A Birth Day

Born, December 27, 1976

On this day in 1976 was born into a scary life. A life definitely unfit to raise children in. An environment riddled with drugs, violence, neglect, hunger, abuse and pain. I was born to drug addicted parents who were not stable and into a life that had no hopeful outcome. But, I was born.

I was born to nearly die at 7 months old from viral pneumonia. I was born to live in foster care until adopted at age 5. But, I was born. I was born to watch my brother be taken back to foster care. I was born to grow up not knowing where I come from. But, I was born. I was born to experience loss so great that the effects would last a lifetime and to be changed forever by circumstances I had no control over. But it was born. I WAS BORN.

I don't know what time I came into the world and there are no pictures or records from that day. I can imagine it was bitter-sweet as my mother and father were already struggling to raise two children. I feel sure that the birth was hard for my mother as she struggled with "sadness" and drug addiction. But, I was born. I was born.

I can not share with you any stories from that day because all of them died when my birth parents committed suicide. I can not tell you how much I weighed or how long I was. And I will never be able to tell you when I started sleeping through the night. But I was born. I was born.

I was born to be given up so that I could be found. I was born to have no trust so that I could learn to trust. I was born having no family so that I could one day be grateful for my own. I was born to lose so that I could know what it means to win. I was born to make mistakes in my journey to understand that it's the journey that matters. I was born to feel pain so that I can know the joy of a great feeling body. I was born to take the hits so that I could learn to be tough enough to get up and go again. I was born to push away so that I could learn to open my heart. I was born to fail so that I could be accountable to the victory. I was born to wait until I could be patient enough to actually wait.

I WAS BORN and I have lived an awesome life. Humble beginnings have actually set a great foundation for me. I have loved many, I have hurt many, I have helped many. I have no regrets.

There will always be a part of me that longs for those stories. I would be a liar if I told you different. But that doesn't cause me to be sad, not anymore. Now I get up on this day and say I WAS BORN. And this is an actual life. To be lived. To embrace. To screw up. To fix. To celebrate. To affect. It causes me to wear a patch of pride instead of shame for my scars. And it causes me to appreciate every breath that I take. Because, man, I WAS BORN.

Three Memories

Sometime between the age of 6 and 9 I saw my brother again. The memory of that day is very vague. It was a scheduled visit at a beach or a park somewhere far from the house. The drive there was long and we didn't stay very long once we got there. I remember Jason though. He looked and acted happy. He hugged me and we played. I remember him giving me a pewter E.T. Figurine. That was the last time I saw Jason, until I was 20.

That is a good memory. I have thought of that memory almost every day of my life. Even as a young child, I held on to that memory. I know no other particulars about that day, just the way that I felt. I remembered only good things about my brother Jason until I saw him again in 1996. I longed for Jason throughout my childhood. I often worried about him, and cried for him.

When I struggled, I always wished he was there. For many reasons, my sister, Lauren, and I were lost throughout our childhood. Both of us. Sports and school activities kept me going. Lauren was not as fortunate. She had an extremely "hard time adjusting" as it was explained to me. She fought her own battles. Some affected me, others didn't. That is her life to deal with and her tragedies to get through. I had my own stuff. Different but just as damaging. My adoptive parents did the absolute best they could under the circumstances. But we all had a tough time getting through it.

Jason and I in 1996

When a family breaks up, a lot of pain can follow that. Jason, Lauren and I were a family inside of a family. We were broken the day we were taken from our birth mother and before our adoption was finalized. It affected all three of us differently. For me missing Jason proved to be the inevitable crutch that held me back spiritually, mentally, physically and emotionally. The anxiety caused by loosing Jason, created a tsunami wave of pain that affected me and my family. This gigantic wave caused abandonment, grief, distrust, anger, regret, depression, fear, and an overall anxiety in me and my siblings throughout our childhood and well into our adult years. I went a different way than my siblings. My story will end differently than theirs.

I will always remember that day at with Jason. When I close my eyes I remember him handing me the E.T. figurine. I see the wind blowing his hair and his hand reaching out to hold mine. I see him happy. I have three memories of my brother. The first was the day he was taken by Social Services, the second was the day I saw him at the beach, and the last time was in 1996, when I found him and visited him. He disappeared after that and I never heard from him or saw him again.

So many people experience trauma in their young lives and before they have developed the skills to cope with it. There are survival skills that one must learn in life. When you are young you are not equipped with those survival skills. You just get through it somehow. What happened to me, after it all was said and done, is a miracle. I know now, I survived because of God's grace and mercy. I know now that every defining moment had a central theme and the lessons from those moments lead me to the most precious revelation of all.