Adoption Truth

Lip Service

2011-11-18T15:41:00.003-07:00

There is a heart breaking story out there about a grandmother who lost her grandson to adoption . . .

A Grandmother Desperate To Adopt Her Grandson Fought The State and Lost

It is, unfortunately, another incident of another adoption agency destroying families at any cost for the sake of profits. Of more proof to the fact that as long as we allow these agencies to go unregulated and unchecked, they will continue to commit such crimes without punishment.

And adds to the sad realization that such agencies are the norm, not the rarity in the billion dollar world of adoption.

I’ve heard the argument, the justifications, but the truth of the matter is . . . there is no such thing as an ethical adoption agency. They don’t exist. They can’t exist under the nature of what adoption is in our culture.

As long as there is no protection for pregnant mothers or the children who are supposed to be the most important in adoption. As long as there is profit to be made off of human beings, government-paid programs teaching counselors how to convince women to give up their babies and more of our taxes going into helping couples adopt over helping mothers keep and raise their children, there will never be anything but corruption and greed, coercion and manipulation in adoption.

And an adoption agency can give hopeful adoptive couples or frightened pregnant women all the lip service in the world, it will never change the fact that it is just that . . .

Lip Service.

Because for an adoption agency to be truly ethical, to really care first and foremost about pregnant mothers and children, they would have to go against just about everything they are in business for. They would actually have to admit that adoption counseling is coercive just in the very nature of how it is done. Admit the damage separating a child from his or her family causes. And turn away from the profits they earn with each “successful” adoption.

A truly ethical adoption agency would refuse, without question or argument, to see or talk to a pregnant mother about adoption until she had received crisis counseling for her situation . . . TRUE crisis counseling. Not the kind that comes from counselors that earn their paychecks from mothers giving up their babies. Or Social Workers who aren’t trained to recognize or work with those who are in the midst of a crisis.

It has to be from those who know. Those who are licensed and have been educated and trained to realize that a mother claiming she wants to give away her child is not a normal reaction. To understand there are fears driving such feelings and a responsibility on the one offering counseling to help her not only work through her fears but overcome them so that any decision made is one done so outside of the emotions that are pushing her to make a rash decision that will affect her for the rest of her life.

But there is not an agency I know of that has such requirements. Instead they work their way around that by claiming they truly care about the pregnant mother because they offer “options” for parenting. What they don’t say, but they know . . . trust me, THEY KNOW . . .is that it doesn’t mean a thing to offer such options to a woman who is already caught up in fear. Already believes she can’t do it.

If she hasn’t been helped to overcome her fears, encouraged to seek solutions and answers to what is pushing her to make such an irrational decision, such options are going to be rejected without thought because she is already living under the terrible fear that she isn’t good enough for her own child. And NOBODY has helped her work through that fear or overcome it.

She has already been denied the help she needed . . . deserved. And is instead being manipulated because of her fears. Her desperate emotions being used to push her to give away her child.

There is nothing ethical about that. Absolutely nothing.

But it doesn’t even stop there. Again, for an agency to be ethical, they would also have to put every effort into making sure a child remain within his or her biological family if at all possible.

Not just in foster care adoptions – such as the grandmother who tragically lost her grandson because of the illegal practices of an adoption agency – but in ALL adoption situations.

They would make sure every pregnant mother who came in their doors was aware of the studies, the research, that shows children do better within their biological families versus being raised by strangers. They would encourage family adoptions over stranger adoptions and they would ALWAYS put their highest effort into keeping a child in their family, through whatever means possible.

There would no longer be counseling that encouraged grandparents to “accept” their daughter’s decision instead of stepping in to help support and raise their grandchild. No more suggestions that family offering to help was the same as them not “respecting” a pregnant mother’s decision.

And there would definitely not be situations such as this grandmother’s where biological families were denied their own grandchildren, nieces, nephews, cousins, because there were already strangers being given the promise of adoption.

Keeping children, whenever possible, within their families would go beyond just a practice. Beyond whatever it is an adoption agency might tell others to appear ethical. It would be a requirement, a must, before any other form of adoption occurred. They would fight for it, be vigilant about it. And wouldn’t stray from it, not even if their profits were threatened.

And that is the final reason why there can never be an ethical adoption agency . . . profit.

They make money. They gain. They succeed off of taking children from their mothers and handing them over to strangers who have the ability to pay for them. They lie to adoptive parents, first parents and even adoptees. They cover their tracks, call themselves non-profit, do whatever they can to hide the one and true reason why they do what they do . . .

MONEY.

The money they will not give up. Money that keeps their manipulative, coercive, corrupt and illegal practices going. Money that pays for lobbyists to push for laws that keep them unregulated, untouched even when they clearly break the law. Money that denies protection for pregnant mother and children.

Money that does and will continue to make it impossible for any adoption agency . . . anywhere . . . to ever be ethical. Because they can’t be. They don’t want to be. And they never will be.

Not it today’s world. Not in the ugly truth that is adoption. The ugly truth that won’t change until our support, our belief . . . our own personal ethics . . . change and demand better.

Sacrificing Babies

2011-11-14T16:19:00.005-07:00

There is a wonderful place here in our state called Hope House.

It is a place for teenage moms. A place to support them, help them, teach them, so they are empowered to be the best they can be, as a woman and a mother.

And these young moms are amazing . . . so amazing. They are everything a mother should be. They are the proof to what it really means to make a loving sacrifice for your child.

They are changing their lives, learning parenting skills, creating job skills, whatever it takes, whatever they need to do to become the best mothers they can be. To find self-efficiency. Gain power over themselves, their futures, and the futures of their children.

And they are everything the adoption industry doesn’t want them to be.

They are the ones that are considered selfish, unloving, irresponsible because they didn’t give away their baby. Because they didn’t believe they were unworthy or unfit but instead knew they could do it . . . could do ANYTHING . . . for their child.

They are the threat because by SACRIFICING FOR their children they aren’t allowing the adoption industry to SACRIFICE THEIR children.

