Really… you want my opinion?

I was recently asked to comment on a newly acquired piece of art. The question came straight out of left field. I almost swallowed my tongue as she looked me square in eye and said, “Don’t you just love it?” It was a giant red rose and bright yellow butterfly permanently painted on the back of her calf. I smiled and said, “Those are beautiful colors.” In my head I was screaming… “Oh my God, how will she ever wear a skirt?” I can also assure her of one thing, that tattoo will eventually hinder her career path.

The reality is… she did not need to know my opinion. The ink on her leg wasn’t going to magically disappear with my candor. I said to myself the age old quote, "If you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all." Considering the circumstances, my words were not going to help the situation.

If you know me well, you know body ink is not my thing. And cats... I hate cats! Don't judge me because everybody has a list of things they absolutely dislike. If you don't have a list or even a few dislikes, God Bless you and Mother Theresa.

Below is a lengthy list of topics. I have opinions on each. Just for kicks, I also made a list of things that bring me joy. The subtitles loathe and adore speak volumes about my feeling towards each subject.

Keep in mind, I write this for my son. I will not always be around to guide him but it's my hope that these values stick. At the very least, I hope they keep him on his given path. Either way, I am sure they will bring a smile to his face in years to come.

As gentle blog readers skim the following lists please remember the following 2 important things, I'm entitled to my opinions and this is MY BLOG! 

________________________________________
My Top 15…

Things I Loathe

• Football (Regardless of the continent it’s play on)
• Self-Righteous Americans (The American way is not the ONLY way)
• Video Games (Complete waste of time)
• Tattoos and Piercings (So many reasons)
• The Armed Forces (Really…noble occupation?)
• Guns and Knives (Real, fake and/or toy)
• Smoking (Science is on my side)
• Skate Boarding (Danger)
• Cats (Allergic)
• Motor Cycles (Danger)
• Drinking alcohol in excess (1 drink is social and 2 can make for lots of trouble)
• Self-absorbed inconsiderate people (In other words… Idiots)
• Rodeos (Animal cruelty and again… Danger)
• Trashy People (They come with and without money and in a variety of colors)
• Snakes (Creepy)

Things I adore…

• Triple lined drapes (They hang wonderfully)
• People (And… the stories they tell)
• Ironed bed linens (Sleep like a baby)
• Manners (In public, in private and through the post)
• Classic Clothing (Always in style and gets you in the best places)
• A good sense of humor (Makes everything better)
• Excellent Customer Service (No need for explanation)
• History (Learning from the past)
• Bolognese Sauce (Especially with handmade pasta)
• New experiences (The best way to learn)
• Cleanliness (Germaphobic)
• Boxwood Hedges (Looks crisp spring, summer, winter or fall)
• Follow your passion (It will lead you to your destiny)
• The ones you love (Make your life worthwhile)
• Pride (It comes from within and money can NEVER buy it)

Quicker than a blink of an eye!

The Target trip always falls onto my shoulders. The monthly order is consistently the same... two cases of Up and Up diapers, two Diaper Genie rings, one case of Up and Up wipes, one bottle of baby wash and allot of other crap. It amazes me how an $80.00 essential purchase always turns into a $300 buying splurge!

As I tossed a bundle of undershirts into my basket; a lonely canvas messenger bag caught my eye. The bag seemed to be lost in a shuffle of merchandise. I pulled the brown canvas bag with faux leather trim from the middle of a men's denim fixture. 

My first thought was... just the right size. I had not considered replacing Brase's big diaper bag until that very moment. Then I froze with thoughts of buying a trunk for Brase's first sleep over camp. Where has my baby gone! 

We weaned early from pacifiers and bottles.  Brase's crib was long gone by 16 months. Diapers will also soon disappear by summer's end. The one thing I continued to hang onto is the big baby bag. It holds everything and has become my security blanket over the last two years.

