' husband." My reply to her was that I'm not LOOKING for a 'perfect' husband. All that I ask for is honesty, loyalty, love and respect from someone that WANTS to be a part of a family. Someone that will put us FIRST and be proud of who we are and what we've accomplished. I don't NEED to be rich. I don't NEED perfection. Just a simple life that's joyful and can be shared with someone after my kids go off to live their lives.

So, I ask myself; where did I go wrong? Where did my daughter get the idea that I'm demanding perfection? My husband *her father* is an alcoholic - an addict. If it's not alcohol, it's pot. If it's not pot, it's coke...it's ALWAYS something. Always SOMETHING that will numb him of ANY feelings that he may experience. He promises to 'never do it again' and 'never lie again' but NEVER holds true to his word. EVER. In 14 years, he's lied to me COUNTLESS times. Runs off and gets drunk and lies about it; like I'm too stupid to know. It insults my intelligence. 14 years ago, he was cute, sexy and fun....now he's pathetic, old and his body is starting to show signs of the decades of abuse. I'm not amused by it anymore. I haven't been since our daughter was born. Am I wrong to want to be in an ADULT relationship? Am I the 'bad guy' for wanting a better life for myself and my kids? I feel that I have a right to a happy life and, if that means living alone, than it shall be. I'm not afraid of being alone because I feel as if I HAVE been alone for years now. There's no conversation. There's no planning or talking of the future. There's not even fun family outings anymore because of his anger outbursts and anti-social behavior; he embarrasses us in public.

So, what do you do? How do you KNOW when it's time to throw in the proverbial towel? For me, I guess it's when you threaten to bash my head in with a rock speaker because you're angry over being called out for doing something mindlessly stupid. I just hope that, one day, the kids will understand that you can't force someone to change for YOU, they have to want to change for themselves. Had he only WANTED to become a better man, father and husband rather than promising us that he WOULD and never, ever making an attempt to try.

My son's 31st birthday.

Well here I am...another year has passed and I still have no new information on who or where my son is.

31 years.

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of him; I wonder if he's happy. I wonder if he's healthy, safe and loved. I wonder if he ever wonders who he came from and if he's anything like his dad and me? I wonder if his subconscious remembers the words that I spoke to him in those precious fleeting moments that I was able to hold him.

Both of my daughters want so desperately to meet their half-brother...because, even though they don't even know him, they love him because he's a part of me and of them.

I can't sleep. The bad dreams always return around the same time every year even though I've worked SO hard on forgiveness and release; I don't want to hold on to the anger, hate and sadness. I don't want to be held hostage by things that I can not change. I want to focus my positive energy on the fact that one day we WILL meet him. We will know what kind of life he's had. We will know. We WILL.

I know that it's been a long, long time since I've been here and I apologize for my absence. It does my soul SO MUCH good to get this stuff out - here, into the Universe - so that I can release it and try to return to the light. This time of year always brings me a constant sense of 'darkness'...as if there's a shadow always hovering over me. It's FILLED with sadness and pain. My heart actually HURTS and feels heavy. The memories come flooding back, uninvited, of everything that I had gone through to get that baby here as safely as possible. The memories of the evil, dishonest doctor, hired by my parents to take my son away and make sure that I 'never' saw him....so many painful memories. So much pain. So much heartache. I remember for YEARS all I wanted to do was die. I didn't want to live but was too afraid to do it myself so I tried other means of self-destruction; lots and LOTS of alcohol and REALLY stupid decisions for many, many years. What changed? I had my eldest daughter. She gave me the will to fight and to overcome. Then, after my second daughter was born I realized that I had to shake the darkness, hatred and sadness that had plagued me since that awful day back in 1983 and I began working to change my life.

Had I been told 10 years ago that I would be genuinely happy in my day-to-day existence I would have called you CRAZY; however, the hard work paid off and I am one of those insanely happy people that annoy most of you. *grins* I look up at the sky as much as possible; I watch the birds, the butterflies and the dragonflies in awe. I look for, therefore see, beauty absolutely everywhere. I do feel blessed to have the life that I have. It's not been perfect by any means but I am surrounded by love. That is something that I never thought I'd experience when I was a child. In fact, it took me a long time to even recognize what love actually WAS. But now, flaws and all, my life is wonderful and SO full of joy. My ONLY wish is that my son were a part of all of it. That he could KNOW how much I loved him. That he could KNOW how much his half-sisters already love him - and they haven't even met them yet. Yes, that tells me that I've raised them right - to love, openly.

To my son, where ever you are, you are loved. You always have been. A part of me was ripped away when they took you from me and I have never, ever been the same person again. I never will be. Changed forever by a loss that can't be described by words. A pain SO deep that, 31 years later, it STILL feels like a fresh wound. I love you. WE love you. All we pray for is that you get a chance to share in that love with us. Be well, my son. Until we meet again. xoxoxoxo

Sooooo...here we sit...on the edge of the end of 2012 and, I have to say, that I'm REALLY happy to see this year come to an end!

With a new year often comes the unavoidable question: "What's your New Year's resolution?" For me, the answer is 'none'...I don't make 'resolutions' because they are, more often than not, setting oneself up for disappointment and the feeling of failure. In my life, I make 'life changes'....one year it was to read, and put into practice, the book "A Complaint Free World" which was an AMAZING journey of self-discovery for me; I didn't realize just how much I had complained! The goal, as set forth in the book, is to spend 21 consecutive days without complaining. When you catch yourself complaining *and I did* you then must start ALL over again. It took me over 9 months to spend 21 consecutive days without complaining.....NINE MONTHS!!! I'd make it to 16 days and *WHAM* catch myself making that ONE complaint and have to start all over again. I learned a different mindset and watched as those around me became more cooperative all on their own!

This year, our family is going to make and utilize a "Gratitude Jar"....it was a really cool idea that I had seen on Facebook that had been pinned by someone on Pinterest. It's a jar that, whenever ANYTHING positive happens, you write it down on a slip of paper and place it in the jar. At the end of the week, month, year *whichever you choose* you open the jar and look back at all of the amazing things you had to be grateful for. What an easy way to shift thinking and create a new pathway in your brain so that you will seek the positive in life, huh?

As this year comes to an end, I have chosen to count all of the blessings, big and small, that have come to our family versus looking back at all the not-so-good things that have been brought into our lives. The amazing part is that when I choose to focus on these amazing life changes, everyone around me just seems to follow along with me. Teaching those close to me *and even those not so close* how to focus on love, living with truth and light and gratitude also sends that very same energy out to everyone that THEY know....and so on. I believe that 2013 will be a wonderful year full of love, light, prosperity and joy. How about you?