And that is the bare ugly truth of domestic infant adoption and the way it is practiced in today’s world.

It is about discouraging mothers from making true sacrifices for their children while beating them down, keeping them believing they can’t do it, aren’t good enough, so their children can be sacrificed.

Sacrificed for that “more-deserving” couple who wants a baby, who is willing to pay whatever it takes to get what they want.

Sacrificed for society’s view of who is more worthy to parent, for our backwards practices that pays more into support to separate a mother and child than keep them together.

Sacrificed for yet another check to be deposited into the billion dollar profits of the adoption industry. Profits that go unchecked and unregulated at the expense of human beings.

Adoption isn’t a loving sacrifice. It is fear and desperation. Coercion and manipulation. It is about a woman who is carrying a product that another woman wants. It’s about an industry that gains off of taking a child away from one mother to satisfy the needs of another.

It’s about creating a terrible belief that women who actually work hard, change their lives, do everything they can to keep and raise their children are the “bad” ones. The ones not to be praised or respected, but instead chided and ridiculed for not giving away their babies to that “better” person waiting in line.

And you see it everywhere, especially in this month that we are supposed to celebrate all the wonderful things about adoption.

Pictures of those mothers who gave up their children, praise for them, respect for them, is in abundance.

They are so wonderful. So great for what they did. They are responsible and loving and unselfish because they gave away their baby to somebody better. Because they didn’t try to change their life, gain parenting skills, work skills and do whatever it took to be the best mother possible to their child.

They did what was expected of them, what has been pounded into their heads, their hearts . . . they admitted defeat, believed they were unworthy of their child, and gave them up.

And we as a society respect that, we glorify it. We celebrate it.

And we turn around and shake our heads in dismay at the moms who didn’t follow that path, who didn’t give away their baby.

We don’t celebrate them, hold them up as wonderful women to be praised for what they have done.

Instead we call them selfish, unloving, immature. We don’t see - because we are so deep into the lies flooding adoption - how much better it is, how much everything could change, if we supported these women. Supported programs like Hope House. Held them up in the highest of regard because of their TRUE sacrifice for their children. Praised them and helped them and created an overwhelming wave of mothers who have been empowered to be the very best they can be, for themselves and their children.

Could you imagine the changes it might make if our focus shifted and we cared more about supporting mothers instead of taking their children from them? If we could only open our eyes to the truth and see how damaging adoption is to women and their children.

Those in the adoption industry like to pretend they are supporting and caring of pregnant women. But they aren’t. It is impossible for them to be. You can’t empower a woman while also sending the message that there is another woman out there who just might be a “better” mother for her child. You can’t support her and encourage her when you don’t address, from the start, the fears that are holding her back from believing she is strong enough, capable enough . . . GOOD ENOUGH. When the very message that adoption sends is one of being less than and unable to overcome whatever obstacles there may be to become the best person she can possibly be – for herself and for her child.

We need to, desperately, start standing up as one against the damage adoption causes in our society. We need to look harder and deeper into what it truly means to sacrifice for your child. To be the voice that fights for TRUE empowerment for pregnant women.

Our government, our laws, aren’t changing anytime soon. But we can change. As a society we can refuse to support any practice, any industry . . . ANYBODY . . . who discourages women from making a true loving sacrifice for their children and instead encourages them to sacrifice their child, the most intimate, precious parts of themselves, for the greed, desires and judgments of others.

We can say, “NO MORE.”

We have the power. We have the ability.

And we have the knowledge, deep down inside of us . . . in those areas the adoption industry can’t touch with their lies . . . of just how much of a change we could make if we offered every pregnant mother facing a crisis the help, support and power to be everything she and her child will ever need.

"No" Vember

2011-11-07T18:42:00.004-07:00

A friend of mine posted a picture on her Facebook wall of a list of “No’s” for November and I figured why not do one that is adoption related since it is National Adoption (BE)wareness Month . . .

NO SEALED OBC’S FOR ADOPTEES - - Nobody deserves to have their equal rights denied them simply because they are adopted.

NO “ADOPTION” COUNSELING FOR PREGNANT WOMEN - - Every women in a CRISIS pregnancy should have true CRISIS counseling from an unbiased professional.

NO DENYING THE TRAFFICKING THAT IS A PART OF INTERNATIONAL ADOPTION - - The proof is there, pretending it doesn’t exist won’t make it go away.

NO BELIEVING THAT THERE ISN’T LOSS INVOLVED WITH EVERY SINGLE ADOPTION - - No matter the circumstances or situation, there is always a loss when a mother and child are separated from one another.

NO COERCIVE PRACTICES LIKE PRE-BIRTH MATCHING AND/OR ADOPTIVE PARENTS IN THE DELIVERY ROOM - - The adoption industry has long-known that a mother is more likely to give up her child if she forms a relationship with the hopeful couple and becomes concerned about their feelings.

NO EXPECTING ADOPTEES TO BE GRATEFUL - - Whether you adopted your child or gave your child up for adoption, you should never expect them to be grateful for a decision that was made FOR them not BY them.

NO HUNTING DOWN A PREGNANT WOMAN TO FIND “YOUR” BABY - - It goes beyond wrong to solicit for and/or market yourself to vulnerable pregnant women in the hopes of them giving you their baby.

NO HIDING THE FULL TRUTH OF ADOPTION FROM AN EXPECTANT MOM - - Every women deserves to know the pain and grief adoption causes for so many mothers and their children.

NO PRETENDING ADOPTION IS THE ALTERNATIVE TO ABORTION - - As it has been said, over and over again, the two are not related. Abortion is the decision to continue a pregnancy. Adoption is a decision about parenting.

NO CLAIMING THAT GOD WANTS YOU TO ADOPT - - God does not, and never will, support the separation of a mother and child to fulfill another’s selfish needs. It goes against everything he teaches.