My baby has become a little boy. The revelation comes with mixed feelings. The first two years have been wonderful but hard on many accounts. I loved the baby stage but do not miss the feedings, sleepless nights and endless tasks that come with babies. On the other hand, these precious moments have pasted quicker than a blink of an eye. 

We have discussed a sibling for Brase but that is not in the cards. The adoption process and costs alone are daunting. And to be honestly... we are not up for the physical challenge.  

I was the youngest of four and the only boy in my family.  My mother always called me baby. Up until her dying day, I was her baby. I never could understand how a 30 plus year old man could be a addressed as baby. Well... that was until I held my son for the first time.  He will be my baby forever!

Biology 101

All I could say was, “What?” She repeated, “How did you do it?” At this point, I was positive I had missed her initial question. As the school gate slammed, I stopped and regrouped. My brow line narrowed with bewilderment.

I had seen her less than six time over the course of the school year. Her son was in Brase’s class. She was always impeccably dressed in her classic suits and sexy heals. Our encounters were brief and hurried as our professional lives called.

My mind was somewhere else as we passed pleasantries. I was mentally preparing for a mid-morning meeting. I was positive I had missed a phrase with my work related distraction. All I could say was, “Excuse me? Do what?” She quickly responded in her Southern tone, “Your son… he looks like both of you. He has your hair and your husband’s face.” And without another breath it fell from her mouth, “Did you mix it?”

I deal with dumb all the time. I knew, for a fact, she had a master’s degree and held a high level executive position. Her husband was also a partner in a large law firm. She was anything but dumb!

I was taken aback by her lacking knowledge of basic biology. Did she realize a single egg can only be fertilized by a single sperm cell? The shock, from her question, kept me from laughing out loud. My first internal thought was… STUPID! My verbal response was, “I do not think that’s biologically possible.” Then with a slight grin I said, “It was fate.”

I never referenced our adoption in that conversation. I questioned my motive later and reconciled it to… keeping her in the dark. She meant nothing negative by her comment. In actuality, she was passing on a compliment. Mind you, I really like her but her biology facts are a little distorted. When our paths now cross I quietly whisper the southern mantra, “Bless her heart.”

This is not the first time family resemblance has come into question. Many people take in upon themselves and assume our son was conceived through surrogacy. For the record, we are not deaf. We keening hear fellow restaurant patron saying, “Which one does that baby belong to?” That statement is usually followed by, “He looks like that one but the hair?” One day I will have the chutzpah to lean over and say, “It a crapshoot… we don’t even know ourselves!”

I have found little need for comment or correction. The only ones that need our personal family history are those closest to us. Our adoption is not a secret but it is also not a topic of idle chit-chat with strangers. We are not the poster family for the modern adoption movement. I also do not feel compelled to educate the masses.

What I do know is… we met our destiny the day our son was born. Brase’s Filipino and European ancestry was somehow matched with my Irish red headed roots and Jose’s Spanish/Mexican lineage. I find this amazing due to the fact; we originally thought Brase would be one-half African American. The adoption process is always full of surprises.

Through our adoption journey, we realized two very important lessons. If we are patient and persistent our destiny will eventually meet us at the fork in the road. And… our destiny my not take us to our desired destination. Life is filled with amazing adventures and sometime unexpected outcomes!

Dear Mara Rigge (Mara aka Mommy),

Thank you for following Daddy Times Two and taking the time to comment on  my recent post, National Adoption Day .  I greatly appreciate you sharing your point of view.  I encourage you to comment more often as I would like to gain more insight into your personal perspective on adoption.  In addition, I want to know how you fit into the adoption triad.  Are you a adoptee, adoptive parent, birthmother or any combination of the above? 

As for me, the adoptive process has encompassed and shaped my entire life. It has made me who I am today. Adoption saved my son and me from unstable surroundings and endless poverty. I thank my parents for loving me, my son's birthmother/my birthmother for relinquishing us and God for his divine intervention. In addition, I thank the courts and legal system for protecting my son and me from a disruption during or after our adoptive proceedings.

