Maryreunited

And here I sit contemplating yet again the road my life has taken. How did I get where I am, when I wanted to be some where completely different?

Choices that are not choices, choices that are choices- and everything in between on the road to where I am...

I often wonder what sort of person I would have been if adoption had not entered my life. Would I still think it was a wonderful thing? Or would I like many realize that there is something wrong with the system? That it is a broken thing, in need of demolishing, of tearing down and not rebuilding it in any way that would resemble what it is now?

I know who I am, and I love who I am, for all the suffering and pain I have gone through has made me a whole person. Not fractured as I once was-when I was living in the land of Denial- that person hid most of herself. Hid the shame and guilt and pain. I don't do that now, I speak right up and tell people exactly what I think of adoption, and about what it did to me, and to my life.

How it almost broke me, almost killed me, almost....

But, but...

Here I stand, not bent, or bowed, but tall and proud of who I am, and what I have accomplished.

I refuse to bow, or to scrape, for crumbs from the table of another woman who calls herself mother. One who can't, or won't acknowledge me. I am not a threat to her, or her motherhood. I am not, but she does not see that- I wish she could~

Food for thought- a poem- view this poem through the lens of feminism- and think of "The Book of Myths" as The Book of Man, from which women are largely absent. Ask yourself how this applies to adoption- and our place in it- thought provoking indeed~

Diving Into the Wreck

First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife blade,
I put on
the body-armor of black rubber
the absurd flippers

the grave and awkward mask.
I am having to do this
not like Cousteau with his
assiduous team
aboard the sun-flooded schooner
but here alone.
There is a ladder
The ladder is always there
hanging innocently
close to the side of the schooner.
We know what it is for,
we who have used it.
Otherwise
it’s a piece of maritime floss
some sundry equipment.

I go down
Rung after rung and still
the oxygen immerses me
the blue light
the clear atoms
of our human air.
I go down.
My flippers crippling me,
I crawl like an insect down the ladder
and there is no one
to tell me when the ocean
will begin.

First the air is blue then
it is bluer and then green and then
black I am blacking out and yet
my mask is powerful
it pumps my blood with power
the sea is another story
the sea is not a question of power
I have to learn alone
to turn my body without force
in the deep element.

And now: it is easy to forget
what I came for
among so many who have always
lived there
swaying in their crenellated fans
between the reefs
and besides
you breathe differently down here.

I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.
I stroke the beam of my lamp
slowly along the flank
of something more permanent
than fish or week

the thing I came for:
the wreck and not the story of the wreck
the thing itself and not the myth
the drowned face always staring
toward the sun
the evidence of damage
worn by salt and sway in this threadbare beauty
the ribs of disaster
curving their assertion
among the tentative hunters.

This is the place,
and I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair
streams black, the merman in his armored body

We circle silently
about the wreck
we dive into the hold.
I am she: I am he
whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes
whose breasts still bear the stress
whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies
Obscurely inside barrels
Half-wedged and left to rot
we are the half-destroyed instruments
that once held course
the water-eaten log
the fouled compass

We are, I am, you are
by cowardice or courage
the ones who find our way
back to the scene
carrying the knife, a camera
a book of myths
in which
our names do not appear.

Adrienne Rich

The kind where you wish you had stood in bed? Lately that's all I seem to have. No ambition, no motivation- just the blahs. Is it the winter that has seemingly been dragging on and on this year?

Is it the fact that my little sister is most likely not sober? (again) Or is it just the winter icky, that will go away once the sun starts to shine more often?

I don't know, I really honestly don't. The last year was so incredibly hard for me- it has taken it's toll on me mentally, and physically.

School is wonderful, my kids are wonderful, so why I can't I shake this feeling?

I think it has to do with the pending nuptials of my oldest child. Worry about how that's going to work. (Even though it's over a year away at this point) I will be seeing people I have never met, and seeing people I wished never to see again (well in some way at any rate) It's a puzzlement I must work out.

