Letter to the Editor
In the United States, for a legal adoption to take place, the identity of the children in question is permanently altered through the creation of a new birth certificate. And while “open adoptions” are flaunted as the modern norm, with arrangements between birth and adoptive families, these “agreements” are not legally binding, leaving the first families with no recourse in the event the adoption is closed.
Read the full letter here.
WORDGAME
1209 words can be made from the letters in RELINQUISHMENT; here are 12.
Semen
The seminal fluid within which sperm is transferred.
The average ejaculate contains 200-500 million sperm cells.
It only takes one.
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Blue Baby Blanket
For years I kept his blue baby blanket in the bottom right-hand drawer of my dresser.
I stole it from the hospital.
I remember lifting it to my face and noting the sharp odor of sour milk mingled with the intoxicating scent of baby.
Read the full essay here.
INTERVIEW: Candace Cahill, Author of GOODBYE AGAIN
Candace and I connected just a few weeks after her book tour wrapped up to talk about the craft of writing, identity, and the urgent need to change public perceptions and attitudes about adoption. What follows are the highlights of our conversation.
Read the full interview here.
My Relationship With My Mom Was A Nightmare. Then An Unexpected Tragedy Changed Everything.
Our disaffection stemmed from our own traumas — including a childhood of neglect, an alcoholic father, sexual violence — but it was the pain we shared that truly kept us apart: my relinquishing my son for adoption when he was an infant 25 years earlier. The terrible words she’d spoken after I’d signed away my parental rights — ”he’s dead to me now” — had cut deep and forced our already-frayed relationship into near-complete separation. I’d walked away that day feeling both motherless and childless and resorted to the only coping mechanism I knew ― dissociation.
Read the full essay here.
I Found My Adopted Son, But We’ll Never Spend a Holiday Together
“I wish I knew what was going on in your head,” my husband, Tom, said to me as he slid a storage bin into the center of the room with his foot. “You seem so…lost.” That’s because I was lost, I told him.
Usually, I loved December. But this year, I’d been listless at Wednesday night holiday choir practices and didn’t even go to the annual community tree lighting. It was 2013, and my son, Michael, had passed away in July.
I met my birth son once, then he died. The man who adopted him helped me grieve.
I met David through his words. Handwritten in blue ink on yellow legal paper. Slanted, messy penmanship. A few crossed-out words. Familiar. Easy. As if it had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to write the letter.
All the other letters were typed, double-spaced, sans serif. Not a single flourish. Nothing to draw attention, which only heightened the intimacy of David’s letter — handwritten with love.
The scripted message began: Dear Birthmother.
The phrases unfolded, painting vivid images of comfort and plenty, and it was as if he sat before me, leaning in to hold my hands. Not a stranger, but a confidant. Or a confessor. Five pages of intimate details — reasons to choose him and his wife, Jane — a sales pitch for the most important job in the world.
Because I wasn’t a birthmother — yet.
Read the full essay here.
I Gave My Son Up For Adoption—23 Years Later My Life Was Turned Upside Down
I was dressed in a clown costume: brightly colored baby-doll dress, bloomers, big shoes, red nose—the works—preparing to run the annual Fourth of July 5k race in Skagway, Alaska. As I stretched at the starting line, playing up to the crowd, my husband strode up, grabbed my arm, and tried to pull me toward a side street. Distressed at his forcefulness, I yanked away, ready to demand he explain himself, when his face seemed to melt.
“Michael died.”
His gray complexion and the way he reached for me slammed the reality home. Like in a movie scene, my body crumbled to the ground, and as if in a lucid dream, I hovered above: my body was slumped in the middle of the city’s Third Street, smack in the center of the hoop-bottomed dress like a bullseye. The sound that escaped my lips still echoes down that empty street—and in my skull.
Read the full essay here.
Blue Baby Blanket
For years I kept his blue baby blanket in the bottom right-hand drawer of my dresser.
I stole it from the hospital.
I remember lifting it to my face and noting the sharp odor of sour milk mingled with the intoxicating scent of baby. Without a thought, I slipped the soft, waffle-like material into my brown paper sack.
When I got home, alone and hollowed out, I curled into a fetal position with the blanket bunched up like a pillow and cried…
Read the full essay here.
Trolls Can Be Teachers, Too
I scrolled.
Past the title, the social media share icons, and the “listen to this article now” button. I slipped by the newsletter sign-up prompt, a “Read More Like This” section, advertisements for Covid Vaccinations, and a notice for a Van Gogh exhibit in Anchorage.
And there, just beyond the sponsored content and the “Popular in the Community” segment, I came to my destination: the conversation.
More commonly known as the comments.
I’d been warned. Chat rooms, writer’s circles, Facebook groups, and Twitter feeds offered clear instructions: if you have an essay published, do not read the comments. But this wasn’t just any essay; this was my first essay in a top-tier publication.