NO DENYING THAT NATURE IS JUST AS IMPORTANT AS NURTURE - - Every child, adopted or not, is a part of nature and nurture. To deny them that is to deny them a part of themselves.

NO CLAIMING THAT ADOPTION IS A LOVING OPTION - - Adoption is not from love. It comes from fear and desperation . . .

. . . Any my last and final “no” for this month . . .

NO MORE BILLION DOLLAR PROFITS FOR THE ADOPTION INDUSTRY - - It is disgusting that any one of us supports and encourages an industry that treats human beings, innocent children, like merchandise. That we allow them to be “price-tagged” based on demand for their race, sex and age. That we really see nothing wrong with dedicating an entire month to celebrate something that in the greed of providing children for parents who are willing to pay for them we have left behind the children truly in need.

Shut Up And Listen

2011-11-04T16:55:00.004-06:00

Wow! National Adoption Awareness month has really kicked off with a bang this year.

I can definitely see where we should all be dancing around and celebrating all that is wonderful in the big, rainbow colored world of adoption.

We are just four days into this month that the adoption industry has hijacked for their own gain and already a large group of adoptees have been insulted, ignored and told - - AGAIN - - they are bitter and angry and need to seek help because they dared to speak up to protect a young adoptee.

And in the swirl of this ugliness, as, over and over again, adoptees are torn down and stomped on for their attempts to speak out and protect a child, I can’t help but wonder . . .

Isn’t that what this month . . . what the whole of adoption is supposed to be – all about the children?

And who knows better about what adopted children might face during their growing up years than the adult adoptees who have already lived the life?

The very people who brave the insults, the degrading comments that always seem to start with, “I can see why your mother gave you up,” to protect, to bring awareness, to help the younger generation of adoptees.

They get kicked and shoved to the ground more times than anyone can count and yet they pick themselves up, brush off their backsides and go back at it. Not for them, or the money hungry adoption industry, but for the children.

You know, those pesky little ones that adoption is supposed to be all about to start with.

But it doesn’t matter because nobody wants to hear them. Not if they aren’t speaking the “truth” they are supposed to say. You know the one. Where they must bow down at the sacred temple of adoption and be grateful for all the wonderful gifts it brought to their life.

And they REALLY don’t want to hear them in the month of November. I mean really, how do they dare speak out in a month that is all about how wonderful adoption is, how saintly adoptive parents are for saving children, how great First Moms are for giving away their babies to strangers and how absolutely grateful, without question, adoptees are because everyone around them decided what would be best for their life long before they ever even had a voice to share their own opinion.

And how do they dare speak out on the blog of an adoptive mother who, in her disgusting attempt to continue to build her own popularity (articles in Adoption Today Magazine, awards for being an inspiring family) places her adopted daughter in second place by refusing to teach her about the racism she will face later in life. By encouraging as “cute” her being a part of such racism. The very kind of racism that ALL MOTHERS - - biological, adoptive, foster, step - - should always teach their children is wrong and inappropriate in any situation.

Nope. That is so wrong in this month that we must all realize that adoption is such a wonderful, terrific act that takes poor, nothing beings away from their unworthy mothers and bestows them on the perfect mothers that deserve a child.

It’s wrong in expecting any wonderful, terrific . . . “hold you up in such saintly wonder that you get your picture in an Adoption magazine” . . . adoptive parent might actually listen to the adult adoptees who are fighting for the future of the young adoptees that are now living the life they have known for so long.

Because adoption might be about the children but it’s not really about those children . . . you know . . . the ones who have actually lived the life. Who have gone through childhood, the difficult teenage years, adulthood, and come to realize their own truths and experiences might not exactly match up to the fairytales the adoption industry and so many blind, “stick my head in the sand” adoptive and first mothers wish to believe.

We can’t listen to them. I mean really, how can we we?

But we should.

Every one of us, especially in this month that is supposed to be all about adoption awareness, should shut up, step back and listen to what those who have actually had to live the life of an adoptee has to say.

Stop telling them what they should feel. Stop insulting them, degrading them, tossing them aside because they don’t say what you want to hear.

Listen to them. Give the meaning of National Adoption Awareness Month importance by giving the voices who have lived the life of being adopted, the lead.

Forget all your crap - - Adoptive and First moms alike - - and step back, listen and learn from those who have the most important message to be told . . .

The adoptees. The ones who were the children that it is supposed to be all about.

The ones who know, better than any of us, the truth of adoption.

Tricks Without The Treats

2011-10-28T16:50:00.004-06:00

My Italian Grandfather – Grandpa Joe – who I have written about before, loved Halloween.

He was one of those characters who took great joy in all the big holidays, getting into the spirit for everything from Easter Egg Hunts to Christmas Caroling to Haunted Houses.

All the neighborhood kids in the small town where he lived always knew “Mr. Joe” had pumpkins in his garden for them (after his granddaughter had first pick, of course) and homemade caramel apples waiting for them every Halloween night back in the time when there wasn’t fear over the goodies your children were given.

And they knew, when they rang his bell and yelled “Trick or Treat” there was always a very good chance that “Mr. Joe” would tease them with a trick of his own before giving them their treat. It was always simple, fun tricks, to earn a smile . . . a quick laugh . . . before giving them the treats they were waiting for.

Such memories are part of the many I treasure when I think of my Grandfather.

I was only fourteen when he died, just two years before I gave up my oldest son . . . his great grandson. And I can’t help but wonder, at times, what he thinks of what I did. What he thinks of the fact that his only grandchild (at the time of his death) who was saved from adoption herself partly because of my grandfather’s strong belief in the importance of family, sacrificed her own child. Handed him over to strangers because she believed the tricks of the adoption agency . . .

Tricks that never came with any treats.

And that is how the adoption industry survives, how they maintain their billion dollar profits. They continually trick pregnant women who are putting their trust in them, believing them and their promises of caring only about them and their unborn child.

But it is all lies, created so they can walk away with the treat – a mother’s child and the profit they will make off of that innocent baby.

