Some mothers provide just the right comforting words and advice at just the right moment, like mine always did. For some women, friends, sisters, or other relatives substitute as that mentoring role model; but for me, there was no one else in the world that could listen to everything that was on my mind and react appropriately. So when I began the journey to have a daughter four years after my mother’s death, I had no one to talk to. At the time, my sons were only ages four and six and I loved them and my husband dearly, but they weren’t capable of listening to my emotional rants about needing a daughter and responding in a helpful way.

Through the ups and downs of years trying to have a third biological child and then moving on to adoption, only my husband knew the depth of my despair. He was supportive and encouraging, but as most women know, a man’s tolerance for emotional chatter is not the same as a woman’s. I kept my torment to myself. I could have chosen to talk to close friends at the time, but it was risky given that I was concerned about the story getting around giving my children false hopes about a sibling. I preferred to keep them in the dark about our extensive medical and emotional journey.

My journey through infertility and adoption occurred well before social networks became the “friend of choice” for women looking for a supportive ear about issues their husbands or partners aren’t able to deal with. Feeling all alone, I chose to remain silent and kept it all to myself. Today, I am amazed at the number of people in the situation I was in eleven years ago. They post in Facebook groups, write blogs, and tweet about it. There are countless valuable articles posted every day through online magazine sites like Adoptive Families Circle, HuffPost Parents, and Creating a Family. It is truly amazing that complete strangers are listening to others about important issues and some of them have remarkable, helpful things to say.

I’m not advocating that we air all our dirty laundry or tell our deepest, darkest secrets to our Facebook friends, but it’s amazing to be able to connect with women all over the country, and the world, who may be in the same situation or have advice for those who are. Some of stories, anecdotes, and suggestions I have seen in various places on the internet are quite remarkable. The occasional humorous perspective on life-altering issues through some personal blogs can be a welcome relief as well.

Through my blog, I was fortunate to meet another adoptive mother who had also just written and published a book about her adoption journey and our connection has become a welcome friendship. Together, we have collaborated and helped each other promote our books, commiserated about many parenting issues, and supported each other emotionally from opposite sides of the county. She is funny, interesting and a talented writer.  I hope we can meet in person someday. If I had the benefit of the multitude of special interest groups and people that exist online today back when I was suffering emotionally through my efforts to have a third child, I might not have kept it all to myself and felt the need to express myself years later in my book.

Patty Lazarus is the author of a new book about adoption titled “March into My Heart: A Memoir of Mothers, Daughters, and Adoption.” www.marchintomyheart.com

My dear friend Tobi found a well-constructed American Robin’s nest (pictured) in her East Tennessee back yard last week. Doesn’t it look like a sweet place to snooze with feathered siblings or gobble down a juicy worm? Like fellow author and blog host Patty and me, Tobi has suffered great loss. Patty lost her precious mother and I lost my father, both at young ages. Tobi survived a horrific house fire in college and spent months recovering from burns and surgeries. Years later, she endured a complete hysterectomy, which made her unable to bear a child.

We three mama birds have suffered great loss through tragedy and infertility, but we were and still are determined to fill our nests with baby birds.  Patty has two well-adjusted sons and “the light of her life” in her beautiful daughter. I have my miraculous biological son, Houston, and I brought home my “Smiling Boy Scotty” in 2010. Tobi still anxiously waits for a daughter through adoption.

Patty illustrates her longing for a daughter in her poignant memoir, March into My Heart: a Memoir of Mothers, Daughters, and Adoption. I chronicle my trek through the rigors of infertility and adoption in my narrative The Eye of Adoption: The True Story of my Turbulent Wait for a Baby. We wrote these books to help others, especially those who are still waiting, like Tobi. Like many of you.

Tobi is diligently focused on her nest. She is an artist and sells her hand-crafted pieces made of woven yarn, stitchery, and felt to finance her adoption efforts. She named her business Ivey Handcrafted for her future daughter, Ivey. When Tobi posted the bird’s nest photo on her Facebook page, eighty people “liked” or commented. We all saw those delicate blue eggs in a meticulously interlaced bed of twigs and had emotional reactions; we thought babies or family. “Only a mama could make sticks look so cozy!” I commented. “Print that picture on canvas and hang it up in her room!” I thought the cradle of blue eggs would be a beautiful illustration of safety to place over Ivey’s baby bed.

