My mom died a month ago, I almost went to jail and I found her baby brother the day after she died…..

Mom passed 4 days before her 78th birthday party. It was horrible, distressing, and not what I thought. She had been living in a local assisted living facility for 2 years. She chose Hospice in October of 2017 when her kidneys failed because of the medicine needed for her heart failure and lung disease. She refused dialysis and anything further.

She was doing pretty good the week before she died. On the Thursday, she called bingo. On Friday, I noticed she was air hungry and called her hospice nurse, and we switched to a partial non rebreather mask. We ate ( picked ) at food in the dining room on Friday. Saturday she seemed weaker and her handwriting had changed. The occasional jerks of her arms and hands were becoming very frequent and she kept tossing whatever she was trying to hold. Sunday, we had awful weather, with tornados. She had either a stroke or TIA that day. She also aspirated some juice. I gave her double breathing treatments. I kissed her after feeding her dinner and put her to bed. Monday I went back early. I found her in a recliner, with blood on her cheek and all of her beading on the floor. She couldn’t talk much. I didn’t find out who moved her and why. I assumed she had a seizure and bit her tongue. I cleaned her up and called the hospice nurse to come.

Here is where it all went to hell. My children and husband were there. Hospice was there. Mom would only say ” it’s alright ” over and over. Her mouth was drooping.

Suddenly, administrator and ” nurse ” entered her room. I told them to get out. They refused. They start making up policies they wouldn’t show us. ( Fake lies ). They wanted me to sign a paper saying my mom gave herself all of her meds !?!? What ?? I refused. I told them I wouldn’t lie , forge or lose my nursing license because of them. Mom could do nothing at this time. Mind you , she had been in hospice for 5 months! They suddenly want to dictate what we do ?

SO , they called the police on us. The officer was kind and said he ” didn’t see anything ” out of order. I left that night because they made me.

Next morning, Tuesday, I’m curled up in her hospital bed , playing her music and kissing her. Adult Protective Services’s comes. They asked to speak to us outside of her room. We all refused. I wasn’t leaving her for a second. She died Tuesday night at 5:07. A crematory came for her as was her wishes. I was broken. It didn’t stop there. Wednesday morning the crematory called me. My mom had been picked up by the state crime lab !! They were accusing me of hurting her. I was destroyed by this. I was terrified. I have seen too many shows where innocent people go to jail. Autopsy is something we don’t do because of our religion, unless there is a crime. The death certificate was issued and said she died of natural causes.

They ( the ALF ) did all of this because we didn’t like them or their care. They did it out of hatred and evilness. Hospice was wonderful, they formed a cocoon of safety around our family and mom.

Let me be clear. Mom took her own meds until she stroked. Starting on Monday, hospice became constant care and they gave the meds. Morphine, fentanyl and other drugs.

I was afraid to be left alone. I didn’t know if the police were coming. My husband and son constantly stayed with me. The terror and fear lasted a week. I was also grieving my mom.

The day after she died , I received an email from AncestryDNA. Close family, 1667 shared segments. Who was this ? It was her baby brother she never knew of and he didn’t know he was adopted at age 70! I had found her family about 6 years ago , but no one knew of this brother. Mom would have loved to meet him.

So , that’s where I’ve been. Trying to figure out how to live without her. I haven’t gone through her things yet. I sleep with her quilt and her keys. This is the hardest thing I’ve done. I miss you Mom.

2018 was the year that Hope died ….

Huge long deep sigh. The New Year has come and gone and I don’t do resolutions. I do look back and see what 2018 brought. Though it was and remains extremely painful, I grew. The last time I cried was when Baby O was born last year. He’s my fifth grandchild I’ll never know. In the last two weeks, both D and R had birthdays. I’m grateful she allows me to watch their life. Too many of us can’t do even that.

It was agonizing when I first felt the shift of truly believing her no about meeting me. For some reason, my heart finally accepted that is my reality. Numbness took over , probably a safety thing. No matter how many times she rebuffed me , I held on to hope for life.

