It has been a busy day, as usual, but it was punctuated by my frequent checks of my last post to see what inspiring comments had been left. Who knew it would be such an interesting dialog?


I have read various readers’ theories about who "fearless" might be … and there is another possibility. I think this person who is so clearly quite unhappy with me might be my son, Tommy. Tommy has asked me not to write about him, and I haven’t. It was not particularly difficult to honor that request because Tommy hasn’t lived with us for many years. My experiences around the parenting of Tommy had much to do with “the system” and how it doesn't support or outright abuses parents. (And I often write about that!) He lives a long distance away and usually only calls in a crisis. I honor his request by not telling you all the morning after a crisis call, but other than that, he’s not an integral part of my life, by his own choice.


Amy obviously doesn’t live here any more either, and clearly this unhappy poster, whoever it is, wants me to cease any future references to her. (Incidentally, so does a good friend of mine … she is strongly encouraging me to not write any more about Amy.) I reread my last post—the one that prompted my mystery critic to blast me again for being “heartless” and shameful. What I read is a post about a mom who still has pain because she never connected with her daughter. I read about a child who opted out of joining a family, and a mom who recognizes that if that behavior occurred while the child was living in the family, it most certainly can be predicted when the child is out of the home and calling the shots completely.


If I had a daughter with insulin-dependent diabetes and I posted my concern that my child was not properly caring for her physical health, and it was true, would that be some horrible violation of privacy? Granted, my child would most likely not be happy that I was forthcoming with the truth, but would my stating the facts be the reason my child resisted taking her insulin? Would it be my fault that my child didn’t want to take the responsibility for her own condition? And what if I added another child to the family who also had insulin-dependent diabetes? Or what if I was in a position of supporting other families who have insulin-dependent children? Would I be expected to ignore my experiences with previous children, disregard my observations, filter my opinions, and make no comparisons? How could I do that? How could my present not be a reflection of my past? If I assumed the new child was a carbon copy of one who came before, that would be a problem. But to pretend the first one doesn’t exist because she no longer lives at home, and therefore my memories and experiences don’t exist … how can I do that?


While I don’t dispute that Amy would not like what I write, I really think most of the time it reflects my pain, my losses, and the impact this experience has had upon me and my family. When she was living at home, that was probably not true. No doubt there was a fair amount of “stuff” in some of what I wrote about until she moved out and immediately after that period. Lately, what I write is more about how my experiences with Amy have shaped my response to Dora or Beth. This comment is one example: “I had desired to connect with Amy as much as Dora had wanted to connect with her first adoptive family.” Why is that such a horrible thing to say? It most certainly is true!


I write what I do because: it helps other people; it helps me process, learn and grow from my own experiences; it is a form of support for me as well, and I still need that, as I still have these losses in my life. Surely I am entitled to say what I think and feel? Of course not everyone will like what I say. That's not a news flash!


I don’t write what I write for any specific purpose of hurting anyone’s feelings or making anyone angry. There has been more than enough of that already in these particular relationships. This blog is about parenting tough kids. It is about my experiences, my views, my observations. The obvious source for much of the material is my life. Notwithstanding the fact that my relationally challenged kids (and that’s a fact) are very unhappy with me for being in the public eye (and that is a bummer for them, to be sure) they still landed in a family where they have had every opportunity to heal and thrive. It most certainly isn’t perfect, but show me a family that is. I’m sorry that they find it such an objectionable place to be. It wasn’t my idea of a happy ending, either.


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