Catharsis
I know that lots of hormones get released with this surgery. But I think something else is going on, too. Something happened for each of us that brought us to this decision. Maybe it was gradual - getting more and more tired of being unable to do normal stuff - go for long walks or squat down to pick up something off the floor. Some have children and want to see them grow up. Some are young and want to have a family and find a life partner. Some may want a life of adventure.
I have a 10 yo daughter. We adopted her as an infant from China. A few months before our adoption went through, I lost both my parents within 10 days of each other. They were divorced and lived in separate states. My mother was in hospice, dying of cancer. She had just turned 70 5 days before she died. On the day she left us, we tried to call my father and let him know, but couldn't get him on the phone. Turned out he'd had a massive stroke the same day my mom died, and he lingered in a coma for 10 days without regaining consciousness. We flew back and forth, planning 2 services. It was horrible.
My mother and I had a tough relationship. We loved each other, but clashed a lot. Still, she was supportive of my decision to adopt and was eagerly awaiting our daughter's arrival. But she just couldn't hang on.
The 10th anniversary of losing her just passed. While I think about her often, she had been on my mind so strongly lately, as if she wanted to tell me something. I found myself dreaming about her a lot, which never happened before, and I wondered why. It occurred to me that I was getting sicker and sicker from being so heavy. Diabetes getting more out of control and feeling like I couldn't move..or live. I realized I was drifting toward giving up, which I had no right to do with a young child who needed me. Its the deep story of why I really made this decision.
For some reason, I felt the need to write about how her dying, so close to me becoming a mom, really made me feel. I think I couldn't really face these things for a long time, but Mother's Day this year made me feel so thankful and opened a floodgate. In honor of her, I posted a new avatar of the one of the first pics of my husband, new daughter and I, replacing the funny, pissed off persian cat face. I'd like to share my story with my OH family, since the reason I have so much serenity in this journey is in large part because of all of you. Its about motherhood. My mom's and mine.
So, here goes:
FOR KYRA
Tiny hands reached up slowly to touch my hair. I kissed, then gently caressed Kyra's cheek, marveling that this small Chinese baby, who until a few days ago had been in an orphanage and never had enough to eat, could still have such round cheeks. It was early morning on November 1, 2001 in Guangxi Province, China. Kyra had just finished her bottle and it marked the first time in the three days we had known each other that she allowed me to hold her after I fed her.
Unaccustomed to attention, she hesitated, appraising me with eyes too serious for a one year-old. This might, in another time and place, have provoked laughter at what I would have deemed her "old soul." Perhaps it would have sparked debate about a personality that might be at odds with my dry sense of humor.
Her search for some sign that she could trust me, however, unleashed a powerful torrent of emotion: tears coursed down my cheeks during our silent exchange. "Hi there," I finally choked. I was rewarded with a brief, uncertain smile.
This first connection between Kyra and I made me think of my mother, who had lost her 4-1/2 year battle with bone cancer several months before our adoption was finalized.
"Look!" My mother waved a magazine article when my husband and I entered her hospital room during one of her many stays. "Its an article about Chinese adoption. The nurses are getting sick of me talking about how I'm going to be a grandma to one of these beautiful babies." I took the magazine from her and scanned the article. "Is that how come they're all running down the hall away from your room?" I asked. "I thought the place was on fire."
My siblings and I had always had this kind of relationship with our mother. We found the humor in everything. It was also how we coped growing up in a house filled with tension and anger between our parents. It came in handy during her illness when her impending loss overwhelmed me. When the end was near, my mother's friend Vicky told me that if there was anything I wanted to say to her, now was the time. I was torn. We were not demonstrative. I had some time alone with her before other family arrived. I sat beside her hospice bed where she lay, unresponsive. I wanted desperately to bridge our difficult relationship with some word magic that would make it all better in the nick of time. However, immersed in sorrow too deep for words that had never been spoken, I managed to croak out "I love you, Ma." I accompanied this inadequate declaration with a brief, awkward stroking of her hair.
After she was gone I felt guilty because we did not always get along. I recalled arguments, putting emphasis on her looks of rapprochement, which to me spelled out how ungrateful and uncaring I was. I began to talk to her. I vented my private grief in the form of words and emotions I had been unable to convey before she died, but which now flowed with surprising force. I described how I missed her and wished she could have met Kyra. Bereft over her loss, I listened and watched for signs that she heard me and felt cheated when they didn't manifest themselves in the form of flickering lights or chairs that rocked when empty.