Many waiting adoptive parents shy away from creating a nursery or child’s bedroom. That is completely understandable. No one should judge the decisions of waiting parents.  During my wait for Scotty, I admitted to Tobi, “I feel so weird and sad when I buy something for my baby.”

She replied, “Yes, it’s like shopping for a ghost.”

In 2010, I introduced Tobi to a birthmother named Morgan. The young girl was beautiful, kind, and committed to the adoption plan, but the birth father broke all our hearts when he would not relinquish rights at the last minute. Tobi was on the way to the hospital to meet her baby when a social worker called and gave her the shattering news. We were all devastated and Morgan was terrified to face single-parenting in college. The failed adoption evolved into a unique friendship and Tobi, Morgan, Scotty’s birthmother, and I are friends to this day. We cheer Morgan on as she raises her child. We cheer Tobi on as she waits for Ivey.

You may ask, “Why did Jody expose us to this sad story just before Mother’s Day?” My biggest fear throughout the adoption wait was that a birth parent would lead my husband and me all the way to the hospital, then change his or her mind and crush my soul. Although that happened to Tobi, she recovered, regained enthusiasm, and knows that adoption is an enlightening, spiritual experience.

Currently, Tobi is an “official waiting parent” on international and domestic waiting lists. Every day, Tobi binds branches of spirit, effort, fundraising, relationships, art, and prayer to construct her nest.  I recently told Tobi, “You are one heck of a mama bird. You just need your little chick!!!”

To all the waiting parents:  I encourage you to pro-actively anticipate your child. As soon as you become pregnant, you are a mother. Once you decide to adopt, you are a mother. Build your nest.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Tobi Weldon is an artist and waiting adoptive mother in Tennessee. You may read her blog and learn more about Ivey Handcrafted artwork at Bring Ivey Home.

Jody Cantrell Dyer is a mother, writer, and teacher in East Tennessee. You can learn more about Jody and her book, THE EYE OF ADOPTION: the true story of my turbulent wait for a baby, at www.jodydyer.com, via The Eye of Adoption on Amazon.com, or by “liking” her page: Facebook: The Eye of Adoption.

Patty Lazarus is the author of a new book about adoption titled “March into My Heart: A Memoir of Mothers, Daughters, and Adoption.” Available on Amazon: http://amzn.to/Y5JNvg

So, let’s talk about THE NEST. Pregnant women are often teased about nesting. When I was lucky enough to actually be pregnant with my first child, Houston, I scoured every inch of my home with Lysol and bleach. I cooked and froze chicken casseroles and lasagna for my husband and me. I washed and ironed all of Houston’s baby clothes and organized them for efficiency in his dresser and closet. I arranged birth announcements, insurance, and daycare. I even got a manicure and died my hair the day before he was born!

In my eight-year wait for a second baby (six years of painful infertility, plus two years of a tumultuous, yet successful adoption journey), I battled self-doubt, financial problems, odd questions from others, and all-consuming worry that I would never have a second child. Doubt is an understandable part of the process. My eleven-year-old son, Houston, loves the 1989 movie “Field of Dreams”, in which farmer Ray hears a voice say, “If you build it, he will come.” Despite degradation from townspeople, Ray tirelessly builds a baseball field on his farm, on faith. In music, Martina McBride’s song “Anyway” inspires dreamers to shake off criticism, failure, and obstacles. The song urges us to “build it anyway,” “dream it anyway,” and “do it anyway.” And how about that old, old story of a man who built a boat to survive a flood? Hmmm. People called him crazy. He was ostracized. But, Noah built the ark. The animals came. The flood came. He saved his family.