Slowly, painfully , I believed everything she said. I realized my many mistakes and wished I had approached reunion differently. I didn’t know what I do now back then. It’s been 10 years since the first no , and her being a wife and mother didn’t change her mind as so many told me she would.

Trauma therapy has helped tremendously. I learned that only I have the power to react to something. I chose not to. She has every right to refuse me. She didn’t choose any of this. I discovered that I was acting like a Privileged Adoptive Parent. I felt she was mine. Realizing that was a type of ownership, filled me with shame. She owes no one a thing. She has a right to decide who fits in her life and who doesn’t.

She’s beautiful, happy , funny , and a lot like me , though I’m sure she’d disagree. She’s a fabulous mom of 5 amazing children. She is strong in faith and always does everything to perfection.

I don’t think it’s possible to ” get over it “. It’s more a matter of acceptance. She will always be my daughter and I’ll love her forever. But , relationships can’t be one sided. It takes both people to be brave Enough to take the chance that something wonderful could happen.

I see her post on many things I want to comment on. She wonders where this and that came from. I doubt she even thinks of me. That’s okay. She’s a busy mom , leader in her church and business owner. She needs to be totally present for her family.

My raised daughter is in a wonderful reunion with her. I’m beyond grateful. I do wish she’d contact her brother. But , I’m sure she has her reasons.

This month starts my season of reliving losing her. Of waited for the rescue that never came. The countdown to something I never thought would truly happen. I believed with all of my heart I’d keep her. I was in the minority of never wanting to go into labor.

I decided this past year to pour every bit of love I felt into my raised children, her full siblings. I realized that by focusing so much on her , I might be making them feel they weren’t Enough. I had to break the cycle. Adoption affects generations. My parents are adopted.

I spit into tubes and sent them in. I wanted to know who I was. So many children of adoptees don’t know. We have many autoimmune illnesses in our family and I wanted to make sure I was ready. We are Jewish , and there are some diseases that run in that. I felt it was my responsibility to get my kids their information.

This year , the pain is different than the last 32 years. I’m not allowing myself to feel. I just turned it off. My husband said this was my best season yet. My therapist will be happy. Yet , she knows I’m just stuffing it inside. I pray it doesn’t all come out.

As I watch my Sisters have beautiful reunions , my heart is happy for them. Yet , inside I feel the usual aloneness, being one of the few that doesn’t get it. I think a total disconnect is happening.

This has been one of my problems. I overthink everything. I had imagined for years what our reunion would be like. Balloons at the airport, hugs , tears , peace. As I watch my Sisters do reunion, I saw that you never really get them back. Too much lost time. Too many hurts.

So , getting to the point , 2019 will be a year of giving all of my love and attention to those that do love me. I have always loved them , but I see my pain has been hard on them. For that , I’m sorry. I make no promises if I fall. I need to remember that it’s just s bad day , not forever.

I’m forever grateful for all that listened as I sobbed and always thought of me. I know it can be very draining.

I’m taking up photography. My daughter gave me a camera that is really nice. I’m hoping I can become good enough to do justice to things.

Both of my raised children are starting new jobs and I’m proud as can be. They are kind , thoughtful, and patient with me.

So , I wish you a loving wonderful year. You deserve it and you are Enough. Please believe me. Don’t listen to the poison of your past.

Thank you for supporting me. I couldn’t do this without you.

ILUTM ❤️❤️❤️.

I’ll Leave before I give you a chance to leave me again……

I’ve always been a huge defender and believer of the Truth. It may be painful, ugly , or beautiful and warm. The Truth has many versions, and I think that’s what humans mess up on so often. My truth and your truth about the same event will probably be quite different from one another. Neither is lying or attempting to deceive , but , the differences can be enormous.

Truth is so much perception. Can any of us truly know what the other is actually feeling and thinking ? I think in rare cases that happens. I think the majority of people tell how they felt at that moment and it evolves. Our truth compounds with the reactions of others and our own deep seeded fears and regrets.

This statement can be read two very different ways. The first being that someone is predictable or steadfast. The second , that the person holds no value in their word or actions.

