Lets face it...

 Let's face it...."My Son" was mom's favorite,  my sister tells me.    My sister and her x husband came to see our newly remodeled home, we took them  for an early dinner and we had a good time. We both had a small drink,  and I chose each and every word that came out of my mouth, very, very....carefully.  I listened more than I spoke.  I am always cautious about what I share with my own sister.  She still, to this day, shares pretty much nothing of importance with me.  I guess I always find that to be an untrustworthy trait, for a sister at least?  I used to share way too much with her, and got tired of her sharing absolutely nothing with me about her life.  My husband, for years, urged me to stop telling her about our life, it took me many years to finally stop.   She waited six months to tell me that she and her husband divorced and he had already moved out before I was told.  We live 19 miles from each other, not 19 hours, and we've always lived very close to one another our entire lives.  Our families shared almost all Holidays together, mom & dads birthdays , anniversaries, you name it we were all together.  

My sister, feeling brave after having a drink,  goes on to list all of the things her son did for our mother.  A list of reasons in her mind, that made her son, our mother's favorite grandchild.    

I was at such a loss of words , I stood there, almost frozen by her coldness and listened as we walked to our cars.  As the words were coming out of her mouth, she was speaking it seemed, in slow motion.  At one point I couldn't hear her any longer, I could hear my heart beating in my chest, and I felt myself floating away, thinking I couldn't wait to get into the car and leave, and what seemed like an eternity as she told her story about her angelic son.  I was bargaining with myself, very quickly...do I shout at her and tell her to shut up, or maybe just punch her right in the nose?  Instead I stood there, with my mind contemplating all of the horrific things she's said and done  to me while our mother was slowly slipping away as she tries to prove to me that she and her son did more for our Mother than it seems, anyone else.  I chose to say nothing, and to be honest...after her first few sentences, I have absolutely no idea what she said to me as we said goodbye.

Let's face it, I was nobody's favorite, how could my children be "Our Mothers" favorite I thought?  How can she say such ridiculous things to me?  After all that has been said and done, she still feels the need to "One up me" or to hit me below the belt.  She still, after both of our parents being gone now for years, feels the need to flaunt her superiority,  proving that "She" is the important birth child and that her children still are our mothers favorite, and how she feels about our Mother is much more meaningful than how I feel about her.

Lets face it,  my sister feels that because she is our Mothers "Blood Relative" that her feelings, her regrets, her sorrow and grief are more meaningful and more important, than mine.  With her cunning words, she downplays anything and everything that I shared with our mother,  the time and precious moments we shared together.  

Lets face it, my sister still feels threatened by me,  as I wipe the tears running down my face as we drive home, I will always be my Mothers daughter and as much as she hates that idea, she can never change it.  Adoption, is a four letter word, it is the invisible abuse, the life altering decision nobody wants to talk about.  The others want to pretend that it's "My fault" - never wanting to own their part in the dysfunction and feelings they have about the fact that I was not born to my mother.  But trust me, at age 59, I can hear that pain in my sisters voice  and her lack of really saying to me..."She was MY mother not yours" and telling me that her pain, the loss of our Mother is much more meaningful to her than it is me.  If she could, I think she would say I have no right to anything that belongs to her.  

Let's face it, adoption doesn't always work, and I have to find a way to live with this reality.  

I miss Mom

With all the exclusion, the dysfunction, heartache and sadness, I still miss mom.  

Im sad she never got to meet my granddaughters, her great granddaughters.  

She never got to tell me how she felt inside,  for the rest of my life I have to sit and guess how she really felt about me and a lot of other unresovled feelings I still have.  I have to investigate every moment we had together.  Maybe the truth is waiting for me to be found, somewhere?  Some days I can feel the burning inside of my chest, the tears well up in my eyes, and I have  the deepest, most unbearable ache I have ever felt, knowing I will never see her again.  

I did find voicemails mom  left on my old cell phone.  When I accidentally stumbled upon them I felt absolutey sick to my stomach, I felt hysterical inside.  She left me a lot of voicemails as her memory became much worse.  She would call me when I was on my way to see her as she  would forget that I was even coming.  I played the voicemails, I heard her voice,  and it was the most painful thing I've done since watching her take her last breath.   I listened to all of them, one by one, hoping to find the answers, maybe she said something of importance?   When alive, I kept waiting, day after day, for her to say something special to me, hoping she would give me the anecdote for the years of abuse I endured.   A secret I never knew, or something so earthshattering that I would be able to say, "I understand" and not feel this way another moment in my life.  

What did my life mean to mom?  Did she  find it hard to feel the same way for me as she did her own birth child?  It sure felt that way to me, and I was like a  little child, waiting on each and every word that came out of moms mouth.... up until she passsed away.   My heart wants to believe that she loves me, but the reality of it all was that she struggled to have those feelings for me, I felt it, my husband felt it, as well as our grown children.   They feel as though they grew up without a grandmother, and feel mom had no voice, no opinion,  and sadly...she did not.  She sat and allowed a lot of unfavorable things to happen,  to be honest there was a lot of things she did not do that hurt just as much.  These unfavorable things continued to happen up until she couldnt remeber much due to dementia.    

My sister had said to me before mom passed, that I had the issues regarding adoption, insinuating that I had the problem.  I stopped her in her tracks, I told her very bodly, that NO...I did not have the issues, it was moms and the rest of the family that had the issues.   Why else did all this ugliness  happen over the years, up until our niece got married recently?  After her weddding,  I checked out, I distanced myself from all of them both physically and emotionally as best as I could.  I had to see mom at my sisters house until she passed away,  so I had to keep things somewhat mellow.   I have to say here, that regardless if other family members refuse to recognize what they are saying and doing , exclusion stinks, its paralyzing, its past devastating.

I see what it's done to our grown children, they have endured more than their fair share of disappointents with this family.  They have all become so used to behaving this way, that it's normal to them.  And sadly I blame my parents for this.  Mom never had an opinion about anything and would say, everyone is different.  That was her way of saying she refused to step up to the plate and make things right within our family.  I still cant believe my nephews eulogy stated that my mom never did a wrong thing in her life.  It was then that I fully understood he, my niece and sister  did have a different grandmother/mother .  How do I continue within this family when I feel so deeply different than the rest of them?  I cant speak the truth around any of them.  I have to listen and keep quiet and have little to no words from my mouth.  I feel like this adoption sentence may last a lifetime if I don't find a way to unbury myself from the emotional wreckage I have been left with since mom has left this earth.  

