My Reaction

I wake up every morning thinking today is the day my birth mother and I will find each other. Then I think about what my reaction will be when the reunion actually happens. Will I be angry? Will I run into her arms praying that the hole in my heart will automatically be healed? Will we talk non stop about how our lives have been without each other?

What if she's deceased? What will I do then? Will I be angry at all of the people who held the keys to my search and told me too late to get to know my mother? I hate to be consumed with my finding myself but this friends, is what a lot of adoptees go through on a day to day basis. Just thought you'd like to know.

Maybe I'm just a Sleigh ride away from finding myself.

The Word Adoption (Adult Content)

When we look at someone we view them simply by what we see. How pretty or handsome they are, how they dress, the expression on their faces, where they live, what they drive and the list goes on and on. How a person looks however, gives no clue as to what or who the person really is. It's when we can sit and hold a conversation with people we really gain insight into what makes them who or what they are.

I'm adopted. You wouldn't know it by looking at me, but sit and talk with me for more than a half hour and I will tell you that I'm adopted and looking for my birth family. I tell everyone I can because I never know when someone may have the information I'm looking for. I remember coming out of surgery years ago, and the nurse responsible for getting me up and making me walk gasped when she saw me. She stated I looked exactly like someone she knew. I was still suffering from the affects of anesthesia but I remember distinctly saying in one breath, I'm adopted.. I was born on (I gave her the date)... I was born in Indianapolis and my name was Infant Sleigh. I prayed she would come back into the room once I gained my good senses so she could tell me who it was I looked like. But of course, it was her long weekend to be off and I would never see her again. This is the way I live my life, praying and hoping someone will recognize me or have the information I need to move forward in finding myself.

But now remember there is a downside to telling people you are adopted. It becomes your title. It labels you and the word doesn't always feel so good. The word adoption can sometimes have the same connotation to a child as bitches and whores to a woman or boy or nigger to an African American man. It's been said that we are what we learn and when you grow up with titles placed on you, you find yourself limited in what you can become. Most adoptees have been able to shake off the title and move forward. Some however stay paralyed and can't focus on anything but finding their biology.

I'm still praying and hoping that I'm just a Sleigh ride away from finding myself.

Disappointed Daily

Okay, you're a small child and it's Christmas Eve. You can hardly sleep in anticipation of what Santa Claus is going to bring. Even if your parents have warned you that things are tight this year and there may not be much under the tree, you just can't imagine that God, Santa Claus, your parents, somebody, anybody will disappoint you. You run for the tree early Christmas morning and much to your chagrin, there are a few clothing items, mainly socks and underwear along with a couple small toys. You were warned but just could not believe that all involved were derelict in their duty to you.

As an adult, my husband and I give each other gifts all year long. We have chosen not to wait for Christmas, we've decided to celebrate God's blessings to us all year long. However, I still have to admit, I'm always a little disappointed to wake up on Christmas morning and there is no surprise awaiting me. In fact, it isn't until we go to sleep Christmas night that it actually dawns on me that I won't be getting anything.

That is the same feeling I have as an adoptee. I awaken every morning thinking today may be the day my birth mother will find me or I will find her.

Maybe I'm just a Sleigh ride away from having my Christmas.

Every Adoption is Different

Just as every birth is different, every adoption is different. You should never attempt to tell me how I feel or should feel about being adopted. You have no idea. Especially since day to day my feelings change. I have had people tell me that I shouldn't look for my biology because I was so loved by my adoptive parents. I know they loved me but like Tina Turner sang "what's love got to do with it?" I love them too and appreciate all they did for me. But those feelings were reserved for them. Those are not the same feelings I have for my birth mother. Loving my adoptive parents cannot measure to the bond I shared for 9 months in utero with my birth mother.

There is no politically correct way to discuss adoption; you have your opinions and I have mine. You can listen to me, you can even give a few pearls of wisdom. I don't mind hearing about how great your adoption was, how great your adoptive parents were, how great you turned out but excuse me if I listen to those discussions with a deaf ear.

You will always find adoptees who just love everything about life and think being adopted was the greatest thing since sliced bread, but you will also hear from those who need to know more, want to know more, deserve to know more. Maybe L. Sleigh will come forth to give me the information I'm seeking.

Just a Sleigh ride away from finding myself.

Lost Soldiers

We've been losing our greatest by the handfuls! But the recent deaths of Rev. Benjamin Hooks and Dorothy Height have hit me the hardest. My parents were lifetime members of the NAACP and I can remember them speaking about Rev. Hooks. My father who was diagnosed with cancer after he retired, had to have at least 20 major surgeries to try to get rid of the disease that was robbing him of his life. When we went to the hospital, the doctors and nurses could not wait to tell us about how Daddy was forever trying to recruit them to become members of the NAACP. When they wheeled Daddy into the operating room for each one of his surgeries, he would tell the attendees: doctors, nurses, surgical techs, etc that they couldn't work on him until they signed up to join the NAACP. He thought so much about the organization, he wanted everyone to belong.

My mother and I were both members of the National Council of Negro Women. Mary McLeod Bethune and Dorothy Height were two of my mother's role models. She in turn became the role model for hundreds of young women in and around the state of Indiana.

Both of these soldiers were instrumental in our home. They will be missed. R.I.P. Rev. Hooks and Dorothy Height.

The Word "Real"

There is no politically correct way to talk when you are an adoptee or when you talk to an adoptee. Everyday language does not always apply. "Real" is one of those words that seems to pop up quite often. Are those your "real" parents? Are you their "real" daughter? Do you know your "real" mother/father? I even got the question, is that your "real" hair? What's up with that?

I don't like it, but I understand it. However, the fact that people would ask those questions of a little girl who really hadn't grasped the whole adoption idea and obviously would not have had answers, now makes me shudder. Now of course, if they asked me those questions now, I would know how to respond. I once worked with a woman who had adopted a son. She and her husband didn't want the son to know that he was adopted. That would've been okay until the fellow started being asked those questions and at the same time was being told that he looked just like someone who lived close by. Totally unprepared for the the questions or the feelings those questions brought, he had a major breakdown and for years didn't have anything to do with the parents who gave him their last name. By the way, the person everyone said he looked like happened to be his identical twin brother! Imagine that.

What I want adoptive parents to understand is that you have to arm an adoptee with all the tools necessary to protect their feelings. People in the city where you live know you adopted because they never saw you pregnant. But you want the adoptee to act like everything is normal. Teach your adopted child about the words they will hear, especially the word "real"

Was Popeye an Adoptive Father?

I loved the cartoon Popeye! I loved it that once the bumbling Popeye ate his spinach, he could conquer almost any and everything. His relationship with girlfriend Olive Oyl was so sweet and he was so protective of her against his arch rival Bluto. I can remember almost to the day when baby Swee'Pea came onto the scene.

Now, I have the following questions: Did Olive Oyl get pregnant by Bluto and Popeye protected her and her reputation by raising Swee'Pea as his own son? Did Olive Oyl get pregnant by Popeye? Was Swee'Pea actually Olive Oyl's son or was he adopted even by her? I wonder if the creator of Popeye, Elzie Crisler (E.C.) Segar understood the relevence of his message back in 1919.

Once Swee'Pea grew up, I'm sure he had lots of questions about his biology. I can hear it now as Popeye explained to him "You yam what you yam."

So the message today is, simply put, I yam what I yam! Have a great day!!