The following list details my interactions with the adoptive process over the course of my life:

• I was adopted at birth through a closed adoption
• I was reunited with my birth parents
• I have buried my Father, Mother and Birthmother 
• I have assisted in reuniting many adoptees and birthmothers
• My partner and I personally experienced the loss of a child through our adoption journey
• We held our adopted son minutes after he was born
• Our family maintains an open adoption agreement with with our son's Birthmother and maternal biological family
• Our family continues to have direct contact with my son's Birthmother

I have come to realize, through the years, that a birth certificate or name does not define me.  It is life's experiences and the people that surround me that shape my world.  I did not ask to be thrown into the world of adoption. It was my fate! I am grateful for every place adoption has lead me.

The most important thing I have learned from my experience is to mindful of Pandora's box.  Original birth certificates and reunions do not bring personal peace.  In actuality, these two things can greatly complicate lives and bring waves of grief.

I wish you well on your personal adoption journey... regardless of the role you have been cast.  I respect you opinion but be mindful that your journey belongs solely to you.  Remember to tread lightly on the path of others.  It is not your place to tell their story or steal their joy. 

Best regards,
Brandon

FYI... viewers/followers can read Mara Rigge's original comment in the highlighted portion below.

"Every time a child is adopted, his/her original birth certificate (the child's truthful documentation of birth) is permanently sealed. He/she is issued a falsified birth certificate called an "amended birth certificate" that lists the adoptive parents as the child's biological parents. This falsifying of an innocent, voiceless child's birth record is discrimination and should be illegal. Do the children know they will NEVER be allowed to possess their truthful birth certificates? Average Joe's serve hard time in federal prison for falsifying identity documents, yet it is done legally all over this country in vital records' offices with the permission of judges and barbaric, antiquated state laws. The United States Constitution is violated every single time a person's birth certificate is sealed and falsified."

Keeping the beat...

Time has escaped between all the numbers in the last 24 months.  The days have become a blurr juggling work, home and breathlessly running after Brase.  I have no time for myself but would not take anything for this time with my son. 

I must report that my favorite moment, in recent weeks, took place during our post dinner dance a-thon.  Adele was streaming through the air as we jumped and swung our bodies around the room.  It was a tender moment when I scooped my little boy up and he laid his head upon my shoulder. Brase then motioned to the kitchen where his Papi' stood.  Brase insisted that Jose' join us as we slowly danced. Jose joined in and our wee one laid his small hands upon our faces.  We smiled and Brase giggled as our bodies swayed to the beat.  This is an amazing time... a time that will only come once.

Desperately Seeking…

On a sweltering August morning we sat in the famous old square. The path was quite and still as she patiently sketched. It was a perfectly serene morning for this artist endeavor.

Her hair fell below her shoulders as the stagnant humidity sucked it up into a wavy curl. The lines of her face were faint but they traced her life. The face was of a woman well beyond her years. Sun spots dotted her hands from endless years of exposure.


She continuously asked me to look forward. You see, I am incapable of sitting completely still. She mixed charcoals and gently stroked the paper. She was perfecting the peachy tone of my skin. Her eyebrows would move up with each movement of her hands. I thought this was a facial gesture I should mimic. In my mind, I thought I would appear younger in the drawing. In the end, a youthful appearance did emerge on paper but my raised eyebrows had little influence on the outcome.

In the shadows of the previous evening, Jose and I briskly strolled by Jackson Square. Over the years, this path has been well worn with our foot steps. We were rushing to our dinner date at a local favorite, Irene’s. The pastel and charcoal drawings caught my eye from afar. They were smooth in appearance and subjects took on a childlike glow. A woman collected her work by sliding the pages into cardboard tubes. She was a new sight upon this old stones street. I was drawn to her and her works of art. Without hesitation, we made a date for the following morning.


The three of us chatted as Jose' and I sat for our double portrait. We shared bits of our lives and became instantly acquainted. It was as if we had known each other for an eternity. We swapped stories about travel and the many wonders of The Big Easy.