That and what color dress I am going to wear- as I pointed out to both my daughters I have plenty of time to figure it out don't I?

I just want the blah to go away, and the sad-

So that day came- when I had to leave my daughter at the hospital. I had spent three days with her, being mom. Holding her, feeding her, changing diapers, and looking at every single part of her, memorizing her. Her smell, her face, her fingers and toes, the little chubby legs and arms of her tiny body. I spent a lot of time crying too. Thinking of how much I didn't want to leave her there alone among strangers.

But, but,- the woman from EH came to me when I told them I had changed my mind and told me these things, they would sue my parents, they would put her in foster care until all the bills were paid, then because she was in foster care they would prove me unfit (because of course I had abandoned her) and I would never get her back anyway. So I gave up, I surrrendered, I signed their damn piece of paper, and un-mothered myself. That day my mom and pop's both asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this,. I was terrified of telling them no, not knowing then that no one could have stopped us leaving with my daughter. I could have mothered my child. I have three raised children, and I think I am a good mother. They all are good students, good kids-

The Nursing Supervisor back then Jeanette Kenobe seemed to understand my pain, she was very good to me, and was very supportive. She gave me the best advice on that day, she told me to whisper in my daughters ear everything I wanted her to know, she also told me not to let anyone take her back to the nusery, that I should do that myself. So that's what I did.

My entire family was there that day, Mom, Pop's, Julie girl, George, andGrandma and Grandpa W, My Aunt Katie and Uncle Ted. We spent hours together as a family relishing this new life in our family, making her ours forever. She was ours, she always was despite me having to put her down after those few short hours . Everyone held her, loved her, kissed her. My Uncle nummed her ears, this is the act of putting your mouth next to a baby's ears and going numnumnum- it was adorable. I wish I had, had a picture of that. Sadly there are only a very few pictures of that day, which my daughter has copies of.

Then it was time, as I wheeled her back to the nursery, the tears flowing and landing on her small cheek as I whispered into her small shell shaped ear, I thought I was going to die. My heart breaking into a million pieces, I told her how much I had loved her father, and how he broke my heart when he left, I told her how I didn't want to do this thing, how much I loved her, how much I hoped her new mom and dad would love her as much as we all did, but mostly that I hoped they would loved her so much that the thought of losing her would make their hearts hurt as much as mine hurt at losing her in fact.

As I walked away, I don't remember how I did it without falling down and dying, how I managed to get back to my room and family. They all looked at me their faces full of so much love, Aunt Katie said "Kiddo lets go eat and talk" I numbly nodded yes, and we left. We went to some nameless diner and I remember eating a grilled cheese and tomato soup and drinking a coke. Then I went to my grams and gramps house. It had been decided I needed time away from home to recover myself. Which indeed I did. That recovery has taken 25 years. The immediate pain took over a year.

My daughter once asked me how could you "put me down" the only answer I have is this; It was fear, those people used the worst form of coercion on me. Scared me so much, terrorized me when I was at my weakest. My body was full of raging hormones being post partum, and not myself how could I have done anything else but what I did? I gave in, I surrendered. I did not "make an adoption plan" or make "an informed choice" I was bullied, terrorized and scared into signing over my rights.

By writing this, I am trying to make clear to others that this happens still in this country, every single day, to young pregnant women, who are preyed upon by prospective adoptive parents, agencies, attornies who work for the pap's and agencies. The lawyers who work for those pap's and agenceis purportedly also work form the mothers, but in the end they do not. It is not in their best interests to actually represent the truth of adoption to these young women. If they actually did that, the babies available for adoption would go away. Another point I want to address is open adoption, this is lie, it is only legally enforacble in two states. I have a friend who adopted and is an open adoption, his agency told him once everything was done that he did not have to honor any of the promises he and his wife made. He was horrified, and he and his wife do honor their promises. He also learned not to use the word birthmother. I am proud to call him friend, and am proud to say he says I am FINE- because I challenge him on his beliefs constantly and make him think, and on occasion have made him change those beliefs. This makes me very happy and gives me much hope for the future.

