Posts
What would you feel like to find out late in life that you were adopted?
What would you feel if you traced your birth mum and she was a rape victim?
What would you feel like if your adoptive parents resented you tracing your birth parents?
What would you feel like if your adoptive parents divorced?
What would you feel like if you could not trace your birth family?
What would you feel like if you found out your birth parents were dead?
What would you feel like if your birth parents were disabled?
What would you feel like if your birth family rejected you?
What would you feel like if your adoptive parents died when you were still a child?
What would you feel like if you were told you could not adopt?
What would you feel like if your adopted child rejected you?
What would you feel like if you became seriously ill after adoption?
I have listed these questions to highlight that life is an unpredictable thing and that shows up in adoption stories just like anywhere else.
What would you feel like?
What do you feel like?
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
National Adoption Week - view from an "official" sibling
It is National Adoption Week and I am blogging all week on this important topic. I am trying to look at it from different perspectives so hope you find the time to look at the other adoption posts and the interesting comments coming in too.
Here is the story of someone who in later life found out her mother had put a child up for adoption years before.
"I never really had a close mother and daughter relationship with Mum. I felt that I was never good enough for her. It was like I never quite lived up to her expectations
I also always sensed she was hiding something from me. She was sad in some way and sometimes bitter to be honest. Maybe she was grieving the loss of her first child.
Finding out that my Mum had put a child up for adoption was strange of course. I was also very curious. I did not know if a relationship with that child could work but wanted to give it a go. Now I want to know that child's own children and to meet up at some point.
Times are different now and I did not judge Mum for what had happened in a different era when illegitimacy was such a stigma. However, I do wish she could talk with me openly about it and realise that I am not against her. I would understand but I can't do that if she won't communicate with me properly.
It's a difficult situation."
Here is the story of someone who in later life found out her mother had put a child up for adoption years before.
"I never really had a close mother and daughter relationship with Mum. I felt that I was never good enough for her. It was like I never quite lived up to her expectations
I also always sensed she was hiding something from me. She was sad in some way and sometimes bitter to be honest. Maybe she was grieving the loss of her first child.
Finding out that my Mum had put a child up for adoption was strange of course. I was also very curious. I did not know if a relationship with that child could work but wanted to give it a go. Now I want to know that child's own children and to meet up at some point.
Times are different now and I did not judge Mum for what had happened in a different era when illegitimacy was such a stigma. However, I do wish she could talk with me openly about it and realise that I am not against her. I would understand but I can't do that if she won't communicate with me properly.
It's a difficult situation."
Tuesday, 2 November 2010
Happy Birthday to my 5 year old son
Today is my 5 year old son's birthday.
What can I say about him to mark this momentous occasion?
My first two children were a boy and girl. People said that I had one of each so could stop the creation game. I was almost convinced myself and dutifully went along to the GP to discuss contraception options for the older woman. He was not happy for me to continue on the pill so aged was I and suggested one of those coat-hanger looking things. The coil - that's the one! I left saying I would think about it. Was vaguely suspicious of something called "Marina" or somthing. Last time I had come across one of those it was in Fuengirola.
One day coming home on the train, I had a cough and suddenly realised I was going to throw up. It was a commuter train with every square inch packed out. Suddenly a bloke saw just how green I looked and it was like Moses parting the waves. I made it to the loo in the nick of time.
That was when I realised I was pregnant again. I went to the same GP who thought it hilarious that the last time he had seen me it was about contraception. Various midwife visits followed with them getting increasingly alarmed as like that pumpkin thing, the baby grew and grew.
I had no idea how huge I was until about 2 weeks before the due date, I caught my reflection in a full-length mirror in a restaurant. Daunting to think that whoever was in there was going to have to come out.
My waters broke just as Coronation Street was starting on 1st November. I had not had this experience before but knew enough to know something was wrong. My Other Half summoned a taxi to take me to the hospital. I had no pains. Something was wrong.
I spent the whole night pretending to feel contractions just for something to do to pass the time. Various chemicals were pumped into me, various maternity pads inspected and disposed of. Somewhere in the middle of this David Blunkett resigned as Home Secretary. At least city hospitals have a telly to watch.
At 7.40am, the midwife said she had bad news. I did not see it like that and was glad that something was going to happen to remove the pumpkin.