The lost bond of adoption

As time goes by and my birthday candles keep increasing, I realize there is one thing I cannot escape.   There is no anger or resentment, only a bit of sadness left as I realize there is nothing I can do to change "what is."  

Its a life sentence I have been given, a lesson to learn, again and again,  and at times I feel I have mastered the whole mess!   But some days, like today,  it seems too large of a cross to bear,  and I feel the strength I've built up, to escape the anger...weakening.  I feel weak today.   Something happens, a look in my moms eyes , a touch, a gesture,  a small sentence spoken that makes my heart skip a beat.  Time stands still,  its like an out of body experience,  everything is moving in slow motion, and I want to  take a picture, and show them "this right here" is what I am missing.  I don't get that same look, I don't get the same touch or gesture, or the deep love in that small sentence.    So many people overlook, don't appreciate, or even recognize that "Belonging" is such a gift.  The bond created when a mother gives birth, gets the privilege of keeping her baby is overwhelmingly different.   Different than that bond  of an adopted child.  There really is a language they speak to one another, when the bond is not broken.  

Nobody can tell me differently, if I could capture the moment, I would.  I could show you, prove to the world I have been cheated.  I deserve to allow myself to grieve, but I also deserve to never feel like this again.  I don't want this feeling another day, another minute or even second of my life.  But I also cannot deny the existence of what I see.  I know that touch, I know that gesture, and the secret language that is spoken between a mother and her children.  I experience that with my own children.  

In time I will learn to accept what I cannot change. 

Another Mothers Day

I figured a way to get through it, even though I have my children and my amazing husband.  Not that my boys are great at sentiment, but I got a great dinner cooked for me.  I feel blogging helped me get to the place I'm at now .

We celebrated with my mom on Saturday.  My sister and I took her to lunch.  It was nice, it was hard but I managed to make it through.   

I had meant to pick out a card at Target while I was there earlier in the week, I even procrastinated printing a picture out for the frame I bought.   My husband dropped me off at my sisters house, and on the way I picked up a card at Hallmark.  WOW, swoosh, kicked in the gut as I read the Mothers Day cards from a daughter.  Panic time, I started sweating, looking around to see if anyone was watching me furiously picking up cards, reading the first sentence, and putting it back.   My husband was waiting in the car, as I read faster and faster.  Mad at myself for somehow conveniently forgetting to pick one out at Target.   I had to convince myself that it was OK to pick out a card that was not completely true.  That it didn't matter, not really.  So I picked a card, that talked about how important a mothers love is.  I should have made my own card, picked a picture from years ago and cut, pasted and decorated it, allowing me to just say, "Happy Mothers Day" instead.  

I signed the card, "Love Cathy" and felt unsure.  Love.  Love is a big word.  Again talked myself into feeling OK inside, thinking it doesn't matter what I really feel.  Its just a card.  

The day went by, no major issues.  We did some shopping.  My sister bought some pants.  I bought some shoes.  We had our waiter take a picture of the three of us.  I cannot deny the fact that I was glad the day was over, when it was over.   The picture is good, in my opinion.  I tried to scoot down to look smaller.  My sister is a clone of my mom.  Even their body type, their skin, hair, etc.  Not everything is the same.  I did not feel super exposed, like I was the 3rd wheel this time.  I think its about how I feel inside, not because of what they have said or done.  Simple things maybe others would not even notice to begin with.  I told mom about my blog, and about some of the things I feel inside which are a result of years of trials.  I think telling her has taken its toll on her, and although I realize she does know these things already, they have not been taken out of the dust pan and looked at.  So in a way, its like she doesn't know what "IS."  Its important that I tell her how I feel, and to talk about the reasons why our relationship has been strained for my entire life.  Again, she does know these truths, but she has hidden them from herself, and pretended all is OK for so long, its difficult to grasp whats real when you've lied for so long.  

I will always long for my mom.  A woman that brushes my hair, adores me and makes me feel as though I am the most important thing in her life.  How I have always wanted her to choose me, instead of others.  Quite an irony, that I was chosen, and still at age 50 yearn to be chosen.  I wish there was a way to go back in time,  for her to take back all of the things that have happened, and to change the current status of our relationship.   The behaviors I've dealt with continue today, so its an on going struggle.  

Having your mom is important

I cannot express enough in words how important it is for (a girl) to have her mom.  I dont doubt its important for a boy as well, I just happen to be a girl!

In analyzing my relationship with my own daughter I realize all that I have missed with my own mom.  I mean I already knew there were major differences, its just that life happens, and we live it, and then one day we say, hey, wait a minute!  Hold on!  Im not even going to enter my birth mom into this mix.  The birth woman has never said "I love you" or tried to be part of my life, or acted like any mother I've known.

I could sit here and type all of the things I did not get.  And all of the good things I did get.

But its not about the stuff.  Its about the feelings associated with the good stuff, those special moments, the wonderful memories you remember your entire life.  And, the feelings associated with the yuck, ugly stuff.

One of the major differences between my sister and I.  She adores my mom, I see it all the time.  She has actually made comments about how lucky we are to have such a great mom.  I sit in silence, no real response for her.  Sure she's a pretty darn good person.  But apparently we've had different mothers all these years!  

Notice I said person, not mom.  She is a good person.  She just isnt the greatest  mom to me.  I'd have to say in all honesty, being brutally honest, that she has been a pretty good mom to my sister.  Wow, that was hard to admit.

What does this mean?  Does she not like me as much as my sister?  Or did she not bond with me the same as my sister?   I dont know the real answer, only how I feel and what I have observed most of my life.  I dont think she is aware of this so I doubt I will ever get an answer.

Carrying a baby for all those months, childbirth and bonding.  All of these things make a difference.  So you have your baby, the baby looks like your family....another difference.  Similar personalities, another difference.  Oh, and I always hear from people,  a story about  their own family, how this sister or brother was so different and didnt look the same or act the same as them or anyone in their family.  Uh, yeah, but nope, that brother or sister had his/her mom, right?  So...the point is...it is not the same.  

I feel this difference all the time.  Its like the family dance I'm not part of, that I've blogged about before. They are all speaking a language I dont understand.   I dont have the same feelings for my mom that I have for my own daughter and the urgency and bond with mom as I do with my own children.  I realize I am the daughter in this relationship with my mom, but I should feel similarly.  Right?  I should have the same enthusiasm and desire my sister has with mom and vice versa.  I know I should but I cant make it happen and neither can mom.

