Me? Quiet?!

And the big thing was that Clint seriously immersed himself into the role he played. Not only was he the lead actor of the film, but he directed it as well. And if you know anything about the movie, Clint and his team submerged themselves into the Hmong community.

Despite what most people think, Hmong is not (and never was) a nation or a type of “nationality.” The Hmong people are a collection of 18 different mountain tribes that have lived in China and other southeast Asian countries (such as Laos, Thailand and Vietnam). Many of them migrated to the U.S.* following the Korean and Vietnam War as refugees with the assistance of a few Christian missionary groups. Other families came after assisting the U.S. during these wars. In any case, many might consider the Hmong a “nation-less” culture; much like one can’t pinpoint exactly which part of Latin or South America an Aztec or Mayan person may have come from.

The reason I bring up this bit of history in my post was to further delve into “Gran Torino.” Clint Eastwood’s character, Walter is … for lack of better terms, what Hubby and I would call a “Crappy Pappy.” Meaning, he’s an older man past the prime of his life, who would spend the rest of his days as a crotchety, cantankerous old man. Walter’s the mean old man next door who would yell at you for stepping on his lawn, would say something rude just to get a rise out of a person … would yell out “Slow down, kid!“ to any teenager who drives just a little too fast past his house.

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Apron Strings for Emily is a guest blogger for Bridges.

Food Allergies

For those who are new to my life, 6 year old kiddo is allergies to the following: milk, eggs, wheat, soy, peanut, tree nut, beef, pork, fish, and shellfish. When I tell people about kiddo’s allergies I generally get the same four responses:

• Oh my! What does he eat?!
• How horrible for kiddo!
• How horrible for you!
• Will he ever grow out of them?
  

I’m betting one of those went through YOUR mind just now. None of these are offensive to me, but they can cause problems from time to time. Here’s what I mean … [Just a note – I’ll keep using the word “you” here because it’s easier that way. Please don’t be offended or think I’m talking about YOU in particular, ok? Ok.]

Oh my! What does he eat?!

I realize that this is a gut reaction, but come on people! (That’s said with loving kindness, in case you couldn’t tell.) Kiddo loves chicken and turkey, he can have all kinds of fruit and vegetables, rice and potatoes (and bread and pasta made from them). When you react that way in front of kiddo, it just draws more attention to the fact that he is different from other kids. He doesn’t live in a bubble, he isn’t deprived, he just has to be careful of what he eats. And in reality, he eats healthier than hubby and I. No veggies drowned in butter, very few prepackaged foods, lots of organic produce, absolutely no fast food – kiddo should be healthy as a horse!

How horrible for kiddo!

It’s tough for him, but he’s never known anything different. He doesn’t think he needs your pity – he thinks he’s a pretty normal kid. He just wants you to understand and look out for him, to protect him when he can’t do it himself (and he’s pretty good at doing it himself). Thanks, from kiddo.

How horrible for you!

Again, it’s tough. But it’s not the end of the world. Things could be much, much worse. In addition to (and somewhat related to) his allergies, kiddo has an esophageal disorder called Eosinophilic Esophagitis (EE for short). [You can learn more about EE here. Many kids with EE are on feeding tubes or in hospitals. Kiddo goes in for endoscopies every 3 months (under anesthesia, they put a camera down his throat into his stomach, and do biopsies along the way) and regular doctors’ appointments, but that’s the extent of our trouble.

Yes, kiddo requires some extra effort to care for. Yes, it can be frustrating, especially when dealing with people who don’t – or refuse to – understand about his allergies. Yes, I feel bad for kiddo at times. BUT it’s really not that bad. And when I AM feeling bad, I have to be positive for kiddo. Some days ARE horrible, but we deal with it and move on.

Honestly, you want to know the thing that I find really horrible about this whole situation? The amount of money I have to spend on food! It’s virtually impossible to find a safe and healthy variety of food for him at the grocery store so we shop at specialty stores. Hubby and I still buy our food at the grocery though, because kiddo’s stores are insanely expensive. Here’s an example: a package of “safe” cornbread mix that makes a 9x9 pan of cornbread costs … (drum roll please) … $8.00. UGH.