And it is the lies they tell about our babies. The tricks they pull, that are the very worst.

Because they desperately need us to believe that separating a mother and child at birth causes no harm. And they tell us this, over and over again. Doing their very best to convince a pregnant mother that her baby doesn’t even know who she is, won’t suffer at all from being given away to strangers from the moment of birth.

And it is the worst . . . and most harmful . . . trick of all.

Because it’s a lie. One the adoption industry, and certain others, hold on to even with the studies, the knowledge, the simple human instinct that proves them wrong over and over again.

Babies know who their mothers are. They know. They hear them. They feel them. They are a part of them. In everything that is so frightening and new to them at the moment of birth, there is one thing . . . one person . . . who gives them comfort . . .

Their mothers.

The medical professionals know this. When my granddaughter spent those days in the NICU, the nurses made sure my daughter-in-law (her mother) knew how important it was for her to be there, to talk to her daughter, touch her, hold her.

And not because she was just some random caregiver and it was important for her to have human contact.

But because she was her mother. She was the one person my granddaughter knew, could be comforted by. Though there wasn’t any choice but to be placed in the NICU, it wasn’t good for my granddaughter to be separated from her mother, to be around strangers, no matter how much they cared for her or were there to help her.

She needed her mother. Needed the one person she knew. And as the nurses said, the one person – her mother – that studies proved, the more contact with, the higher the recovery rate.

And her mother was there. Always there. Never wanting to leave her little girl. We had to fight with her to get a few hours sleep. To pull her away from her daughter’s crib when she was so pale from exhaustion she looked like a walking ghost.

She knew the truth. Nobody tricked her, lied to her. There was no profit to be made. No treats to walk away with. So she was told, as all mothers should be, how important it was for her child to have her mother around. How much she needed her, how traumatic it was for her to be separated from the one person she knew and could be comforted by.

But so many other babies aren’t given that. So many other mothers are lied to. All in the name of profits, in the hopes of another woman desperately wanting a child.

Babies aren’t blank slates. They aren’t these non-intelligent beings born without knowledge of where they are or who they are with. I’ve been reminded of that every day since my granddaughter was born.

She knows, even in a household of four adults and one doting teenage aunt, who her mother is. She has from the very start. None of us are strangers to her anymore. But her mother, she is the one my granddaughter responds to the most. I see it, am witness to the truth every single day.

And I wish, oh how I wish, if there was just one single message, one single lesson I could get out to the pregnant mother of today, it would be to run far away from what I did all those years ago - - sacrificing my son to strangers - - and study, watch and learn just how important mothers are to their babies.

Don’t do as I did and believe their lies, their tricks.

Believe instead your worth, your importance to your child. And know that he or she already knows you, trusts you and finds comfort in your touch, the sound of your voice.

Don’t put your baby through the trauma of separation from you. Love them, hold them, keep them and cherish them.

Give them the most important need they will ever have in their life . . .

YOU!

San Antonio Surprise

2011-10-20T14:42:00.004-06:00

I am so far behind in just about everything these days, especially the blogging world. But it is all for a very good reason . . .

My granddaughter decided she didn’t want to wait around for her September 19^th due date. She figured the hot summer days of August were more to her liking. And since I told her not to come while I was away in San Antonio at the Adoptee Rights Demonstration, she picked that as the perfect time to make her debut.

It was a sixteen hour drive, in the middle of the night, to get us from San Antonio back home to Colorado. We were on a dark Kansas Interstate, six hours left to go, when she was born. My youngest son, the wonderful man that he is, took a picture just a few minutes after she was born and sent it to us. And there she was, naked and screaming, and as beautiful as ever.

We celebrated. We cried. And we counted down the hours left till we reached the hospital.

And today . . . my granddaughter is almost three months old and absolutely perfect. Though she was six weeks early, she was born healthy and strong and spent less than a week in the NICU. From there she came home to our house, with her wonderful parents (my youngest son and daughter-in-law) and has reminded me every day just how truly amazing it is to be a grandmother.

Every day she changes. And every day I am so thankful for her.

And in all the congratulations and well wishes since her birth I have been asked, only once, if I regretted going to San Antonio and missing the birth of my first grandchild. And my answer was exactly as it still is now and will be in the future . . .

No. I don’t, and never will, regret it.

But it’s hard, I have found, to get it to make sense to others in the same way it makes sense inside my own head.

Because I do wish I could have been there when my granddaughter was born. I would be lying if I said otherwise. But I wasn’t there. I can never change that I wasn’t there. And if I wasn’t meant to be there, through fate, God, or whatever force you might believe in, than I was meant to be in the next best place I could have been.

I could have been anywhere, doing anything, with anyone, when I learned my granddaughter was on her way. But I wasn’t. I was somewhere that meant something to me. Something beyond anything I could even try to explain.

And it’s beyond the fact that I finally had a part in standing up and speaking out for the Adoptee Rights that I believe in. (Though I am SO disappointed that I missed my booth time and solemnly swear to do double time next year in Chicago.) It was who I was with. The wonderful people I was surrounded by, that made the experience something I know I will forever be grateful for.

The fact that I was excited to become a grandmother was never a secret with anyone. Those who knew me, knew I couldn’t wait for my granddaughter to be born.

But there was a special group of people, who I consider friends in every way that matters to me, who understood, over and beyond, how adoption added another layer to my feelings. Understood even where I couldn’t explain it.

They just knew, without any explanation necessary, that the birth of my first grandchild held something over and beyond what was expected. Past the normal excitement and joy of welcoming another member into my family.

And it was those friends I was with when I learned my granddaughter was on her way. This group of wonderful people who I never even knew - just a mere five years ago - existed. Who are some of the most giving, understanding, loving and loyal human beings I have ever had the honor of crossing paths with.

Outside of my husband and my other children, they were the first to know my granddaughter was on her way. The first tears I shed were on the shoulder of a wonderful woman and adoptee who I think was actually crying before I was. The first hugs and congratulations came from those who, through their own stories and experience, their support and friendship, held me up and kept me going during some of the darkest times of my life when it felt as if adoption had beaten me down as far as I could go.