It is hard to begin, that is what I think everytime I start to write all of this down. But here I am, and this time I mean to tell it all and be done with it~

I met my daughters father when I was 16, he was very tall, dark good looks, and I found him slightly dangerous. (I liked bad boys even then) When I fell for him, I fell hard, the way most young women fall in love for the first time. He was the center of my life for a very long time. Like all young women I was naive', even foolish thinking that we would always be together. Much later I found out he was playing me, had other girlfriends, it was heartbreaking. When you are that young it seems like the end of the world when a relationship ends.

As it happened it was not really the end, we got back together when I was 20 and in college for the first time. I don't know why I thought it would be any different, that the things that had happened were in the past, but I did. Nothing was the same between us, except for the passion. I found out I was pregnant in March of 1983- I think I even remember the night I got pregnant. The moon was full, and it shone in the window that night. I was terrified, I didn't know what to do, or if I should tell him. In the end, I called him and begged him to come to me. We sat in a small park behind my subdivision, and I remember crying as I told him. He was as scared as I was, at least I think he was. He said that we would get married, but first he wanted a blood test. I agreed to that, and went home thinking everything was going to be ok. It wasn't, not by any stretch of the imagination. I never heard from him again. No phone call, no showing up to help me tell my parents, nothing except a deafening silence. My heart was shattered, and no one knew it. I have always been very good at putting on that "Happy face" I saved my money and saw a doctor on my own. An abortion at that time was not an option, not for me. So I hid my body, and my belly from everyone. I remember a woman at work asking me if I was pregnant, and lying to her about it. I wish I hadn't, I really wish I hadn't. I often think maybe she could have helped me, and what happened to me in the end, would not have happened.

I went about my life, hugging my secret to myself, using a rubber band to hold my pants up, wearing clothing that hid everything. Finally in December I went Christmas shopping with my mother, (I was 8 and half months along by then) and she wanted me to try on this gorgeous red jacket. I wouldn't, and she kept after me and after me, until finally when we were in the food court, I told her. She burst into tears, and asked me what I wanted to do. The word adoption crossed my lips for the very first time- and now in retrospect, I realize that my mother never really wanted me to do that, but only followed up on what I had said. She said to me she wasn't wild about giving up her first grandchild that night. Then we went and bought some maternity clothes. I did not have any, I was seeing a dr, and taking care of myself, but I didn't spend money on clothes. That would have given me away you see~

It was then that I heard of Easter House for the first time- an agency run by the infamous Seymour Kurtz (now out of business thank the gods!) My case worker was MG. and my age. I saw their doctor one time, and the next time I saw MG was at the hopsital when I gave birth to my daughter Jean Louise. It wasn't very long, January 4th 1984. My whole world changed that day. My case worker came to the hospital and in the end I kicked her out of my room, I didn't want her smug face around me, I wanted my mother. And so that is what I had. Mom was in the room with me when Jean was born, and I truly believe the treatment I got at the hospital was much better than what most women in my place got. The nurses were very good to me, and did not withhold my daughter from me, at least not once I made it clear that I was having none of that. My mom was a nurse too you see and called the nurses station and made it clear what we would tolerate as a family and what we would not.

I had changed my mind, I wanted to keep my daughter, take her home and love her, and raise her, but the woman from Easter House used the following things to ensure I signed their damn surrender paper. (I don't even have a copy of it) She told me if I changed my mind that Easter House would sue my parents, put my child in foster care until all the bills were paid, at which point they would take me to court and prove me an unfit mother (as if being single is all it took to make me unfit!) and I would never get her back. I was only 21, very young and scared, I wasn't just scared, I was terrified. What would my parents do if they were sued? So like many women before be, I surrendered, I signed that piece of paper, and I have regretted it to this very day. I left my daughter at the hospital in the care of complete strangers, who had no connection to her, no reason to love her, and while I know she was safe, and cared for. It breaks my heart to imagine her cries when I didn't go to her when she needed me. It tears me apart inside still..