Will he ever outgrow them?

Maybe, maybe not. I can’t say for sure. My guess, based on our experiences thus far, is that some will go away (peanuts, tree nuts, fish, shellfish) while others will only get worse (milk, soy). But I can’t worry about that right now. Right now, kiddo IS allergic to all these things. Right now, this is our life. Hoping and planning and worrying about the future isn’t helpful to me - I need to LIVE right now. Maybe things will be different down the road … but right now, this is our life and we’re doing just fine.

Kiddo asks me this question from time to time. I tell him the same thing that I’m telling you now: “I hope so, but let’s not plan on it.” And he’s usually ok with that. He’s a pretty smart one, my kiddo.

So if you’re ever talking to me about food allergies, I’d like you to know that our family is doing just fine. Know that I’m happy to answer any questions you have about allergies. I’ll give you the best info I can; I hope you’ll really try to understand what I’m telling you. And if you just can’t help blurting out one of the comments above, know that I won’t be hurt or upset. But I WILL try to educate you.

Age 30 - A Year of Books is a guest blogger at Bridges.

I am a Mother

What is it like to be a mother when your child is gone — when all physical evidence points to a recent birth (pain, scars, fatigue) but your child has died? I am a mother, but my arms are empty. I gave birth to our son on March 9th. Thomas died just 20 hours later on March 10th. He was our first child.

So I am in fact a mother — but instead of changing diapers, nursing and staying up all night rocking my son, I’m wandering aimlessly about a deafeningly quiet house trying to find something to do with all the endless free time I didn’t think I’d have after giving birth. Instead of planning for his future, we’re planning our own. Will we try again? Will we adopt? Will we resign ourselves to a childless life? When will we take down the nursery we had so lovingly prepared for our sweet little boy? We don’t know yet. All we know is that we had a perfect and beautiful son and that we are parents. The problem is, we don’t look like parents.

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Certainly Not Cool Enough to Blog is a guest blogger for Bridges.

A Day in the Life

I've been wanting to do a day in the life of Caleigh for some time now. I finally got inspiration from Ellie's parents when they blogged about Feeding Gut Girl.

Back when Caleigh was getting over 24 doses of medicines a day I didn't even have time to think about journaling our day. We barely made it day by day and just keeping Caleigh's schedule back then was good enough. Now that things are going so well and have calmed down a bit I have time to breathe and think about what we really do on a daily basis.

It all starts at 6:30 or 7:00am, Caleigh wakes up. We get up, turn off the Apnea Monitor, change her diaper (that inevitably leaked everywhere), proceed to change all the bed sheets and strip her down to her new fresh diaper. We give Caleigh's seizure med, Keppra, & Ursodiol, liver med, through her g-button about 7:30.

Caleigh plays on the floor while we work on waking up, coffee or green tea is a must at this point.

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Caleigh's Corner is a guest blogger for Bridges.

It's Eating Me Up

The night before Lina got sick, I didn’t go to the hospital. It was Tuesday, January 8th. It was her due date. I had gone back to work the day before. That morning I went to the NICU, because I wanted to meet the doctor. Greenwich has 2 doctors who alternate weeks being “on”. I had met the other one the previous Friday when Lina got up there and over the weekend, and I wanted to touch base with the 2nd one.

I went in. I can’t even remember how long I stayed. I can’t remember if I held her that morning or if I just watched her and then spoke with the doc. The doctor and I had a long conversation. I asked him all my questions. The same ones that I’d asked the other doctor, and the same ones I’d asked before we left NY Presbyterian. It helped to keep hearing the answers over and over.

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The Cezzar Joint is a guest blogger for Bridges.

A Glass Half Full

I was reading an article the other day about a woman who actually seemed to be thankful that she was a (recovering) alcoholic. By her reasoning, if she hadn’t been an alcoholic, she said, she would never have met so many other people who needed her help.