These thoughts came unbidden as my newly adopted baby girl decided to place her trust in me, a stranger who did not even resemble her. Although she had just marked her first birthday a week earlier, she was able to understand that she was being given away and had spent the first two days of our lives together with her arms crossed over her eyes so she did not have to bear the pain of seeing so much that was unfamiliar. The realization that she was trying to get past her own grief and shock and allow herself to be loved and cared for made me understand, when she bestowed on me the first flicker of a tentative smile, the resilience of her spirit and how brave this little girl was. At that moment, we began a journey that has healed us both. Along the way, I learned to cherish the intense, fiery bursts of happiness that mothering this child, our only child, has given me.
My love for Kyra released me, finally, from the guilt and pain of losing my mother. I gained perspective. I was neither uncaring nor unlovable. My mother knew I loved her. I did not have to wait for Kyra to turn into the feisty 10 yo gymnast and freelance Lady Gaga wannabe that she is today to realize that most maternal bonds last until the final breath is drawn. Our declarations of love ignite an uncomplicated joy and tenderness my mother and I rarely shared. I am glad I found the courage to change this.
I finally felt my mother's spirit that day in China. She came through an opened portal and took her rightful place inside me, lying just beneath my heart. She resides there to this day, alongside the living force that is her granddaughter. On the third day of our lives together, my new daughter taught me that I have more capacity for love, forgiveness and compassion than I ever realized.
I have a 10 yo daughter. We adopted her as an infant from China. A few months before our adoption went through, I lost both my parents within 10 days of each other. They were divorced and lived in separate states. My mother was in hospice, dying of cancer. She had just turned 70 5 days before she died. On the day she left us, we tried to call my father and let him know, but couldn't get him on the phone. Turned out he'd had a massive stroke the same day my mom died, and he lingered in a coma for 10 days without regaining consciousness. We flew back and forth, planning 2 services. It was horrible.
My mother and I had a tough relationship. We loved each other, but clashed a lot. Still, she was supportive of my decision to adopt and was eagerly awaiting our daughter's arrival. But she just couldn't hang on.
The 10th anniversary of losing her just passed. While I think about her often, she had been on my mind so strongly lately, as if she wanted to tell me something. I found myself dreaming about her a lot, which never happened before, and I wondered why. It occurred to me that I was getting sicker and sicker from being so heavy. Diabetes getting more out of control and feeling like I couldn't move..or live. I realized I was drifting toward giving up, which I had no right to do with a young child who needed me. Its the deep story of why I really made this decision.
For some reason, I felt the need to write about how her dying, so close to me becoming a mom, really made me feel. I think I couldn't really face these things for a long time, but Mother's Day this year made me feel so thankful and opened a floodgate. In honor of her, I posted a new avatar of the one of the first pics of my husband, new daughter and I, replacing the funny, pissed off persian cat face. I'd like to share my story with my OH family, since the reason I have so much serenity in this journey is in large part because of all of you. Its about motherhood. My mom's and mine.
So, here goes:
FOR KYRA
Tiny hands reached up slowly to touch my hair. I kissed, then gently caressed Kyra's cheek, marveling that this small Chinese baby, who until a few days ago had been in an orphanage and never had enough to eat, could still have such round cheeks. It was early morning on November 1, 2001 in Guangxi Province, China. Kyra had just finished her bottle and it marked the first time in the three days we had known each other that she allowed me to hold her after I fed her.
Unaccustomed to attention, she hesitated, appraising me with eyes too serious for a one year-old. This might, in another time and place, have provoked laughter at what I would have deemed her "old soul." Perhaps it would have sparked debate about a personality that might be at odds with my dry sense of humor.
Her search for some sign that she could trust me, however, unleashed a powerful torrent of emotion: tears coursed down my cheeks during our silent exchange. "Hi there," I finally choked. I was rewarded with a brief, uncertain smile.
This first connection between Kyra and I made me think of my mother, who had lost her 4-1/2 year battle with bone cancer several months before our adoption was finalized.
"Look!" My mother waved a magazine article when my husband and I entered her hospital room during one of her many stays. "Its an article about Chinese adoption. The nurses are getting sick of me talking about how I'm going to be a grandma to one of these beautiful babies." I took the magazine from her and scanned the article. "Is that how come they're all running down the hall away from your room?" I asked. "I thought the place was on fire."
My siblings and I had always had this kind of relationship with our mother. We found the humor in everything. It was also how we coped growing up in a house filled with tension and anger between our parents. It came in handy during her illness when her impending loss overwhelmed me. When the end was near, my mother's friend Vicky told me that if there was anything I wanted to say to her, now was the time. I was torn. We were not demonstrative. I had some time alone with her before other family arrived. I sat beside her hospice bed where she lay, unresponsive. I wanted desperately to bridge our difficult relationship with some word magic that would make it all better in the nick of time. However, immersed in sorrow too deep for words that had never been spoken, I managed to croak out "I love you, Ma." I accompanied this inadequate declaration with a brief, awkward stroking of her hair.