I lived a lie for 21 years, tried to pretend I had never had a child, or that she had died. But how do you mourn a child who is not dead? I knew she was out there somewhere, and I cried everyday for more than a year. I still cry, even though she found me almost five years ago. My life was turned upside down with one phone call. I don't think I have ever cried like that before. All I could do when I knew she had found me was wail "Is it my daughter?" My friend Suz can attest to that, she was on the receiving end of that cry.

When my daughter was 15, I had just gotten my first computer, dial up- deadly slow, but at that time? State of the art! I found a search engine and looked for adoption. What I found was the website adoption.com (Evil website! EVIL!) they had a registry. I have gotten five pictures of my daughter once she was gone, I found her name on one of them. (There was an ink spot on this picture, I freaked out and rubbed it off, only to realize that it was there to hide her name.) Between the name on the picture and the information I had, I filled out the form not realizing I had transposed two letters in her name. I had set my profile to get emails from the website, but had not gotten anything except spam, so when I did get a real email from daughter I deleted it. Her friend Suz, then took over, sent me two emails- one letting me know there was a support site available for EH moms, and the next one telling me she thought she knew where my daughter was. I knew in less than 48 hours that she did indeed know where my daughter was. I will forever be thankful to her, she is an angel sent to earth, I truly believe this. Without her, and her support I don't know where I would be now. When she found me, I was a wreck, a complete wreck. Suz helped me through it, as did our little on-line family. I love each and every one of them. (Ya'all know who you are! So pat yourselves on the back mkay?) That was five years ago this coming April. Life has been interesting ever since then. Always new, somedays hard, but always I keep in my mind that I was close to being emotionally dead back then. I have come a very long way since then. With the help of a good therapist, good friends and a wonderful support network.(That story is another note entirely, and someday I may write it)


Now? I have come out of my closet, I refuse to pretend that I am not her mother, I always have been, and always will be. No piece of paper will ever change that. Amended birth certificates are nothing but a legalized lie. Our reunion has been full of twists and turns and ups and downs. I can not have back the years I lost with her, nothing can replace those. What I can have is a relationship with her, based on love, and I hope mutual respect. I adore my daughter, and I am so proud of the woman she is. No our relationship is not perfect, but we work on it, we work hard as a matter of fact. And someday I hope to be able to say-Yes I am healed~ Not that I will ever be entirely healed, but I know I can come close~

Feel free to ask me questions, I will answer them for you~

Part two to follow~

So on Monday evening I went to dinner with my cousin Mike and his wife Annie.
Now you have to understand that when I was a kid I idolized my cousin, he and his brothers did really cool things for us (my siblings and I) when we were little. He came to visit us one Christmas along with his brothers and they made us this really cool playhouse out of a box. Bright yellow and with a door and widow in it. Big ole dasies painted on it, and we watched some of the Apollo missions together too.

Dinner was all about catching up and reaching out to some of the only family I have left on my mom's side of the equation. We went to Carraba's and the food as always was divine- the company was grand and we sort of celebrated my oldest boys 21st birthday. Gods how time flies!

Anyway, talk of course turned to my mother. It seems like yesterday she was teaching me how to cook, and all sorts of other things, and then it hit me like a whirlwind. Grief right there smack in the middle of dinner and I am crying, softly, tears rolling down my cheeks. Mike reached our and rubbed my arm to comfort me. Then I realize it wasn't just the grief over losing my mom, it was also the grief over losing my daughter that had me crying.