The Universe and my ability to time-travel.....

For those of you whom know me personally, you may remember that my son's birthday is next week; March 1. It'll be 29 years ago, on that date, that I had and lost my son and that I've been searching for him for 11 years now.

This time of year is always especially difficult for me and very often filled with sadness that emanates from a very deep part of my heart and soul.

So, I'm sitting on the floor working on preparing our coffee table for its new paint job and I ask Ari to put Pandora 80's radio on my ipod for me....the VERY first song that came on was "Separate Ways" by *my beloved* Journey. Now you're probably wondering 'what significance does THAT have?' Well, I'll tell you.

When I was in and out of the hospital awaiting the arrival of my beautiful baby boy *whom was due on Valentine's Day but decided to delay his arrival until March 1* Journey had JUST released its new album entitled "Frontiers" and, to those of you who don't know me and my affection for Journey, it would have meant the WORLD to me to have been able to get their new record. *Yes, they were still 'records' back then* On the morning of February 28th, I had some health problems that alarmed my care-taker enough to call the doctor, who had, in-turn, told him to bring me into the office immediately but I refused to leave the house; you see B-93 in Pittsburgh was giving away the new Journey album to callers every hour...I HAD to win. Well, my will power was strong, but not as strong as my caretakers and, within a few minutes, I was forced into the car and off to the doctor's office....and from there I was sent immediately to West Penn Hospital for problems that were life-threatening to both me and my unborn son....so the worst time of my life was about to worsen...the only thing that I had to look forward to was winning that damned record. The song "Separate Ways" was the first release from that album so, in the couple of months leading to my son's birth, it was played and played and played, like most big name new releases, so I heard it multiple times a day and I felt connected to that song, those lyrics and that band.

I remember very little after the birth of my son after the delivery up and until the few precious moments I was able to see him and hold him and explain to him just HOW MUCH he was loved and how sorry I was that he had to leave me but that I would love him for the rest of his life and that, one day, I would come and find him.....when I arrived back at my family's home after being released from the hospital I had to get some things out of my suitcase, which my caretaker had packed for me since I had no time to do so before getting admitted into the hospital, and when I opened it, Journey's new lp "Frontiers" was on the top of my things...a gift from my caretaker. He KNEW how I connected to that music because he had kept me safe, fed, clothed and housed when nobody else would and watched me for months...the connection to that particular album always has the power to transport me back in time to March 1, 1983...the day that my heart was broken and part of it was taken away forever. And as I sit here and type these words on this blog I can FEEL the pain, the sadness and the panic that was present on that day back in 1983 and it seems as real to me now as it was to me back then. Time travel, my friends, is very much real.

So, I send gratitude out to the Universe for allowing me to continue my 'journey' here in this life when it looked like neither of us were going to survive and I thank my Uncle Larry for taking SUCH wonderful care of the little lost girl who was so sad that he wasn't even sure she would 'make it' through all that was ahead of her and for being so thoughtful as to give me one gift that would, forever, allow me the ability to travel through space and time back to a place that's extremely painful but also SO FULL OF LOVE.

To my son: whoever you are, where ever you may be, there has not been one day in the last 29 years that I have not thought of you. Every birthday that you've had, every holiday, every one of your half-sister's birthdays, every big occasion and life-changing events, even the tiny ones, you are 'here' with me...in my heart, where you've always been and always will be. You are not only 'of me' but also carry a piece of my heart with you. I'm pretty sure I know who you are...cause you look SO much like me and your father and we both pray that, one day, you'll allow us in to share with you all the love that we've always felt for you but weren't allowed to give to you ourselves.

So, whenever someone tells you that there's 'no such thing' as time travel you can tell them that you have irrefutable, first-hand knowledge that there IS such a thing. And every single time I hear that song I'm back at my Uncle Larry's house, hanging on to that phone trying to get through to that radio station, with tears streaming down my face and one hand on my belly - touching my son- fighting the impending emergency trip to the doctor because I KNOW what's going to happen once he enters this world...I'm going to lose him and I don't EVER want that to happen. Time travel IS real. I am living proof.

I love you, my amazing, beautiful boy...and hope that this year is the best one for you yet.

Crying in my sleep....

Did you ever have a dream about something sad and wake up to realize that you're crying in your sleep? It happened to me last night and, I've got to tell you, I'm not such a big fan.

The dream was very odd and went like this:

I had made a custom piece of furniture for my dad; a book case. Not just ANY book case but a beautiful case with a curved top and embellishments at the crown. It was a beauty. I was bringing it to my dad, who was supposedly at my childhood home but about 3 miles from the house my car broke down. So here I stand, on the side of the road, with this HUGE piece of furniture, trying to catch a ride...car after car passes me and no one stops. I begin to walk, carrying this huge book case on my back and suddenly, a man pulls up on his motorcycle. He says his name is "Jacob" and that he's going to give me a ride to my parent's house. Elated, I hop on the back of the bike and somehow share space with this HUGE book case and we're off! We arrive at my parent's house which appears to look as it did the last time I saw it, run down and unkempt. I run up to the front door, SO excited to show my daddy what I had made for him and when I throw open the door I'm not in THEIR house, I'm in MINE. The house appears identical to my house except for just a few pieces of missing furniture, and when I run in calling my dad's name, I see my mom standing in my front, screened in porch; she's wearing a nightgown, a robe and her slippers. Her hair is combed and she's wearing her glasses....JUST as she always did. At the very moment we lock eyes I realize, in shock, that I had forgotten that my dad had died. He wasn't there anymore and I began to sob. Hugging my mother I'm sobbing uncontrollably and telling her that I don't want him to be dead...that I can't believe that I had forgotten that he had died.

That's when I woke up...and lying there, in the dark, I was sobbing. In my sleep.

So I lay there for a little while and calmed myself down. Then I tried to figure out what exactly the message was....and I just don't know. Now, recently there have been quite a few conversations, if you will, about my childhood and some of the more traumatic events therein which could possibly BE the reason for this dream. Was it? I distinctly remember the feeling within the realization that my dad was gone and my mom was standing there holding me in trying to comfort me *which is something my mother NEVER did* And, just so you know, my dad passed away in October of 2000, and my mom passed in December of 2007. My mom appeared to be in my home, as it is today - not as it was when she died.

So several hours pass and when my husband and I wake up, I tell him about this strange dream...and the tears roll again. What IS that, exactly? What is my subconscious/the Universe trying to TELL me? I'm trying to listen but I can't hear either of them. I just pray for a peaceful nights' sleep tonight with NO more dreams like this one.