In the mists of our chat it was revealed that she was a Birthmother. A vagabond artist of the 60’s and 70’s living in New York and around the country. She relinquished 2 children in hopes of giving them a better life. She was a cross between Joni Mitchell and old school Bette Midler in looks and demeanor. As she shared her life’s story, we laughed and joked. I also noticed something familiar within her deep empty gaze. It was a look I had seen before in my own birthmother’s face.


Her stories were fascinating. She had lived in abandoned buildings and seen many facets of life. Her unconventional ways of living and coping were intriguing and mesmerizing.


The most amazing part was the resilience that resided within her soul. During a bought with homelessness, she began to put a charcoal cross on her forehead. This was not a sign of religious significance but a signal for those that surround her to back off. This tiny cross kept undesirables at bay. Her theory was, “if I appear crazy it will keep all the pimps, junkies and other crazies at a distance.” All in all, her theory worked and she survived that low point of her life.


As years passed, we would run into our charismatic artist and fellow member of the adoption triad. She would sketch sitting on the path of Saint Peter Street. She was a fixture on the outskirts of the famous square and a matriarch among the other artisans.


Our portrait was completed in 1998 and many things have transpired since then in the Crescent City. Jose and I have come and gone countless times to this jewel of the south. It was a second home to us for many years before the hurricane of 2005. It has become a beloved city in our minds but one we abandoned in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.


In the past six years, I have thought of this allusive artist and birthmother often. I walk past her work daily and it reminds of how our paths crossed. I have searched the Internet and called art co-ops throughout the area. It seems she disappeared like the flood waters from the storm.


This summer our family will travel back in time. We want to introduce our son to this quaint European City within the US Boarders. Our plan is to visit our old haunts and the New Orleans we dearly loved. We are also desperately seeking Nancy Davis. She was the unforgettable artist that touched our life and continues to live within our hearts.



Yenta:

one that meddles; also : blabbermouth, gossip
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My little darling had tested me too many times that afternoon.  As I looked into his bright eyes he realized that a different type of insanity was going to quickly unfold.  He realized the harshness of my tone and he quietly snapped back to the realities of our dinner table. A calm came over Brase that extinguished his fiery tantrum.

Mind you, I do not remember exactly what I said.  I am positive the statement contained the words, "Absolutely not!"  These words seem to be my constant mantra, at present.  This statement was probably followed by, "We do not act like this!"

My son's temper is my cross to bear.  You will be forever cursed if your mother has ever spoken the vile words, "I hope your children act exactly as you did as a child."  You see, I am paying my penance. 

I have learned that negotiating does not work at this stage of the game.  If I look Brase in the eyes and lay down the rules he will conform.  It may take an unpleasant tone and a few minutes but the end result is effective.  He has not learned that my bark is much worse than my bite.

I believe I come by this child rearing technique naturally.  I learned it from my WASP mother.  I never remember getting a spanking but I certainly remember my mother's voice echoing from the walls of the ladies lounge.  I always exited our impromptu chats completely composed but obsessed with her every word. 

Brase now sat quietly.  I took a generous bite of my knish and breathed a sigh of relief.  This battle had ended and I was happy to simply finish my meal. 

As I glanced up from my plate, a lady approached from two tables away. Our eyes were conversing before she reached me.  I knew another battle was going to quickly escalate into a full scale war.  She said... "is this your baby?"  Then without another breathe she said..."do you boys need some help?"  Her tone was sharp and impertinent.

This was day 3 of a very long extended weekend.  A weekend that encompassed 1 doctor visit and 4 pharmacy runs.  Our little one had yet another upper respiratory infection brought on by a mystery virus. Brase had also gifted this illness to me.  Fortunately, we were on the downside of this virulent bug.

The stranger persisted with the manners of a bull.  Her smile was strained as she relayed her thoughts on parenting.  Somewhere in her muddled of words the phrase "motherly instinct" shot from her mouth.

I took one deep breathe as my son happily sat playing with a teaspoon. Brase looked at me as he shouted the words "Da, Da, Da!"  You see, he wanted my full attention.

