Monday, December 03, 2007

Fun Monday - Regifting Thru Reposting

Wow, long time no blog! Robinella knew that NaBloPoMo kicked some of our tails (yes, mine is one of them), and wanted this Fun Monday to be easy. Her assignment was to pick our "best blog effort ever." Some of you may recognize this story, so feel free to skip ahead to the other Fun Monday participants. The only thing I don't like about this post, is all the linkage - but I felt it was necessary for those who were "in the know" at the time, or felt they might have missed something during my days of VERY random posting. Since many of you are new to this blog, and the holiday season is upon us, I present the story of "Sinclair Baby's First Christmas," originally posted December 16, 2006:

I know some of you figured I would never finish telling the story that started innocently with a post about birthdays. I realized after this post that some of you were intrigued, and I felt a little "on display." Anyone who knows me would be shocked that this might make me uncomfortable, as I revel in being the center of attention at any gathering. I found myself debating whether or not to make more posts like this. I guess I have lived with this "oddity" for so long, it has become commonplace. The only time I have to really face the bizarre circumstance surrounding my arrival on the planet is when someone else hears the story for the first time, and reacts with abject horror. If you have no clue what I'm talking about, follow the links, in order, and you'll get caught up.
I wish I could tell you that this photo is of me, but I'd like to think I was in this kind of mood on my first Christmas. The first baby photo in my parents' possession was taken when I was almost nine months old, so I don't know what I looked like before then. I DID know that in December, three months after I was born, one of my legs was broken. The ramifications of that didn't show up until my mother tried hemming my pants, and one leg would always end up a lot longer than the other. I was always called back for that "second screening" during the school scoliosis exams, but never diagnosed with the disease. It wasn't until I started running with my dog as an adult that I noticed terrible hip pain.

That was the main reason for obtaining my "non-identifying information" - not necessarily to find birth parents, but to determine the actual medical facts about this breakage. Naturally, the adoption agency was extremely reluctant to divulge anything. My mother had always said the break was "suspicious," in that our family doctor felt the healed bone might have been twisted. By now, you remember my first conversation with the social worker. Well, the same letter only gave these details regarding the break:
"As you were a healthy, normal baby, the hospital discharged you and you were placed in a foster home. The foster parents had three children of their own and provided foster care to infants. On December 3, 1968, your leg was broken. The injury was investigated, and it was determined that it was accidental and not child abuse. An X-ray revealed a transverse fracture of the proximal third of the right femur. You were placed in Bryant's traction (this is the photo you see to the left) until December 23, 1968; then you were placed in a spica cast until January 27, 1969."

It seems like a LONG time for a 3-month old baby to be immobilized, doesn't it? There were more photos of the spica cast at this site, and I was amazed at how many of the children seemed happy and were smiling broadly.

Since I've decided to revisit this topic, I encourage you NOT to feel all sorry for me. I was a baby. I can't remember a thing about it. Yes, I suppose it makes me more unique, but we are all unique in our own way. However, I have a special place in my heart for Christmas, and I wonder what that first one was like for me. Did someone visit me? Or was I all alone? I think of this very abstractly - as if it didn't really happen to me.

I am just extremely blessed that every Christmas since then has been filled with family, friends, joy, and the love of the season. It's the only gift I require.

42 comments:

Junebug said...

Here is a link to a recording of my husband playing the guitar for your husband to listen to:

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/default.cfm?bandID=174206&content=songinfo&songID=3699673

Sandy said...

I had not read the previous posts so I now feel as though I know you whole lot better. What an amazing story!

"It is better to be kind than right"...I hope your mom knows what a good job she has done raising you.

Thanks for sharing this.

Junebug said...

Well, now I went to read your stories. Gosh, that is amazing. What a mystery life if sometimes. I agree with Sandy about your attitude. My husband wanted to send that link to your hubby. I hope it works. :D

janet said...

i went through some of your archives recently and just read this one. it's a fascinating story. thanks for sharing it again.

WalkingTheBeach said...

Wow Tigger, I read your past blogs to catch up and like the others who read them, I was amazed at the story. I will look forward to hearing more someday.

You're a fantastic writer, you should write a book about it.

Amazing, just simply amazing!

Sirdar said...

That is an amazing story. Is everything good now with your leg?

I have one of those injuries that I wonder how I got it after all these years. I have what looks like the tip of one of my fingers was almost cut off as there is a scar like groove on it. When I asked my parents about it...they said I got it caught in the washing machine. Seems kind of funny as I was young enough not to remember being that hurt...

Kila said...

It was interesting to go back and read those again. What a little miracle that we have you here with us. :)

Little Miss Moi said...