Who am I?

So...here I am again....this time not quite sure where this blog will take me but eager to get this out.

After something that I consider to be wonderful happened in my life last Monday, I received a message from someone that, once I read it, made me feel as if I was about to face another loss. I can't explain the details; but it felt as if my heart was being broken again.

So I'm sitting and trying to see the 'light' in all that surrounds me and who I am and the question enters my mind of who I really am....when I try to define who I think I am, every description is about what I DO rather than who I am. The reality hits me that I have NO IDEA who I REALLY am. I am the first mom looking for her son. I am the Life Coach that helps people change their lives. I am the mother of 2 amazing daughters. I am the wife of a sometimes troubled man. I am the friend of anyone that considers me to be so. I am an advocate of animals, a lover of Mother Earth, a believer that God is an amazing form of true and complete love...and the list goes on. But who AM I? Really?

I am the girl that has no recollection of what my body looked like before it became distorted by a teen-aged pregnancy and spent the majority of her life feeling ashamed of her body because of the damage done by deciding to give birth to a child that I knew would never know me as his mom or know the sacrifices I had made so that he could live. I am the girl that has very few memories of anyone actually acting loving towards me in the family I grew up in. I am the girl whose father would tell her each and every morning just how ugly he thought she was. I am the girl that worries about what's best for others and pushes my own needs aside.

Is THAT who I am? How DO we define ourselves? I know that I have a huge heart that's been broken more times than I care to count; even by some that had no idea that they could even do so. I know that I am smart and strong and capable of ANYTHING that I put my mind to. I know that I am a survivor in that I've survived not only a very un-loving childhood but the loss of my son, whom I loved dearly even though we had not even met yet. I know that I am fiercely protective of anyone that I love because I never felt protected growing up and will never allow anyone or anything that I love EVER feel alone.

Who am I?

I am the mom that loves to laugh with her children because it feels so good to know that I have them to laugh with. I am the person next to you at the red light that's listening to her music very loudly and singing along with it even louder. I am the stranger that will come up to you and tell you how much I love your hair, your clothes, your shoes or your bag and watch your face light up at such a random act of kindness from a complete stranger. I am *still* the comedian that will make you laugh until your cheeks hurt, only now it's genuine and not being done to hide pain. I am the woman in search of her son that was taken away by people that looked me in the eye and told me that I should have never been born.

Who am I?

Do you all ever ponder that question? If so, how do YOU answer yourself? And please know that I am very proud of who I am today; all of those things that I described herein have molded me into the person I am today. A person whom, after many, many decades of self-loathing, love wholly and completely....exactly the way that I am. You see, THAT is my greatest accomplishment in this lifetime thus far. I never, ever dreamed that I would ever be able to look into a mirror without hearing all of those hateful things that 'they' all said about me, of which I was one. So, perhaps I don't know who I really 'am' right now, in this very moment; however, what I DO know is who I am NOT and that's that hateful, sorrow filled, negative, angry little girl. That is accomplishment enough for me.

A new beginning and proof that 'it' really does work!

So, here I sit, on a Tuesday morning, after a surprisingly wonderful nights' sleep amazed that all that 'work' that I've been doing actually worked! We're told that anger, hate, bitterness and all of those nasty, negative feelings can actually eat away at us and cause dis-eases like cancer and that we should work on letting go and forgiveness, right? Well, I'm here to tell you that they're SOOOOO right!

I had an (over) hour-long conversation with my son's bio-father last night; after about 25 minutes of texting back-and-forth first. Let me go backwards here for a second; for those of you whom do not know our 'story'; we are the parents of a son who was lost to adoption almost 29 years ago. His name is Mike, and we had only seen/spoken to one another twice in the last 29 years.

On Monday morning, I turned on my BB and saw a Facebook friend request from him and nearly fell over. My eldest daughter felt that she had to remind me to stay focused on my driving while driving the girls to school; she said that I looked pale. I think I was in shock. I wasn't sure what to expect and wasn't really sure how I felt about it. After all the years that had passed and all of the anger that i had felt towards him.....and then my intuition kicked in and I realized that, with everything else behind us and all of the forgiveness work I had done, we both had one thing still in common; our son.

So, he sent me a FB message asking if our child had ever contacted me......it took me 14 hours to answer him; again, what did he want? Was he angry? Would he heed the warnings not to jump to any conclusions and hamper any chance that we may have of, one day, meeting our son? Once I replied to him, the communication began and I felt so relieved that I felt absolutely no anger, bitterness or fear...only love and compassion. How strange, huh? *in a delightfully pleasant way* My heart breaks for him after he told me that he'd had no other children; he hadn't been blessed like I have been. He even apologized for all that had been done back then. I was not only moved but also happy to know that I'm no longer in this "alone." Now, that's not to say that the Search Angels in my life haven't been wonderfully compassionate and supportive because they have, especially one in-particular *she knows who she is*..but this is different. I, suddenly, don't feel as if my feelings for my son are something I have to keep quiet about until it's 'appropriate'...he feels my pain and loss, just like most of the Angels do...but this is 'our' pain; he knows how I feel.

It's so freeing to know that all of that work that I have done over the last 10 years has actually paid off. I forgive him - I really do. I just hope he can forgive me. I know now that I did everything that I possibly could have to try and keep our son; I was 16 years old and there were a lot of 'them' and only one 'me'....I hope one day we can meet this amazing young man and that he'll be able to forgive both of us.

Thanks for letting me share. Love and light to all of you! <3

Shifting Gears

Hi everyone! It's been a while since I posted and I apologize for that. Health problems and life, itself, seemed to have gotten in my way...temporarily.

I hope you all had a phenomenal holiday season and a positive and loving start to the new year!!!

This post is different; a rant, if you will. I have some amazing 'gently used' Shabby Chic style furnishings that I've been trying to sell for months now a fabulous Robin Bruce slipcovered loveseat, 3 shabby bar stools, beaded light bulb covers and the dining chair covers. The problem seems to be a lack of exposure in the proper venues. So I have these things posted on Craigslist and also on ebay, as well as in the newspaper but have yet to have any success in selling them. One of the 'things' that I'm trying to sell is a set of four custom-made Rachel Ashwell slipcovers that are for dining chairs; something that I thought would sell quickly. Nope. So I'm trying to find out how to get more exposure and I google "Rachel Ashwell dining slip cover"...which SHOULD bring up my ebay auction, at the very least...but NOPE...nothing. Hmmmmmm. What to do, what to do.