I took those commercial and spiritual messages to heart and built my nest, my ark for the flood. I assembled Houston’s old baby bed and placed it in the guest room. I laid heirloom quilts over the rail and nestled handmade dolls into the corner. I moved my wooden rocking chair into the room and hung brightly colored curtains. I often felt foolish, resentful, and epically sad when I bought anything for an infant—like a gown or diapers—but I “did it anyway.” In my book The Eye of Adoption, I explain:

Some waiting mothers have a tough time walking by an empty baby bed but little by little, sometimes hesitantly and feeling a little foolishly, I created the baby’s nursery. Friends who saw the uninhabited room hosting a white wooden baby crib probably thought I was nuts, but were kind enough to ignore or complement the expanding infant-centered décor. I usually asked visitors, “Would you like to see the museum to my unknown child?” The nursery served as a comfort to me and a tangible testimony of my faith to others. It served as proof that I anticipated my adopted child with confidence and joy. [My social worker] calls adoption the “Ultimate Faith Journey.” He is right. Doubt and fear are part of the process, but faith in thought and action are essential for survival.

I am sure that my friends left that room and felt intensely sorry for me. Many probably thought I was nuts or at least unwise, especially because I let Houston help me build the nest. He selected a blue plastic bathtub and saved toys from his oddly successful run in the grocery store lobby grab machine. But, I am equally sure that years later, when family and friends peaked over the white wood railing to see my infant Scotty slumbering in peace, they believed! I built the nest. He came.

So, to all the successful adoptive parents out there, I congratulate you on staying strong and faithful through the wait!

To all the waiting parents out there, I urge you to live and enjoy your wait—in faith and in action. Aren’t you “expecting” after all? Build your nest and make it perfect, just like your child on the way!

Jody Cantrell Dyer is a mother, writer, and teacher in East Tennessee. You can learn more about Jody and her book, THE EYE OF ADOPTION: the true story of my turbulent wait for a baby, at www.jodydyer.com, via The Eye of Adoption on Amazon.com, or by “liking” her page: Facebook: The Eye of Adoption.

Patty Lazarus is the author of a new book about adoption titled “March into My Heart: A Memoir of Mothers, Daughters, and Adoption.” Available on Amazon: http://amzn.to/Y5JNvg

Since the publication of my book, March into My Heart: a Memoir of Mothers, Daughters, and Adoption, in which I recount my journey, including years of infertility, to have a daughter after losing my beloved mother to cancer, I have been startled by the profound reactions my book has provoked from friends and strangers alike. For me, like many other women, dealing with infertility was devastating and isolating. I was silent about what was happening to me until publishing the book years later.

This week alone, I have received lovely posts on Facebook and touching hand-written notes from readers I have never met.

I was also brought to tears by some words from one my dearest friends. At lunch this week, she described how guilty she felt after reading my book. She worried that she had been extremely insensitive, so many years ago, talking to me about her own daughters and how wonderful they were. She never understood the pain I had suffered at not being able to conceive a daughter and apologized. “I didn’t even realize I was hurting you; I was a horrible friend!” she said.

We were having lunch to celebrate her birthday, which ironically was on April 21^st, the first day of National Infertility Awareness Week, which is April 21-27 this year. It was ironic because my book reminded her of how she felt before conceiving for the first time when the rest of her friends were all getting pregnant. The silent, isolating pain of infertility was like a deep wound that kept getting hit after the scab had formed. For years, each conversation about pregnancy, or related topics, opened emotional wounds even when she thought she had healed after the last conversation or news of another pregnancy. Until reading my book, she never realized that the emotional turmoil I felt about not being able to conceive a daughter was just as painful as the infertility she had suffered.

My experience with infertility opened my eyes to the pain some women suffer from before having any children. In one chapter of my book, I recalled an interaction with an acquaintance at a party that might have been upsetting to me if the circumstances had been different. That party happened to occur right after I had received the first call from our daughter’s birthmother so I was very upbeat about our situation that evening. So when the woman bragged about her adorable daughter who gave her so much “girlie” joy, knowing I had sons, I was absolutely delighted for her instead of getting upset. In years past, I had found myself dreading such conversations and tried vehemently to stay optimistic about a future relationship with my own daughter.

I certainly didn’t expect or need an apology from my friend at lunch, and I never felt any of her comments were intentionally thoughtless. It is rewarding to know that people reading my book may get a deeper understanding of the pain infertility causes. Like me, they might have several friends going through infertility and like my friend, they may not recognize the situations that make it truly unbearable at times.  This is in many ways what National Infertility Awareness Week is about—letting our communities know that we all need to show compassion to others and support each other in every situation.