It’s interesting to see where each of us falls on this line and if it’s even consistent. If may be that there is one thing they are ashamed of and their truth waffles a lot on what they believe happened. It may feel too unsafe to speak it. Or , they may think no one believes them.

That brings us to trust. Do you trust someone with your heart and soul? Would you allow them to enter the darker parts of your mind and feel confident they wouldn’t run as fast as possible? I think it’s a different type of trust than say a surgeon or lawyer. Personally, I trust very few with everything. This life has taught me that people are going to choose what’s best for themselves over actual events.

I scoff when people are wronged yet cling to the phrase ” The truth always comes to light “. Because, it simply doesn’t. It can be uncomfortable, frightening, too painful, or even inconvenient to know what Truly happened.

So I ask you this … is your truth a lie because of perception? Can their be multiple truths to the exact same event ? I think so. What someone meant to convey may be interpreted a thousand different ways. That’s the rub. We develop our version of truth from our experiences. And , we share millions of experiences throughout our life. They shape our thoughts of self , the world, fairness and grief.

One of my often used words is abandonment. I see it nearly everywhere and no longer am shocked by it. Like it or not , my worth is more commonly than not carved by the why , how , and when I’m abandoned. I’ll try to make myself small and invisible. I’ll be as quiet as possible. No need to call anyone out on it. That would be a waste of effort. People simply are who they are and their promises are like blowing on a dandelion. By the way , I still close my eyes and wish when I’m holding one.

I promised myself many decades ago that nothing would ever hurt me like that did and it hasn’t. As I’ve grown older, I forgive much more freely. I expect nothing. And , I silently watch people I love drift away. I will not fight to have someone stay or love me.

It’s interesting to note that my feelings of not being enough are the root of it. How or why would I try to convince you I’m enough to love when I don’t love myself? Just another self fulfilling prophecy or the type of people I’m drawn to ? It’s a mixture I’m sure.

I’m an old soul that’s very tired of the hurt , chaos and events that occur in our lives. I dream of a world where people are completely genuine. No rose colored glasses are allowed.

I haven’t found the Old Soul support group yet and I doubt I will. ” There isn’t a perfect life Wyatt , just life.” I seek no perfection, only kindness and loyalty. More times than not , it’s the little things people do that matter much more than the flashy. Those little things can both fill or empty your heart.

I Rescued a kitten and it triggered me ….

We recently got a kitten from someone that showed her on FB. She’s beautiful and we adore her. But , all the words triggered all the adoption crap. “Saving, Rescuing, Adopting ” all tasted like salt to my mouth.

I thought about the kitty’s mom. I thought she was going through trauma. I felt like a bad person because I took her.

Words have such power. And , adoption trauma affects every aspect of my life. I searched for other words to announce her to my friends. I think I settled with “got”. The rest seemed so wrong. They were the words and fairytale people believe about human adoption, or as I know it , human trafficking.

This meme made me think of all of my Sisters that feel they are the second choice. That they are supposed to live a life of gratitude for being ” saved “. This may seem strange to many but adoption does that to me. In Adoptionland we live a life of loss , myths, lies , abandonment and grief. I worried that sweet baby Bell would feel abandoned. I also thought how pets stay with their mothers for 6-8 weeks until they are separated. Humans get a day.

This is Tinkerbelle Rachel , and she’s precious. She’s been a joy while dealing with my mom in hospice. But , I feel like I did something wrong. She was abandoned or maybe her mama got hurt. I wondered if she was looking for her.

This my friends is inside the thoughts of a person with PTSD, Anxiety and Major Depression. Not pretty. But, completely honest. The woulda, coulda, shouldas never stop.

Recycle love ? What does that even mean? I’m working so hard on changing my thoughts but it is hard. I don’t know if I’m even capable of thinking differently because I know the truth about human adoption, selling babies.

I’ve ” rescued ” ( ick ) many pets and love them dearly. We should not go to breeding mills because that’s wrong.

The parallels are all there. Adopt from foster care if you must adopt. How do pets feel about their name being changed so many times ? Do they fear that they will be discarded again?