Now I can google many variations and click the 'images' button and *poof* plenty of OTHER images come up, but not mine...even though all of those words appear in both the body and the title of my sales/auctions. So then I google "Robin Bruce Loveseat slipcovered" *because I have one for sale, too, lol* and NOTHING.

Can anyone tell me what I'm doing wrong??? Is the Universe trying to tell me something??? Ugh. I've gotta sell this stuff so that I can make some Russian Folk beds for my girls. How do the other people DO it?? Etsy, ebay....ugh.

Thanks for listening. LOL. Feel free to post any *legitimate* suggestions! Love and light to all of you! <3

A shift in thought and power.

As many of you that know me have seen, over the last few weeks I've battled some unknown illness, tackled old family ghosts and struggled with the search as to why my body just didn't want to get well. Over this past weekend, after finally beginning to feel like 'myself' again I was listening to my audio book version of 'You Can Heal Your Life' which is also read by Louise Hay *giggles in delight* while I was working on the mosaic tile vanity top in our master bathroom. I'm working and working, and listening and listening and in one particular moment it's like all of the 'noise' around me stopped and I heard her....I actually HEARD her. She reminded me that whatever we think becomes our reality. The thoughts that we think and the words we speak BECOME our reality.

Don't get me wrong, it's not the first time I had 'heard' this. In fact, I had 'heard' this concept over and over and over again within the past 7 years or so....but for some reason it MEANT something to me that it had never meant before; a new understanding, if you will.

You see, I had just spent the last few weeks focusing on lack; the lack of good health, the lack of a 'good' and/or 'fair' childhood, the lack of money, the lack of health insurance, the lack of someone at home to take care of me while ill, the lack of...well, you see where I'm going...er, where I was. What happens when you focus on lack *you ask*? More 'lack' will show up......there won't be enough of anything because that's where your focus is. Making sense?

So, my shift began; I have an ABUNDANCE of patience (in that it took me 2 days to complete my mosaic tile top), I have an ABUNDANCE of time (in that I could clean, launder, cook and still have time to play and work on other projects over the weekend), I have an ABUNDANCE of love (in a wonderful husband whom dropped what he was doing to run to Home Depot to buy me more mastic when I ran out AND started dinner when I was running late and 2 adorable, loving children whom even took messages for me while I was working and listening to Louise) and the list goes ON!! It's my own way of coaching myself!

I have even begun setting up my own little 'affirmation bowl' so that every morning I can reach into the bowl and pull out an affirmation that will be my focus for that particular day! I had a lot of fun creating all of those little slips of paper!!

Shifting my thought pattern to only those thoughts of abundance has not only raised my spirit and mood but it has also raised my energy level! It seems so simple, yet is so easily forgotten as old habits reach back up and try to take root....it takes 21 days of repetition to form a new 'habit'...and this is one I'm determined to make. With my 'Am I being kind' bracelet on my arm, my "You Can Heal Your Life" audiobook on my ipod and a paperback copy in my purse I am ready to forge through the next 20 days with nothing but thoughts of abundance, love, prosperity and all that is good right here, right now.

Day one....COMPLETED...victory is mine!!!! <3 and gratitude to all of you!

There are BIG, black clouds blocking my rays of light right now....

WOW!! Two posts in one week!!! I know, right? Well, it's been a hellish month of July and I can't wait to see it come to an end. A proverbial roller coaster of emotion and I'm ready to get OFF now. And now I'm feeling SOOO angry, tired and more than a little defeated right now.

My trip to the ER last night at 11:00 pm was not only frightening, because I wasn't even sure I'd MAKE it there by myself, but also eye-opening. My husband, who won't even bother to read this, couldn't get up to take me because he has to work in the morning....really? REALLY??? I'm angry, disappointed and not quite sure how much longer this 'marriage' will going to last. Even the kids are angry about it; Ari stayed up until I got home at 1:50 am because she was worried about me and had been texting me but, as most of you know, you can't have your cell phones on inside the ER, so when I got home she cried from relief...glad that I was ok. Where was my husband?? Sound asleep.

So...I'm in the ER and, on this trip, the doctor decides to actually TREAT me for my symptoms; they give me a breathing treatment, steroids via an IV and an EKG, amongst the normal blood work, etc. So, after a 2 hour breathing treatment and the steroids, I'm feeling better; well, better than I did when I walked in and couldn't get enough air to even speak ....so the Dr. comes in and says 'Do you know that you're diabetic?'....Me: "WHAT?" Dr: "Your blood sugar is up over 300, and that's a real problem"... Me: "HOLY SHIT!".....so he continues to tell me that my current problem could stem from the Type 2 Diabetes in that it affects the immune system; and my mind starts to run through all that I've had to deal with since February and things begin to make sense health-wise. As I process this information, I become angry. I remember that, before I had my gallbladder removed 2 years ago, the dr. had me monitor my sugar for 2 weeks before the surgery because I was 'borderline' and had to be careful. After the surgery I lost close to 40 pounds; worked on changing my diet and exercising a bit more than I had been. All that work and STILL my sugar's out of control??? Anger again. I not only believe, I KNOW that my body KNOWS how to work properly; years of Biological research has shown that our bodies CAN repair themselves under the right mind set; our cells respond to every thing we think, speak and feel....and I'm speaking, with feeling and thinking that my pancreas KNOWS how to work properly and want to know why it's not. I turn to my guru, Louise Hay, and her 'book of symptoms/dis-eases' and this is what her research says about, first, Diabetes and, second, Respiratory issues:

Probable Cause New thought pattern to cure the dis-ease

Diabetes: Longing for what might have been. This moment is filled with joy. I now
A great need to control. Deep choose to experience the sweetness of
sorrow. No sweetness left. today.

Respiratory: Fear of taking in life fully. I am safe. I love my life.


The 'longing for what might have been' thing is SOOOO true. I have always wondered what my life may have been like had I been adopted by people that had actually WANTED me; although not so much within the last 10 years. I worked SO HARD to forgive, love and release those that had caused the trauma that was my youth. I am really proud of whom I have become; especially in the last decade.

For those of you that have known me since childhood, you can attest that I was always acting happy and joking around; what none of you knew back then was that I was hiding the pain and trauma of growing up in 'that' household and fighting the depression caused by the birth and loss of my son......well, in the last decade I've worked hard and have made so many changes in myself, my life and how I see things and now actually AM that happy, playful person that I used to pretend to be. Well, not inclusive of the present moment. *smiles through tears*

So, I'm angry right now...angry at myself, my body, the Universe.....I live a clean life; don't do drugs, don't smoke and have a glass of Chocovine or a Pink Squirrel no more than a couple of times a month. I don't fill my body with crap *except for my chocolate obsession* and yet, here I am, with high blood sugar??? My husband; whom abused his body for more than half of his life by his excessive usage of alcohol and illegal drugs, although overweight, is healthy. WTF??? Really?? I wish the Universe could answer 'why.' *yes, I'm in the midst of a small pity-party, but, as my favorite Linkin Park song says, I have to feel it and then let it go*

All of the emotional drama and trauma that I went through last week trying to decide what to do about a 'forgotten' piece of my father and mother's estate mixed up in not feeling well for weeks is really taking a toll on me. I'm in this marriage and feel more alone than I ever had when I was single. What's my message in all this? What do I need to learn/change? Ugh.

