Monthly Archive for July, 2009

Every Silver Lining

by Cherri Randall

There is a new girl sitting in the circle, and Marcy takes some kind of perverse delight in seeing if she can scare them off or get them to cry on the first day.  The counselor never arrives earlier than fifteen minutes late, which means Marcy has ten minutes.  She could almost run off the veterans, so a rookie hardly stands a chance.  Marcy takes one glance at the new chick, which means she sees everything it would take a normal person several moments to absorb.  The new chick is some kind of walking advertisement for Gucci and Armani and smells like real Giorgio, not that imitation stuff in the yellow bottles from Wal-Mart.  The thing that will set Marcy off will be the new chick’s nails.  They are perfectly manicured and they’re real.  They aren’t thick enough to be acrylic.  Marcy is a nail biter.  Sometimes when everyone else is bawling or screaming the counselor will get this look on her face like she wants to tear her hair out.  Marcy is never part of the fray.  But once in a while she will be biting her nails, and sometimes it will be so bad she can’t get them to stop bleeding.

”Did you guys hear about the kid in South Carolina?”

One thing the group knows about Marcy is that resistance is futile.  They will be assimilated.  Nora looks at Marcy.  “What happened?”


Midwife-doctor relationship

Here’s an interesting article on how doctors perceive midwives and home births. As the study reveals, birth has become a highly politicized topic, and the decision to give birth outside of the hospital is often seen as a dangerous decision–despite the fact that women have safely been giving birth outside of hospitals for thousands of years. The American Medical Association has officially come out against home birth, while midwives insist that home births are statistically safer than giving birth in a hospital.

The Birth Mother

by Kelsey Gray

Editor’s Note: The birth mother is often the forgotten (or deliberately ignored) story in the adoption triad.  We’re pleased to be able to offer something in this ezine to help rectify that.

When I held you, your face

red and your hair matted,

small curled up body slick

with the effort of being born;

you screwed up your face and cried,

softly, your voice quieter

than I had expected, your expectations

lower than I had hoped. You gave up


The Adopted Daughter at Last Comes Home

Our latest, an adoption reunification poem by Chris Weygandt Alba…

She arrives on a jet from Wichita.

She throws her baggage in a heap

and lights a cigarette. She waits.


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Four Questions and a Scar

a personal essay

by Adrienne Ross

The scar is almost gone.  Softened, pink, once a crimson line atop my pubic hair, much of it has slipped under my skin. It was through this opening that a murky mass seen in sonogram tests was revealed as endometriosis.  I was 38, and believed myself healthy until a routine examination led weeks later to surgery.  What was cut away was the shreds of my left ovary and fallopian tube.  What remained was a desire to have a child that expanded into its own fullness as my chances of becoming a mother dissipated.


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