Closure and A Blog Worth Reading

Ok, this is my last comment on my close encounter. I called the store, told management about my experience, they claimed they have no idea who the customer was. But, I don't believe it. The clerk knew and told me they had been told to not speak to him. The manager told me to chat with her the next time I am in, but please....I am trying to down play this incident for the kids. So, I am not going to look her up. There you have it. My choice: switch stores and let a drunk chase me away or risk further abuse. I honestly don't know what I am going to do, but I hate letting a drunk win.

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As a blogger, I read lots of other blogs. One, in particular, is a must read for me these days. Brian Stuy is a researcher with 3 adopted daughters. Most of the work he does is tracking information on finding locations and histories for the parents adopted daughters from China. His blog, www.research-china.blogspot.com is fabulous, if you want perspective on the whole situation in China. His post, The Tale of Two Birth Mothers, was absolutely music to my ears, not because of the reasons for abandonment, but because the birth mothers validate they miss their daughters and think of them often.

Countless people have said (or emailed me to say) that I over romanticize my girls' birthparents on this blog. So many people have told me that I shouldn't worry about them or waste my heart ache on them, because they gave up their kids. While I understand what they are saying and am open to the fact that my girls birth parents may really be unworthy of my emotional energy, I have never felt that way. I know in my heart they are grieving and I feel for them.

I have two reasons for thinking this: La Nina and Maggie. I know anyone who held either of them as a newborn would immediately, whole-heartedly, completely love them. And as I watch these two smart, strong, beautiful girls grow, I know that another mom grieves them. I know it in my soul. It breaks my heart to know my joy is another woman's loss. And at the same time, it is what it is, I can't change it.

But there is something I do. And I do it everytime I see the moon. Each time I am out at night and the moon is shining, I remind the moon to tell my girls' birthmoms that their girls are loved. I only hope that those birth moms so far away look up at the moon and hear my words of comfort. They deserve to know everything working out just fine for "our" girls.