I thank God for my children; for they are the reason that I live and the real reason that I was born. If not for them I might just give up.....but I can't do that to them. I have to wait for the clouds to dissipate and for my light to once again shine. In the words of my best friend in the world right now 'everything's going to be ok'.....I just pray that it's sooner than later cause this girl is T I R E D.

Thanks for letting me vent. <3 (-<) and $ to all whom dream.

It's been a while, I know......

<----Carmella Road; that's the view of my childhood home as seen from Homecamp Road; house on the left behind all of the trees and to the right you can see the pole my dad had put up with a mailbox that said "Air Mail"....and he WAS the first that anyone had known to do this. It was his sense of humor. This picture made me cry.


Ok, so I know that it's been a LONG time since I've been back to blog but life's been really busy and, by the time I remember that I haven't been back, it's 2 am. *smiles*

So...I've been focusing on all that is good in my life and trying to leave the pain, disappointment and anger of my life as a child behind me and was doing wonderfully until last week.

I received a message last week to advise me that the home I grew up in, along with the property that surrounds it, is going to be sold by the County Tax Assessor for back taxes; which I expected to happen eventually, anyway, because my parents had chosen the LEAST responsible of their children to sign over ALL of their property to, just prior to my father's passing. And just for a little background here; they adopted three of us, but had 2 natural children; Terry and Sherry, and raised another child that they had legal custody of but never adopted. Terry was killed in a car accident in 1963; but left behind a pregnant girlfriend *which will be important later*...and Sherry then had 3 children that were unwanted, thus, adopted by her parents *my grandparents* - to whom I referred to as 'Mom' and 'Dad.' Are ya with me so far?? *giggling*

Sherry gave birth to a son in 1964....'Mom' and 'Dad' desperately wanted this child, of whom Sherry didn't want, so they struck a deal; a new car for the baby, and *voila!* they had their son back! *no, really, they even named him Terrance Christopher and my mom looked at him over his crib when they brought him home and said, in front of everyone "Look! God took him away from us and now he's given him back."

Ok, at this point, SOMEONE should have stopped them from adopting any more children.....

A few months later, Sherry's pregnant with me. At birth, she refused to even HOLD me..said to the nurse *again, in front of everyone present* "Oh my God, that kid's ugly! It looks like a bug! Get it away from me!" :o( Sad but true.

Fast forward another couple of years....they get a phone call from Terry's *the one that was killed in the car accident* former girlfriend, and baby mama, that her new husband doesn't like Terry's son and that if my parents didn't want him they'd put him up for adoption elsewhere....so they took him. Now, one would think, at this point, that IF Ronnie was Terry's son, and Terry was the proverbial apple of my mother's eye, that Ronnie would have been 'The Chosen' one, right? W R O N G. My brother, Ronnie, was treated so horribly by these people that it made my treatment look good. *My dad would later tell me that they blamed Ronnie for Terry's death.....because Terry died chasing Ronnie's mother, who had met another man, was on her way to end the pregnancy. She changed her mind, out of guilt, after Terry's death. So....Terry gave his life to protect my brother's...hence, the 'blame' thing. Makes NO sense to me..but I'm normal.* Anyway....they had birthday parties for Chris, never for us. What's worse? The fact that Ronnie and I were made to stay upstairs during Chris's birthday parties. Yeah, we had it like that.

Fast forward....and my other blog posts talk about this in more detail...but I had my son taken away from me at birth and was told that he was a 'bastard' and that I was a 'whore'....and then the day I return from the hospital WITHOUT my son, Chris and his girlfriend announced that they were pregnant, gonna have the baby and live at our house...my parents were THRILLED!! They were gonna have a grandchild!! *are you seeing the 'big picture' yet?*

Again, zoom forward....we get the call in 1999 that my dad has cancer and it's not looking good that he can survive it so they ask for all of us to make one more trip up at the same time so we're all together one last time *which was easy for Chris because he lived in a trailer right next to my parent's home; still being supported by them at 34 years old*.....my dad promises all of us that we'd each receive an acre of property and share ownership of the family home with a clause that if whomever was in control and living there *Chris* wasn't caring for the property then the rest of us could throw them off and properly care for it so we'd 'always have someplace to go' if our lives ever caused us to return....*awwwwww, you say...isn't that sweet* Sure, it's a great gesture; however, it was a lie. Within weeks of our all *except Sherry, she stayed to take care of my dad because my mother never DID...she only cared about Chris and we all knew it, especially our dad* returning back to our lives, I received a phone call from Sherry, whom was heartbroken. It seems that our mother had pressured our father into signing ALL of the property and ALL other possessions *boat, cars...bank accounts* to Chris. Her reasoning? Because he was the 'only one' that stayed. OF COURSE HE WAS! He never had to work, pay a bill, buy groceries, pay car insurance or car payments!!! Oh, and beside the fact that they had told the rest of us to 'get the hell outta here' as soon as we were 18. So my dad did what she wanted and Ronnie, Sherry and I were left nothing. Zilch. Zero. Oh, except for the money that our dad had invested for each of us when we were young so that we could retire early, right? W R O N G again. My father had cashed them ALL in and combined the money into one large account so that my mother wouldn't have to ever worry about money, 'even if she lives another 50 years'........ahhhhhhh, if only that had been true. *FYI, within 11 months of my father's death, Chris had gone through more than $220,000...taking fishing trips to Canada, hunting trips to Newfoundland and Wyoming, buying quad runners and vehicles....how? *you ask* Why, because my mother added HIS name to HER account. He spent at will, until eventually there was none left to care for her and Medicaid had to. *Karma??* So, I call my parent's attorney, Paul Cherry, and ask for a copy of my dad's will......he refuses to give me a copy. Says that I'd need my mother's permission, which she granted over the phone, yet he refused. No estate had been filed, he said, because everything had been given away before my dad died, or had automatically reverted to our mother. No probate necessary. Secrets kept.