Dear tiggerlane. What a story! (no, i haven't seen it before). And did you ever get your leg fixed, as an adult?

Kerith Collins said...

oh my gosh...that is horrible...but at least you seem stronger and a better person and funnier for it! anyway...we luv ya!

Kaytabug said...

I hadn't read this one or the links(which I'll get to those later) This is a great post. It did make me all teary eyed,especially your last 2 sentences. You are beautiful inside and out!

Tiggerlane said...

junebug - thanks for the link - he is AMAZING! I'm at work, so I'll let the hubby have a listen when I get home.

sandy - thanks, and you know, I have to repeat that phrase a LOT while biting my tongue! I'm still a work in progress.

janet - you're welcome - so there are people who read the archives? Wow!

walkingthebeach - thanks - I actually think I was a better writer BEFORE nablopomo!

sirdar - how bizarre! And nothing's been done on the leg - I refuse to wear a "lift" b/c it wouldn't look good with my shoes. Vanity first, right?

kila - glad you feel that way - some might feel differently! :-)

little miss moi - can't really fix it, unless I wear something in my shoe - which I'm a little too vain to do. I just lurch around!

kerith collins - thanks, and I definitely think it helped my sense of humor!

kaytabug - Awww...how sweet! And thanks - I appreciate that. :-)

Beckie said...

Those are definitely a series of outstanding post and subject matter. Amazing!

swampy said...

Practicing leaving a link to My Asylum in comments.
Anecdotes,Antidotes, & Anodes

Kaycie said...

Wow. An incredible story. Great post.

I was born with leg problems. I had to wear shoes with a steel rod between them to keep my legs straight and my feet at the right angle. I wore them all the time until I started crawling, then at night until I was about 18 months old. I don't remember it at all, but Mom kept them and they look vicious. Apparently, it didn't bother me much. I just learned to throw myself out of my crib feet first. ;)

M@ said...

Man, I think they should be able to provide more information for you. I wonder how that early trauma affected you psychologically, if at all?

The Little Tigger there certainly looks happy, though! Adorable. You look like a feral child raised by wolves, or a wolf-child raised by white people.

Mama Drama Jenny said...

I don't feel sorry for you as I know you are an amazing strong woman but I do wish I could go back and hug the little girl you were.

M@ said...

(Black people wouldn't raise wolves--their mama would smack them!!!

--Chris Rock)

Jenni said...

What an interesting story! It's wonderful that you have such a good attitude instead of carrying this around like baggage. I'm glad you found such a loving family, too. Even so, I can understand wanting to unravel the mysteries of your past. I have several of those I'd like to have solved as well.

Oh, and my mom was abandoned at a gas station, too. She was much older and she was retrieved. My grandparents just had so many kids, they didn't realize they'd left one behind. My grandfather was blind, so I suppose he has an excuse, but I think my grandmother was more than a tad neglectful.

A Slice of Life said...

You have such a facinating story...I always picture you as a cute little tigger, now I may have to start thinking of you as a dino!

Susan at A Slice of Life

Desert Songbird said...

I remember this post, Sinclair, and all of the related posts pertaining to your place in this world.

You remain a fascinating woman to me. Your story just adds to it all.

Tiggerlane said...

beckie - glad you enjoyed!

swampy - you did good!

kaycie - it is amazing how adaptable we are as youth - as adults? Not so much!

m@ - I wonder the same thing, and yet - I think the only way to find out would be thru hypnosis. Maybe that's why I'm afraid of water and swimming? Hmmm...

jenny - as odd as it sounds, so do I.

jenni - how ironic! And good thing they came back for her! I just hope my story isn't like that of "Joe Dirt." Maybe that's why my parents don't want me to search!

a slice of life - dino-tigger - now that sounds good!

desert songbird - why thank you, my faithful blog friend!

ChrisB said...

I have read your story before but still find it fascinating the second time around. I was involved in adoption counseling many years ago so have seen it from both sides. My heart always went out to those trying to find birth parents but I also had sympathy with adoptive parents because they felt so insecure when their child began to search.

Willowtree said...

Ever since I read that series of posts the first time around I have felt really bad. I guess it's time to put things straight. Tiffany, I am your father.

Gattina said...

Of course your story was very interesting to me especially when you mentioned that your were so different from your parents. You know I am an only child and am so different from my parents that people thought they had adopted me lol ! I strictly had nothing of both of them (fortunately) not physically and not psycologically . I am tall and blond my parents were small and had dark hair. But they were really my parents no doubt about that.
Your start in life was indeed very special !

The Rotten Correspondent said...