Remember those commercials during the 80's for the brokerage firm E. F. Hutton?  The tag line  was... "When E. F. Hutton talks people listen."  Those commercials always ended with swarms of people eavesdropping on a very private conversation.  At this point I felt like my family had a staring role in one of those short comic/drama episodes. 

As I raised my eyebrows, I remembered my audience.  You see, tonight's dinner theatre presentation was playing out in our favorite local Jewish delicatessen.  This place is where the sick come to eat.  It's the only place in the city that you can find matzo ball soup that comes a close second to your bubbie's.

My script was short but I was the star of the show.  I not so politely declined the services of this overreaching Yenta.  In addition, I gave her some personal thoughts to ponder and interjected a few choice words. I will not repeat exactly what I said because I am not proud of the expletive that rolled off my tongue.  I will say that the woman abruptly excused herself but forgot to apologize.  The one scene act quickly played out.

In the aftermath, Jose face unclenched.  The reality is... I was afraid that my calm partner in life was going to take this lady out.  I have seen him this mad only a handful of times in the last twenty years. 

As the tension eased, I ordered 3 cheese filled blintzes. I justified this treat by saying, "We deserved them after all we had been through."  Jose and I also discussed our latest lessons on communication skills and parenting.

The bottom line... I know my child and I know how to handle him.  I have fed, bathed, rocked and nurtured him since the second of he was born.  He is my son and I do not need a vagina to raise him. 

Overall, people are so kind to our family.  We live in a metropolitan area that encompasses 6.1 million people.  It's a big city with vast diversity and cultures.  On occasion, we run into the town idiot.  It seems this is another cross our non-traditional family must bear from time to time.

Today is her birthday

I ponder her fate.

Wishing flickering candles lit her face.

I wonder if she’s safe.

Hoping joyful songs fill her space.

I pray for her sake.

Remembering her makes me ache.

Where has this little girl gone?

She was known to us as...
Catalina Theresa

Adoption and fostering to adopt each have great pitfalls. They come with no guarantees or promises. You step into each process with a giant leap of faith. You give up time, energy, funds and ultimately control in your quest to become a parent.

Our family’s story ended in happiness. It was a long hard path but a path filled with life lessons. Our story overflowed with joy and grief simultaneously. It was the most enlightening journey we have ever taken.

Looking back, we do not know how we endured all that came our way. In the aftermath of our first loss, we remained in fog for many months. Our life was frozen in time and insurmountable grief. We shuttered our life and became reclusive. Friends wandered away unable to understand our circumstances. It was the greatest loss we have ever experience. It was the loss of our child.

I write this for all those who have experienced this particular type of grief. It’s a loss that is hard for friends and family to wrap their arms around. This is a loss that adoption and foster care agencies look at with a blind eye. It leaves the grief stricken without a place to turn.

We had a daughter for a brief moment. We prayed for her before she was born and continue to hope God’s Grace shines upon her.

The road behind us is our other blog. We used it as a dumping ground for our adoption failures. We open the pages to give perspective to those experiencing the trauma of adoption disruption. The road was rough but we would not have our son if we did not make the entire journey.
http://theroadbehindus.blogspot.com/

In the hospital minutes after Catalina was born.

June 8, 2009 at 7:19 p.m.

Dear Diary...

Entry #1 Friday, November 13, 2009 We met our Birthmother Friday, November 13, 2009. It was a short quick meeting at our adoption agency's office. The Agency's Director facilitated the meeting which took all of 20 minutes. We signed contracts and handled the formalities at hand. Afterwords, we drove Liza (our Birthmother) home.

Entry #2 Saturday, November 21, 2009 It was a date! We took Liza and Myles (her boyfriend) to dinner. We had a wonderful 3 hour meal at a local Italian restaurant. They were charming, graceful and funny. We felt at ease and comfortable with each other. Our discussion focused around music, special interests, favorite things, and future goals. We discussed our desire to have ongoing contact with them and our child's other siblings. It was a wonderful evening to remember.