My son arrived exactly twenty minutes later. Shortly before that (blame the drugs!), I was lusting after the Mel Gibson lookalike who gave me the epidural. Also reflecting that this was probably the only time that I would see shaving my bits as worth doing and not a deeply man-made and probably pervy suggestion.
I was tired and could barely stay awake as the midwife rubbed the baby up and down my face "to help you bond". He had a pair of lungs on him unlike my first two and looked like a pirate with a mass of dark hair. Later they weighed him with huge excitement hoping he would feature in the Sun or something. He weighed in at 11 pounds and 8 ounces.
I struggled to bond with him and wonder if that was because of the caesarean. I hated not being able to get to him when he cried. I felt useless. I also returned to work after 2 weeks which was way too soon but necessary I felt as my Other Half had been made redundant.
The bonding came the first time my son was ill. I thought he was going to die. The love surged in. I have adored him every since, some would say too much.
He is a full on, boisterous boy
He is a born peformer and comedian
He pulls the best faces
He is sensitive and can pick up on people's feelings
He is brave and bold
He eats for England, Scotland and Wales
He has held on to the baby stage longer than my other children and is clingier
He loves his Mum very much and she loves him right back.
Happy Birthday Big Boy
What can I say about him to mark this momentous occasion?
My first two children were a boy and girl. People said that I had one of each so could stop the creation game. I was almost convinced myself and dutifully went along to the GP to discuss contraception options for the older woman. He was not happy for me to continue on the pill so aged was I and suggested one of those coat-hanger looking things. The coil - that's the one! I left saying I would think about it. Was vaguely suspicious of something called "Marina" or somthing. Last time I had come across one of those it was in Fuengirola.
One day coming home on the train, I had a cough and suddenly realised I was going to throw up. It was a commuter train with every square inch packed out. Suddenly a bloke saw just how green I looked and it was like Moses parting the waves. I made it to the loo in the nick of time.
That was when I realised I was pregnant again. I went to the same GP who thought it hilarious that the last time he had seen me it was about contraception. Various midwife visits followed with them getting increasingly alarmed as like that pumpkin thing, the baby grew and grew.
I had no idea how huge I was until about 2 weeks before the due date, I caught my reflection in a full-length mirror in a restaurant. Daunting to think that whoever was in there was going to have to come out.
My waters broke just as Coronation Street was starting on 1st November. I had not had this experience before but knew enough to know something was wrong. My Other Half summoned a taxi to take me to the hospital. I had no pains. Something was wrong.
I spent the whole night pretending to feel contractions just for something to do to pass the time. Various chemicals were pumped into me, various maternity pads inspected and disposed of. Somewhere in the middle of this David Blunkett resigned as Home Secretary. At least city hospitals have a telly to watch.
At 7.40am, the midwife said she had bad news. I did not see it like that and was glad that something was going to happen to remove the pumpkin.
My son arrived exactly twenty minutes later. Shortly before that (blame the drugs!), I was lusting after the Mel Gibson lookalike who gave me the epidural. Also reflecting that this was probably the only time that I would see shaving my bits as worth doing and not a deeply man-made and probably pervy suggestion.
I was tired and could barely stay awake as the midwife rubbed the baby up and down my face "to help you bond". He had a pair of lungs on him unlike my first two and looked like a pirate with a mass of dark hair. Later they weighed him with huge excitement hoping he would feature in the Sun or something. He weighed in at 11 pounds and 8 ounces.
I struggled to bond with him and wonder if that was because of the caesarean. I hated not being able to get to him when he cried. I felt useless. I also returned to work after 2 weeks which was way too soon but necessary I felt as my Other Half had been made redundant.
The bonding came the first time my son was ill. I thought he was going to die. The love surged in. I have adored him every since, some would say too much.
He is a full on, boisterous boy
He is a born peformer and comedian
He pulls the best faces
He is sensitive and can pick up on people's feelings
He is brave and bold
He eats for England, Scotland and Wales
He has held on to the baby stage longer than my other children and is clingier
He loves his Mum very much and she loves him right back.
Happy Birthday Big Boy
Time to recommend some blogs
I have a fair few followers (more always welcome) and more regular readers. So I thought it might be fun to recommend some of the blogs I enjoy.
The first is that of Leeds mum, Kat. Kat is a young mum to a delightful son. She is mature beyond her years in my view. That's a good thing by the way.
