Sunday, September 18, 2011

Two Things

Thing one...

Friday night I sat four hours for my new tattoo. I had it placed on my left side over the ribs. They asked me if I was sure I wanted it in such a painful locations. I assured them I would be fine. The first three hours were a piece of cake, and everyone commented on how well I was doing, and how easy I was to tattoo. During the fourth hour, my nerves were so stimulated that the pain part kicked in. With one hour left to complete the color, we decided to call it quits. I was tearful because I felt like I had wimped out. The artist assured me that I had done very well, and said he should put me up on the wall for how well I had done.  

I've been trying to decide on a new tattoo for about six years but never came up with an idea that I really liked. Then, one day last week it hit me. I wanted a phoenix. It was perfect because I am a phoenix. I'll allow a few of my skeletons out of my closet to assist in understanding the previous claim. 

When I was 16, my family and I traveled to Hawaii to celebrate my great uncles birthday. It would be the first time I had met many of my cousins. While there I met a second cousin, who was about four and a half years older than me. He had traveled in Europe, and I was about to be an exchange student there. We hit it off immediately, and being a teenager in Hawaii I chose to hang out with him instead of being stuck with my parents. BIG mistake. July 4, 1996 he got me drunk on vodka, at least six shots (that's as many as I remember) and took advantage of my black out state. He then traveled to California and pressured me until my will gave way on August 7, 1996, and I slept with him again, many times. I felt such shame because had I called the police in Hawaii maybe I could have proved he raped me. But then I was weak and "consented" when he stayed with my parents and me later. I held it inside for the year I was an exchange student, and for many months after returning home. It finally came out and I was questioned by a male police officer, alone in a room at my house. Because my cousin "refused to speak to the DA without an attorney" they dropped the case. My parents never contacted the DA to question this or anything. I spent many years trying to cope, mostly in self destructive ways. I hung out with social rejects, misfits, other depressed youth. I smoked pot, did ecstasy a lot at raves, dropped acid, and inhaled nitrous oxide. I slept with a lot of guys, usually very quickly, before they had a chance to take it, I gave it up. I cried, wrote teen angst poetry, focused on ways to die, fearing the pain of dying. I finally hit bottom and got myself into therapy. I moved away from San Francisco where drugs were all to easy to get ahold of, and transfered to a small school in Wisconsin. I flourished, enjoyed college, finally started dating women, as I had once intended on doing prior to my long slutty run with guys. I still struggled with depression, and finally found the correct medication to help stabilize my mood. I finished college, went to nursing school, earned my masters, and met my wonderful, supportive wife. I struggled with weight issues due to stress (dropped well below 100 pounds) but finally gained the weight back. Now, I'm dealing with IF, and the depression that comes along with that. No need to go into that here, because this blog is about this "dark" time.
If that's not a phoenix, I don't know what is. And now, it will be forever on my left side.

Thing two...
The Brain has sent a letter to her sister asking her to consider carrying a child for us. I am both nervous and excited. I don't expect her to say yes, but I'm proud of my wife for at least asking. It's a door that can never be opened if we don't at least try. I hope, and pray that she will at least consider it, and ask to discuss it. I will love her if she says yes, and I will love her if she says no.

Patiently waiting, content and a little sore from having needles drug through my skin...

Monday, September 12, 2011

Walking Backwards

Great! They had me signed up for a foster/adoption orientation on a day that I'm working the night before and that night, so I won't be able to go. There is one this Saturday that I thought I would be able to attend, but the lady at DCSF says it's in the high desert (even though online it's at my hospital). So, unless I can switch shifts with someone, or take a vacation day, we won't be going to learn about foster/adopt for a while. Yay! Another step in the wrong direction.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

It It Selfish to Adopt?

Maybe I'm over thinking things, but that's what I do. I don't like to make big life changing decisions without dissecting every aspect as possible. This week I've been considering if it is fair to a child for the Brain and I to even adopt a child. When I say fair, I really mean fair to the child.

When I was a little girl I was always being picked on and made fun of. One of the older girls complemented me on my outfit and, since I was terrified for her because she used to make fun of me, I didn't say anything. So, she called me stuck up and that was just more fuel for her fire. I was made fun of for being shy, for not having "in" clothes, for having hairy arms, for walking funny (not sure why), for being smart, for having a big nose, for being Jewish, and anything else people could think of. For a while, nobody would talk to me except this one girl Raquel, and that's because she didn't speak English so nobody talked to her either. This was because when all the girls in the school stood in a circle and sang "Jesus loves me" I excused myself and told them I didn't believe in Jesus. Rather than asking me about Judaism, I was shunned. I was made fun of at my synagogue during Sunday school and Hebrew school, so even that place wasn't safe.

I bring this up because even though I was raised in an upper middle class, traditional (mother and father who never divorced), educated (mom has a masters and dad has a PhD), Caucasian household, I suffered as a child because of all the bullying at school. Granted, my parents and teachers never intervened. I can honestly say most of my childhood I spent thinking about how I couldn't wait to grow up, make something of myself and forget about all the people who were making my life hell and would most likely never make anything of themselves. I'm not really getting to the point.

My point is this. Is it fair for us to bring an adopted child into our home, no matter how loving we are? We know that any child we have, adopted or from donor sperm will have issues they will need to deal with. They will have two moms and be raised Jewish. In addition to these issues, a child we adopt through the county will most likely be of a different race than ourselves and the adoption will be a closed one. They will have to deal with abandonment issues and whatever else adoption brings up within a child and the issues of being in a biracial household. This just seems like a lot to ask one kid to deal with. Are we being selfish? How do I justify wanting to love a child by asking them to be part of a Jewish (but also Christian), lesbian, biracial, adoptive home.

Like I said before, I could be over thinking this, but it would be irresponsible of me to pretend these issues don't exist.

Persistently worried,