Entry #3 Thursday, November 26, 2009 Happy Thanksgiving!!
We spoke to Liza over the Thanksgiving holiday. We made plans to get together in about a week. We'll see a movie or do something festive. Liza also invited us to her next doctor appoint on December 8th. Things are going well and we're due in 38 days!


Entry #4 Monday, November 30, 2009 Spoke with Liza via phone. She got back from her Thanksgiving get away and is getting settled back into her apartment. Made a date to get together this Saturday. She wants to get highlights in her hair. We also discussed going to a movie. Everything is going well. Today she is 35 weeks pregnant.

Entry #5 Saturday, December 5, 2009 Liza and I enjoyed the luxuries of a spa day while Jose' and Myles watched football. We ended the day with a meal at a local Vietnamese restaurant. All went well and we all enjoy our time together.

Entry #6 Tuesday, December 8, 2009 I attended Liza's doctor visit. She was officially 36 weeks and 1 day pregnant. We were surprised that she had dilated 3 centimeters. She is beginning to feel discomfort as the baby is in position. This baby will certainly deliver before the January 4th due date! We have another doctor appointment next Tuesday, if she does not deliver sooner. After the appointment, I took Liza to register at the hospital. We also did a little shopping and got a bite to eat. We had a lot of time to talk and bond with one another.

Entry #7 Sunday, December 13, 2009 Today, Jose and I spent some quality time with Liza. Since it is near Christmas, we found an outdoor holiday market complete with ice skaters, hot chocolate and vendor booths. We has a great day together and finished the evening off with a spicy Mexican meal.

Entry #8 Tuesday, December 15, 2009
I went with Liza to her weekly doctor's appointment. She is officially 37 weeks and 1 day pregnant. That is still 20 day from her delivery date. The doctor assured us that she will never make it to January 4th. He thinks we are going to have a Christmas baby. Oh my goodness... that is next week!

Entry #9 Saturday, December 19, 2009 Liza and I enjoyed another day of beauty. Her hair was colored and cut at a great little mini spa/salon. We both got manicures and pedicures. It was a wonderful day of bonding.

Jose and I also took Liza and Myles out for Mexican food. After dinner we surprised them with a Christmas tree, stockings and a some old fashion holiday cheer. They are both so sweet and appreciative. We truly hope they continue to stay close with us after the baby arrives.

Entry #10 Tuesday, December 22, 2009 Jose and I attended another doctors appoint. Ms. L is officially 38 weeks and 1 day pregnant. She is dilated to 4 centimeters and is having "mild" contractions. The doctor sent her home and scheduled her delivery on December 29th. The doctor stated, "I am scheduling her delivery but I will probably see her sooner." I think we are going to have a Christmas baby. Our social worker thinks we should name him Jesus. After the appointment we drove Liza and Myles to her Mother's home for Christmas. We also got to meet her Mom. Great day!

Entry #11 Friday, December 25, 2009 - Christmas Day Jose and I picked up Liza and Myles from her Mother's house. We spent the day together and enjoyed a home cooked meal at our house. We had a joyous time and special Christmas with our new family.

Entry # 12 Tuesday, December 29,2009 Liza's doctor is out of the country. She had a stress test and baby is doing well. Lots of movement in the womb! The nurse sent us home. So... no baby today. We tried to jump start things with a spicy meal after words and a walk around the Galleria. We will see what happens.

Entry#13 Wednesday, December 30, 2009 - 12:15 AM We just got a call from Liza. Looks like this is it! We are off to the hospital. We are praying for a safe delivery.

Entry #14 Wednesday, December 30,2009 - 9:51 AM Our little boy, Karlan Brase, has arrived. He weighed in at 6 lbs. 13 oz. and 18 in. long. Liza had a easy deliver and quick birth. Brase made it into the world with just one push!

Foot Note: We had daily contact with Liza in person and via phone. Jose and I feel fortunate to have found a wonderful birthmother. We cherish our relationship with her and Myles.