To me, this is like taking the glass, breaking it, gluing it back together with a few pieces missing, and putting in the water while it’s upside down. In other words, it’s freaking hard to understand how someone could see a silver lining out of being an alcoholic. But, see it - and celebrate it - she did.

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The Young and the Infertile is a guest blogger for Bridges.

Eyes are Not the Only Thing that Weep

On day 3, my milk came in. I had my bath and I came back down stairs, and I looked down, and there were two identical milk patches on my clothing. The next day, I stood in the closet, getting dressed, watching rivulets of milk make their way down my body. Eyes are not the only things that weep for our dead babies.

I walked down the aisle in the drug store, the aisle of baby things, looking neither right nor left. I walked until I saw the box from the corner of my eyes, and I picked up the first one on the shelf, and I put them in the cart. I went to the grocery store, and I bought cabbage and sage leaves. I bought frozen peas.

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Mrs. Spit Spouts Off is a guest blogger for Bridges.

How Are You Doing?

I am so freaking tired of this question. I realize that this question is like second nature to most people. It comes out in unison with "Hello" most of the time. I just wish that people would realize what goes on in my mind when you as ME this. I'm different than most people that you come in contact with during a normal day. Most people that I talk to realize that I'm different, but they just can't get through this automatic question...

I'm different though...wow, that's an understatement these days. When you ask this, I go through a chain of questions in my head. "How do you think I'm doing?"..."Do you really care or are you asking to be nice?"..."If you really care, then you would already know how I'm doing!"..."I don't know, how am I suppose to be doing today?"

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The Chronicles of an Incompetent Cervix is a guest blogger for Bridges.

Recurrent Pregnancy Loss Update

It’s hard to believe that it’s nearly a year since my first loss and only 4-1/2 months since my last loss. But I am starting to put the pieces together. Here’s the list of causes my Reproductive Endocrinologist outlined for me at my early June visit as well as my status in each of these areas. I hope this may help others who have experienced multiple losses advocate for the help they need.

INFECTION
Yeah, it really stinks to think that I could have lost babies due to low-grade infection, but it is possible. The RE recommends that I do a round of antibiotics during early pregnancy.

IMMUNOLOGICAL PROBLEMS
This category refers to things like clotting disorders, immuno-deficiency illnesses, and the like that can and do contribute to primary and secondary infertility. When clear immunological problems are not identified through extensive blood testing, doctors seem to recommend taking a baby aspirin (81 mg) a day as a possible protective measure. My bloodwork came back just fine and dandy!

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The Trial of Labor is a guest blogger for Bridges.

Genetics Don't Matter

Yeah, seems a convenient declaration from a woman whose eggs suck! Seems a no brainer I'm saying this with such careless conviction. But you might agree I thought this way before I was told to find eggs from someone else's basket.

When 3 days after my 41st birthday I received a call from my Gyn that my FSH was 12.8, I did fast homework on what that meant before seeing my first RE a month later.

I'll never forget it, I sat in bed on Friday night and consumed every shred of anecdotal and scientific material Google could conjure up on high FSH in women beyond 40 and it wasn't good. Within hours I decided I wouldn't even try with my eggs. Invest wisely, I thought, and go straight for the good eggs. I wanted a baby MUCH more than I wanted genetic offspring.

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No Eggs in This Basket is a guest blogger for Bridges.

Alex's Birth

The nurse poked her head into the pastel waiting room at MV Hospital, “Are you with the young lady having a C-section? Yes? Well I just heard a very healthy cry from that delivery room.” I sat stunned and completely overwhelmed, my son Alex had just been born.

When we first began trying to get pregnant, my husband Dave and I talked about the possibility of adopting should nature fail to take its course. In the beginning, we didn’t believe we would require this parental contingency plan. However, the next four years were an emotional and physical roller coaster of basal temperatures, ovulation predictor kits, blood tests, sperm counts, miscarriages, Clomid and intrauterine insemination.

During our final try with our infertility specialist for a ‘high tech’ baby, Dave and I had a heavy, deep and real talk about parenting. We had all our financial and personal ducks in a row, but no duckling. What was important to us was becoming parents and raising a happy and healthy child. How we formed our family was not the main concern. We decided to adopt.

