When Sharon Came Out of Her Shell~An Adoption Story

          A very special friend accepted my invitation to guest blog during Adoption Awareness Month. Sharon Fieker Cummins, co-founder of Adoption Triad of the Ozarks in 2003 (a peer support group for lives affected by adoption decisions) and co-facilitator of the Birth Parent Peer Support Group for Adoption Knowledge Affiliates, has connected with many on their adoption journey.

          Why is Sharon so involved with adoption? She can tell you best…

          “I recently attended a Concerned United Birthparents Retreat. We were asked to tell our stories, starting with: “If only I had said…”

          Here’s what I shared: “If only I had said: Mom, would you and Dad let me move back home with my baby until I can get a job and settled again?”

          My Adoption Awareness began in 1969 when I learned I was pregnant. My boyfriend's reaction? "I don't care what you do; it's your problem." He left, and I haven't seen him since.

          I felt adoption was the only option so my baby could have both a loving mother and father. I went to Kansas City, Kansas, to live with my oldest brother and his family until my baby was born.

          I hemorrhaged, almost died, and received blood transfusions after my daughter's birth. I didn't see her. Signs on the doors prevented her from being brought to my room, and I wasn't allowed to leave mine.

          A social worker told me to go on with my life like this didn't happen. I tried to do just that, smiling often so no one would notice how I really felt on the inside.

          I was raised in a Christian home but strayed from God because I felt so unworthy. I returned to Springfield, Missouri, after my daughter's birth and worked as a legal secretary.

          Five years after her birth, I began employment at the local police department in a non-sworn capacity. Four months later, a lady named Jeanette started working there.

          A former co-worker told me, "You're going to have a new employee. She's a birth mom. She gave up her baby for adoption. Can you believe that?"

          I changed the subject and didn't discuss it further—not even with Jeanette, the first birth mom I ever met. We worked side by side 21 years before I told her my story.

          In 1993, I reunited with Jesus Christ.

          On February 2, 1995, I received a phone call that quickly got my attention:

          "In 1969 you gave up a baby girl for adoption; she wants to see you now."

          I started crying.

          She told me, "Your daughter's name is Lori, and she was raised in Kansas City. Can she call you later tonight?"

          "Yes!"

          Lori called, and we were reunited nine days later.

          The past 29 years, I attended Lori's wedding and later became Grandma Sharon twice. Nineteen years ago, I married for the first time. Lori and her family were there for Roger and me, along with his 2 sons. I also became Grandma Sharon to Roger’s grandchild. I was happier than I ever thought possible!

          Because of how my life changed, I wanted to help others. I published a book, co-founded a local peer support group in Springfield, and vowed to help adopted adults in Missouri be able to request their original birth certificates—like Lori did in Kansas.

          Jeanette and I retired from the police department the same day after 28 years. Lori and her family came to our retirement party. I asked Jeanette to join me on several trips to Jefferson City to talk with legislators. It took many Missouri volunteers 16 long years, but we got the laws changed!

          While in Jefferson City, Jeanette met a lady named Heather who later found her son—a sheriff in another Missouri county. They met for the first time at an informational meeting my local group held near his city to bring awareness to the change in Missouri’s adoption laws. She attended her grandson's wedding last month.

          I spent 20+ years helping adopted adults and birth parents find each other.

          I’ve been called “The Turtle Lady” because of my turtle collection, started almost 50 years ago. I use the analogy of a turtle going into its shell when danger approaches and staying until it’s over to demonstrate keeping my secret for 25 years. Roger and I have matching turtle wedding bands!

          The past 29 years have been amazing. Why would I want to change any of it?

          Don't hear me wrong. I am thrilled Lori had such a beautiful life: Everything I always wanted for her. I just didn't realize how difficult surrendering my baby would be.

          Still yet, sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if only I had said, "Mom, would you and Dad let me move back home with my baby until I can get a job and settled again?" We cannot go back and change anything in our past, but we can change our future.