That's an amazing story. I just went back and read every post from the beginning on.

Wow. Unique doesn't even do it justice!

Joy T. said...

*sniff* I know it's not really a sad story but when I see strong women and read stories like this behind them. Well. It makes me really glad to know them, if only through the internet.

Bren said...

Thanks for sharing that amazing story.

Sauntering Soul said...

Wow, what an interesting story. I don't even know what to say really other than "wow".

Tiggerlane said...

chrisb - Yeah, I understand how my folks feel. I wonder if my birthparents ever think of it?

willowtree - and now, somehow, I know how Luke Skywalker must have felt!

gattina - hey! I'm small with dark hair - maybe we got switched?

the rotten correspondent - well, not my BEST posts, but I figure the content is intriguing.

joy t. - AW! Now, stop that...silly! Then again, when I think of that baby-me, I feel kinda bad, too. If it was a movie? I'd cry, too.

bren - very welcome!

sauntering soul - I am glad you enjoyed it!

Karmyn R said...

Of all my blogging buddies - I think your life story is the most interesting. It never ceases to amaze me. You were very lucky to get such loving parents.


Dreaming What Ifs...

Amanda said...

I've only recently been 'introduced' to your blog via Fun Mondays and this post has really made me click on all sorts of other links on your site. You have an amazing story.

Kaytabug said...

OK, So I just came back to read all the links, I am in total awe of you. I am bowing because I feel so unworthy, yet I feel blessed to be in your presence, to "know" you. You really are a strong woman. I now am addicted and cant wait to hear more updates, more stories.

Dawn said...

Well, I wasn't here to read all those posts before, so I was happy for the links. That is an amazing story, and somehow explains the 'peeps' thing. Okay, no it doesn't but I had to add that in because I find that funny about you. I loved your response to WT, so very funny.

From what I have read, you seem very well adjusted and a wonderful person.
Great post. It has been wonderful getting to know you better through this one and the links.

lisa's chaos said...

I'm so happy to know you and I remember your story, glad you have come through it all to be who you are now. :)

Tiggerlane said...

karmyn r - Wow...that is amazing, b/c there are some VERY interesting bloggers out there! Thanks!

amanda - I'm glad you enjoyed it - I think my abandonment is an interesting tale, and I'm not really done with it yet - so come back soon!

kaytabug - what's funny is all this stuff happened, and I don't even remember it! But I'll soon harrass a social worker more - count on it!

dawn - thanks! And yes, it DOES explain the Peeps thing, and so much more!

lisa's chaos - it would be more noble if I remembered it...which I don't. But I always felt different. Funny, here in the blogsphere...I feel like I fit right in!

Karina said...

I feel like I just learned so much about you through this (these) posts. Wow. I know you said we shouldn't feel all "sorry" for you, but what a terrible thing for a little baby to be immobilized like that...and I know you don't remember it, but it still sucks. I'm happy to hear that all your Christmases since then have been so blessed.

By the way, check my blog tomorrow, I've tagged you.

Ami said...

Wow.

Just amazing.

Ami said...

And... (sorry, hit post too soon) today I found a blog from a woman who is totally against adoption and is taking her children to rallies to protest it. How weird is that?

I think love of little people is good no matter whether they're biologically related to their parents or not.

Thanks for sharing your story.

Robin said...

Such a great post. As were the first two links. The picture at first stirred memories of my RePete this summer in his neon pink cast. Seeing babies in casts is never easy. So glad they forget them.

Jo Beaufoix said...

Wow. What an amazing post. You would think they would be a little more helpful with the information, but you have the best attitude.
I'm so glad you ended up with good people. I bet your parents are really proud of you. :D

Pamela said...

I kind of get shivers down my spine - thinking about so many children who don't get that second opportunity to be "loved"...

I'm so glad you did -

I hope that one day some of the mystery will be solved. I was going to say "to fill in the blanks"...but, you are whole. There are no missing pieces in you -

Tiggerlane said...

karina - Ooh! I can't wait to see! And I know how you feel - I feel sorry for "that baby," even tho I know it was me...make sense?

ami - thanks for stopping by! and I wonder that that woman's "alternative idea" is? I think if a mother is a crack ho - it might be better to give the baby up for adoption!

robin - little ones are SO adaptable - guess it's a survival thing built-in - good thing, too!

jo beaufoix - actually, they would be more proud if I had a doctorate, but that's another story - I actually am going to write more about this in a soon-to-some post.

pamela - thanks! I'm actually going to post soon about a step I'm going to take to go down that path. And I appreciate the compliment, but I still feel at times that something is "missing."