It is not my fault I feel this way.  I dont even know if its moms fault either.   In 1965 there wasnt the proper counseling to cope with loss of fertility or how to cope with a macho husband who had the issue of not being able to produce baby #2.  I do understand this intellectually, I just dont understand it emotionally.    

its important to examine the past

My birth mom found me when I was 19, in November of 1984.   She contacted my mom and talked to her first.  I was not living at home at the time.

My parents anniversary is in November as well.  

This same year, in November of 1984 was also the last time my dad physically hit me.

It wasn't until just recently I realized why he had this huge blowout, meltdown, and came charging down the hall and punched me in the face, twice.

I had no idea why he did this, he and mom had been shopping for antiques that day.  Came home and I showed up and next thing I know, dad is running down the hall and  I'm almost knocked out.

He must have gone {more] crazy that she had found me and there was an upcoming reunion?

We met the next month, in December and my dad was trying to fix up the house, he actually put up the shutters on the outside of the house he had previously taken down in one of his paranoid rages.  I guess at the time, being 19, I did not give it much thought.  But for him to do this, meant he wanted to make a good impression, and the house looked so bad from him ripping out all of the plants in our front yard, putting up security bars on every window and taking down the cute shutters around the windows.

HUGE LIGHT WENT OFF IN MY HEAD when I realized the timing of my dads blowup.  Here I was, just a kid and I was expected to endure this man cold cocking me in the face twice while sitting down, and expected to know why! Nothing had happened, that I could think of, we hadn't even spoke that day!    If he really was upset about my birth mom finding me, why didn't he just sit down and say he was upset, or worried or something?  And for heavens sake, why was he upset anyhow?  This is the same man that would tell me to stay away from his daughter (my sister) saying that I was not his daughter, while pushing me aside.  He didn't give a darn how I felt, obviously not even after birth mom found me.  Just about knocking me out, at the time and for all these years I thought he did this because of his hatred towards me.

I got up from my chair, pushed him as hard as I could, I was stunned, and he was pretty heavy at the time and I was a mere size 2 if that.   I went storming for the telephone.  I screamed, that I was calling the police and having him arrested.  Mom started crying, saying it was her anniversary, and she didn't want dad to go to jail.  I screamed out loud,  that he would never hit me again, this was the last time.  And I meant it.  Its funny in those days we had the home phone on a super long cord so you could walk around the house with it and talk.   I remember pacing around with the phone in my hand,  ready to dial the police.

Amazing I ever spoke to him again, writing this blog it amazes me that I continued to act out the motions of being the daughter and sister in this family.   Mom even lied about it happening after the fact, made it out to be something different than it really was.  All I knew was that I got punched, while sitting down at the kitchen table, looking at antiques mom had just bought.   There was no way of changing this story into something different!

Whats sick is, mom probably knows why it happened to begin with.  She lived with him, and I guarantee he was spouting off at the mouth about my birth mom coming to meet us.  No way was he quiet about it, just not his style.

During our reunion time I had driven down to the Orange County area to see the birth families on my own, after the initial meeting with my birth mom & full brother at my parents house.  My dad had screamed at me to never talk to him again, that basically I could change my name and take theirs and never have anything to do with him again.  He was fine with this.  As though it was all my fault they chose adoption.

It amazes me, that it has taken all these years to figure this out.  This November it will be 31 years since this happened!  I'd like to say that none of this matters, but that would be sweeping it under the carpet and allowing it to build and build until one day it would come busting out of the seams.  Really understanding and believing that I was and still am a good girl, a nice girl, is important to me.  For years I thought I was seriously defective, a bad girl, and that it was my fault that neither of my parents loved or cared about me.

I cannot tell you what a revelation it was figuring this out.  I bet there are many other incidents in my life, like this I have yet to figure out.

Daughter annoyed by birth moms "Thank You" card

My daughter came home from college to visit this past week, and I showed her the "Thank You" card I received from my birth mom for sending her a Christmas card.  I asked her what she thought.

I handed her the card, and she quickly gave it back to me saying she could not read it, she had seen enough and it was ridiculous that she would send me a "Thank You" card in turn for sending her a Christmas card.   She did not want to know what else she wrote, she somewhat shushed me up.

She is right, its strange that she sent me this card, and I wish I understood her purpose.  She's not written me in years,  has never sent the kids birthday cards, or Christmas cards to us, so why this card?

Why not an apology letter instead?  Apologizing for betraying me?  Clearly she has no plan on sending me that type of card or she would have done it by now.    How about a simple card, saying just "Sorry" - asking to move forward and forgive her.   30+ years into reunion, you'd think this would be easy for her to do, apologize and realize what she's done. I met her when I was 19, and I'm turning 50 on June 8th this year.

Its almost ironic that she wants to believe that I am the crazy one, point the finger at me for what she has done over the years.  Make me into the one that has caused all the problems.  Wish she'd get real, wake up, and take responsibility for her actions.  I have apologized for being mad, in turn, for her craziness.  There is not much more I can do...to make her realize what she has done.  Sometimes I imagine just shaking her, slapping her face and telling her to wake up.  I have even suggested many times to go to counseling.  But honestly, when a person refuses to face themselves, for whatever the reason and can easily betray their own daughter, telling others she is mentally ill and a liar, then I honestly doubt I can shake her back into reality.  This is work she has to do on her own.

Maybe the card is the first step?  Or maybe she just wants something from me?

"Get over it"

Who do others say this so often?  "Get over it."  Is this how we, as a society have been taught to process our loss, grief and emotions?

Not allowing us to ever process it, by being told, just get over it and in my own opinion, just shut up I dont want to hear you...is what they mean.

And how do we "Get over it" I'd like to know when these brilliant people demand we do this?  Any suggestions?  Find God, pray, join a club, move on....the options are endless.

This is why our children are the same as us, and the cycle continues, never broken are the chains, our loss, grief and whatever else you want to add to the list.

I think its somewhat sad, that society expect babies & children to be born of another woman, to  be taken away, raised with other people and then expects them to have zero issues, questions, or loss and grief.  Thats like saying we dont, as a society know that cigarettes are bad for our health, cause possible fetal damage when pregnant.  We know it, its talked about, and agreed upon.  Why is it then, that adoption is swept, right under the carpet, with so many arguments?  WHY?