Read the full essay here.
Mother’s Day – A Bittersweet Holiday
As a child, I remember the light-hearted joy of making my mom a Mother’s Day Card. Paper plates and construction paper, hands sticky with glue, and the words “Best Mom Ever” embellished with glitter in uneven print. As a teenager, I penned heartfelt poems on flowery stationery in soft-lead pencil, expressing my deepest love for the woman who, just days earlier, I could barely stand.
Read the full essay here.
Writing in the Trenches
I am a rule follower. But I am also independent, resilient, and stubborn. I like to do new things and expand my knowledge. So, in the summer of 2019, I set out to write a book. Was I a writer? No. Am I now? Absolutely. Well, I’m learning anyway…
Read the full essay here.
Letter to the editor:
How dare Supreme Court Justice Amy Coney Barrett tell women who do not want to raise a young child to just “put it up for adoption.” Like too many adoptive parents, she is both blind and insensitive to the issues of grief and loss associated with child relinquishment, both for the birth parents and the relinquished children…
Read the full letter here.
Voice
CW/TW – Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault, Strong Language
1972
Your first memory is of an earache. It’s nighttime; you’re standing in the middle of the cold living room. There’s a console television in the corner with a fuzzy black and white picture that keeps skipping upward; its staticky volume crackles at the edge of awareness. Your head hurts…
Read the full essay here.
I Gave Up Querying Agents And Found A Small Press
Balanced on the edge of my chair, I typed The End into the word document that contained my completed, revised, beta-read memoir manuscript. I knew there’d still be tweaks here and there, but overall, I was satisfied. Heck, I was elated! My enthusiasm bubbled along with the champagne.
My memoir was complete! Now what?
Read the full essay here.
Podcasts
Candace Cahill: Author Goodbye Again–A story of Childloss
Candace reunited with the son she’d given up for adoption when he turned 18. Primarily In contact through calls and letters, they met once when he was twenty. Candace worked hard to allow her son to drive the nature of their new connection, only to have him die unexpectedly in his sleep at age 23.
In Candance’s beautiful book Goodbye Again, she shares with us her experience learning to greive losses that are disenfranchized in our culture. She talks us through pain upon pain, only to ultimately leave the reader holding an incredible story of hope and love.
Listen here.
The Untold Story of Candace Cahill’s Memoir Goodbye Again
In today’s Untold Story of Central Minnesota, Arts & Cultural Heritage Producer Jeff Carmack talks with SCSU alumna and author Candace Cahill about loss, family, and love through the experience of adoption. Cahill’s new memoir Goodbye Again recounts her journey of placing her son up for adoption when she was young and then reuniting with him decades later, only to lose him again suddenly. Candace Cahill now lives in Alaska but still partners with the St. Cloud State University Department of Social Work. This program is made possible through support from the MN Arts & Cultural Heritage Fund.
Listen here.
Adoption Grief and Compounded Losses
Candace Cahill lost her son. Twice. Once, after she was strong-armed into relinquishing him to adoption. The second time, after he died in his sleep not long after they finally met for the first time. Candace’s story will break your heart and put it back together. We discuss her unique periods of grief, adoption, compounded losses, complicated grief, and how her healing journey helped her find a level of compassion and forgiveness she didn’t know she possessed.
Listen here.
Grief Refuge Podcast
There are people who feel lost and alone because their grief journey is ‘a-typical’. Today’s guest interview with Candace Cahill is filled with her story about relinquishing her son, Michael, and then grieving the loss of his death.
Candace shares several examples of what helped her work through her grief so that she no longer felt lost. Part of her process led to the writing and publishing of her book, Goodbye Again.
If you’ve felt like you have lost someone twice, this interview is for you. Candace’s story is compelling and filled with hope for anyone feeling lost on their grief journey.
Listen here.
Adoption: The Long View
Candace Cahill placed her son as an infant in 1990. Their semi-open adoption closed when he was 8, but contact was reestablished at 18. After navigating the complexities of reunion for five years and only a single face-to-face meeting, Michael died in his sleep of natural causes. Shocked and devastated at losing him a second time, Candace attended the funeral, where she encountered unexpected compassion from Michael’s family. They proudly introduced her as Michael’s birth mother, which contradicted years of self-sabotaging internal messages. Their acceptance, along with her husband’s encouragement, launched Candace on her path to healing. This episode will help you understand mothering in surprising ways, and you won’t want to miss it.
Listen here.
Birth Moms Real Talk
Candace went through life without a tremendous amount of self-esteem. She talks about her family traditions of doing what they needed to do. She had a resilient spirit. Candace realized that she had more than she lacked to be a mother.
Listen here.
The Triad Podcast: Straight to the Heart of Adoption
A deep dive into one birth mother’s experience navigating the aftermath of placement.
Listen here.