January has always been a hard month for me, but this year on my daughters birthday, it was also the 6 month anniversary of my mother's death. I couldn't put my finger on it that day- but later when I thought about it I knew why I was so sad. Knowing where J is, having a relationship with her has made it bearable. This year? Not so much- losing my own mother made realize just how truly horrible it has to have been for her. All those years she didn't know who I was, where I was. If I loved her or not, if I wanted her or not. If I really wanted to put her down- (or later when she started learning, if like so many others I was forced/coerced into signing that piece of paper.)

So where does this mess of emotion leave me right now? I know I need to get out of the funk I have been in. Losing my mom was so very hard for me. My daughter and I had some problems when I was taking care of her, because she didn't understand all the why's of me being the one to do that job. She didn't get that just up and moving my mom back to Wisconsin was like trying to move a mountain, or that changing her health insurance took much more time than I had expected it to. We didn't talk for months really. Not really until the day my mom died. It was then it hit me, now I know what she feels/felt like over losing me.

It's that thought that has been keeping me awake at night. I imagine her as an infant crying for me and me nowhere to be found. Inconsolable as I have been over losing my mom. I know it just takes time, and that eventually I will heal. But is my daughter ever going to heal?

It keeps me awake at night~

Learn how to spell please? I know sometimes you get in a rush and make mistakes, but seriously? Some of the comments I have gotten on one post are just so bad it makes me wonder if they got left behind in school! Use spell check, it's there for a reason!

Plus these comments keep using that damn bword- I am not going to publish anything with that word in it, unless it's the name of the poster! Read the rules will ya please?

Now then, where was I? Oh right, adooption and how it almost killed me- and no, that is not me being dramatic. I joined the army almost 9 months to the day my daughter was born. It was a way of "moving on" or so I thought at the time. What it really was, was me running away from the horror of what had happened to me.

It's not that I think being in the Army was bad for me, it was in many ways very good for me. I learned a lot, traveled a lot, lived in another country for two years. So in those ways it was good for me. But, it also gave me a way to hide from the pain... Pain that just did not go away as I had been told it would.

I think I need to explore this period in my life further. To know and understand those days is I think imperative for my healing-

Aislin is amazing to me- read her today, she said it all!

http://aislin13.wordpress.com/

I asked for people to follow a few simple rules- and since some can't seem to do that, I am going to enable comment moderation. I didn't want to do that, but seriously, as much as I wish to have an open blog, I am not going to tolerate the nasty. Or what one of my favorite authors calls "The Mean Reds"

Let me repeat the rules just in case you missed them-

1) No name calling
2) No spitting or hissing venom either
3) Civility is the rule of the day (if you break this one, say adios to your comment)

Also, I am considering not allowing anon posts- so think before you speak-

I put up with quite a bit over the last few days, including allowing a comment to remain that I really wanted to delete, because I was out of line in saying what I said. I should have thought it through, and been nicer. I wasn't- so I was willing to deal with it. But and here's the thing, if the person who posted the comment had to read it, and it had been deleted, how did they have still have access to it?

Really think about that one- yeah, struck me funny too-

First off let me say this, this time I have a few simple rules-

1) No name calling
2) No spitting or hissing venom either
3) Civility is the rule of the day (if you break this one, say adios to your comment)

So I seem to have sparked a whirlwind, well you know what? Good, it's about time that we all started talking about this.

Shannan said...
"I am an idiot. I am so sorry I wrote that this situation is "your fault". It is really truly not what I meant. I actually thought about rape and being medicated later and regretted what I wrote. It was late and I speak without thinking sometimes. I am really sorry. Truly. I know that not every woman makes this decision with 100% knowledge of what she is doing. I really do know that.

What I was trying to get at, or understand, is who are you, specifically Mary, so angry at? I mean, I am sincerely trying to understand. Are you mad at me (of course you are now because I made such a hurtful comment) but I mean are you mad at adoptive moms like me? Adoptive families in general? The "system"? Or are you really just mad at the people from your past that were involved with your situation? Do you think that ALL adoptions are really bad?