So I was born to this woman, and then taken away, yet nobody is supposed to have a problem down the line?  Really?  Why is it that some people in this year in time when all you gotta do is speak into a cell phone to get directions  cant accept that adoption automatically brings loss and grief.  When I speak about it with my own family, you'd think that I had just grown an alien head.   Is it that far fetched to think that adoption brings such loss for everyone involved?

Loss of fertility for the adoptive parents, who sometimes would like to pretend the word fertility doesnt even exist or that they couldnt have their own baby is really no big deal.  Yeah right!  Or that someone like me,  taken away at birth, that I would not have any recollection of this as I became a toddler.  Or that my birth mom was supposed to leave the maternity home for unwed mothers with a clean slate, and pretend like nothing happened, after being told that in a few months it will be like nothing ever happened.  REALLY?  Even now, in year 2014, people look at me like I'm the crazy one when I mention the primal wound, of being ripped apart from one's birth mom, even if that woman you find out later on is not a good person.  That is not the topic of debate, its the fact that we have been torn away from our mothers, yet we are expected to bounce back and pretend this really isn't a big deal, nor does it affect us in any way!

Stripped of my heritage

Out of the blue my daughter texted me and asked what tribe (we)  my birth family is from.  I have to dig out my birth family information to give her the answer.    Haven't done that yet.

I told her that it doesn't matter anyhow, I cannot prove who I am.  She responded with a "Huh."  I had to remind her that I don't have my real birth certificate, so as far as the system is concerned, I am not that person because of adoption.   Its quite an irony, I am not biologically attached to my adoptive family either.  This in turn gives my children the same issue.  Its like stripping someone of their ancestry.  Once I explained this to my daughter, she was shocked.  She had not thought of that before.   She asked how to get my original birth certificate, and I explained I'd have to go to court and doubt I'd actually get it.  She was so mad!

Nope, most people don't think of this, what is stripped away from a baby when she's given up for adoption.  I texted my daughter this in response to her shock.  "Hence, my blog Who am I anyhow."
My daughter didn't respond to that text.  But I have been thinking about it a lot.  The dreaded question  I think I have the answer for with my 50th year of life quickly approaching.   It's a battle of managing myself,  alone.   You wouldn't believe what goes through my head on a daily basis.

I hate not having my ancestry for my kids, I resent it.   I am part Native American, and it's not that far removed, my birth fathers grandmother.    Because of adoption we can't claim our own heritage or ancestry, and its going to continue for generations, when my kids have kids, etc.   Do the adoption peddlers have any idea what they are doing when they break up families, or do they just not give a darn?  Can they grasp the devastation they are creating for generations to come?  

Longing to be trusted

I'm still going through the motions.  Going to anniversary parties, making custom photo blankets, making special rice pudding for my dad,   I really want to be part of the family, so I'm still compromising a lot.   I want to be accepted, I want them to look at me and really adore me, trust me, and confide in me.    I overlook a lot of "Stuff" that is said and done.  I forgive a lot.   I'm in the middle.

The caretaker that comes to watch my dad while mom is gone was told a week ago that, this one is adopted, we didn't have her, as she's pointing at my picture.  I can guarantee that was not said about my sister.  Mom telling me the story, hugging me and saying we do love you even if we didn't have you....teary eyed.  I feel stiff as a board, unsure of what to say except asking mom if she really told the caretaker this?!  

 It was my idea to make the photo  blanket for their anniversary, I really enjoy art, crafts,  and I excel at the computer.  So I did the work with re-sizing pics, etc.  I wanted to use pictures of everyone on this giant photo blanket, but my sister wanted only my parents pictures.  I felt it was wrong, because they've had such an unhappy marriage, it may be more comforting for mom to sit and look at pics of fun days throughout the years of her entire family .  Anyhow, the point is, she got her way by not compromising.  Only pics of my folks were put on the blanket.   It took me a long time to get the pics the right size, fix the clarity, etc.    I always feel as though my ideas, my judgement is always questioned.  My sister can never just say, OK, you do it and I trust you.  There wasn't even a bit of compromise on my sisters end.  This is how it always is, and how its always been.   This is where I feel adoption has failed me.  My sister, born to my parents is just like the two of them, personality, reasoning, temperament, etc.   I am not exactly like them, however there is an invisible barrier,  most don't see.  Looking at this picture everything seems fine.  On the inside, there is chaos.   They will tell you it does not matter I was adopted, but then why all of this nonsense?  

Sometimes I feel like I am a prisoner of adoption.  I know my place, I know what I'm supposed to say, how I am supposed to react to total nonsense, and I know that my opinion, judgment and feelings are not as important, or treated with the same dignity.  I am expected to go home, lick my wounds and tolerate all of this, told again I'm too sensitive and to basically, get over it.  Tolerate the fact that I will never be treated as a well deserved family member.  I will continue to keep trying to fit in, to please everyone, and honestly,  I doubt it will ever change.  I cannot change how they feel .

Adoptive mom revelation...I think?

I have realized that mom is really damaged from her life.  Now starts the process of making sense of this information.  Sure, it should be easy to learn something new and just say, "OK, I'm better now."  Move on, like so many people post about on Facebook.  You know those annoying pics of people you don't know with little clever sayings.  Sayings that sound like a great idea, but as ridiculous as it would be to suggest that I go outside and lay an egg.

This new information about mom now has to be analyzed, made sense of, and I have to change inside...a lot.   Mom will not change, so I have to be the one to make the changes to stop this lifelong battle we've had.

I'm thinking that it was easier for her to allow her husband (my dad) to abuse me, and not their birth child or even her!    It may not have been easy per-se.  But at the end of the day, having this man abuse someone other than herself or her birth child, made it more bearable.  I know, it sounds harsh and brutal to say this, but lets get real, its probably the truth regardless if she realized at the time she was doing this or it was just a natural reaction?

She didn't do this to make me suffer,  because I'm bad, or dirty, or stupid.   When there are a lot of women with babies, and one of them starts to cry,  the babies mother goes to her child.  If another baby is crying, does she go to the other woman's baby?  Not usually, at least not in our culture.  I guess what she did is a natural, automatic response to life?

I have to admit, I do feel stupid at times.  I feel like I'm the one forcing myself within this family, at times.  Forcing to be accepted, to find my place and push everyone to love me and change their way of thinking.  They clearly don't like my way, its painful and difficult to resolve life long challenges we've had, and I tend to be the family member that wants to shake it up and make it right.  In my mind I sit and wonder how much I annoy all of them, and wonder how they all really feel about "ME."    Its always a question in my mind, and I always feel like my opinion does not matter as much as theirs, regarding...everything.   I have a lot of doubts about where I belong in this "Family."