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The Good Enough Witch is a guest blogger for Bridges.

How it Was

(this is not fiction. Oh, how I wish this were fiction)

Friday, 6:15am. My son is asleep beside me. Downstairs I hear my husband getting ready to leave for work. I get up to pee. The toilet paper comes away with blood. I’m five weeks pregnant. I decide that this is not happening. A smear of blood, and a small gray bump. Something gray. Spotting. And something gray. I focus on the spotting. I decide I didn’t see something gray. Flush it down.

More blood. Bright red.

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Dispatches from Utopia is a guest blogger for Bridges.

(Almost) 8 Months Out

I was thinking this morning about the transition between TTASP and choosing to live child free. You all know the “Infertility Island” metaphor right? To recap, there’s a ferry that runs between Infertility Island and the mainland, call it Motherworld. And the ferry comes, but you never know when your ticket is going to be called. You wait and wait and hope and wave goodbye to your friends and wish them well and simultaneously feel miserable that you’re not going with them.

Then one day, for whatever reason, you realize that you simply CANNOT stay one more day on the Island. Could be that you’re going crazy, could be that your spouse forces your hand, could be that you run out of funds, could be … any number of reasons. But you can’t stay. And you still can’t go to the mainland cause you don’t have a ticket for the ferry. So you jump in the water and let the current carry you where it will. And pretty soon, you wash up on another island downstream. There’s a great big jungle on the side of this island that faces infertility island that’s deep, and dark, and foreboding, and hides all the villages. But once you hack your way through the jungle, you realize that there’s a gorgeous beach and friendly neighbors with lots of tequila to share on the other side.

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Outlandish Notions is a guest blogger for Bridges.

True View Friday

I believe that when you lose your spouse, you also lose many of your friends. After my husband’s very sudden, unexpected death I was surprised and hurt by the people who stopped contacting me. I was already isolated, living far from my family. My husband was an only child and his parent’s were elderly and unwell. I was alone in a huge house with my 22 month old twins. I was overwhelmed by everything. Some people, most notably neighbours were great because they offered practical and tangible assistance. A few even followed through. Tasks like cutting the lawn were monumental. We lived on two acres and even with a ride on tractor, it would take me a couple of hours. With no one available to watch the kids…. well you see how difficult it was. In the aftermath of his death, NOT a single person offered to watch the kids for me.

The friends that no longer called or dropped by hurt the most. The rejection was particularly stinging. One of the few people who remained in contact with me tried to explain it. She said, “They look at you and see something that could happen to them. And it hurts too much to imagine it. They go home and hug their spouse and children and thank their God that it was you and not them. Then they feel guilt for being spared and they just can’t face you. ”

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The Story of Me is a guest blogger on Bridges.

When Children Die: What to Do. Or Say. Or Not.

A friend called today with a few questions. Her friends in Seattle lost their six month old baby yesterday. Suddenly. Inexplicably. While she was at her first day of daycare. The baby wasn't eating, wasn't feeling well....when mama arrived she saw the paramedics....it was too late. Their baby died.

My friend wanted to know...should she go? And....could she help, how could she help, should her children come too, what should she say, should she say much, and why was this causing some strange emotional clog for her, my friend?

We talked for a while on the phone; when we hung up I felt my own emotional upheaval - so sad for this family, so angry at the sudden loss of this baby girl, but gratified that I could offer any helpful words.

There is no manual for what to say, and one extremely good reason for this is that no manual would ever work for every family, every encounter.

But because I have a big mouth and am a self-appointed public service educator, I am going to go ahead and tell you what was helpful or memorable for us in the immediate aftermath of Elijah's death:

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Gwendomama is a guest blogger on Bridges.

A Word From Dad

Hello, and thank you for reading on Hope's journey. I just wanted to add some of my thoughts. Hope's journey with short gut is unique, because we chose to forego extraordinary medical intervention. The hardest decisions that we as parents will ever be asked to make, are those that affect the lives of our children. We would like other parents to know that it is okay not to do everything that the doctors suggest. Facing the prospect of losing a child was the most difficult and trying time in our lives.