She has a keen political mind, is an accomplished musician and a "throw myself into it" type mother I think. She gives people a chance but does not suffer fools - again, a very good thing in my view. Her sense of humour is fabulous too.
Kat's blog is great as she has clear headings so you can read the bits that appeal to you most. I like how she describes the places that she goes with her young son. If like me you are sometimes stuck for things to do with the children, you can be inspired by the things Kat and her son get up to at home and when out and about.
Unlike me, she knows how to take and post pictures too so you are in from some good photography as well as wise words.
Take a look at iRant, iRave at http://blog.katbrown.co.uk and let her know I sent you along
The first is that of Leeds mum, Kat. Kat is a young mum to a delightful son. She is mature beyond her years in my view. That's a good thing by the way.
She has a keen political mind, is an accomplished musician and a "throw myself into it" type mother I think. She gives people a chance but does not suffer fools - again, a very good thing in my view. Her sense of humour is fabulous too.
Kat's blog is great as she has clear headings so you can read the bits that appeal to you most. I like how she describes the places that she goes with her young son. If like me you are sometimes stuck for things to do with the children, you can be inspired by the things Kat and her son get up to at home and when out and about.
Unlike me, she knows how to take and post pictures too so you are in from some good photography as well as wise words.
Take a look at iRant, iRave at http://blog.katbrown.co.uk and let her know I sent you along
National Adoption Week - how I came to my Mum and Dad
It is National Adoption Week and I will be blogging all week about various aspects of the issue and from different viewpoints.
Following feedback on yesterday's post, I think it is important to say that I am pleased that I came to my adoptive family and have had a very full and fundamentally happy life. I hope yesterday's post was not self-pitying - I was just picking out a few bullet points on how adoption crops up throughout your life.
My story started in a Roman Catholic Church in Dewsbury in West Yorkshire. Mum and Dad had two sons both in their late teens. They worked hard and their lives revolved around the church and the Irish National Club.
After having the boys, Mum had a gall bladder operation and in a roundabout way, this resulted in her not being able to have any more babies. She longed for a girl. I think she wanted to give a daughter all the things she had not had in her poverty-stricken girlhood in the twenties and thirties.
Apparently, Mum and Dad had talked about adoption on many occasions but not really done much about it. They did offer to adopt a family baby once when my cousin got a young girl pregnant. My Auntie would not go with that and I can see it from both points of view. Mum, in fairly typical emotive language, told my Auntie she had no right to take a child out of the family. The child was adopted and I don't know anything else about that. I hope it had as good an experience as I did.
One Easter Sunday, Mum was at Mass and felt a huge impetus that a little girl was waiting for her. She made Dad drive her to the Catholic Children's Adoption Agency and banged on the door till they let her in. Mum was very good at not taking no for an answer.
There were barriers to Mum and Dad adopting as by now they were in their forties and so quite old in those days when babies were readily available for adoption. They had to have special interviews and be visited and questioned by social workers and priests. Both my brothers recall these visits and how they wanted to go out but had to stay in to say they were happy about having a new sibling.
Mum and Dad told me about the day they met me. I was given to Mum and she gave me a bottle. Mum says it was like I was hers from the start. Knowing me, I was probably more focussed on the bottle than the woman!
Mum also tells me how she heard a wailing in the building and it was only later that she became aware that was my birth mother who had brought me on the train from London as the social worker was on strike. My Mum always told me never to think my birth mum did not care because nobody who didn't could have made such a noise.
It is odd that it is National Adoption Week this week as it is the very week when Mum and Dad took me home. Mum told me how they drove me from Leeds to Dewsbury on Bonfire Night and it was like everyone was lighting fires to celebrate my arrival. Not to mention that along with me came fireworks lol. Those that know me might say nowt changed much there!
When they got in, I was given a bath by my brother. My other brother got himself in trouble by parading me in the pram up and down the street. Everyone thought I must be his love-child. Family, friends and even the milkman brought presents as if I was the new Messiah or summat.
There was a lovely Christmas very soon afterwards of course. Mum loved it because she felt it was like returning to when she had her boys little rather than almost-grown men.
I was not officially adopted until February in 1970. By now, my adoptive parents were in sheer terror that my birth mum would turn up at the court hearing and stop the adoption going ahead. Mum had already made plans to snatch me if this happened and take me to America where she had family members.