Now I know that mom is living in some sort of fantasy world, she has created, to make her life bearable.  She has repeated history, has become a silent partner in crime with her husband, my dad.  She allowed her husband, just like her mom allowed her dad, to be the abuser.  She stood by, just like her mom did and allowed the man to have the control and be an abuser.  She also drank, like her mother did.  And stayed with the abuser, like her mom did.  Mom tells stories, sorry to say they are "Lies" about her life.  She makes everything rosy and sweet, and this morning I realize that mom has also been living a fantasy,  making her parents into  the fantasy parents she probably wanted, but did not get.   Mom could also have a blog like mine, if she chose a different life path.  Her loss and grief is so huge, to get through the pain would be too difficult.  If she wasn't currently lying about her life, I'd say she's done the work.  But its clear to me now, that it will never be processed and she will live her remaining days on this earth, in this lifetime,  just like she is.  In pieces, torn inside, and never knowing true love, intimacy, or her own mind.

Processing "Both Moms"  is so hard for me, and such a challenge and often I wonder if I'm right or wrong, but all I really know is how I feel.

Birth moms pic, tucked away in the [Junk] drawer....

Its amazing how much stress one small framed picture of my birth mom has caused me.  Maybe its more of a debate, within myself?  The picture in the frame is of the "Old" birth mom, before she changed.  When we first met, this is what she looked like.   I cannot explain how much she's changed since this picture was taken, back in 1984.  Yeah, we all change, I know.   But, she was drastically different, she was married, lived in a nice home, did not work.  Loved to garden, sew, cook and smoke salmon.  Once her husband left her, everything went to pieces.   Her views on life became jaded, and she's yet to recover.   That was around the time we were married, 27 years ago.   Considering we've been in reunion since 1984, that pretty much tells you we've had a dysfunctional, painful and disappointing relationship most of our reunion.   Its been a battle, a fight to try and hold onto the birth mom I  initially met, and liked!

I cut all ties with Nancy in February of 2014.  Nancy is my birth mom, by the way.  We had been talking again, but I have not seen the woman in so many years its mind boggling.  Over the past few years she's refused to meet me anywhere, that really puzzled me.  I chalked it up to the fact that my birth brother and I don't like one another, and she is so involved in his life maybe it was hard to see me and keep it a secret?

Why do I have to be the one that is a secret?  Why can't my birth brother be the secret?  I've done nothing wrong, except protect myself from unnecessary harm due to both of their indiscretions, to put it lightly.

She thinks I have a problem because every time we start talking, I cut it off.  She cannot have a relationship with me without rambling on and on about my birth brother or telling half truths about his life.  Drives me nuts, that she lies.  Without getting into details and telling stories, this is the bottom line.  I told her that I can have a relationship with her only if my brother is out of the mix.  She cannot do it, and so I have chosen to walk away.   Its not that simple, writing this makes me sound shallow, and unable to bend.  As I've blogged about in the past,  craziness happens in our lives when my brother is allowed even an inch.  Craziness happens with Nancy in my life too, but both of them puts me over the edge.

The process of accepting this is brutal.  I took her picture out of that junk drawer so many times.  I mean put it up, took it down over and over again until it found its resting spot for now.   There is shame involved in this, not shame for wanting her in the drawer, but for even having her pic in a frame.  Does she deserve to be displayed amongst the loves of my life?  What does she deserve?  Truth is I don't have the answer.  Maybe what she really deserves I am not giving her?  Or, because of her life choices she has changed what she deserves?  Does it matter how bad she is?  If she were decent and honest, I would probably allow her pic to be placed next to my loved ones.   I would not allow my brothers picture to be anywhere in my house.  That man is turning 40 next month, has threatened one too many times to kill my entire family, so honestly he deserves absolutely nothing on the subject of loyalty.

Today, I do not miss her, I do not want her around, nor do I have the desire to even chat with her.  I always have this silent battle inside about her, because she thinks I have the problem, not her.  That bugs me!   She can't own what she's done, and quite possibly she has buried it so deeply, not even she can see it herself.   I have apologized to her many times, saying that I am greatly sorry that I cannot tolerate her being less than truthful about my brother, and every time things go well for the two of us she muddies the water by bringing up his craziness.  Then, later on she tells people that "Her daughter" is crazy"!!!!  Yeah I'm crazy, sick and tired of her lies, and her deceit, and her betrayal and have come to the conclusion she is not mentally well, for whatever the reason.  She does take a lot of pain meds she really does need, so maybe her mind is clouded and confused a lot?

Why does adoption always feel so yucky inside to me?  Why am I the one that is always battling inside, when its obvious I am the only one doing this,  the others don't give a darn.  They probably don't suffer inside like I do, they were never put in this position to feel as though they have to "Manange" so many people, only the adoptee is left to battle this, and I honestly think we are supposed to do it in silence, suffer in silence, and endure the long and difficult battle of reunion alone.

Re-negotiating process?

Over the past couple of weeks I have found myself trying to re-negotiate my belonging in any way to my birth mom.

I took the one pic I have of her in my home, down.

I look in the mirror at myself, and look at my eyes.  I don't want my eyes to look like hers.  I try to imagine they look like someone else's.

I look at my skin, and I know I got my skin type from her.   Even my hair, the way it falls, makes me want to re-negotiate.

I wanted so much to know the feeling of looking like someone, and now,  at this stage of reunion, if thats what you want to call it, I dont care who I look like.

I never thought this would be a part of this process...to de-fantasize my life.    I try to push the thoughts of any resemblance I have of her, out of my mind, I try not to think that any part of me is like her.  I see a picture of myself and I shudder at the thought that I appear to be like her.

Have I ever said or done something remotely similar to something she has said or done?  I have been re-thinking everything.   Do I behave like her?  I dont think so, I answer myself.  I have been on a mission to try and listen better to others, and to be a better person in general.  I think this woman is the reason why I feel so motivated to do this.

Such a strange feeling today inside of me.  What is this whole mess we call adoption, how does an adoptee fit into any of this mess?  Why does it matter where I got these darn toes, or ears?   Does anyone else really care where they came from?  Are adoptee's the only one that care about finding out what bits and pieces we got from relatives?  Does anyone in the birth families really think about this stuff, or is this the wonderfully divine present left for the adoptee to sort out....alone?