The consensus of the Doctors was that without medical intervention Hope would live two to three weeks at the most, that she would never gain weight, and she would die of malnutrition. Knowing this we decided to trust God, and brought Hope home under Hospice care. We prayed, not knowing if our prayers would be answered, but having faith that they would.

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Hope's Journey is a guest blogger for Bridges.

How I Feel About Adoption

If I had been asked before my son was born, my response would have been that it wasn't something I ever really thought about.

I knew my dad's cousin and wife had adopted after their sons were born - twins (brother and sister) from Africa and a Malaysian girl - but it was never something that was discussed. When I was 17 I found out an old school friend had been adopted but I wasn't that curious as I knew she had contact with her natural mother.

At 19, the reality of adoption hit me hard when I was forced to surrender my son. There was no good reason for it to happen. My parents just didn't want me raising my son as I was single and there was no way his father and I would marry. We had split on bad terms and neither of us wanted to get back together. Plus I knew he would never accept his child as his.

I completely retreated into myself and I had no support from anyone. I was lied to, not just by my parents but also by the adoption agency. Had the agency told me my rights, I would have been able to get the support to keep my son. Eventually I was told it was too late to stop the adoption.

For 23 years I refused to talk about my son -- even to my husband -- as my family had made it quite clear that it was in the past and to get on with my life. Even the adoption agency told me I would forget about my son, get on with my life, would have more children. They said I would never be allowed to search and my son would be too happy to with his adoptive family to search for me. So I suffered in silence and wouldn't let anybody get too close to me emotionally as I was so scared of losing grip on my emotions. I felt like a complete freak as what I was feeling wasn't what I was told would happen.

I never forgot my son, but I got on with my life because I had to for my own sanity. I could have searched eventually as the law changed but I believed what I was told -- that he was too happy to want to find me.

I didn't have more children unfortunately and my son DID decide to search. He found my family in 1999, but they basically lied to him for years. Then I found him through Genes Reunited in 2004.

Reunion unleashed all the emotions that I had locked away for so many years. The intensity was such that I sometimes thought I wouldn't endure it. I went through anger to the point of fury, shame, guilt, pain, sadness even loneliness but what helped me through was the joy of finding my son alive and well. I didn't know I could love someone so much that it almost hurt.

Reunion isn't easy by any measure and probably one of the hardest things a person can go through. I don't ever regret finding my son but I do regret that he was adopted in the first place. I cannot turn the clock back so I have had to learn to move on.

Pip, who lives near London in the UK, is a birthmother to a 27 year-old son and has been in reunion since 2004. This post was written for especially for Bridges. She also writes at My Rambling Thoughts, Pip's Journal and Relinquishing and Reunion.

I Don't Have a Right to Know?

Today whilst reading a lovely first mums blog, I came across a link to an adoptees blog who had written this post "Adoptees Listen Up", I started to write a comment but realized it was going to be a long one, and that I really felt that I needed a blog post about it on my own blog to say "I have to say I don't agree."

But as one poster commented , whilst there may not be a *legal* right which of course is right, there is a moral right. That I do believe.

When you choose a path that is going to ultimately hurt someone that is a part of you, and their life course change forever, whether you were a willingly participant in that hurt and and change or not, (ie the BSE mums were not WILLING but my Mother was.) Then you absolutely do have a responsibility to tell that person why...why..their life was changed.

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Adopted Jane is a guest blogger on Bridges.

Compassion...Mama's Ongoing Project

One of Mama's many life lessons she wanted to instill in me was compassion:

A profound and positive human emotion prompted by the pain of others. More vigorous than empathy, the feeling commonly gives rise to an active desire to alleviate another's suffering...

During a 2 day training course with the county, Matt and I did a mock trial of a mom losing her child to the system to get a glimpse of what all goes on. It was based on a true case and was a real eye opener, to say the least. Each table was assigned a task. Table 1 was "Tonya" and her lawyers.