I now know that my birth mum did have mixed feelings about putting myself and the other children up for adoption. However, in February 1970, I became an official member of my forever home. Despite Mum's passing last year, it still is my forever home and I thank both my parents for taking me on.
Following feedback on yesterday's post, I think it is important to say that I am pleased that I came to my adoptive family and have had a very full and fundamentally happy life. I hope yesterday's post was not self-pitying - I was just picking out a few bullet points on how adoption crops up throughout your life.
My story started in a Roman Catholic Church in Dewsbury in West Yorkshire. Mum and Dad had two sons both in their late teens. They worked hard and their lives revolved around the church and the Irish National Club.
After having the boys, Mum had a gall bladder operation and in a roundabout way, this resulted in her not being able to have any more babies. She longed for a girl. I think she wanted to give a daughter all the things she had not had in her poverty-stricken girlhood in the twenties and thirties.
Apparently, Mum and Dad had talked about adoption on many occasions but not really done much about it. They did offer to adopt a family baby once when my cousin got a young girl pregnant. My Auntie would not go with that and I can see it from both points of view. Mum, in fairly typical emotive language, told my Auntie she had no right to take a child out of the family. The child was adopted and I don't know anything else about that. I hope it had as good an experience as I did.
One Easter Sunday, Mum was at Mass and felt a huge impetus that a little girl was waiting for her. She made Dad drive her to the Catholic Children's Adoption Agency and banged on the door till they let her in. Mum was very good at not taking no for an answer.
There were barriers to Mum and Dad adopting as by now they were in their forties and so quite old in those days when babies were readily available for adoption. They had to have special interviews and be visited and questioned by social workers and priests. Both my brothers recall these visits and how they wanted to go out but had to stay in to say they were happy about having a new sibling.
Mum and Dad told me about the day they met me. I was given to Mum and she gave me a bottle. Mum says it was like I was hers from the start. Knowing me, I was probably more focussed on the bottle than the woman!
Mum also tells me how she heard a wailing in the building and it was only later that she became aware that was my birth mother who had brought me on the train from London as the social worker was on strike. My Mum always told me never to think my birth mum did not care because nobody who didn't could have made such a noise.
It is odd that it is National Adoption Week this week as it is the very week when Mum and Dad took me home. Mum told me how they drove me from Leeds to Dewsbury on Bonfire Night and it was like everyone was lighting fires to celebrate my arrival. Not to mention that along with me came fireworks lol. Those that know me might say nowt changed much there!
When they got in, I was given a bath by my brother. My other brother got himself in trouble by parading me in the pram up and down the street. Everyone thought I must be his love-child. Family, friends and even the milkman brought presents as if I was the new Messiah or summat.
There was a lovely Christmas very soon afterwards of course. Mum loved it because she felt it was like returning to when she had her boys little rather than almost-grown men.
I was not officially adopted until February in 1970. By now, my adoptive parents were in sheer terror that my birth mum would turn up at the court hearing and stop the adoption going ahead. Mum had already made plans to snatch me if this happened and take me to America where she had family members.
I now know that my birth mum did have mixed feelings about putting myself and the other children up for adoption. However, in February 1970, I became an official member of my forever home. Despite Mum's passing last year, it still is my forever home and I thank both my parents for taking me on.
National Adoption Week - reflections from a 9 year old
Having an adopted mummy feels quite weird and confusing.
Family gets mixed up and you are not sure who is who and who is actually part of your family at all.
Sometimes, you find it hard to know who your "real" grandparents are. You know and see some of them but not others.
When people ask you about how many uncles and aunties you have, you are not sure what to say.
I think mummy is sad sometimes that she does not know her real parents.
Family gets mixed up and you are not sure who is who and who is actually part of your family at all.
Sometimes, you find it hard to know who your "real" grandparents are. You know and see some of them but not others.
When people ask you about how many uncles and aunties you have, you are not sure what to say.
I think mummy is sad sometimes that she does not know her real parents.
Monday, 1 November 2010
National Adoption Week - some reflections
It is National Adoption Week.
I intend to blog about adoption every day this week and hope to cover various viewpoints. It is one of those life issues that affects many people, rippling out down the years and across boundaries. So there are many voices - adoptive parents, birth parents, adopted people, siblings of adopted people, wider birth relatives, partners of adopted people, children of adopted people. If you would like to submit your voice, please send me some writing to mums-the-word@live.com this week for hosting on my blog. I recognise that it is all too easy to judge and that many in the mix have feelings and hurt ones at that.
