Random Legalizing Our Marriage Ideas

At our renewal of our vows when G. and I get legally hitched, I think we should say a family vow too. I think the kids should be allowed to run freely on the beach during the ceremony, but that we should try to call them back for our family vow. And we should do a blessing of our rings-- perhaps in silence with our hands over them -- a symbol of our love and commitment. And bless sturdy but beautiful anklets we make for the kids too, and give them their anklets as a special gift. We should have four anklets, though, and bless the two for children not yet here. I think we should burn our regrets and send them afloat in the water so that they may be purified and made right again with this crazy wild and big universe.

I think our ceremony/ritual should be relaxed and intimate and follow its own rhythm. I think we should basically just exist in our own little world in those moments.

I keep thinking of the fertility ritual from the movie Chutney Popcorn, and the beauty of just being present with the power of our own hearts.

By the way, if you all haven't seen this yet, you should, because everybody should be so lucky.

A Valentine's Day Request About My Birthday, To My "True Love"

Over the Christmas season my kids learned the song "12 Days of Christmas" pretty much in its entirety. There is nothing sweeter than hearing my two and three year old belt out, "On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me." So, sometime toward the end of the season, M. asks me, "Mama, who is your true love?"

That is a three year old question to make a heart melt alright. I don't want to forget that one.

I told M. that my beautiful children and my beautiful wife are my "true loves." He liked that answer, but I wonder if he thought I was cheating a bit to name them all. So on this Valentine's Day, I'll choose the romantic meaning of the phrase "true love." Here's a letter to my wife, G. about not a Christmas gift wish, but a birthday wish. (Just in case she reads my blog.)

Dear G.,

My 30th birthday is coming up and you've been asking for ideas of how to make it special. Other than wanting to spend it with you and the kids, there are few things I want or need. Of course I dearly wish we could all go visit Colorado or that our folks there could come visit us, but I know that isn't possible so let me tell you something else that would make my heart sing:

Honey, let's get legal. Ever since we moved here we've put off going to get our marriage legalized, but its a great joy to be able to do so and we really ought to do it for so many reasons. The reason that we've put it off is because you know I want to make it all romantic and renew our vows and all that, and you're afraid I'll invite people and you'll have to talk in front of everyone like at our wedding. So let me make this deal with you. Why don't we do a private renewal of our vows on the beach with the kids, with only the number of witnesses required. We can have a small party with everyone else afterward to celebrate if you want. But otherwise, let's dress up and take pictures, but make it a quiet elopment and a family thing. That would be a great way to celebrate my 30th birthday month. Because sweetie pie, I love you, and nothing would be bliss like being your lawfully wedded wife :-).

Love, S.

An Open Letter to Family Equality Council

I am posting the following for public discourse because:

1. I know others are in a similar position and frustrated, and I figure it doesn't hurt to communicate to one another what it is we are doing to resolve the matter so that we can share our needs with the Family Equality Council with some unity.

2. I would love it if anyone with more information or details in regard to any of the items mentioned in this letter would come share them in the comments section here so we can start to collect all information floating around out there...just in case the council is unable to respond in time.


Dear Family Equality Council,

My family and I have recently moved to Massachusetts. Last week, I heard about Family Week in Provincetown. I am interested. However, as I am not yet “in the know,” I am finding it more than a little frustrating to get more information.

I need to do some basic planning in order to attend, and I can’t wait until the last minute for most of the planning. For example, I will be taking some time off work to attend. I don’t have a full week I can take off, but I can get one or two days at least. I need to figure out which day(s) will be most fun for the particular members of my family. And I need to make this decision in time to arrange for time off. I also need to do some financial preparation for this event. I will need time to "save my pennies," so to speak.

From some conversations online with other folks in similar positions, it seems I am not alone. So while I would love a response with pertinent information via email, what I would appreciate even more (and ultimately I think it will save you from having to answer too many repeat questions from different people via email and phone), is if you posted the following on your website:

• Under “frequently asked questions” you post the question: “What is family week?” The answer you provide is a little helpful, but I am still unclear. Is it a conference? A festival? A structured collection of inter-related but independent events?
  
