Posted By Debra Shiveley Welch

Looking At the Car Ads.

November is the month when we celebrate the gift of love through adoption. As an adoptive mother, I cannot begin to express the joy I have found through my beautiful son, Christopher, adopted in 1992. I was 40 when his adoption became final.

Some potential adoptive parents fear that finding a child is impossible for them due to lack of funds, available children, or because of their age. Subsequently, they are concerned that they will never experience the happiness of parenting a child. But you can find love through adoption, and through Special Needs Adoption, you can find a deep and satisfying parent/child relationship with the added knowledge that you are helping a child who is desperately waiting for a home, is in great need of an advocate…is urgently waiting….for  love.

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Posted By Debra Shiveley Welch

Recently I read an email from a young mother of a one month old baby born with cleft lip and palate. Her tearful post recounted a scene in her local grocery store earlier that day. As I read her account of what had taken place, I remembered a similar incident which happened to me and my son, and the anger began to build.

First, let me say that we mothers of children born with craniofacial anomalies are as proud and in love with our babies as any other mother. With today's sonograms and diagnostics, a mother often knows quite early in the pregnancy that her child will be born cleft affected. She has time during the pregnancy to mourn the loss of the child she envisioned and to accept that the baby she will bear will not be "perfect." And so, as she labors to bring forth her child, like most mothers giving birth, she is mainly concerned with birthing a living, healthy baby.




Posted By Debra Shiveley Welch
My home fills with music,
As 16-year-old hands
Touch keyboard and create
Liquid joy.
Slender teenage fingers,
Stroke taut acoustic strings.
Soaring notes blend and unite –
Symbiotic symphony.
Hearts soaring to the sky.
Bliss unleashed and attained.
©Debra Shiveley Welch 2009

Posted By Debra Shiveley Welch
Seventeen years have passed since you, my sweet boy, were born. The time has flown by much too fast and I sometimes wish I could relive this time with you, the happiest 17 years of my life.
You have brought me great joy, my darling boy. You have helped me through family crisis, deaths, broken friendships and unrealized dreams.
At first, you were not aware that you were consoling me. You would simply climb into my lap, wrap your little arms around my neck and nestle there. You could not feel my blood pressure lower, my heart lift and my tears disappear. You were simply there to be with Mama. But as the years have passed, and you have grown, you have sought me out with the intent to give ease when things have gone awry, or I am disappointed, hurt or sick.
Your method of comforting is different now: you will put your arm around me, give me a hug, and proceed to tell me how wonderful I am, how I can do it, how I can get through whatever it is that is happening because I am so strong. Your words are wise and soothing, and you sometimes make me think that you are 37 instead of 17. You amaze me!
Your dedication to your music is inspirational. You are excelling in guitar and making quick progress on the piano. I love listening to you play, especially when I am writing. It relaxes me, makes me happy, makes me so proud of my beautiful son.
Your teachers and peers respect and like you. You are known for your courteous attitude, gentleness and cheerful personality. People like to be around you and be a part of your life. I cannot blame them. I feel the same way.
You are kind to your friends, welcoming them when you would rather be alone. You are always there to reach out when one of them is in pain, offering your sage advice, any help you can provide and your friendship. I am sure that all of them realize, as I do, just how priceless your friendship is.
Today you are 17 my love. Today we celebrate the luckiest day in my life: your birthday.
I love you,

Posted By Debra Shiveley Welch

Okay, I’m guilty as charged.  I must admit that I have this bad habit of getting into my writing, forgetting to eat, and remembering only when my stomach begins to collapse in on itself.

Driven by hunger pains, I begin a frantic search for a quick snack and, inevitably, fall upon my favorite: peanut butter stuffed celery.  However, there is one problem.  The name of the snack is backward.

Salivating and eager to appease my sustenance-starved body, I stuff the celery into the peanut butter.  Again and again, I plunge a crisp, green rib into the thick, savory, organic spread.  Slowly, my hunger abates and I am once again free to pursue my passion – writing.

My son enters the kitchen and reaches for the same treat.  I feel myself slowly shrink into my chair.  I know what is about to happen.

Hungry, his 16-year-old body craving protein, he grasps the jar and carries it to the counter.  Retrieving bread and raspberry jelly, he quickly constructs his peanut butter sandwich.

I have now become half my size as I await the inevitable.  Chris lifts the sandwich, raises it to his lips and takes a big bite.  It takes a few seconds as tongue and palate work together to extract the flavors from his concoction.  He pauses, turns to me and exclaims, “Mom!  The peanut butter tastes like celery!”

Caught again.



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Debra Shivel...
Central Ohio


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