Back to the original reason for my return to unhealthy feelings...lol....so the 7 acres that house the family home, barn, garages and, of course, Chris's lovely abode, are going to be sold at auction....it's sad and funny at the same time. Sad because my dad and Terry built that house, literally. On nights and weekends they would build...it took them four years to complete it. That house meant the WORLD to our father. Now, it stands in serious disrepair; ceilings falling in, basement full of water, rotted roof and shingles.....all because they chose their 'beloved' Chris to hand it to. I'm upset because it was not ever my father's intention that anyone other than family own that house; but it's funny because we ALL told him that it would happen. Will I help Chris save it? Absolutely NOT. I would never do ANYTHING that would enable him to live an easier life. He never made it easy for Ronnie and I....and, near the end of my father's life, would tell my father 'just die already, old man, no one wants you around anyway.' He is the EPITOME of evil. I would pee on him if he was on fire.

So, upset about the loss of the family's homestead due to an irresponsible, spoiled demon, we then find out that there's one acre of property that's adjacent to the homestead that was never deeded to Satan...er, Chris. My brother Ronnie and I were thrilled! Maybe we could salvage that one part of our dad and share in it's possession??? But, why didn't anyone know about this? Why weren't Ronnie and I notified that my mother had ONE possession??? Why? Because Satan...er, Chris was the administrator of our mother's will and never filed for probate in Clearfield County!!! So, again, I call Paul Cherry...who's now a judge....he finds my mother's will but not my father's *shocked? I wasn't...secrets* and says that, although the will was updated in 2003, any property that my mother owned at her death was to be shared by me, Satan, Ronnie and Sherry....which is really odd because Sherry died in 2001, only 5 months after our dad died. So I use this information to contact the county....can we fight the tax sale and save this piece of property???? Well, 2 attorneys and multiple county departments later, yes, we can....but it'll cost almost as much as the property's worth. Cost not being the primary issue here; it seems that, even though Satan lied to Ronnie and I, never filed the estate nor paid any inheritance tax after our mother's death in 2007, there are no penalties in PA. None. He can't be arrested, fined...nothing. How can he violate a state law and not be a criminal? AND if I were successful in saving the property from tax sale then HE would be entitled to his share of the ownership!

So....after days and days and days stressing over what the 'right' thing to do is, I've finally decided to turn my back and walk away. After all I've had to deal with growing up in that house I've decided that I wouldn't even want to visit, let alone own the property that's connected to it.

You know, there are a lot of people that try and make me feel guilty for shutting that part of my life out and never looking back; but I have to admit that if I hadn't then you probably wouldn't be reading this blog right now because I would have ended my misery, rather than healing the wounds and starting a new life. Being adopted is not always in the forefront of my mind. Being adopted by people that didn't really WANT me is. I often wonder how differently my life may have turned out had I had loving, supportive parents, like so many adopted children have had. Then, I'll stop the what-if's and remember...I am who I am today because of all of that's happened and, you know what??? I like me. Even if 'they' didn't. I bought my own home, pay my own bills and have two amazing daughters and a son out there, somewhere......I think I've done pretty well for myself without their help.... especially compared to the life of the 'one' that they handed everything to.....yeah, I'm ok. Thanks mom and dad.

Frustration and all that it brings back to life...feeling like a failure

So the past few days have been very 'trying' for me....trying to retain my positive attitude, thus bringing good into my future. Trying to motivate my children to take their responsibilities seriously. Trying to live with a consistently negative man. Trying to continue the search for my son. As I said...it's been a very "trying" few days.

It still amazes me how much old emotion remains buried deep within until something triggers the memory and then WHAM! it's back at the surface. I've worked really hard over the last 7 years to let go of the past and look forward to the future while enjoying each and every moment of the present. Why is it that, sometimes, I feel like the whole world is out to push my (proverbial) buttons just to see how far I can be stretched before finally snapping? I believe that what we put forth in this world comes back to us ten-fold. I believe that the more we give out, the more we receive and I try to live every day with that as my primary motivation. I know that in order for us to know what we DO want there has to be some contrast of what we DON'T want so that we can tell the difference, but when is enough enough????

I wrote a letter last night to help out someone whom I barely know but who owns a piece of my heart because of his adoption situation. Writing that letter brought up soooooo many emotions that I thought I had 'dealt with.' I know that what's meant to be will be. I have drawn my son to me over and over again; done the affirmations. Played different scenarios over and over again in my head in preparation of that very special day. Preparing myself as best I can and working hard to stay positive.

I have been unemployed since April of 2008. Our savings is now non-existent. Gone. Used to pay bills and take care of the kids. The holidays are coming. Again, trying to stay positive. I have applied for well over 300 jobs since being unemployed - without success. Ahhhhh, rejected again, and again, and again, and again. Does that little (adopted) girl inside me take the random, anonymous rejection personally? I'm starting to think so. I find myself thinking "what's wrong with me? Why can't I get a job?" The Life Coach in me says that the Universe is aligning things to allow me to become an independent, successful personal life coach; however, the abandoned little girl AND the sad, depressed and angry first mom says "nope, it's ALL you. You don't DESERVE good." So now it's my job to help that little girl and that sad first mom to quiet down and learn to love themselves as life coach Melanee loves herself.......but first I need to figure out how to do that.

No, I don't have 'multiple personality disorder.' No, I'm not 'bi-polar.' I'm just like everyone else out there that's struggling with the state of our lives in this country. I don't want to be a statistic and I believe, with all of my heart, that there IS a very bright light at the end of the tunnel. Hell, I can see it, still. My goal is to put on some really comfortable shoes and make my way through that tunnel until I'm basking in the bright, warm, white light that shines at the other end. I've been walking for a REALLY long time....I just wonder how much further till the end....I'm more than ready.

Love to you all.

A life-stopping moment...

So I went to see my youngest daughter's Spring concert this-morning (which was LOVELY.) I dropped her off in her classroom and hung out there for a while then followed them to the performance center, wished her luck and went to stand in line and wait for the doors to open. In front of me were two women; one had a stroller with a very young baby inside. I looked down at this child's face and felt INSTANTLY connected to him but had no idea as to why...there was something in his eyes that grabbed a hold of me and wouldn't let go. I"m standing there, stunned at my inner-most feelings, with the world stopped around me fighting the urge to cry....for a moment it was only me and that beautiful little boy. Odd, I thought, hmmm, a stranger's baby and here I am, ready to cry and don't understand why. I notice the conversation.....it's the woman pushing the stroller talking to the other woman....she's speaking about 'his' adoption.....and his 'birth mother'.....and how this woman standing in front of me wants to keep the adoption 'as open as possible' but that the first mom doesn't appear to be interested...then they're talking about grandparent's rights and whether or not 'her' *the first mom's* parents can win rights...and, again, I'm stunned. THAT'S the connection!!! My heart broke as I watched the woman in front of me push a bottle into that beautiful, fussy little baby's face as she continues to talk! He's 3 months old (yes, I had asked)!!! He needs eye-to-eye contact and a physical connection when he's being fed...not to be laid in a stroller and have a bottle shoved in his face! So he starts to cough and she pulls the bottle out. She tells him that he's drinking too fast and places it back into his mouth; the other woman suggests that perhaps the milk is 'too warm' and their conversation continued. Inside the performance center, he was very, very fussy.....and I understood why.