Patty Lazarus is the author of a new book about adoption titled “March into My Heart: A Memoir of Mothers, Daughters, and Adoption.” Available on Amazon: http://amzn.to/Y5JNvg

It’s easy to wonder if we’re the only one who has those persistent feelings of loneliness and irreplaceable loss. Last week I received a call from an acquaintance who had just started to read my adoption memoir and was stunned by her own feelings. She had only read through chapter three, and she was taken aback by the detailed account of my mother’s sudden death and the brutal pain I felt from the loss of that incredibly close relationship.

My friend, Mary, lost her own mother just 18 months ago and realized that she was feeling all of the feelings I had written about but wasn’t able to articulate them.  Reading my book gave her the courage to reach out to someone who had a similar experience and talk about her loss and the difficulty of it all. Mary told me “I never realized we had so much in common.  My mother was the closest person to me as well and her death has devastated me.”  I was overcome by her feelings and the fact that my story evoked that kind of reaction from someone I hadn’t seen in several years.  We vowed to stay in touch and support each other through those difficult moments when we really need our mothers.

The loss of my mother compelled me to search for a daughter through adoption to fill that relationship gap in my life. Writing and publishing my adoption memoir has been cathartic and satisfying. I am gratified when people who are considering adoption as a way to fulfill their dream of a family, communicate their support for my publishing such a personal story. However, I never anticipated giving some readers, who are not involved with adoption at all, comfort and emotional support through my written words about losing a dear one.

For years, I silently grieved about my loss, feeling alone and in my own world about the pain I felt.  Now that I understand how saying the words out loud can provide relief to others, it has given me a whole new perspective on my book.

Writing a book does not make me an expert on adoption, grief, or publishing a private story.  Some have criticized me for putting myself, and my family, out there. My intent was to help others as a way to give back for the incredible gift of my daughter. As I experience genuine joy at having touched a few people in such a profound way, I know publishing my story was the right thing to do.

The lesson I have learned is: If we reach out honestly to others in some way, it can bring relief, comfort, and joy to yourself and potentially the people who read or hear your feelings, regardless of how you express them.

Patty Lazarus is the author of a new book about adoption titled “March into My Heart: A Memoir of Mothers, Daughters, and Adoption.” Available on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0615776450/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=211189&creative=373489&creativeASIN=0615776450&link_code=as3&tag=surapres-20

The countless stories of children who have been “saved” by the efforts of Amara are stunning. Children as young as two years old have been in as many as four different foster homes in their short lives. Connecting children who have been orphaned, neglected, or abused to people who want to devote their lives to supporting and loving these children, Amara is making lives better for all involved. Couples who have not had the opportunity to have children of their own are enjoying becoming parents and the joy that children can bring into a home. I was shown a video of one couple who has adopted seven foster children and are enjoying every minute of the crazy, but loving household.

Another family working with Amara adopted three siblings who were in the foster care system who might have been placed in separate homes. 70% of children in the foster care system have a sibling in foster care as well, but only 30% are placed together. That family of five is thriving and the parent said, “People have said, ‘wow they’re so blessed to have you’ and I say ‘you don’t understand, we’re so blessed to have them!’ We are definitely the lucky ones.”

As an adoptive parent of an infant, I often wonder what might have happened to my daughter if her birthmother hadn’t been so responsible during her pregnancy about finding a good home for her. Instead of enjoying school, athletics and learning to play piano at eleven years old, she might have been shuttled to different foster homes struggling to find stability, not to mention a loving family.

Although my story does not include foster parenting, everyone’s dreams of a family can be fulfilled through unexpected ways. Adoption was never in my life plan as I grew into an adult. No one expects to confront infertility, medical issues, or other circumstances that can keep them from biologically becoming a parent. The miracle of adoption, via the foster system or the many adoption channels, is a blessing to both grateful parents and the innocent, vulnerable children who all deserve a good home.

More information about Amara can be found at www.amaraparenting.org .

Patty Lazarus is the author of a new book about adoption titled “March into My Heart: A Memoir of Mothers, Daughters, and Adoption.” Available on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0615776450/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=211189&creative=373489&creativeASIN=0615776450&link_code=as3&tag=surapres-20

Before our daughter arrived, the boys thought mostly about sports, food, playing with their friends, and occasionally about school. With a new little sister on the scene, they came to enjoy doing simple activities with her, learning about babies, and watching her develop into a curious, busy toddler while asking for details about what they themselves were like at her age. As their mother, I felt such joy as I saw this new side of my sons, suddenly more sensitive to the needs of others; and the dynamic in our home changed dramatically for the better.