I just worry because I can't go back and change the fact that I've adopted my kids...I have...whether you or anyone else likes it or not. I adopted them. I can't change that (I wouldn't want to). So all I can do now is educate myself to understand as much about it as I can to really help my kids grow up without hating me for adopting them. I mean, do you think they should hate me for adopting them? I am not being coy. I am totally sincere. Should I teach my kids that adoption sucks?

I knew when I adopted my kids there would be a lot of opposition for them growing up, but I honestly believe that we are all happier because we adopted them. But are you saying I should think and teach them that adoption is wrong? Please believe that I am being very very sincere here and not being sarcastic or confrontational at all."

First off you are not an idiot, you just said something without thinking. We all do it. I am not angry at you either. Why would I be? You spoke your mind, just as I did.

I can not say that all adoption is bad, I can't. I wish I could, but all of us know there are some women who should not be raising a child. I would prefer legal guardianship over adoption, I would prefer extended family raising a child over guardianship. I would prefer adoption be abolished all together but that isn't going to happen. Look to Australia and their laws, that is what I want in this country.

You ask me what I am so angry about? Ok, I can tell you that. No, my anger is not directed at my own situation anymore, nor is it directed at adoptive parents. I am angry at a system that in this country is so corrupt. Angry that it is allowed to go on and on, and women and children continue to be hurt. I am angry that so many refuse to listen to our voices, and even when they do listen they want to call us names and say we are wrong. The ones who do this to us would like nothing better than for us all to go away and shut the hell up. But we aren't doing that are we? Because clearly, something horrible happened to a very great many of us. When clearly those horrible things are still happening today to other mother's. When there is all this wealth in our country and it is not being used as it should be., to help mother's keep their children. I tell you again look to Australia's laws- Instead of support single mother's here are encouraged to look at adoption as an option. Why? They are stalked on the net, pregnant women not wearing rings have been stalked and handed cards at Wal Mart! Then of course there are those god awful Dear Bmom letters! It's all so crazy making.

Have you done any reading about my side of this? Have you read The Primal Wound by Nancy Verrier?(an adoptive mom btw and while I don't agree with everything she says that book made me sob for days) How about The Girls Who Went Away by Ann Fessler?

If you really want to understand what so many of us are angry about read more of our blogs. I read a lot of adoptive mom blogs, consider some of them my friends. Try reading Third Mom-she is amazing- she will also lead you to more amom blogs that are just as amazing.

Open your mind and learn. Once you start you will know what to do with your children. In the end what I want is for all of who write about the horror, the pain and anguish and loss to be listened to, and validated. Not invalidated as I was the last two days.

It's all I ask of anyone- just listen, hear our voices, I can read and control myself and listen as well. I don't want to hurt anyone, nor do I want to invalidate their feelings. It's not my thing- All this fighting and bickering accomplishes nothing. It just makes all of us look like shrieks- That's not my thing either..

I am more than happy to talk to all of you who posted- I am thankful that I got apologies. (even though I didn't think any were needed)

Jamie, I am very glad you came back- and for the record Aislin did lose a child to adoption. So she does know the pain and anguish. As I do- the first year(s) are hell on earth. I would ask you to please read Cedar's post's very carefully. She is one of my very dear friends, and has helped me a great deal in the past few years. As have a lot of the people who came here and posted in support of me. Each one a friend I made because of adoption, each helped me in my healing. I wouldn't be surprised if once you start to listen you make some new friends here.

So I made a comment on this blog- because it just really yanked my crank-

http://birthmothers4adoption.blogspot.com/

Guess who decided to return the favor? On yeah my last post yesterday garned a lovely comment- and here it is-

Anonymous said...
You are a VERY bitter woman and I feel very VERY sorry for you. I hope one day you will realize how ignorant you are. These "horrible" birthmoms (who apparently, according to you, should be forced to live unstable lives) go on to lead often successful and happy lives while you are still bent on someone "taking away" a child that was never yours to begin with.


