April 16, 2011

Graduation – Day 1

Posted in Adoption, College, Milestones, Photos at 5:44 AM by becauseloveisnotafight

HI! :D

I am alive.  I’m returning to blogging.  I have A MILLION things to share.  This year has been the most important year in my reunion thus far…SO much has happened…and I just have not known where to start or where to begin catching up on the journey.  Every time I think about trying to catch up, I get overwhelmed and just avoid the whole thing.

My blog has been password protected for quite awhile.  I’m not sure I’m quite ready to open those old posts to the public.  I’m still feeling a bit vulnerable.  That stuff is really raw and honest…and as those of you who have followed me for awhile know…it’s not all pretty.

However…this last year of this crazy reunion…has been beautiful.  Beautiful in an imperfect way.  Beautiful in a painful way.  But beautiful in a very real way.  And I desperately want to share this story with the world.  It would be tragic to secretly protect what could only be orchestrated by God.  God has done some amazing things…some miraculous things…in my relationship with my family.  I am more whole than I have ever been before.  I am healing.  I am focusing more on the present and the future than the past.  I am a part of this family.  I am their sister.  I am her daughter.

I will remain honest in my writing.  I will share my true feelings…my true thoughts…the “not so pretty” parts of this story.  It is only through that transparency that the miracles can be seen.  Pastor Trent shared with me this week “I believe you will change the world, Victoria.  I believe that God only allows extreme adversity in your life if he intends for you to equally redeem hurting and lost people.”  This is my story.  May it be redemptive.  May it be a testimony of God’s love to all who read it.

Maybe graduation…let’s start there.  I’m going to have to break even that one event down into multiple posts because there is just so much to share.  (As a sidenote, my parents stayed an hour away from school in their TimeShare…so they chose to arrive on Saturday morning…which meant that Friday ended up being a “birthfamily only” day).

Friday morning, I picked Beth up at the hotel while Rick hit the gym.  We ventured to Target for Sunblock and we somehow ended up in Old Navy (my Momma loves to shop!).  She picked out some cute stuff for me…Well, I tried to refuse…but she wouldn’t have it.  She likes to buy me stuff.  :)  A really cute beach coverup and a purse.

Then, we stopped at Greg’s hotel to get the awkward reintroduction over with.  Lol.  It actually wasn’t that awkward…but when Liz and Poppop (Greg’s Dad) came down to join us…that’s when it started to hit me that we were really all together.  This was also the first time Olivia and Eva truly connected the dots about Beth being my birthmother.  Eva said to me “your mommy is skkkkinnnny!” Haha.  Laying out over one of the kitchen chairs was a tshirt I had given Greg the Christmas prior.  “Regent University Dad” it said.

I left the hotel with Beth and Beth, Rick and I had lunch at Panera before heading to the beach with Greg, Liz, Poppop and the girls.  While we were standing in line to order, Beth said “I saw that shirt Greg has…the Dad shirt.  How come you didn’t get me one?!?!”

Ok, A) I did not expect her to notice Greg’s shirt or even bring this up.  B).  I did not expect her to be remotely interested in a Mom shirt.  And C) This literally killed me inside since I specifically remembered standing in the bookstore last December…staring at the Mom shirt…and debating whether or not I thought she would welcome such a gift from me.  I have “been there” for awhile…ready to bring her further into my life as a mother figure.  She…was NOT “there” yet in welcoming me as a daughter.  She hadn’t outed me to my sisters.  She could barely manage to keep her plans with me.  Everything surrounding me was rather hush hush and on the DL.  Why would I want to set myself up to be hurt?  Rather than risk the possibility of awkward rejection or insincere thanks, I decided to play it safe and not buy the shirt for her.  The whole experience came as a flashback in the ten seconds between her lighthearted yet serious question to me and my attempt at a response.

I looked at her with a shy smile…not sure if I should laugh because she was making it funny…or cry because the truth is I really did want to get her the shirt.  If only she knew I must have stood in that store for 20 minutes and agonized over that decision.  It hurt to think that by not buying it, I may have excluded her from something she was really willing to be a part of.

We had lunch.  We headed to the beach.  The weather could not have been better.  The sky was blue.  The sun was bright along with the most perfect  beach breeze ever.  Olivia and Eva and I built sandcastles.  I tanned.  Everyone talked.  Everyone laughed.  We took pictures.  Greg threw pretzels at Beth and she kicked him with the sand! ;-)

Olivia and I sharing a Snack Break at Virginia Beach

Rick – SUP CUZ? ;-)

Greg right after Beth kicked him with the sand ahahaha :)

Eva Chillin’

I had Commissioning at night.  We lined up on stage for the professors to pray over us.  I asked if I could wait to get the specific professors who had taught me.  (It’s more personal that way).  The little old lady managing the line said “well, it’s YOUR graduation!”  As I waited, I scanned the crowd…and in the corner…I found my birthparents…together…watching…they waved…I waved back.  And I thought back to all the school events…the awards ceremonies…the concerts…the swim meets…looking out into the crowd…and they were never there.  Now they were there.  Was this really happening?

