A Caller From St. Sault Marie

One of the nicest perks from writing my book has been receiving emails and calls from readers.

They are thanking me for writing Not Exactly As Planned: A Memoir of Adoption, Secrets and Abiding Love.  They relate to my stories about the ins and outs of adoption. They relate to the challenges (and joys!) of raising our son with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder.  They thank me for me honest about the  ups and downs many of us face.


People share their own stories with me. And mostly, they thank me for making them feel less alone in their struggles.

A great response to my book came in yesterday.  I received a call from a woman who lives in a small northern Ontario town. She had heard about my book on the CBC, and ordered it from an online bookstore (Chapters/Indigo).

Karen also thanked me for writing the book. Though her life is very different from mine, she has raised two children, a boy and a girl with FASD, now adults in their 20s. Karen has had her share of hardships. Her children are older, like mine, and her life is still very tied up with caring for them.  She realizes it may always be so.

Her marriage split up, as many do due to the stress of raising difficult children. But Karen has friends to support her and a strong will.  She's a survivor. 

At the end of our conversation, Karen said, "When I save up enough money, I'd like to buy 10 copies of your book to give away. I want to give one copy to the Children's Aid Society here. Another to the guidance counselors where my children went to school. Another for the local library and community centre. Another for the Native council office..."  I was greatly touched by her desire to spread the word about FASD and the struggles families like ours experience raising our children with the disorder.

Her comment about giving out copies of my book have been on my mind since she and I spoke. I kept wondering whether I should have offered to send her copies.

I received a call from her again this morning. "Just wanted to let you know that I ordered 10 copies of your book. Decided i really wanted to do it."

I let her know how generous I thought she was, and how thrilled I was that she would be passing my book on to people who would clearly learn a lot from it. What a kind gesture.

The next time I wonder whether or not I was crazy to bare my soul the way I did in the book,  I will think about Karen't phone call. I have no doubt it will banish all such thoughts.

At least momentarily.

Not Exactly As Planned  is available on Amazon

My Memoir, Not Exactly As Planned, fall 2014 release

                              Not Exactly as Planned
                              A Memoir of Adoption Secrets and Abiding Love

                                         Book launch in Toronto
                                 November 18, 6:00 - 8:00  p.m.
                                         Ben McNally Books

 
My life took a major turn when our son, adopted at birth, is diagnosed with irreversible brain damage from fetal alcohol syndrome. I am determined to change Michael’s prognosis and live with as much joy as possible while struggling to accept my new reality.

Not Exactly as Planned is more than a story of motherlove. It’s about birdwatching, bar mitzvahs, the collision of '60’s ideals with the real world, family secrets and woodcarving.

The book, published by Demeter Press will be available October, 2014. 
 
                                                 order here

Why I wrote the book:

Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder affects an estimated one percent of all children born in North America. Yet, despite being the most common cause of developmental disability, most members of the public are unaware of it and of the ways it profoundly affects the lives of individuals and their families.

It is my hope that the book will bring comfort and hope to families struggling to raise children with FASD, and bring to professionals who work with these families a better understanding of the daily struggles these families live with.


Synopsis of the book:

Not Exactly As Planned chronicles Linda Rosenbaum’s arrival in Toronto in 1970 from the US after political upheaval and sexual violence in Washington, D.C. casts her on an unexpected journey north in search of safe haven. She lives a counterculture life in communes in Toronto’s American ex-pat community, eventually moving into the city’s mainstream. A move to Toronto Island, marriage, and parenthood through two unorthodox adoption processes finally bring a sense of safety and belonging.

Life takes a major turn when Linda’s son, adopted-at-birth, is diagnosed with irreversible brain damage from fetal alcohol syndrome when he is six. She was determined to change Michael’s prognosis, illustrating the expectations that those raised on the activism of the 1960s brought to their lives and families. She no longer fights for other people’s sons — picketing for civil rights or demonstrating to bring soldiers home from Vietnam. She has to fight for her own son.

According to statistics at the time, fetal alcohol syndrome (FAS) was a sentence to failure in his life: he'd drop out of school; he'd be incapable of holding a job; he'd live on welfare, on the street or worse. The brain damage, they said, was irreversible.

With love, devotion, hope and all the medical knowledge she could accumulate, Rosenbaum sets out to change the predicted course of events. Though truth of the old Yiddish saying “Man plans, God laughs”  was testing her, she is determined to have the last laugh. She confronts the sexual violence in her youth; raises her children Jewish even as they share their father’s last name of Christmas; fights to save the iconoclastic Toronto Island community from developers’ bulldozers; and resolves to live with as much joy as she can while struggling to beat Michael's odds.

With compassion and humour, Not Exactly As Planned weaves the disparate threads of Rosenbaum's life into a story of acceptance, at once achingly unique yet universal to all parents.  Not Exactly As Planned  is a provocative story about hope, loss and acceptance.