And even in those last couple hours on the road, when the hospital seemed so close and yet still so far away, it was those same wonderful people who were the first to call (outside of my family) and to know my granddaughter had been born just a few hours earlier.

No. There are no regrets for where I was, what I was doing and ESPECIALLY who I was with when my granddaughter decided it was time to make her entrance into this world.

What there is instead is a story to share with my granddaughter as she gets older. She will always know where I was and what I was fighting for when I found out she was coming earlier than expected. She’ll always be told about the wonderful people who were the first to know she was on her way. And she’ll always have her own personal tale of how she became our San Antonio Surprise.

Kickin' It In Texas

2011-08-03T20:28:00.007-06:00

I’m out of here!

First thing Friday morning my husband, daughter and I hit the road for San Antonio, Texas and the Adoptee Rights Demonstration . . .

Unfortunately, our oldest son won’t be able to join us as we had hoped. With all the time he has missed from work these past few months in his battle against cancer, he isn’t able to take any more time off.

We will miss him but we will fight for him and for the equal rights he is denied.

Did you know, he is actually an unbelievable individual? He really, truly is. How could he not be (I mean besides my own completely biased view) when he has, if you count his birth certificates, been born three times.

Yep, out of all four of my children, my oldest son is the only one who has three birth certificates . Three DIFFERENT birth certificates. Not three copies of the same.

He has his original birth certificate which, here in Colorado (as an adult), he had to fill out a form that he had to sign, I had to sign, had to be notarized and then sent into the state with a hefty fee, only to wait almost five weeks for it to be delivered.

He also has his FIRST amended birth certificate, that we made sure he got before it too was sealed away from him, and his SECOND amended birth certificate (which sealed his First amended birth certificate) that was created when we adopted him back.

Can you follow that? My son has been issued three different birth certificates, two of which he is not allowed to have access to unless he is willing to jump through the hoops required of him.

And one of the craziest parts of that is, his second amended birth certificate, the one he is “allowed” to get, has the exact same information on it as his original birth certificate except for the fact that his father was finally allowed to be included as well. So his time of birth, his place of birth and my name, as the mother who actually truly did give birth to him, are exactly the same as what his original birth certificate states. And yet, he still cannot just walk into our local health and human services office and obtain his original birth certificate.

He STILL is treated like a child, slapped on the hand and told, “No. You don’t get to have that.”

And his first amended birth certificate – you know, the one so many believe is all he really needs in his life – well, he doesn’t have the right to that one either.

Yeah. Makes all kinds of sense doesn’t it? Especially if you try to use the logic those against adoptee rights like to throw out there - - that he is being denied his equal rights to protect his “birthmother.”

Ha! As of right now, in his life, according to all the legal mumbo jumbo that has passed through the courts, my son actually has two “birthmothers.” (I told you he was an unbelievable individual. Not only has he been born three times, he’s also been born to two different women!)

When we filled out the paperwork to adopt him back, the name of his adoptive mom actually went into the space for birthmother . . . only in adoption can it be that my son’s adoptive mom is now legally considered his birthmother and I am considered his adoptive mother.

And yet, twisted as it is, under the logic so many try, desperately, to use to deny an adoptee their equal rights, my son is denied his original birth certificate AND his first amended birth certificate to protect both myself and his adoptive mother – the only two moms he has in life – from having any contact from him (cause you know he is this crazy, unsettled sort of creature that surely would put us at harm. I mean, really, I should just be so thankful I have survived this long with him back in my life. Who knows when he might break and become the madman he is sure to be.)

So technically, he is not worthy, good enough, or sane enough, to know the mother who adopted him any more than he is to know the one who gave birth to him and then, also, adopted him.

The poor guy is screwed!

And for what? For what reason? What SANE, LOGICAL reason?

Three birth certificates issued to one individual person. Two moms, the only ones he has in life, supposedly protected from whatever crazy, insane notions my son has in his perceived messed-up mind, and a long line of lawmakers deciding for him what he can and cannot know about his own PERSONAL information.

I mean . . . really? How much more crazy can it get?

With my son’s cancer, and how much different it could have been if he had not known his family history, I could already have a good, hard fight for why adoptees deserve their equal rights. But the fact is, all the “side” arguments as to why are just that - - the side arguments.

Because the fact remains that my son’s story, Linda’s story, Amanda’s story, Allison’s story, Joy’s story . . . etc . . . etc . . . etc . . . all boil down to one clear and true reality –

Give adoptees their equal rights. Give them what the rest of us take for granted. Allow them to be adults. And everything else, the multiple births by two different women, the medical history, the right to know their roots . . . ALL OF IT, will be an argument of the past, one no longer needed to be rehashed by the act of one simple action . . .

Give back to adoptees what has been denied from them for far too long. Give back to them what the rest of us take for granted.

And that is, plain and simple, all it is. That is why I, my wonderful husband, and my daughter, will be in San Antonio. That is why so many other wonderful adoptees, First Moms and Adoptive Moms will be there as well.

Because, even with all our differences, we have one thing in common . . . the belief that we, and those we love, deserve the same rights, the same respect and the same freedoms to have and be what we are, by our birth just as much as our upbringing.

Oh Baby, Baby

2011-07-30T10:32:00.003-06:00

The day is here.

In some ways, it feels like it was just yesterday I learned I was going to become a Grandmother.

And yet, today, it’s Baby Shower time with just a month and a half until my daughter-in-law’s due date.

This whole experience of becoming a Grandmother for the first time has been amazing, wonderful, terrific . . . and so many other things I can’t even put into words.

And it’s also brought a lot of understanding I thought I knew, but am coming to see I never full realized until now. Until my own personal experience has brought me here.