Patience and sharing suddenly held new meaning for my boys; lessons they might have taken a lot longer to learn without a baby in the house. I remember one of the early days when my son sat in the backseat of the car with his hands over his ears as his baby sister screamed uncontrollably in her car seat. We laughed when I reminded him that he cried even louder, and more often, at that age. Naturally, the boys had a hard time being completely understanding when things started disappearing from their rooms, toys got broken, and prized art work was turned into “scribbles”, but forgiveness was a good lesson for them to learn as well. I felt even more proud of my boys as time went on and their fondness for their sister grew exponentially, despite the bumps along the way.

By the time my daughter turned ten, my oldest son was away at college but his interest in her activities and life remained admirable. He still calls frequently to check in with her, sends her Valentine cards and teddy bears, and feels bad when he has to miss her birthday parties, tennis matches, or musical performances. My younger son, now a senior in high school, is still a willing babysitter. He helps her with homework, coaches her softball team, and drives her to and from after-school activities. Their relationship is unexpectedly close, given their age difference.

Soon my daughter will have to deal with both of her brothers being in college and living away from home. We all feel a looming sense of loss and discontent. Both brothers are worried about their sister entering middle school in the fall without her big brothers there to protect her from eager admirers, and to guide her through the labyrinth of adolescence that they so recently navigated.

With my sons, now adults and soon both away at school, I look forward to yet another tidal wave of changes to my household. As her mother, I anticipate an even closer relationship with my daughter as she evolves into a young woman. Our relationship is precious to me now, but the teenage years will be riddled with problems, social conflicts, and life-lessons that, in the best case scenario, bring parents closer to their children. I shared that incredible closeness with my own mother before she died.  My sons were very young at the time, and the memory of her is what encouraged and guided me to find my daughter, despite the odds against us after years of infertility and heartbreak. So far my daughter has brought our family amazing new experiences, blissful laughter, and an abundance of joy, and I fully expect the next ten years to be even more delightful and fulfilling.

Patty Lazarus published a new book about adoption titled “March into My Heart: A Memoir of Mothers, Daughters, and Adoption” available on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0615776450/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=211189&creative=373489&creativeASIN=0615776450&link_code=as3&tag=surapres-20

Many stay-at-home mothers, like me, may feel occupationally inadequate or intellectually uninspired after leaving their careers to raise a family. I left my career in software sales twenty years ago after my first son was born. Since then, I have been working in my children’s schools (field trips, library duty, reading assistance, fundraising, etc.), as well as sitting on committees and boards of non-profit agencies trying to help others in need. It has been very rewarding activity, but over the last six years, my authoring passion has also been at work and recently, I have been shocked and delighted by the results.

Last week I published my memoir about my daughter’s adoption story and the reaction among family and friends who read it has been extremely gratifying. I began writing a journal to help answer questions my daughter might someday ask about our journey to find her. As I began writing, it took on new meaning.  Hoping to help other families reach their dreams of a child, the journal became an honest, detailed account of my reasons for and our efforts to adopt our daughter. Now, my memoir is available to all readers and as expected, the first reactions came from those closest to me.

Publishing a truly personal story is admittedly frightening, especially when some in my family are feeling exposed to the world because of the book. Those who have read it so far have been incredibly positive and genuine with their reviews and accolades for “laying it out there”.  Some have referred to me as a community role-model and others as a rock star.  If I had given in to my family’s concerns and not published the book, I would never have experienced the true admiration and joy my friends provided me after reading it.