You should try a little humility, try to stop being so damned selfish and maybe get some education on adoption and statistics and maybe one day you'll realize how horribly wrong you are. Adoption is not something that you "get over" so I can't tell you to do that, but hopefully one day you can move on and stop taking other people down this miserable road with you.


Isn't it interesting that she say's my child was never mine? And isn't it interesting how she say's I should have a little humility, and to stop being so damn selfish?

I don't have an unstable life, I didn't have an unstable life during my pregnancy either. Interstingly she also uses the word miserable- as if my life is miserable.

Guess what? It isn't! I love my life, I love the fact that I have all my children (two of whom are adults now) in my life. I love each of them equally, although each is unique. There are some things about each of them that I adore, some things I don't like much. But as a mother (and I am a mother) I take the good with the not so good and love my children anyway. Never strings attached, none of that in my house. It's all unconditional, can adopters in some cases say the same? I think not!

I also find it interesting that she say's my daughter was never mine to begin with? WTF? Who got pregnant? Who gestated my daughter? Who gave birth in sweat and blood? Who changed her very first diapers, bathed her, fed her? Oh right, that would be me. Not the woman who's name is on her Amended Birth Certificate. She became her mother 9days later, after I was coerced into signing papers to terminate my rights. Did she have the leaky breasts? Did she have the stitches in her bottom? How about Post Partum Depression and PTSD? Nope she didn't have any of that-

So who the hell are you to say these things to me? Because you are so deleriously happy with the so called choice you made, does not mean we all live in that magic land of Denial. You would deny me the ability to speak my truth if you could. You would write me off as a bitter angry woman, when in fact I am not those things. Not in the way you think.


Angry at a system that allowed my child to be taken from me against my will. Bitter that it happens over and over again still! Angry that so many believe that adoption has changed so much for the better, hell yes!

Am I angry and bitter about my situation anymore? Well no, therapy is a wonderful thing. It helps one see more clearly. You talked about how so many go on to lead wonderful lives. Guess what? I would have been able to do that if I had been allowed to keep my daughter. Still would have gone to school, still would have managed with the help of my family. They would have helped! SO why don't go off into your little dream land full of Rainbows and Butterflies and leave me alone for now? I told you once we the ones who know better will be around when you come out of the fog, and we will be.


I think I may be posting a lot this year- it's one of my resolutions in fact. Two years away has given me the time and space I need to enter the fray again-

All ya'all have a wonderful! I am going to buy my books for next semester. Did I tell you I am working towards a Master's Degree these days? Yes, I am in Social Work, so I can work with kids in disrupted adoptions and with mom's who like me have come out the other side, battered and bruised, but still standing-

So a friend of mine pointed out a blog to me you can find it here - http://gracecomesbyhearing.blogspot.com/

I don't even know where to begin with this one! I simply can not understand people like this.

I spent a good deal of time reading last night and this morning, and honestly she even takes on the Bible and it's view of adoption. How about Jesus? Was he adopted? No he wasn't, he had a step father though! Moses? Well yes, he did take his adopted mother with him when he left Egypt, but who nursed him as an infant? Who watched over him for almost his whole life? Even if he didn't know the truth until adulthood? Late discovery adoptee anyone?

I just want to be sick when I read this sort of thing. My version of God does not place babies in one womans womb, only to then decide OOPS! I made a mistake, it's really this woman who should be raising this child! God (The Gods) does (do) not make mistakes. It was men and women who made the laws that allow adoption to continue as it does.

Ask me if I am anti-adoption, well yes, I am. Ask me if I want adoption as it stands abolished? Well yes, I do. Enough of the lies and coercion that have gone on for decades now.

Open adoption is a joke, another falsity for those hapless women who fall prey to agencies/lawyers/paps without scruples. Especially for those who happen to live in a state where it is not enforcable. Which mind you, is pretty much every state in the union. Last time I checked there were only two states where Open Adoption is enforcable by state law.