Though I was too naïve with my oldest son to realize what was happening, I have never . . . NEVER . . . doubted the bonding that happened between myself and ALL my children during pregnancy. I could tell you who kicked the most. Who had hiccups ALL THE TIME. Who loved when I slept on my back and who loved when I slept on my side.

I knew every one of my children, intimately . . . in the way only a mother can . . . long before they were born. But I have never before had the experience of being close enough to someone I love to witness, as an outsider looking in, such a bond.

But I see that now. I know that now. And it is one of the most remarkable things!

And it isn’t like it is this giant, screaming occurrence that happens.

Instead it’s the little things. Those moments that come and go, that you are lucky enough to catch, that give proof to the bond between a mother and her unborn child.

I see it when my daughter-in-law rubs her stomach and, in a soft voice, asks her baby girl what she wants to eat. When her laughter fills the room because she has enjoyed chocolate and the kicks and punches against her stomach have let her know her daughter has enjoyed the treat as well.

There are the times, when we are all together, talking, playing pool, chatting, when my daughter-in-law will start singing softly to her stomach because she knows, can feel, when her baby is restless inside her and has learned that a song, no matter how off-key, soothes her.

It is just so amazing to see from this side of things. As a Grandmother so ready and excited to welcome her first Grandchild . . . her Granddaughter . . . into the world.

And yet, I also know something else . Understand something that is so important . . .

For my Granddaughter, no matter how much I already love her. No matter how much I have planned and looked forward to and been eager for her to finally be born . . . I am, and will be for awhile, a complete stranger to her.

I may love her with all my heart, love her in a way I can’t even describe at the moment, but that doesn’t change the fact that she will not know me, love me, or even trust me when she is born.

I am, as of right now, a stranger to her, as is everyone who is not her mother. She will not enter this world suddenly loving me as I love her. How can she when it is not my voice, my scent, my heartbeat she knows?

And knowing that makes me so thankful that my Granddaughter will have her mother there. That she will never feel alone or afraid in a world of strangers because her mother, the one she does know, love and trust, will be there for her. Will be the comfort nobody else can offer her during those tender months after her birth as she is learning to trust and believe in those who surround her.

I couldn’t imagine different for her and am so thankful I don’t have to. But my heart does break when I think of how many infants will never know the comfort and safety my Granddaughter will always know because adoption will take that away from them. Because so many want . . . need . . . cling to the belief that there is no damage in separating as child from the one person he or she has loved, relied on and trusted long before the rest of us have ever even become a part of their life.

And though I want to kick myself, scream at the top of my lungs, create some kind of punishment for those who caused my oldest son to never have such security in the earliest part of his life (including me and all that I robbed him of.) I’ve come to realize that sometimes you don’t know, or understand, until you have that opportunity to be on this side of things, when you are the outsider looking in, learning and seeing what you couldn’t while it was happening to you personally.

Though it would have been completely impossible to happen, if I could have lived this experience before giving up my son, it would have taken forces greater than any we know exist in man(woman)kind to rip my oldest son away from everything he should have been given at the time of his birth. To cheat him from what my Granddaughter will always have.

But, unfortunately, I can’t change history, for myself, my son, or anyone else in my family who has suffered the loss adoption brings.

And that is where another part of the understanding becomes even more real now that I am here, living the reality of being a Grandmother for the first time.

Because there is something else I can never change . . . the memory of my mother, unable, for the one and only time in my life, to be there beside me, supporting me and holding me up in time of need, because the loss she was suffering was too much for her to overcome.

When I gave up my son, when I handed him over to his adoptive mother in the nursery, walked out of the hospital with empty arms, one of the first things I saw was my mom, sitting in the passenger seat of my parent’s car, crying like I had never seen her cry before.

To this day, that image of her is still one I struggle to deal with. One that can, and has, haunted me through the years.

And yet, it took this . . . my experience with becoming a Grandmother for the first time, just as she was when I was pregnant with my oldest son, to fully realize the pain and heartache she was struggling with on the day I handed my oldest son over to strangers to raise.

I took a moment in time that I am celebrating, loving and enjoying, and yanked it away from her. I not only allowed some other woman to become my son’s mother, I also allowed another woman to become my son’s Grandmother. A place in his life I truly had no right stripping from him or my mother, his grandmother.

I did that. And not only did I do that, I have now come to realize, through my own experience, just how wrong it was to deny my son and his Grandmother such a relationship.

I either heard it or believed it all then though . . . how wrong it was for me to expect my parents to raise, or even help me raise, my son when they had already raised me. How selfish I was being to even believe they would help me, to even consider accepting their help.

And yet, now . . . I get it! I would do anything for my Granddaughter. There is nothing you could ask of me that would be too much when it came to the health and happiness of that little girl. I would give my all, sacrifice everything I had for her . . . just as I would have done for any of my children.

I now understand . . . though my mother’s support, because of her experience, was silent support . . . my belief, my argument, that they would help me, support me, be there for me, because they loved me and their grandchild, was exactly right.

I was right, without doubt! My mom, because she is me and I am her, was feeling exactly as I do today. She loved her Grandson before he was ever born. Would have done anything for him, not because she was forced to by my own selfishness. But because she loved him, loved me. Because he was her Grandson. Because he was a part of her and a part of her child. Because she wanted, and always has, what was best for me and for my children.

I understand that now. Understand something that even all our talks, our understanding of where we each were back then, of how our experiences played such a huge part in that time of our live, could never fully make me see until I walked in those shoes, became the Grandmother who could never imagine, never think of losing her Grandchild to strangers.

I couldn’t do it, and honestly, don’t know how my mom did.

If I were to lose my Grandchild, I fully believe it would be the end of me.

And it hurts and tears me apart to know that, if my daughter-in-law had come across different feelings. If she had decided to give up my Granddaughter, whether my son, the dad, or the rest of the family agreed, we would have no say, no ability to keep our Granddaughter, daughter, niece in the family.

She would be lost to us forever because the law decides that strangers are better for her than we are. The law says that although she is our family, a part of us, loved by us, it doesn’t matter, because we don’t matter.