          My favorite Bible verse is Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, plans to prosper you and not to harm you; plans to give you hope and a future.” And my favorite song is…

…Because He Lives!

Because He Lives - Grace Larson

 

Sharon’s website is https://ichoosethisday.org.

Her book, I Choose This Day: Mournings and Miracles of Adoption

by Sharon Fieker is available at Amazon & AbeBooks as a pre-owned book.

She’s also a public speaker, sharing her story.

 

#adoption #birthmother #adoptionlaw #adoptees #reunion

#Missouriadoptionlaw #birthcertificateaccess #Novemberadoptionawareness

Photo credit:

freepik.com, online book cover photo, & S. Cummins 

To Our Veteran Sons

          Today we went to the polls to vote. You were on our minds. Why? Because we’re conscious how we vote for several reasons—one of those being you volunteered years of your lives and even the outcome of your well-being by serving in our military.

          I think the way our country’s gone since the time you fought to preserve our freedom must make you sad, if not angry. Maybe you feel like we wasted your service. I think I’d feel that way if I were in your shoes. Your boots.

          No one made you go. You volunteered. In fact, you did so at a time the United States suffered the worst terrorist attack ever on our soil. You could’ve just gone on with plans for college, but you didn’t.

          You were boys turned men in an instant.

          I must say this wasn’t the coming-of-age method we’d envisioned. Ever. But here you were, dressed in camouflage.

          Oh, you’d done that in your youth. You know, those crazy paint-ball parties you had that also made me cringe, but this?

          This was different.

          Way different.

          Our hearts were in our throats all those years—intensified times three when the Military called you into active duty with overlapping deployments.

          Seven in all.

          I remember when you all went at once. I couldn’t grasp the magnitude of this ripping away. We hurt to the nth degree. Both of us.

          Your dad cried. He didn’t do that often, but he did every time you left and now let tears flow times three. And his parting words to you, our toweringly tall sons? “Don’t forget to duck.” That made us smile—blanketing our fears.

          I recall phoning a friend to tell her you’d all be in the warzone at one time. I remember my idiotic statement, which I likely screeched in a higher pitch voice than usual. “I can’t take this! I feel like opening the window and jumping!”

          “Sarah, don’t you live in a ranch-style house?”

         “Yeah,” I cried.

          “Then all you’ll likely do is sprain an ankle. And you really don’t want to hurt yourself. Right?”

          “No, but I just don’t know how to handle this!”

          When my wits were about me again, I cried hard.

          Long. Agonizing tears.

          And I prayed, asking God to protect our sons, and—if it be His Will, that we’d have no gold stars to put in our window. Ever.

          Then I prayed for the ones who did. Grieving parents who’d never welcome home their soldiers.

          I remember the times you were able to call from overseas—Afghanistan and Iraq. We’d be in the midst of a conversation when you blurted—“Gotta go!” and we heard BOOM before the connection failed.

          Please, God, protect our sons!

          The wait until the next phone call seemed endless, not knowing if you’d survived the blast we’d heard in the background. After three weeks, we half expected someone in uniform to knock on our door. We dreaded that thought.

          Then another call would come from you, and we’d heave a sigh of relief.

          Thank You, dear God!

          Although you returned with marks of war—some that will never go away, some that will—you did come home. You fought honorably. Served well.

          To you, our sons, we thank you. Honor you. Love you. What you sacrificed can never be yours. That’s gone now. In the past. But what you gave changed the times we lived in during that period of history.

          Sons, warriors, we thank you. We salute you.

God Bless the U.S.A. — Lee Greenwood

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yH61hFsma24

 

 

Dedicated to three amongst thousands who served in this century’s wars—

Michael, Nathan, & Stephen,

in honor of all who served & are still serving in the United States Military,

and in memory of our fathers—

Thomas Archer Burns & John Richard Hampshire! (World War II)

 

 

#vote #elections #Veterans #war #Military #terroristattacks #serve #volunteer #sacrifice #deployments

#tears #prayer #PTSD #disabledveteran #elections #UnitedStates #freedom #GodBlesstheUSA