Seriously, I have been on this journey alone, with the exception of my husband who's been a champ.  But my mom has never really cared about who I look like,  I don't think my sister has really given it much thought.  I know my birth mom was curious enough to clear her name, by finding me.

So today, I am finally realizing and feeling the reality that I would like to re-negotiate the entire deal.  I don't want to be the adopted girl.  I don't want to look, act or be like her...ever!  I just want to be like everyone else.   I don't want to analyze every step of my life, wondering if I am in any way, shape or form, like her.   At this point I don't even want to admit she is my birth mom, and I do think I have the right to make this choice.

The music swells, the mother runs and embraces her daughter...

I just watched Little House on the Prairie episode, Mary starts a fire in the barn studying for a test.  In the end, Mary is sitting in the field by herself, her mother goes to find her, the music swells, Mary turns her head and see's her mother as she runs towards Mary.  They meet, hug, and the mother tells her she's sorry, and come now, lets go home.  They are both obviously happy, love one another and the idea that moms run towards their daughters with open arms like in this TV show sends a chill down my spine. I have a bit of a burning in my nose and eyes, and I cannot deny I felt tears welling in my eyes.

I flock to movies and TV shows like this.  Always have.  Hallmark channel and I are best friends.  I imagine how it would be to be the little girl, and how touching it is to have that bond with your mother.

I just wonder if all those people working in adoption agencies have any idea what they are really doing?   Encouraging women to walk away from their baby, and taking the risk that another woman may not be able to fully love and adore her the same way she would?

Its a crap shoot, really.  How will the dice roll, who will win, who will lose?  How do these people go home at night, and sleep soundly knowing they have not done everything on God's green earth to keep that mother and her baby together?  Do they realize they are robbing an entire family of a sister, a brother, an aunt, uncle, cousin, and even worse, a grandchild?

There is loss for everyone.  History is changed.  Lives are forever altered, never the same again.  Yet you search the internet now and see the ad's for adoption's and it almost makes me feel panicked.  I cannot go there, and I cannot get myself so upset that I want to march down on the local street with a sign saying, "Family Preservation"  --"Dont give your baby away."

I know not everyone has an unhappy adoption experience, but there are plenty of them out there.  Its not like we get to choose as the adoptee.  Having a fairly painful experience myself, I often wonder what it would be like to be someone else.  I could be anyone, in a different situation, with a completely different reality.  Different parents, different city, country, the options are limitless.

At some point I would love to get up and speak to a large group of adoption agencies, and tell them what my experience has been and continues to be.  And how they act as God "Creating families" that should not be created to begin with.  The extreme sadness they have caused me.

Its a joke around my house, my adoption papers say "Baby Girl (C-2566)"  no name, nothing but a number!  So does this mean that when I was put into a foster home they called me..."Nothing?"  Just said, oh hey baby girl C-2566!    Its like a number from  a catalog!  ha!  Baby for sale!

All joking aside, I cannot deny that I do not feel warm and fuzzy about this.  I'm not super mad, but I would like to know "Who" had me for the first few months of my life?  And I'd like to know the family that brought me back!   I should be given the right to find out this information, its about me!

Those Hallmark movies and sappy TV shows will continue to be my favorite pass time, and I will probably continue to enjoy them regardless of the shoddy deal I got thanks to Holy Family Adoption Service, and those awful Nuns who were in charge back in the 60's.   I am moving forward, I have accepted what I cannot achieve and will not have in this lifetime.  That does not mean I cannot watch these movies and appreciate the mother/daughter bond.  It reminds me of my daughter & I, how attached we are to one another, and that makes me deeply happy, and has to be enough.

I wish I could go down to this adoption agency and tell them the devastating consequences their bad judgement and lack of common decency have been and that  it has taken me a lifetime to sort through all of the pain I have been dealt thanks to them!

Another one bites the dust.

My son went in for surgery a week ago.  We had this planned for quite awhile, and it was taking place less than a mile from my parents house.

The day before surgery, I spoke with mom.  My son suggested we pick her up on the way, she had said she wanted to come and visit and see Nick either before or after surgery.  She said no, she would come later.  OK.

We got to the hospital at 5:00am, I told mom I'd call her when it was almost time for surgery, and I did. We talked for awhile.

I called her about 6 times throughout the time he was in surgery, and afterwards in recovery.  I called one last time once he was put in a room for the night.

Around 5:00pm came, and mom called me.  She never said she was not coming, nor did she say she was coming to visit.  I just figured she would considering she lives just up the street.

I never did hear anything from mom, and she never showed up.  My son agreed to stop by her house on the way home.  So we did, she seemed odd.

I was super disappointed, I went through waiting alone, for 3 hours my son was in surgery.  Just in February my sisters husband had surgery.  I went to sit with her so she was not alone.  My mom made a big deal about it, said how wonderful it was and how nice it was that my sister did not have to wait alone.

So I told my sister about this, and I also figured out through my kids that my sisters daughter was in town, and went to visit my mom on the same day my son had surgery.  My kids figured she knew my niece was coming and didnt want to leave to go see my son.

I mentioned this scenario to my sister, and she insisted that mom did not know Kristina was coming.   I find thats hard to believe.

So my sister has made every excuse under the sun for mom, like she always does.  I on the other hand am kind of over it.  I guess being alone for surgery is OK for me, but not them?  I'm not sure how I can look at this any other way?  My mom could have walked to the hospital, I offered to come pick her up, she could have taken the Blue Bus,  1/2 mile.

The point is, coming to sit with me and see my son was not important enough for her.  If it were important, she would have come.

I seriously have to reconsider my position.  I am too defeated with these types of situations.  I expect somewhat of the same consideration from my family.  Yet I dont get it, and continue to be disappointed.  My kids say that grandma doesnt care about them as much as she cares about my sisters kids.  Ask any one of them and they'd quickly tell you their side and journey with my family.

What do I do I thought?  I called mom finally 5 days after surgery.  She seemed nutty, confused, and never apologized for not showing up, or for not being there for me.

This is old news, too much for me at almost age 49.  I dont recover as quickly from my child having surgery, and then added to that is this emotional stuff.  I texted my sister screen shots of the outgoing calls I made to mom, so maybe if mom denied that I had ever called her, my sister would have proof that mom has gone around the bend?

I wont know the answer, my sister may never ask her why she didnt show up.   I am still the dirty, disheveled kid that was left behind in the shopping cart.  That is how I sometimes feel, when my so called family flakes on me.

Turns out, not so funny story...I guess?