I was adopted when I was one years old. Here are the random memories which perhaps give a flavour of my experiences.
1. I don't remember not knowing that I was adopted. For me, it is normal
2. My parents were some of the oldest to adopt at the time
3. My mum felt she had a calling from God one Easter to go and adopt a little girl
4. I was loved by my adoptive parents and by the wider family
5. As a child, I fantasised with friends and alone as to who my birth mum might be
6. I was told by me parents that I was chosen and hence very special.
7. When I threatened to leave home as a child, I felt all I had to do was find my "real" mother. She would make it all alright.
8. My parents spoke to me a lot about my adoption, particularly my mum
9. When I was about 10 years old, I found some paperwork and knew the name of my birth mum for the first time and also my birth name.
10. My parents had a lot of sympathy for my birth mum
11. My birth father did not get much of a mention except that there was a sense that my birth mum was the victim and him the perpetrator. Perhaps a married man? Perhaps a priest?
12. When asked about my family medical history, it was embarrassing as I had no answers
13. My parents sometimes took abuse about taking on "a tart's daughter who was bound to turn out like her mother"
14. A girl at school called Emma H told me it would have been kinder to abort me than to "farm me out."
15. I found out basic facts about my birth family when I was in my early twenties. For the first time, I knew I had had other siblings adopted seperately to me. Another huge sense of loss hit me.
16. In my late twenties, I traced my birth mother. My social worker told me I am very like my birth mum in terms of interests.
17. I swapped letters with my birth mother for a while. She told me about her marriage and her "official" family
18. I saw photographs of my birth mother and "official" birth siblings. There was a clear look of me when I was the same age. Will I look like her when I reach her age?
19. I traced some of my "official" birth siblings when they were adults having stayed away for years. I thought they knew about me - they didn't so there was tension
20. I remain in loose contact with one "official" birth sister and in close cyber contact with another one.
21. My birth mother no longer wishes to have contact with me from what I can tell as she does not reply to letters. Another rejection.
22. Having my first child was huge for me - my first blood relative
23. I don't like that my children have no contact with my birth family. That is their roots too and should not be denied.
24. I think I have struggled with feelings of being "not good enough" and "not wanted" all my life. My Dad says he knows there is a void that can never be filled.
25. Often including when my adoptive mum was dying, people would comment that I could only be her daughter as I looked so much like her. The last time it happened it was a Macmillan nurse who said it and me and my mum just looked at each other and said nothing. Afterwards, we talked about the incident and said that we don't need to say anything because we know we are mother and daughter whatever. I find that meeting of eyes and total love from one to the other comforting now mum is no longer here.
26. In my forties, I got my full adoption file as the laws changed. Scribbly sixties writing told me the story with very non-PC terminology. To protect readers of my blog that are involved in the story, I won't say what it said about my birth mum but it did say that my birth father was violent - another fact to digest and deal with. I am the daughter of a violent man - it is in the genes.
27. People have asked me if adoption "fucks you up". I think it sometimes does and that there are feelings of insecurity and lack of self-belief that stem from being adopted. I think these have held me back both in career and relationship matters. However, I think we all get "fucked up" along the way whatever our story, adopted or not.
28. I don't hold ill feelings against anyone in the process now. Well not much anyway. Only on the black cloud days.
29. Adoption is really common. My husband had a child adopted when he was a young man. My step-daughters lost two half-siblings to adoption. My birth mother's husband is apparently adopted. We are not some weird breed - we are everywhere.
30. Adoption grief can come at strange times. Listening to Piers Morgan interviewing Rod Stewart the other night, they talked of Rod's adopted child and how he used to say he has 7 children when he really has 8. I had not thought about that before and suddenly was sobbing, full on down the face, snot sobbing, heart-wracking stuff. Why? Because for the first time, I realised that when my birth mum is asked how many children she has she won't include me.
This is only part of my story.
I would love to hear other stories and feature them on the blog.
Please also use the buttons on my blog to share this on Twitter and Facebook as seems to be helping folks.