Friends, adoption changes you. It makes one see things so differently than others. Am I damaged? Absolutely. Just wanted you to have a glimpse in the mind of the residents of Adoptionland.

Forever Goodbyes Are All I’ve Known…..

My mom was in the hospital all weekend. The time for her to leave has come and I’m doing this with anything, but grace. I’m struggling, drowning, sobbing, and falling apart.

I’m horrible with goodbyes. Ever since I lost my first daughter to adoption, goodbyes terrify me. When my raised children were going on visitation with their dad , if they were going to camp or to explore the world like my raised daughter, I fall apart. The trauma of losing my daughter has distorted my sense of safety.

People don’t come back. You don’t get what you lost and there is NO do over. It is what it is and I’m horrible at grief. I think because of c-ptsd , I process everything at its worst.

I’m grateful for both myself and my mom I forgave her. That was a gift to both of us. But, losing her now is destroying me. Just another person I love leaving. Abandonment is in every part of me.

Loss is so hard to explain because it covers so much of my life. I lost myself so long ago , that it physically hurts to lose someone.

My Aimovig isn’t helping this week. Worst migraine of my life. No amount of anything is a balm. I have a million things to say , yet , can’t think clearly enough to convey them.

Just know I feel confused, lost , alone and triggered. I haven’t processed what it will be like without her here. Too painful. Hospice hopefully will help us all through this.

I hope I one day get to the place in the meme. I don’t want to die. That’s about all I’ve got. I suppose it’s something.

People hurting should turn a color so others know. Grief should be seen and acknowledged. But , I know better than that.

Tiny little scissors…

I had a panic attack tonight. I’m thinking the combo of herb and Hagen Daes curtailed a lot of it. My heart is still racing. I’m irritable. But , I can breathe. That is enough.

I kept seeing these today. The bag was on the counter and I didn’t really look at them. They are my mothers ” don’t touch” scissors. When I was young she has many pairs. They were all marked with their purpose. Sewing, cutting , gardening, all known as untouchable.

Rathe would come if one was missing. For someone as completely disorganized as her , scissors were like gold.

My mom is crafty. She can paint , draw , sew , and decorate. All shiny flimsy things to someone as concrete as myself. My handwriting looks like a serial killer or doctor… I’m in the medical field so that is ok. I have one crafty talent; I can cook my ass off. That was learned by default as my brother and I were neglected and I didn’t have a choice. I read cookbooks at 10 to try to feed him. We survived, though never thrived.

As mom gets closer to death , I’m finding these things all over the house. Things that have annoyed me most of my life are suddenly precious. I wonder how if hoarders start like this. Flimsy faded recipes for jello she couldn’t make , letters to people in her beautiful handwriting that thankfully, my daughters got from her. J has my handwriting. Pictures she’s painted over the years remain.

Every. Single. Thing. As seen on TV clutters and pack my drawers. . Everything was ( is ) special and interesting to her. I don’t have a single picture on the wall .. though in my defense, I’ve only lived in this house 19 years. Decorating always reminded me of my childhood and I try to avoid that. Home was a place of appearances, not feelings. As if you fancy something up enough, you’d be enough. It didn’t work that way.

My parents are Adoptees and they brought their baggage with them. Then , they inflicted it on my brother and me. It wasn’t their fault. They didn’t know. Easy to say now at past 50.

I’ve been up all night trying , as usual , to find any value in me. Still elusive. So , I’ll sit on the coach with a pounding head and see my therapist in a few hours to tell her I’m going to be without insurance soon. I’m sure it will go well. My mind is racing. I need to order all of my meds now. I need to pay bills with Monopoly money. I need a vacation. Or , a nice stay in the hospital.

I’ll leave you with this ; When did having a nervous breakdown go out of vogue ? Gone are the days you could fall apart and someone would catch you.

Love to all. I’m still here. I have a pretty good record of surviving the unserviceable.

This is Sarge. My constant. I love him. A Belgian Malinois. He’s snoring in my lap.