I wanted to scoop him up and love him like he was my own. I thought 'is that how MY son had been raised?' Did they have no idea of the Primal Wound and how it affects these babies? He was 3 months old! Something in his soul spoke to mine; strange as it sounds, that' s what it felt like. My heart was broken for him; he's looking for someone that's not there and will not be coming. The a/parent seemed dis-connected from him, as if he was just a distraction or something.

I listened to their conversation without wanting to; they were, literally, RIGHT in front of me, facing one another, talking. Both experts on adoption, of course. My gut reaction was, honestly, to take that little boy and run with him...anywhere....and keep him there until his new mother could do some research and actually discover what this little, tiny baby really needs so that he can grow up and feel loved and connected and not unwanted and unloved, like the majority of us did.

It was a life-stopping moment. When I first looked down at him he took my breath away. As if he COULD actually see me. His soul searching mine...for understanding, maybe? My heart broke for him and I didn't quite understand why....then I heard the words 'his adoption' and knew......he's just like me.

The other side of adoption

So, most of you know that I am not only a first mom looking for her son but also an adoptee searching for her paternal biologic connection. Well, back in February I successfully (with the help of my search angel) found my half-brother; she found a FB profile with a name similar to what I had been told by my first mother and voila! It was him. He acknowledged that he was my bio father's son and we emailed, through FB, several times. Upon asking me for some identifying information (to which I had answered correctly) he asked me for 'some time to digest' what I had just told him. I have not heard from him again.

Now, I did NOT divulge the fact that I had talked to his (our) father back in 1996, while pregnant with my eldest daughter; I had pressured my f/m to get me his contact info as some of the prenatal testing came back questionable and they NEEDED answers and needed them fast. She, apparently, had continued sleeping with this very-married man over the years since my birth and relinquishment and knew just how to find him at his work, as an engineer at Chrysler. I called; got a voice mail and left the following message "Hi, my name is Melanee and I understand that I have questions that only you can answer" and left my number. Within 10 minutes my phone rang; it was him. When I answered the phone he stated "This is Ron Huff'. What can I do to help?" I proceeded to tell him who I was and that I understood that he was the donor to the other half of my gene pool to which he replied "Who's your mother?" and when I told him, his EXACT words were "I'm not going to dispute that. What can I do for you?" I almost fell off the chair! I told him that I needed medical background information due to questionable prenatal testing and he proceeded to give me the information that I needed. When he finished I asked him if we could meet one day...his response was "My wife and children do not know that you exist and I plan to keep it that way. Good bye." And, that was it!

The reason I kept this from my bio-brother was that I didn't want to say anything negative about his (our) father. Didn't help.

So, why am I this big, dark secret? Why don't my bio-half bro and my bio-half sister want to meet me or, at least, communicate with me? Don't THEY have the same intellectual curiosity about me that I have about them?? Do we look alike? Are our personality traits similar? Do they see me as a threat of some sort?

So, the angry part of me wants to find my bio-dad and, when he dies, go after part of the estate as his child. Well! I AM his child!!! He even went so far as to send someone else in for the blood test back in 1966. And, I have the adoption papers stating that, in 1972, when my adoption was finalized, they had notified him and he never even responded. What kind of man does that? And then for my bio mom to keep meeting up with him whenever she could to sleep with him as a mistress??? OMG!! They had had a child (ME!!) together that neither of them were raising...didn't the ever think of that?

Ok, so the not-so-angry part of me would love nothing more than to know my half-siblings and to have my children know their bio relatives. Is that really such a bad thing? Really? As an adult, why should I have to wear this veil of secrecy? Why should I have to remain in the shadows? Don't I have the right to know my family? Why doesn't he (my bio brother) feel the same?

I can understand that he's shocked that his father lied to his family about me...that part I get....but, why wouldn't HE be curious about ME??? I'm guessing that he confronted his father and it was denied yet again; however, I'd be willing to bet that seeing my face would tell him the truth about who supplied the 2nd half of my gene pool...without a doubt.

So, where do I go from here? Knowing that my bio dad doesn't want his 'dirty little secret' to get out just makes me more determined to do just that! I'm 43 years old...I'm not going to be anybody's 'dirty little secret' anymore!

It's been a while.....

Well, it's been well over a month since I had the urge to sit and write....avoidance, perhaps? Maybe it's the mood, but I read a comment on a FB post that lit me up a bit and that, my blog-reading friends, is what brought me back to this place.

In this comment a person mentioned the lack of a 'maternal instinct' in 'some' birthmothers; which made me a little irate. On a personal note, I believe that it is that very instinct that allows us to be duped into believing that handing our child over to random strangers was the 'right' thing to do because of our personal circumstances at the time of our child's birth (and yes, they still ARE our children...just because they're taken away from us doesn't automatically change our parental status). Now, that being said, I know that there are others out there whom want no contact with their children due to their lack of self-acceptance of their situations and choices (and I believe that that's ALL it is)....but to the vast majority of those that I know and have met throughout the search for my son feel the same way I do....we loved our children.

Those adoptees that were told horrid stories of how they were 'rescued' from these horrible, unwanting human incubators are the *former* children that should be used as THE example of how this system (of lies) of adoption fails us all. Let's see...adoptive parents pay some agency to find them a baby.....do they prepare them for the repercussions of the 'primal wound' and how to handle the separation from it's biological provider? No. Do they match the prospective parents to the prospective baby? No. First come, first serve. Ahhhh, just like at McDonalds, right? THEN these parents that just 'wanted a baby'...not MY baby, but A baby...can (and most will) tell these children about how they were rescued and kept because of the horrible beast of a birth mother (notice that rarely are the bio dads ever even mentioned) and that they saved them from a horrible life.....'you should be grateful to us for taking you'.....and don't argue with me...please. Lest you forget, I am an adoptee, too. I have other adult adoptee friends and for the majority of us, it's the story we've all been told.