I was telling my aunt Mary, my birth fathers sister who happens to be my age about something that was told to me years ago.  At the time the story was told, I was probably in my early 20's, and I'm guessing a tad bit easier going than I am now?  You know, just didnt think too much about anything.  At the time, it was dangerous, I was on the edge and knew just to keep everything compartmentalized.

Anyhow, my birth mom  told me the story about how her family found out she was pregnant with me.  How everyone was torn apart, she was in the bath tub, and her mom came in, realizing she was pregnant.  Her father was in the hall, and her mother told him the news.  He replied, "Not Nancy, shes too smart for that" -  REALLY?  SHE's too smart for that, I'm guessing it was the immaculate conception, right?  She got pregnant by herself I was probably thinking when I heard the story.

My birth mom continued with the story, she had been trying to abort me.  Using Coca-Cola, ways I never thought possible, to make the pregnancy go away.  Long hot, almost boiling baths to somehow make me go away.  Her girlfriend had helped her find ways of aborting.  As you can all see, it didnt work, as I type this blog at age 48!  ha!

So theres the story.  Was told many times to me by my birth mom.  When I told my Aunt, she seemed shocked, taken back with this loud noise like she had just seen a giant rat in her house.  I guess its kind of mean to tell such a story to one's child you've just met for the first time, maybe it would have been better to keep this story a secret?

My aunt said something very important yesterday.  She commented on the Coca-Cola attempt and said its like "Your not the same person"  ---we both paused.  Silence.  We both realized that we discovered the truth.  Nancy, my birth mom, does not realize that I am that baby.  I am Cathy,  a person that does not really click in her head as being her child, like my full birth brother.  I am that baby in her belly that was trying to be aborted, she did not want me.  So I get it, she never bonded with me, she did not want me.   I was like this mistake she somehow had to deal with, and when she met me, she only wanted to be sure that I was indeed Doug's baby.  She had been messing around with another man, and everyone pointed the finger at this other guy.  So she really did find me just out of pure selfishness.  Just out of curiosity.  She wanted to clear her name, rub it in everyone's face.  To show the world that yes, I was Doug's baby.

Well, she succeeded.  My grandmother, my Aunt Mary's mom, almost had a heart attack when looking at my baby pictures.  It was clear, I was Doug's baby.  That was enough for her, she went through some of the motions, for a short period of time, but after that, it was pretty much over for her.

So what does this mean to me now?  Maybe, just maybe, it gives me some insight to why she has behaved so badly over the past 30 years?   I would not behave this way, but this could be how she has survived it?

It does not change how I feel, or what has happened.  I do not want anything to do with this woman.  But it could clear up a lot of things, mainly why she sees me and does not connect me with being her baby.

Enough time has passed

I feel enough time has passed to safely say I have done everything possible to try and make amends with my birth mom.  To force her to love me, to reciprocate.  I even forced her to a CUB retreat, where she was incapable of hugging me, brushing my hair, or saying that she loved me.  To this day this woman has never said, "I love you."

I have been forgiving.  I have gone back for more after forgiving and never hearing an apology from her.

I have been helpful.  I have helped both her and my birth brother countless times over the past 30 years.   I have helped financially, emotionally, and  physically.  I have NEVER asked her for a penny, for emotional or physical help in these 30 years.

I have overlooked a lot of adversity.  I have ignored and overlooked her stealing, cheating, and lying..for 30 years.

I keep asking myself, "What do you want from this woman"  --  I know the answer.    Unfortunately, the answer cannot be attained in this life.  My birth mom is not capable of love, nurturing, being my mom.

Having said that, why would I talk to a woman who cannot be my friend, my birth mother, or treat my children with respect and kindness, or even think of them.

What do we have to say to one another?  What would a conversation look like?  Well, I know what it looks like, one sided.  Her side full of hatred, lies, betrayal and mine full of hope.

What is the point?  Because she gave birth to me I am bound to endure her betrayal again and again?

I will never get what I want from this woman I call my birth mom.  The reason for the title of this blog, "Fantasy mom has died"  -- she has been buried, and is gone, even though she has not really died.   Its the process of acceptance, of things I cannot attain, cannot change or continue to have hope for.  I believe to the depths of my soul that 30 years is long enough to safely say, "Enough."

Enough.

Adoption makes no SENSE at times!

If I sit and think things through, I understand why my family doesnt get it.  In my mind, it makes sense. I can get to the end and understand every single person's position.  Where they are emotionally, and why.

In real life, it does not make sense, because I cant find the solution.  I know what needs to be done, what needs to be said, to be cleared up,  to be able to move forward to the next level.

I need to go to the next level.   I have to sit and think about how I can get this accomplished.  Mom does not want to discuss things that make her uncomfortable, and to be honest, I dont think she can be very honest.  Its too painful to admit things about our lives, and its possible she is not even aware of how she really feels.  She has spent so many years in a dysfunctional marriage, and been the caretaker of my dad, and has been abused herself, she may not know which end is up...so to speak.

OK, so I'm back to the same level I'm at.  I may have to accept this level.  I may have to realize that I have to micro manage my family.  I have to be thick skinned, accept the insults, accept the comments.  Im supposed to keep excusing mom's words, and I have to believe she really doesnt mean any of them.

Do I get smart, and call her out on her words.  Or do I just continue to pretend that she really isnt saying them, and excuse her.  Wait.  Isnt that why I'm blogging, to get rid of this "Fantasy Mother" that really does not exist.  Am I supposed to continue with this fantasy, keep pretending to make their lives easier?

Why do I always have to be the one making their lives easier?  Why do I have to compromise?  My sister says Im too sensitive, and that mom does not really mean what she says.  OK, then what does she mean?   I ask her, does mom say these things to you....no....ok....then what do you mean?   So I'm continued to be told to shut up, in a nice way.  I should not make anyone feel uncomfortable.  OK...so go back to my first sentence....I know why mom is this way, I get it.  But were all adults, lets just get through this and go to the next level.

See why Im stuck.  The work has to be done by myself.  I have to somehow find a way of accepting this.  I go through the motions of family life, but somewhat detached.  I'm not feeling the same way as they rest of them are.  My kids are not feeling the same as their cousins.  Our bond and attachment is different with my parents, and I am woman enough to admit it.

So I have to find a comfortable place and accept that family life will be just as its always been.   I am not saying I dont love them, I'd do anything for my family.  I just would like to "Feel" differently.  As I've said before, I dont like having this disconnect, which is why I continue to search for ways of repairing this.    I search within to find answers, and solutions.