And that is such bullshit. (And yes I did it, I actually used such a word . . . a word that doesn’t even come close to my feelings at the thought of my Granddaughter being taken from us and given to strangers.)

My mom (who would leave most adoptive parents in the dust if she were to go through a Home Study to determine her worth) had absolutely NO RIGHT to her own Grandchild. Strangers held more right than she did to her own flesh and blood.

And strangers hold the same right to my own Granddaughter. They do. You would be a fool to question it.

I love my Granddaughter. I can’t wait for the chance to hold her in my arms, to love her and spoil her like a Grandmother is supposed to do.

But none of that matters to the law, the adoption industry, and many adoptive parents.

Because to them, I mean nothing. To them, strangers have the right to take away my Granddaughter if that is what her mother decides and I have no say, no legal rights to fight. Nothing to save my family and keep it intact.

I am, as a Grandmother who is already crazy in love with her Granddaughter. As one who would give everything, sacrifice whatever I have for her, nothing in the eyes of so many. Especially those who are so eager to profit or gain off of the very thought of my Granddaughter’s birth.

Because she is another infant born to young parents without successful careers, stable incomes or healthy bank accounts. Because I lose, my son loses, my entire family loses if, for any reason the adoption industry was able to convince my daughter-in-law she was not worthy . . . good enough . . . for her own child.

Because my Granddaughter . . . a healthy, white infant . . . is a hot commodity in today’s world. A product desired, bought and sold in what is reality for so many. And if just one thing, one small thing, had gone different, she could be on the selling block with so many other infants, a price tag on her head and a promised life of never knowing, never growing up with having the experience of being part of a family that has loved her, wanted her, and known she was a part of us, of all we are, from the moment she was conceived and began her journey into this world.

I am so thankful I will be able to celebrate my Granddaughter entering our family instead of mourning the loss of her as so many Grandparents are forced to do in the world of adoption. And because of her, and so many other infants born to mothers society deems “not good enough” my fight will continue, even stronger, to fight against a practice that needlessly destroys families.

Today I will eat and drink, play games, laugh and share my happiness with friends and family while always remembering the many families who have lost so much because of adoption. Who were never allowed the chance to celebrate a wonderful new life because their child/grandchild, brother/sister, niece or nephew was taken from them to be presented as a “gift” to a couple deemed more worthy.

Repeating His Words

2011-07-28T10:33:00.003-06:00

The disgusting “price lists” for babies are making their rounds again.

Every time I see them, I not only get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I also think of my oldest son, an adoptee, and his reaction when he first discovered such a disgusting practice existed.

It’s been two and a half years since he was traveling around the internet and came across this site . . . Adoption: A Path of the Heart. At that time, the blog owner allowed comments and my son took full advantage of it.

But I knew, from experience, the chances of his comment remaining on her site were slim to none, so back in January 2009, I made sure his words would not be lost forever by publishing them on my blog . . . In My Son’s Words.

And I am thankful I did. It took less than twenty-four hours for the blog owner to remove his reply and close down comments on her blog (my son’s words were just the first of many who shared their horror that such lists existed for “purchasing” human lives.)

So, as this disgusting site, and others like it, are being discovered again, I thought I would share, once more, my son’s response, his first reaction, when he learned such disgusting lists existed . . .

jctippinward said...

First, let me start off with saying this is one of the most disgusting things I have ever laid my eyes upon, and I’ve seen a lot in my 21 years of living, but this, putting a price on a child and listing him/her on a blog as if you were selling a car is just wrong. A white Caucasian male will run you about 35k while an African-American male child will run you about 23k. What is this, cars made by a certain company therefore will be better? Are you serious?

These are children people. The most innocent thing in the world has now become a Market for investments and profit. Look at the way you list them here as if they were a product, like they came out of a plastic box. Do you not have children of your own? Let me ask you this, would put a price tag on them and sell them on the open market? No? Then why do you find it to be right to sell another person(s) child over blogspot?

I’m sure, by now, some have stopped reading and wrote me off as an uneducated buffoon who has no idea what I’m talking about and to those of you closed minded, ignorant pricks, all I can say to you is piss off.

I am a product of the whole open adoption craze. It was like a new fashion craze amongst you. Everyone is doing it so it must be right. Well it’s not right and I will tell you why. When my Amom stopped sending my Mother(Cassi) news and pictures on how I was doing, my Mother went to the adoption agency and complained. They told her there is nothing she can do about it, that I was now under the control of my Amom(Terri). My adoption was an open one and just like that it became closed. I will only say this, the amount of pain that caused my mother still ripples through time today. What it did to me has changed who I am forever. I spent most of my youth jumping around from step dad to step dad, watching the first one physically and mentally abuse Terri and I. The second one never loved me. He told me that himself. There was no father figure besides Terri's Father. He passed away when I was 15, the only sort of guidance for me had passed on to a better place. I was lost. I didn't know who I was I knew that I wasn't blood with the people I lived with and deep down inside I knew I didn't belong where I was.

As a teen I was far from an angel. I did a lot of things I look back on now and hold in deep regret of my actions. When I was 16, Terri left me with her Mother who at the time was unable to walk. I had complete freedom and I took full advantage of it. I found myself stealing her car, credit cards, and cash and partying every night. By the time I was 17, I was kicked out of Terri's mother's house and left to move back in with Terri. This was the hardest time of my life.Terri was a drunk and a mean one at that. It caused many fights and many problems for us. I don’t want to cover much on this time.

I was doing nothing but living to die. I knew deep down I hated everything and everyone and the only thing that made that go away was an abusive drug habit that still scars my heart today. Both of my shoulders are destroyed from self inflected wounds. They will never look the same. These are the things that haunt me. Now I tell you that story to tell you this one.

The adoption agency told my mom she would not be able to be a good mother for me. Those lying bastards. I have 2 little brothers and one little sister. Both of my Parents are still together and married doing what they can to make sure we, their children, have everything we need to succeed in life. They told her this would not happen.