The approval of my friends wasn’t my goal in publishing my memoir. My principal goal is to help others find happiness through adoption and hopefully reading my story will give them the courage to move forward. I may never know the effect my book had on people around the country, and the world, who are in the position I was in before finding my daughter. Hearing the warm sentiments from my friends, a few of whom read it in one sitting because they “couldn’t put it down”, is truly a dream come true. I wanted my story to be interesting, candid, engaging, and if possible a little entertaining. I wanted my friends to read it because they wanted to, not because they felt like they had to. I now know, after only a short time on the bookshelves, that it is all those things. <Buy the book here>

Without a doubt, my confidence as a writer has been boosted. My admiration for my friends, who have been cheering me on ever since they first learned about my book, has skyrocketed. My gratitude to my family for giving me the time, support and latitude to publish this book is immense.  But mostly, I thank all of my blog readers and followers who have, over the last year, given me the courage to speak from the heart, listen to others more openly, and hopefully provide a path for others to find their own dream.

I began writing when my adopted daughter was five, hoping to convey the specifics of our journey to find her when she began to ask questions.  Along the way, my work took on new meaning for me. As I wrote about all that was involved in finding her, the emotions prevailed and instead of a journal about the details and people we met, it became a story about why I needed a daughter after the loss of my dear mother and how important the search for a daughter became. I began to think about all the women who needed a child but couldn’t conceive and my memoir began to take on new significance.

Over the past year, I have been writing this blog about my experiences, philosophies, disappointments, joyous moments, and various emotions surrounding my life as an adoptive mother, hoping to reach readers who may benefit from it. Some of my readers may be, as I was, suffering from infertility or may be current adoptive parents, while others may just need comfort in challenging times. At times, exposing the personal aspects of my life in the blog has been difficult to tolerate, as a writer and a mother, but as I have come to notice through comments, vitally important to so many readers.  Publishing my blog, and now my memoir, is my way of giving back for the amazing gift of my daughter. Here is a short synopsis:

March into My Heart: a Memoir of Mothers, Daughters, and Adoption is a very personal story written so that others may find the strength to reach toward adoption as a solution to their struggle with infertility and achieve their dreams of a family.

After enduring my mother’s tragic illness and untimely death, I knew that adding a girl to the family was the only way to ease the pain I felt. My husband and I set out on a four-year, arduous, complicated, and emotional journey through infertility, miscarriages, and adoption ending in a small town in rural Missouri where we would finally meet our new daughter as she came into the world.

March into My Heart will tug at the heartstrings of anyone who has ever lost a beloved family member, or gained a new cherished one. This memoir is a poignant and inspiring story of family, adoption, and the irreplaceable bond between a mother and daughter.

I humbly thank all of my devoted blog readers and hope that you will read my memoir, available at Amazon.com <buy the book> and continue reading my blog as my journey continues. Through my blog, I have occasionally complained that not enough adoptive parents tell their stories so that others can learn and realize their own dreams. We are all on the journey of life together and if I can make it a little easier for others through my experiences, it’s worth the effort. Happy reading!

The New York Times Bestseller was wonderfully helpful, but to be completely honest, I was unable to read it in its entirety. It was too painful back then. Letters written to the author by motherless daughters were poignant and matched exactly how I felt. The authors of the letters spoke about how selfish they felt about their intense grief and how even after many years, tears still spring to their eyes when they are reminded of their dearly departed mothers.  Just two weeks ago, I cried intensely when Barbra Streisand sang “Memories” at the Academy Awards because my mother loved that song so much. Many of the chapters that followed in Hope Edelman’s book spoke to me like I had written them myself.  The themes included “when a woman needs a woman” and “who she was, who I am”, which both brought a visceral reaction.

Many friends of mine have recently lost their mothers in the past year. My husband’s dear Aunt Geraldine (who was also his mother’s best friend from childhood) died recently as well, and his cousins are devastated after losing their mother. I have tried to console them and my friends, hoping their grief will subside, even though mine hasn’t after almost two decades. For some, it may get easier. For others, like me, you just learn to live without that incredibly supportive spirit.

The feelings described in Ms. Edelman’s book, literally took over my life. I could not live without a female relationship in my family after my mother died and that’s why I started my four year journey to find my daughter. The story of my journey through late stage infertility, miscarriages, and adoption are detailed in my soon-to-be-published memoir March into My Heart: a Memoir of Mothers, Daughters, and Adoption. The goal of my book is to give hope to women who have lost a mother, want a child, need a daughter, or can relate to how strong the connection between a mother and a daughter truly can be.

I pray that all my dear friends who have lost their mothers, some who over the years have treated me like their own daughter, learn to live happily despite their significant loss.