There is no quick fix, you cant say "Move on" or "Get over it" - does not work.  How does one  feel that bond when its never been there to begin with ?   I guess all of the parties involved possibly feel this way,  searching for a bond that does not exist.  There is loyalty for all parties, which is an important feeling, but its different than that bond.   Maybe that is enough?  Maybe I just have to accept and go to the next level knowing that loyalty and knowing my place as their daughter is enough?  I cant change what has been done, or said, or continues to be said and done.  I cant create a bond...like I have with my own family.

I just looked up the meaning of the word "Bond."  And I found an article written in Psychology Today talking about mother-daughter relationship.  They stated, "There is great value in the mother-daughter tie because the two parties care for one another and share a strong investment in the family as a whole,"  ---I find that interesting.  All of you adoptive moms out there, remember how important it is to make sure your adopted daughters feel like they are part of the family, and investing in the family as a whole.   This is crucial to make sure your daughter grows up knowing her position, her place, and realizes her importance in your life.  Age 48 she should never be told that "Now, she is part of a family."  --She has to know immediately, her worth, her value to you and your extended families and cherished as though you gave birth to her yourself.  

Lots of bargaining and sorting today

Wow, I'm ashamed that I still keep trying to bargain for a different set of moms.  Yes, I intellectually know the situation wont change.  I know my birth mom is not available, never  has been, emotionally, or physically, for me or my family.  My mom is around, but she is also unavailable to a point.  I sit here this morning, trying to sort through the things my birth mom recently said to me.  The fact that she does not have a bond with me, honestly doesnt give a darn if I drop off the face of this earth.  She backs what my full birth brother does, age 39, regardless if he's wrong.  She's been enabling him for 20 years now.  She is a liar, yeah, I know this.  She cheats, yeah I know this.  She's dishonest, oh wait that was covered under a liar.  Probably the worst part is, she tells false stories, and people believe her.

OK, so what is it that I want?   I'm doing it again, trying to restore that fantasy I've had forever.  It must be a mistake, I must have the wrong woman.  How could this woman be my birth mother?

I keep searching for the good.   She sometimes seems to be on my side, she kind of seems to like me, then when she tells me these terrible stories about my birth brother (she kept) dating these young girls, etc (I wont elaborate) she pretends like she does not know what has happened over the past 30 years of our reunion.  She acts like an idiot, pretends she doesnt know what I'm talking about, and a stranger would think after she's done talking, that my birth brother is a saint, a wonderful and honest person that has his life together.  She is clever, she is crafty, she is believable.

OK, so she tells me stories I have asked not to hear about my birth brother, I get upset, and then she turns on me.  Tells me that I say nasty words to her, and before I was fine.  She doesnt understand why I get upset with her, and say what I say...YES SHE DOES.  As though there is no basis for my  words?  What, is she kidding me?  Thats like being the mother of a murderer who then turns to another and says her son is a saint, wonderful person, and expecting to hear a glowing review.  I dont know what she wants me to say in response, I cannot lie.  Its the pure truth that my birth brother is a non functioning person, has type 1 diabetes, has bipolar disorder, has severe OCD, has severe anxiety he cannot go in public much.  He takes steroids to build his muscles - has abused drugs for many years, such as meth, LSD, and another liquid drug that destroys the brain.  Oh, and he has irreversible brain damage from drugs as well.    I'm not making this stuff up.  Why does she turn on me and make me seem like the villain?  I am the easy kid, never did drugs, got married and I'm still happily married, independent.  I was lucky not to get any mental disorder such as bipolar disorder, I dont have any OCD, and I dont have anxiety disorder.  That was just pure luck of the draw!

This is why I sit here this morning, bargaining.  Thinking maybe theres a way to make this right, when in reality, I have tried over and over again and failed.    Never able to make it right, and never able to get through to her.  Each time she gets mad at me, pretending that I am the villain, when in reality, I am just being truthful and have been nothing but up front with her about our relationship and what I want.

I have wanted her to act more like a mom, not someone you met just yesterday.  I wanted her to be like family, act like the grandma to my kids.  I wanted her to be involved with my extended family.  None of these things have ever happened, and its been 30 years this year.  Time to get my head cleared out and straight.  She is not coming for me, or making this right.  Its ridiculous for me to continue to have hope, dont you think?  I mean 30 years is a long time to wait!  I have been patient, I have gone back to her again and again.  Maybe I need to write her a letter, explaining what I have wanted from her, so there is no misunderstanding.

All I know is that I need to get a grip on myself.  I have to stop bargaining.  Maybe I was not meant to have a mom, maybe this is my cross to bear.  Maybe I am supposed to learn how to give what I did not get, which I believe I am successfully doing now, with my own kids.  I think that is what I am supposed to do in this lifetime, be accepting.

What do they mean?

I'm always trying to figure out what my family means when they say the things they say.

My brother in law  is in hospital for surgery.  I go to sit and wait with my sister.  It was a long wait and an awful experience to have alone.

I hear from my A-mom, how appreciative "They are" that I went and sat for hours...with my sister (called by name)    I shrugged it off.  Trying to focus on what someone told me about being too sensitive...oh it was my sister.

Again, its said.  "They" appreciate it so much that I sat for hours.  Here comes the crickets again, dead silence on my end as I search for a response.  I think I said, Uh-huh and quickly ended the cell phone conversation.

OK, and again its said by A-mom, that "They" really appreciate me spending the time with my sister.  I have only one sibling, my sister.  On and on about it.  OK, time limit to how many times you can say this and not really mean it has been met.    This wasnt some slip on her end, she means what she says after repeating it over and over in a  7 hour time frame.

My nephew grabbed us coffee, the hospital cafeteria was closed.  And a nice snack for me as well.  So after I went home I texted and said again, thanks so much for grabbing us coffee and a snack.  He thanked me for sitting with his mom, my sister.

I answered "I am your moms sister, this is what sisters do."  I got a smiley face in response.

Dont they know I am the sister?  I have known her husband, my nephews father, the one in the hospital now for about 30+ years.  We have spent the past 28 Christmas' and Thanksgivings with them, countless birthday parties, fourth of July, Easter, etc.

What does this mean?  Am I the outsider, the friend they are thanking, or am I the daughter, the sister and the aunt?  I'm confused, because who says this to her own daughter?  Im just curious to know what it means?  Why is my own mother thanking me for sitting with my own sister while her husband has surgery?