Fast forward to some LUCKY birth parents that have the blessing of finally finding their child (I wish I was one of them) and this child, although there's a natural, intellectual curiosity about where and whom they came from, refuses to 'hurt' their adoptive parents by reaching out (instinctually) and grasping on to their live-givers in order to learn and understand more about whom THEY are as individuals, and they let the birth parent (that not only CHOSE to give them the gift of life but then painfully searched for them until they found them) stay in the dark shadows......how dreadfully sad.

Just this past Friday, after picking up my 9-year-old daughter after school, she tells me that one of the students in her classroom has been removed and placed into another class for telling a fellow student that, because she didn't look like her parents, that she felt that the other little girl had been adopted. Crying the (adopted) little girl calls her mom and asks her if she's adopted...there's no answer. The next day (Friday) the teacher has a 'meeting' with the kids in the class telling them that the (adopted) girl will not be in but that when she returns that it's not to be discussed. Why? There should be more understanding....from all sides.

Do you see the damage that has been done to that little girl by keeping 'the secret' from her? Why was it kept from her? Why is adoption treated, even to this day, like a dark, horrible secret? It breaks my heart. I guarantee, even with counseling for years, her life will NEVER be the same.

Birth mothers are NOT monsters that live in sewer pipes. Birth mothers are NOT uncaring human incubators. Birth mothers are NOT evil whores that 'threw' our 'babies out with the bathwater.' Birth mothers are MOTHERS, the FIRST mothers of those adopted babies and all the secrets and lies are NEVER gonna change that....and I think that alone threatens a lot of infertile adoptive parents because we did what they couldn't....and that's get pregnant, feel that child grow inside us, care for it, feed it, talk to it and love it. Many of you won't like my words, but right now I'm not liking the words of some folks, myself. Thanks for reading my blog.

Love, peace and harmony to us all.

Happy Birthday to my son....another year has passed.

27 years and 11 hours ago I was in the nursery at West Penn Hospital, having been taken there by the charge nurse against the orders of my mother and the doctor, looking down at the face of my perfect little son. The head full of dark brown hair, the gray eyes that had already begun to darken, the perfect little face, hands and toes....it was the only chance I had to hold my son and to look into his eyes. I told him at that moment that I would find him one day...that nothing would stop me until I found him.

27 years and 11 hours ago my life changed, once again, permanently. Working hard, especially over the last 7 years or so, to change my life has been fruitful although is far from finished. I have 2 beautiful, amazing little girls whom I love more than life itself. I have a husband whom, for 10 years, has been tolerant, encouraging and (tries to be) understanding while standing next to me allowing me to grow and change. I like to refer my transformation over the last 7 years as my transference from the darkness into the light. I am now in the light and shine brightly while trying to share my light with anyone and everyone that crosses my path. My children share my light. I know that, somewhere, my son shares that same light. I often pray that we will be drawn to him BY that very light. My prayers have gone unanswered thus far.

Search angels have condemned me for wanting to pay Kinsolving to find my son, yet none of them have come forward with any rational ideas on how to search above and beyond what has been done up till now. Our website, www.findmyson.org, has been up and running since early last month, as requested by the newspaper reporter that suggested that it be mentioned in his article (but did not do so) has not received even ONE donation. I had really high hopes that the site would be a success and that those that could afford to donate would her our plea and help us find this man after 27 years.....but, again, I was mistaken.

As a first mom that's searching and continuously hits proverbial brick walls I often wonder why God continues to punish me....what have I done? Why am I forced to continue to carry this load? My life has changed so dramatically since I was a child....I stopped hating the world because of what happened to me....because 'they' took my son.....and started to forgive and release all of those negative, blocking thoughts and emotions...but here I am...here WE are...my family included here, still waiting for him to be found.

I am so grateful and happy for those that I've watched search and have found the missing loved one for whom they searched. I've felt the joy and emotional rush for those that have announced their connections. We would, so much, like to share OUR joy for finding the missing piece to our hearts. Perhaps my desperation has grown over the last 72 hours, arriving to the date of his birth. Perhaps the sadness has creep-ed back into my life temporarily because yet another year has passed. I know that I will never stop until we have found him; whether he wants to know us or not. At least my daughters will know if their brother exists.....as will I. This may sound strange to some of you without direct experience within this area but I love my son. I always have. I always will. There has not been ONE DAY that has passed in the last 27 years that I have not thought and wondered about his health, safety and well being. I am a mom. I am a first mom. I am HIS mom....no piece of paper could ever change that.

The seas have calmed.

So it's been a couple of weeks of finding our center so this, too, could pass. I'm disgusted by the local media; no one wanted to publish the story about a con man working within the local community. Well, when something happens that's bad enough TO get the attention of the local media then we'll be right there, front and center, to let the community members know that it was the media that decided not to warn them of the sicko that was preying on folks in our community. We contacted every newspaper and news station within a 75 mile radius; no one cared. "Freedom of speech" my a*s!!!

Back to the search. No one's donated anything to our site...which surprises me....Casey Anthony gets donations to her prison commissary account every week AND SHE KILLED HER DAUGHTER!!! I guess that I, as a searching first mom, am not worthy enough because I haven't done anything illegal or because I'm not asking for money to buy bigger breasts...hmmmm. Society makes you wonder sometimes, doesn't it??

So there are a couple of new people helping me with my search now.....we've even gotten some information offered to us by a spiritual medium!! My kids are starting to heal and it's getting easier to bring up the subject of searching again.

One of the things that bothers me the most about all of this is that we, as first moms, are judged by those that don't even know who we are. We are hated by children that have never even known us because of lies told to them by 'others.' Why are we looked at, by the obvious majority, as 'monsters' that our children had to be 'rescued' from? Weren't we the ones that chose to carry these children to term without regard to what it would do to our psyches, bodies, reputations or social lives rather than to end the pregnancy??? Does that really sound like something a 'monster' would do? Why don't many people stop to wonder what it's done to us, as women, as human beings, to have these children taken away from us with no means of future contact? Do 'they' really believe that we 'forget' about these kids after they're taken away from us?

Now I know that there are women on the opposite end of the spectrum; those whom want to avoid any contact with their children. I can't even BEGIN to understand that state of mind. How unhealthy THAT must be. How badly I wish my son would come knocking on my door or call my phone.....only to hear that those children that have searched and found have been shut down by the very woman that gave them life. There's no way I'll ever understand that.

So we're off and searching again. Still shamefully begging for donations to www.findmyson.org. I won't stop searching until we find him. As long as there's breath in my body. Whomever you are...wherever you are.....my beautiful, wonderful son....I love you...I have since the day I realized you were growing inside me.