  
• Could you please post a preliminary schedule of the events with a brief one-three sentence description of each? I understand that details may still be under development, but even something tentative that could be grown as the details become more firm would be extremely helpful in asking for days off from work, for example, or gaining my children's investment in the event as another example. Again, please post any information you have available, even if you will need to add more information later or need to reserve the right to change any information.
  
  
• Could you provide information about whether the registration fee applies to those attending only part of the week (say, one-three days), and if so, whether it is prorated?
  
  
• In the schedule of events, could you list any cost associated with the event, and note whether this is a fee charged only to those who are unregistered or to everyone (a cost on top of the registration)?

• For those who are not able to come for the registration period, could you specify whether or not we have a specific location where we will need to go to pay fees or check in when we arrive. For example, if my family is arriving on Tuesday, do we go straight to the first event we plan to attend, or should we go to a main location first?

• Could you provide more details about the registration cost? Does the registration cover all members of the family? Is it a suggested donation or a required fee? Is there a sliding scale or scholarship program? If I make a donation in addition to my registration fee, can I specify that it be used as a “scholarship” for someone who can’t afford the fee?

Thanks for your help. I am on your email list to receive updates as they become available, but I am anxious to make sure my family’s participation is not precluded due to a delay in necessary details.

And finally, thank you so very, very much for your work on behalf of our families and for this event which sounds so lovely and must be so much work!

Warmly,

S.

Worth 1000 Words

Since this beautiful picture is worth at least 1000 words, I'll let it speak for itself. I'll say only that it is listed as the work of Barbara Davidson and came from the Los Angeles Times in a series featured here:

LA Times Photographic Series on Marriage Equality in California

I found it while checking out "Family Week" events in Provincetown on a website linked from here:

Family Equality

It's Pride time!

Reflections on Family

Me, my dear wife G, my dear son M, and my dear foster daughter K


We began grieving the loss of our baby girl, K, the day she came to live with us.

I imagine that most-- if not all-- of us have experienced this kind of grief. It’s the type of grief that comes with terminal illness of a loved one, for example. It is the pre-loss grief of a loss that is possible, or probable, or inevitable. It is both grief for the loss, and also grief for the grief; it is grief for the loss of so much joy that we might experience in the time we have with our loved one if only we weren’t already grieving.

My wife, G, and I have been foster parents for a number of years. We adopted our son, M, after foster parenting him for thirteen uncertain months. By the time K arrived, we knew well that in the course of a foster-adoption, anything could happen. K moved to our home from another foster home because she needed a potential adoptive placement.

Yet, while M's adoption had been considered a straight-forward one, even in his case I had walked into the Children's Services office one day when he was about a month old (totally unsuspecting), and received news from his social worker that she had found a suitable birth relative to care for M. Birth-relative placements give children a greater chance to maintain ties with their extended birth family, and thus are often considered ideal. But whether or not this move was ideal for M, it meant we’d be saying goodbye. "He will be moving to her house in two weeks" the social worker told me that day. And though the relative changed her mind the day of M’s move, it was forever etched in our hearts that everything was bound to change in an instant.

When facing such uncertainty, emotional survival mechanisms kick in. One job of the human brain is to protect our fragile emotional state. A disequilibrium of the emotional system can be tolerated for a short period of time, but then the brain must do its job to regulate. Otherwise, the other systems of the body-- and ultimately, human survival-- are threatened. The human mind is capable of great trickery to achieve this end. When M was six months old, Halloween came ’round. G and I waited until the day before Halloween to make his costume. In our minds, Halloween came into existence on that day when it was no longer “the future.” Somehow, we had to cope with the uncertainty, and limited vision did the trick.

M's adoption was finalized seven months later. We did not celebrate M's adoption until 31 days after it was finalized in court. The 30th day was the last day of the appeal period. Over time, the difficulties and pain of the foster-adoption roller-coaster faded from our memories. When G and I learned of K, we were able to joyfully say “yes” to her placement with us.