Ours, Table 2, was the treatment team that gave the court recommendations of what we thought needed to happen before we would allow her to gain custody of her daughter (with the help of a real social worker because hey, we had no idea what we were doing).

Table 3 was the foster home and Table 4 other was the judge.

One of the goals of the exercise was to see the birth mom's side. "Tonya" begged and pleaded for her child back and had every excuse in the book for why she was unable to complete her requirements (no ride to get her urine tested, 18 interviews but no job offer, everyone was against her, etc). They were flimsy excuses at best and you know judges and social workers hear the same ones all day every day. She started out doing okay but as time went on, she slowly fell apart. Every 90 days when her review came up you could see her starting the slow spiral out of control. In the end, she cried as she relinquished her parental rights and both Matt and I were in tears (as were most of the group). A true story and that plays out every day in courts across the nation.. just heartbreaking.

Surprisingly, Matt and I found it easy to have compassion for the addicted birth parent. Prior to meeting each other , both of us were in relationships with people who had had substance abuse problems. Have you heard someone say, ".. but they're totally great when they're clean and sober" and you roll your eyes? We actually lived it and, by golly, it's true.

Our exes both had children from a previous marriage, and were very devoted to them. Neither had custody (for obvious reasons) and lived for the time they got to spend with their children. Unfortunately, their drug of choice was so much more powerful than they were. Almost every time their kids visited, they would go off on a binge. It's just astounding what complete control the drug has and how it's a wrecking ball through everyone's lives. It's constant drama, to put it lightly.

Although kind of an odd thing to have in common (having an ex as an addict), it is one of the many things that brought Matt and me together. We both tried to "save someone" and found out the hard way it's impossible to do. We both relish the calmness of being regular Joe Shmoe Homebodies, as we've seen the wild side and have no interest in revisiting that side of the tracks. We did learn, however, that under the horrible and downright mean things an addict does, lies a person who would do anything to quit. The person is not the monster but is totally controlled by one.

I remember in the midst of the crazy that was once my life crying out to God, "WHY?!?" and feeling utter hopelessness. Sitting at that table in training with tears in my eyes as "Tonya" begged for her kids back was an, "Ah Ha! Moment," when another of my life's little puzzle pieces fell into place. Compassion had kicked in and both of us got it. Had I known back then what I know now it would have made perfect sense. The 6 years of what seemed like endless drama was leading me to that table in the basement of a church for those 2 days of intense training. The Good Lord (and Mama) didn't want me looking down my nose from my high horse at the addicted parent who couldn't provide basic needs but to take pity and have compassion. That was "Why".

We may deal with a real "Tonya" sometime soon and I had better keep that shoe and other foot handy.

Melissa will soon occupy two positions in the adoption triad. She found out as an adult that she had been adopted. And now, she is pursuing Foster/Adoption in Colorado. She blogs at Full Circle and the entry below comes from this post on her blog. In her training to become a foster parent, she attempts to see through the eyes of the third member of the adoption triad.

Network Spinal Care

Let me just tell you that laughter is definitely the best medicine!

Eric, Caleigh and I went to a Network Spinal Care doctor the other day. Our Feldenkrais practitioner suggested we try another therapy to compliment hers. She suggested Homeopathy, BodyTalk or Network Care. Her thought is that our bodies are holding in all the stress of the past year and a half. If we don't get rid of the stress then it will be difficult for Caleigh to move forward past her pain and trauma. Any tension that Eric and I are holding in will be transferred to Caleigh and she feels that from us. I'm stressed, I know, so it made some sense to me and anything that is relaxing at this point is worth a try. After reading about all of them we decided to give Network Care a try. It is done by Chiropractors and seemed to be the most 'medical' of them all. Here's a brief summary.....gentle touches along the spine that help release the tension. It uses your bodies own energy to heal itself. You can look at the associations website, but let me tell you, it can't explain what happens and what you see.

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Caleigh's Corner is a guest blogger on Bridges.