After she was gone I felt guilty because we did not always get along. I recalled arguments, putting emphasis on her looks of rapprochement, which to me spelled out how ungrateful and uncaring I was. I began to talk to her. I vented my private grief in the form of words and emotions I had been unable to convey before she died, but which now flowed with surprising force. I described how I missed her and wished she could have met Kyra. Bereft over her loss, I listened and watched for signs that she heard me and felt cheated when they didn't manifest themselves in the form of flickering lights or chairs that rocked when empty.
These thoughts came unbidden as my newly adopted baby girl decided to place her trust in me, a stranger who did not even resemble her. Although she had just marked her first birthday a week earlier, she was able to understand that she was being given away and had spent the first two days of our lives together with her arms crossed over her eyes so she did not have to bear the pain of seeing so much that was unfamiliar. The realization that she was trying to get past her own grief and shock and allow herself to be loved and cared for made me understand, when she bestowed on me the first flicker of a tentative smile, the resilience of her spirit and how brave this little girl was. At that moment, we began a journey that has healed us both. Along the way, I learned to cherish the intense, fiery bursts of happiness that mothering this child, our only child, has given me.
My love for Kyra released me, finally, from the guilt and pain of losing my mother. I gained perspective. I was neither uncaring nor unlovable. My mother knew I loved her. I did not have to wait for Kyra to turn into the feisty 10 yo gymnast and freelance Lady Gaga wannabe that she is today to realize that most maternal bonds last until the final breath is drawn. Our declarations of love ignite an uncomplicated joy and tenderness my mother and I rarely shared. I am glad I found the courage to change this.
I finally felt my mother's spirit that day in China. She came through an opened portal and took her rightful place inside me, lying just beneath my heart. She resides there to this day, alongside the living force that is her granddaughter. On the third day of our lives together, my new daughter taught me that I have more capacity for love, forgiveness and compassion than I ever realized.
Wow, what an amazing, touching, and heartfelt narrative. Thank you for sharing with us the devastating loss of your mother, sudden loss of your father, and joy in becoming a mother. I felt like I was reading an essay from Chicken Soup for the Soul (and yes it did make me cry, this day has been so emotional!).
You should be so proud of yourself for making the decision to have surgery, going through with it, and wanting to be around for little Kyra..
You should be so proud of yourself for making the decision to have surgery, going through with it, and wanting to be around for little Kyra..
HW: 258lbs SW: 240 CW: 140 I am 5 foot 7 and 30 years old
VSG 12/21/10 Plastics: Tummy tuck, breast lift, and augmentation 11/3/11
Soon to be veterinarian!! xoxo
Thank you for sharing your story, i'm sitting here crying like a baby, lol i lost my Mother 21 yrs ago, and while we didn't have a perfect relationship i love her and i still miss her. I'm sure your Mother is so happy for you and proud of you and your beautiful family. Thank God we learn so much from life's lessons and can take that knowledge and make great choices. Congrats on your baby and having the surgery so you can be there for her. :o) jeani
the start of my brand new life was on 5/28/10
I never fail to be amazed at the lessons life teaches us or the way life nudges (or outright shoves) us towards growth, even when we are reluctant to learn those lessons. Thank you for sharing such a touching part of your life. Life is, indeed, a journey...whose path is sometimes clear and bright, & other times hidden and rocky. You seem to have found a way to luminate that rocky part...and continue to walk on in light.
Congratulations on your decision to receive this life-changing surgery because you have many more years of motherhood, followed by grandmotherhood, to enjoy. I am sure you will treasure every minute!
Take care, and best wishes, Viv
Congratulations on your decision to receive this life-changing surgery because you have many more years of motherhood, followed by grandmotherhood, to enjoy. I am sure you will treasure every minute!
Take care, and best wishes, Viv
vjb1952
What a beautiful story! Thank you so muuch for sharing it with us. So sorry for the loss of your parents. I'm sure your mom is so proud of your parenting Kyra.
I am 5' 7" tall and 35-years-old **Sheri**
My ticker shows who I did this for: Azure and Malachi
July 10th, 2011: Down 26 lbs. and 15 1/4 ".
Aug. 10th, 2011: Down 14 lbs. and 13 3/4 ".
Sept. 10th, 2011:
Oct. 10th, 2011:
Huge hugs from another China mom! Adoption can be incredibly healing for all parties, can't it? Beautiful story; thank you for sharing it here!
If you'd like to see my China babies (adopted in 1999 and 2009), my neglected family blog is: www.wherelearningflows.blogspot.com
(The blog is neglected, not the family!)
If you'd like to see my China babies (adopted in 1999 and 2009), my neglected family blog is: www.wherelearningflows.blogspot.com
(The blog is neglected, not the family!)
Mom to 8, looking forward to a healthy future! 
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