Most everyone on the other side of my fence wants to believe that adoption is all so very wonderful- Guess what? It isn't! It never has been, and it never will be!

Daily I am faced with reminders of what adoption has done to my life. Daily *sighs* It smacks me in the face when I least expect it.

For instance today- I made a comment about something my daughter posted and got a response I didn't expect. But if forcibly reminded me, that I am not allowed to inter-act with her in the same way I do with my other children. It made me sad, and I had to fight back the tears, and swallow it, and sent a message apologizing for making her uncomfortable. Why did I feel the need to do so? Well that answer is pretty simple, I didn't raise her, I wasn't there, and as much as I want to be involved in her life, it is not the same. It never can be-

Why? Oh wait, I know the answer to that, Adoption, yep, there it is again smacking me in the face... The "gift" that keeps right on giving, pain, anguish, flashbacks, depression, did I leave anything out? Oh wai,t heart ache and grief, let's not forget those things.

It's not bad enough I lost my mother 6 months ago on the 4th- (my daughter's birthday by the way)I get publicly chastised for commenting, and it wasn't a mean or nasty comment, it was just a way of saying, hey I understand what you mean. When does it stop? Does it ever stop? I have had enough, and more than enough this last two years.

I took care of my mother for a long time, in the end it was heartbreaking to see the woman I idolized my entire life, in a hospital bed fighting for every breath, and knowing the last thing she spoke to pop's was "I want to go see Jesus" It was hard enough to sit with my sister in mom's room and hear her ask the RN if my mom's drips were maxed out, and looking at her when the RN said no, and nodding my head. Knowing that turning them up would end my mother's pain and her life. She fought hard my mama, and her heart was so strong.. She was brilliant, had her Master's Degree in Nursing and worked hard her whole life to make sure we had what we needed. She never got to enjoy being retired, she never got spend the time with pop's that she earned. And we didn't get to have one last Christmas with her.

So yes, it is painful for me to read the "Happy Happy Joy Joy" adoption crap that abounds on the net, when I know just unhappy it is for so many of us. How it has affected or whole lives and the lives of our families. For you see, adoption doesn't just make a new family. It destroys another, my mother who should have been able to enjoy a relationship with all of my children died without knowing my oldest child very well at all. My father? He didn't even get to meet her, he died almost a year to the day she found me. Pops?(my stepdad) He was just angry about all of it, he doesn't get it, that he is what many of us call collateral damage- He just knows about all the tears I have cried, and hates that I still hurt after all this time.

Then I read blogs like the above mentioned and I want to just smash something. I mean I really want to break things. Instead I write, or I cook, or any other number of things to stop myself from getting that angry again.

I know many good adoptive parents, am lucky to call some of them friends. I wish there were more like Third Mom, of my friend Charles- I wish more people could understand that there are two sides to this thing called adoption. That while it is wonderful for some (Especially those who make the $$$$) it is not so wonderful for many of us.

I counted the things I keep getting above, let me also add the loss. The loss of all the time I should have had, the time her father should have had with her. The time her siblings should have had, her Grandparents, her aunt's and uncles and cousins- her entire extended family. The loss of a life in which I could be involved, and not feel guilty for wanting that involvement. I hate that I feel I have to apologize because I feel as if I am intruding- that I am somewhere I am not wanted, or at least somewhere I should be seen, but not heard.

Can I just be done with it all now? Please? I don't want to feel these things anymore. I have already lost too much to waste time picking the scabs off my wounds. I don't want to waste time trying to explain over and over all the things I think are wrong with adoption, why the b-words make me sick to my stomach. I am tired of so much and yet, here I am again. Blogging again, bleeding the pain away again- I am pretty sure all of this has happened before, and I am also equally sure, all of this will happen again~

Now if only some will read with open minds and open hearts- then maybe, just maybe, I won't have to let my bleeding spill over into my writing~