I intend to blog about adoption every day this week and hope to cover various viewpoints. It is one of those life issues that affects many people, rippling out down the years and across boundaries. So there are many voices - adoptive parents, birth parents, adopted people, siblings of adopted people, wider birth relatives, partners of adopted people, children of adopted people. If you would like to submit your voice, please send me some writing to mums-the-word@live.com this week for hosting on my blog. I recognise that it is all too easy to judge and that many in the mix have feelings and hurt ones at that.
I was adopted when I was one years old. Here are the random memories which perhaps give a flavour of my experiences.
1. I don't remember not knowing that I was adopted. For me, it is normal
2. My parents were some of the oldest to adopt at the time
3. My mum felt she had a calling from God one Easter to go and adopt a little girl
4. I was loved by my adoptive parents and by the wider family
5. As a child, I fantasised with friends and alone as to who my birth mum might be
6. I was told by me parents that I was chosen and hence very special.
7. When I threatened to leave home as a child, I felt all I had to do was find my "real" mother. She would make it all alright.
8. My parents spoke to me a lot about my adoption, particularly my mum
9. When I was about 10 years old, I found some paperwork and knew the name of my birth mum for the first time and also my birth name.
10. My parents had a lot of sympathy for my birth mum
11. My birth father did not get much of a mention except that there was a sense that my birth mum was the victim and him the perpetrator. Perhaps a married man? Perhaps a priest?
12. When asked about my family medical history, it was embarrassing as I had no answers
13. My parents sometimes took abuse about taking on "a tart's daughter who was bound to turn out like her mother"
14. A girl at school called Emma H told me it would have been kinder to abort me than to "farm me out."
15. I found out basic facts about my birth family when I was in my early twenties. For the first time, I knew I had had other siblings adopted seperately to me. Another huge sense of loss hit me.
16. In my late twenties, I traced my birth mother. My social worker told me I am very like my birth mum in terms of interests.
17. I swapped letters with my birth mother for a while. She told me about her marriage and her "official" family
18. I saw photographs of my birth mother and "official" birth siblings. There was a clear look of me when I was the same age. Will I look like her when I reach her age?
19. I traced some of my "official" birth siblings when they were adults having stayed away for years. I thought they knew about me - they didn't so there was tension
20. I remain in loose contact with one "official" birth sister and in close cyber contact with another one.
21. My birth mother no longer wishes to have contact with me from what I can tell as she does not reply to letters. Another rejection.
22. Having my first child was huge for me - my first blood relative
23. I don't like that my children have no contact with my birth family. That is their roots too and should not be denied.
24. I think I have struggled with feelings of being "not good enough" and "not wanted" all my life. My Dad says he knows there is a void that can never be filled.
25. Often including when my adoptive mum was dying, people would comment that I could only be her daughter as I looked so much like her. The last time it happened it was a Macmillan nurse who said it and me and my mum just looked at each other and said nothing. Afterwards, we talked about the incident and said that we don't need to say anything because we know we are mother and daughter whatever. I find that meeting of eyes and total love from one to the other comforting now mum is no longer here.
26. In my forties, I got my full adoption file as the laws changed. Scribbly sixties writing told me the story with very non-PC terminology. To protect readers of my blog that are involved in the story, I won't say what it said about my birth mum but it did say that my birth father was violent - another fact to digest and deal with. I am the daughter of a violent man - it is in the genes.
27. People have asked me if adoption "fucks you up". I think it sometimes does and that there are feelings of insecurity and lack of self-belief that stem from being adopted. I think these have held me back both in career and relationship matters. However, I think we all get "fucked up" along the way whatever our story, adopted or not.
28. I don't hold ill feelings against anyone in the process now. Well not much anyway. Only on the black cloud days.
29. Adoption is really common. My husband had a child adopted when he was a young man. My step-daughters lost two half-siblings to adoption. My birth mother's husband is apparently adopted. We are not some weird breed - we are everywhere.
30. Adoption grief can come at strange times. Listening to Piers Morgan interviewing Rod Stewart the other night, they talked of Rod's adopted child and how he used to say he has 7 children when he really has 8. I had not thought about that before and suddenly was sobbing, full on down the face, snot sobbing, heart-wracking stuff. Why? Because for the first time, I realised that when my birth mum is asked how many children she has she won't include me.
This is only part of my story.
I would love to hear other stories and feature them on the blog.
Please also use the buttons on my blog to share this on Twitter and Facebook as seems to be helping folks.
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