But the day she was placed in our arms, we all went home emotionally exhausted and took a family nap. I awoke with tears in my eyes, my heart heavy and throbbing at the thought that this moment- ANY moment - could be our last together. In that moment, I thought of K and also her birthmother who were both grieving losses that had already occurred.

It has been about a year and a half. K is a beautiful, stubborn, rough-and-tumble, curious two year old.

Our lives were all complicated very much in August, when we were scheduled to move to a state across the country. K's foster care case was originally scheduled to be closed in May. Likely, this would have opened the door to our adoption over the summer. Unfortunately, a variety of court delays have prevented resolution. K's ability to cross state lines have been semi-limited, except on a temporary basis when the court would allow a short-term travel order. So G and our children did not move with me. They continued to live in our old state indefinitely, while we awaited news. In October, we received news that the court was opening a door to adoption based on the history of the case. K's ability to travel for longer periods expanded, though she can be called back to our old state at any time. The court agreed on multiple counts of permanent parental deficits regarding K's mother. However, the case is under appeal, and won't be heard in the court of appeals at least until late summer or early next fall. Our lives remain very much in limbo, and in my brain, I sometimes protect myself by assuming that the other shoe will drop.

K and G and I have been participating in a therapy together to help encourage her attachment to us. It is not a traditional attachment therapy, nor is it among controversial attachment therapies. It is a behavioral-response therapy that helps me and G respond to K from a position that makes sense to her given her early trauma. This helps K to feel safe, and then we can begin to work on healing from there. Like me, K has to keep herself protected even as she loves and attaches. Though she isn't able to cognitively understand that her life is in limbo, on a cellular level, she has learned to accept impending loss as a permanent state. She has loved many people before coming to us, and she has lost all of them.

Once upon a time (and not that long ago), the child welfare system felt it was best to prevent kids from forming attachments and learning to love their caregivers because of the very "limbo" we are discussing. However, this was so incredibly damaging to children, that this social experiment was finally put to rest. The brain development of children depends in part on the development of early attachments. Whether or not K stays with us, her brain needs the opportunity to attach so that her neurological system can develop properly. Unfortunately, K's early life history makes attachment feel emotionally (and thus neurologically and thus physically) dangerous for her, and I believe that our periodic separations through this last year have on some level been re-traumatizing, which I previously feared but am uncovering layer by layer now in the therapeutic setting.

At the end of our fourth therapy visit, K fell down and bumped her head. The therapist and I watched in awe as K came over to me, crawled onto my lap, and put her head against my shoulder for a whole five minutes while I soothed her. K has always enjoyed being held, but she also keeps her body at a distance from mine. Though G has enjoyed K's attempts at closeness on occassion, K has always kept me at arms length. Remember, love and attachment does not feel safe to K, whose brain has been hardwired during a series of losses in her life. While K has not yet approached me for this degree of closeness again, I trust that we will be able to work together toward that end. K is attached, but it is terrifying to her. The very act of being attached to us, of loving us, and being loved back, makes her feel insecure. She has walls built around her heart for protection, just like G and I play mental trickery on ourselves to make the future disappear so that we too can feel more protected.

I pray that K continues to find peace in life and that she increasingly finds real love and attachment not only safe, but also fulfilling.

I love K so much it hurts. When I watch her laugh, when I see her playing with M, when she runs at me with wide-open arms, I choose joy. But it is painful for me too. There is a place inside me prepared to be her forever mother, and another place inside me (which I go around pretending doesn't exist, for my own sanity and so that I can attach and parent normally), that must be prepared to never see her again. This is what I would call a legally-induced multiple-personality disorder.

In a way, this is the immediate reflection of the struggle of all of us, as mortal beings: to love when it means losing, to love even though it means losing. Look around at any human being near you. They too are afflicted by this universal condition. We all are. We love, we lose, and somehow, we love again.

I'd like to write some reflections here on foster care, adoption, foster-adoption, and adoption reform periodically in the months to come.