My religion professors prayed with me.  They acknowledged that I’m a fighter.  I cried…because it’s true…and because I had to fight so hard for the people sitting behind me to be where they were.  This road was not easy.  Actually, this road has been the hardest road to walk.  Forget my disability.  Forget my parent’s terrible marriage and eventual divorce.  I lost my family before I was even born.  How do you reconcile that?  My conclusion is that only God can.

After the ceremony, we all went to a reception in the Atrium.  I found some friends…or my friends found me.  One of them, Christine, looked at Beth, then looked at me and said “Is that?!?!”  I looked past Christine’s shoulder…locked eyes with Beth, smiled, and looked back at Christine and said “yes.”

“Wowwwwww!” she said.

First Picture of Us Together!!!

Birthfamily Celebrating after Commissioning

With my Old Testament and Wisdom Lit Prof :)

Since Graduation took place over Mother’s Day weekend, I wanted to give Beth her Mother’s Day gift while she was in Virginia.  I chose a semi – quiet moment for the occasion…as quiet as it can get with 3 families in town to see me.  Somehow…we ended up alone together in her hotel room after Commissioning on Friday night.  (She had noticed that my nails weren’t done for Saturday’s ceremony…and well…if you knew my Mom, you’d know that would never fly in her book!  So she insisted on painting my nails…which is the true reason I was there that night).  I had decided my gift would be a photo collage of my weekend with the girls a few weeks prior.  That weekend was my first time EVER babysitting them, let alone babysitting them overnight.  We had spent 3 entire days together.  We had…bonded.  Of course, I snapped a million and one pictures to mark the occasion.  I knew it would go down in history as a milestone in our relationship.

She pulled the frame out of the gift bag…and stared quietly at the pictures…with a gentle smile.

And then?

Tears came.

“They look so natural with you,” she said.

And then…surprised with herself…perhaps a bit embarrassed…she added, “I am actually crying…”

I hate to see her cry.  When she does, I just want to hold her and tell her that “it’s okay”…that I’m not mad…that I love her with all my heart…that she doesn’t have to feel guilty or ashamed or just plain bad…that I am proud of her and I am okay.  But this time…seeing her cry spoke to me deeply.  If you’ve followed my story (and if you haven’t, I’m telling you now…ha), my Mom has farted around when it comes to telling my sisters who I really am.  In fact, she has avoided it at ALL costs.  For 3 years, I was “Mommy’s friend.”  I was drowning in shame.  I felt horrible for being the secret in the family.  It didn’t exactly boost my self worth.  In fact, the whole thing really made me feel worthless.  Why did I have to be a secret?  Why couldn’t people know about me…both inside the family circle and out?  I didn’t understand and I took it personal.  Very personal.  I pushed my Mom.  I fought her.  I  begged and pleaded.  I tried to reason with her.  I feared she was unshakable.  Did she not see what the lies were doing to me?  Did she not consider what they were doing to my sisters?  I saw no end.

In allowing her to see my weekend with my sisters…she broke a little more.  The walls came down.  I knew because she cried.  And she doesn’t cry.  Not publicly, anyway.  Though there were tears, I could tell a peace came over her in that moment.  I saw it so clearly.

The other gift?

The shirt.

After our beach trip, I rushed extra fast to get ready for Commissioning and ran to the bookstore to buy the Mom shirt!  I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity.

She didn’t seem as excited about the shirt when I gave it to her as she had seemed bummed at Panera because she didn’t have one.  She told me she would wear it to the gym.  But I did the best I could…and I have to believe it meant something to her.  It meant something to me…to know that she wanted it.  It was a big deal to my heart.

I explained myself to her (as I love to do! Hahh) that I actually thought about getting her the shirt for Christmas…but that I didn’t think she really thought of me that way…so in the end, I decided against it.  I explained how I feel that I have two Moms…who play different roles in my life…but that it must be different for her.  I didn’t get much of a response…but I was okay with that…because I had said what I needed to say.

She painted my nails.  Hot pink, of course.  We had Beth/Victoria time for the first time in like…forever.  It is honestly one of my favorite memories with her.  Maybe because it actually felt like my Mom was doing what Mom’s do…painting my nails for a big occasion.  Maybe because we don’t get uninterrupted time together very often, if at all.  It was absolutely precious to me.  I don’t remember what we talked about…but I remember how she made me feel.

A girl.  Her Mom.  In a hotel room.  With pink nail polish.  And each other.

So simple.

So healing.

She saw me walk the next day…

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