Now I’ve read all over books about feeling angry towards (and I hate using this term) the Natural parents and if you’re one of those right now reading this, I want to say this from me to you. Forgive and open your heart. Remember when you were young and scared about the world? Well they were too and they were tricked by a money thirsty industry. If they would have known the true cost it would never have happened and it would have been done there. So again forgive. Your heart will feel better as will theirs.

So don't sit there and tell me someone can’t raise a child because they've smoked a little pot. Or because they are young and still young adults themselves. 99% of parents out there love their children with all their heart to an extent that words cannot describe. I say 99% because there is that 1% who kill their children because they are legitimately insane and God told them to do it.

Love is a powerful thing and it will make you do crazy things, such as forget your old lifestyle and begin raising a child.

And so now here you sit reading over ads on the Internet for children. All of them have different packages and mileage on them and you feel good about yourself? It should not matter the race or gender or age of the child. Why? Because they are children, all the same innocence wrapped up in a bundle of joy.

So I hope this made some of you think a little bit about the truth behind this industry. It’s not always everything they tell you it will be.

And like before, I will leave my son’s words as the final thoughts of this post.

From One Crazy Mom To Another

2011-06-24T13:33:00.004-06:00

..."So now we are ganging up on BirthMom buds because they don't fit the idea of what YOU want them to be or think? Gimme a break..how about having an idea of your own and not reposting in essence the same subject Lorraine did?

It's called Birthmom Buds for a reason..it's not adoption advocates, or fight for adoptee rights buds. It's a place for birthmothers for crying outloud! Just because someone is a birthmother doesn't mean she HAS to take up ANY one particular cause related to adoption. There are women who aren't happy with their adoption(s) or have any desire to deal with ANYTHING adoption related period. There are women who need support without having to hear from people (like those here) about who they need to be, or do in order to receive support! Good grief people! What right do any of us have to judge someone else's "stance' or lack there of simply because another person's life has been affected by adoption??? Some people are not as string as others, some people don't care about adoptee rights..it's that simple! Everyone now a days has "rights" to someone or something. gag me"...

Dear 1CrzyMom,

Though I plan to respond to most of the comment you left on my post, The Silent Voices, I want to start off with your final sentence, because that, to me, says more than anything else you wrote here . . .

"Everyone now a days has "rights" to someone or something. gag me"

I'm going to assume you are not an adoptee since your profile has no information to learn more about you. I am not an adoptee either which puts us together in an equal right that "everyone" has to "something" . . . our Original Birth Certificate. We can walk in, fill out the paperwork, pay the minimal fee and have the document in our hands in no time. There is nobody slapping our hand telling us, "No." Nobody treating us like forever Children even though we are adults, making the judgment for us on whether or not we should have access to our own PERSONAL information. And nobody making the insulting comment "Gag me" simply because we desire to be treated equally.

This isn't about adoptees wanting something special. It isn't about them demanding to be given privileges others don't have. It is, plain, cut and dried, as clear as day, about them receiving the EXACT SAME RIGHTS every non-adopted citizen takes for granted. As long as we are given a right they are denied, we should be doing much more than just caring about their fight, we should be disgusted and angered that in the United States we actually have any laws that prohibit certain individuals from the freedoms everyone else takes for granted. And we should be screaming at the top of our lungs that it is unacceptable and demand change.

And yes, because of that, I firmly believe "just because" a woman is a First Mom (refuse to use the other term) she does have a responsibility to this particular "cause" in adoption. I will not apologize for that belief. Nor will I ever back down from it.

Choice or not, forced or willingly, First Moms, in the very act of adoption, place their children - who have no choice, no voice - into a situation where their reality, for all but a few in certain states, is one in which they are restricted from the very rights we First Moms, who aren't adopted, take for granted.

How hypocritical can we be if we believe the rights we have just aren't all that important for our children to have after it was our own actions (for whatever reason) that placed that fate on our children's shoulders?

First Moms have more than a responsibility, they have a duty to fight for their children to be given the same equality they receive. They have an obligation to create change in the life their child will face in their adult years.

Outside of all the other matters that can "muddy" up the fight, there is a basic, clear place for every First Mom to add her voice. The simple, clear belief that adoptees deserve the same rights we have, no questions, no excuses!

To not add your voice to that . . . to not make it more than clear that you support, in every way, your child's equal rights . . . is wrong. If First Moms don't speak up about such an abuse against our children, how can we ever expect others to understand the importance of the loss of freedom adoptees struggle with?

We can't, because they won't. Those First Moms who keep their voices silent encourage the acceptance of denying adoptees equal rights. They provide the excuses for why it's "just not a big deal." Encourage the lies of "confidentiality" that are held tight by those who oppose adoptees being treated equally..

They allow the adoption industry, law-makers, and society in general to use them and their silence as justification to why their own children should not be given the same freedoms they, themselves, have never been without.

And sites like BirthMom Buds (which I have a vastly different opinion of - but that is for another post) whether, they try to or not, do become adoption advocates just by the very nature of what they post. Adoption professionals and many adoptive parents love those sites because they justify what they desperately want to, or want others to, believe . . . that adoption is a wonderful, loving option that has changed so much over the years that it is now the "perfect" choice to give a child a "better" life.

If that is their belief, fine . . . they are entitled to it just as I am entitled to mine. But to encourage adoption because of all its "openness" while outright ignoring the very real fact that closed records still exist, goes completely against everything they claim to support.

How can you say you believe in openness for your child if you refuse to stand up and speak out for the area in their life where they will be denied it? How can you proclaim that they have the best life possible if you are sitting back and doing nothing about the fact that life will include being denied the same rights everyone else is entitled to?

And how can you EVER allow your silence to become a part of the reason why adoptees are not allowed their equal rights. How can you sit back and say nothing, do nothing, when you know that those against your own child being treated equally are using you and your supposive "right to privacy" as their justification for why your child doesn't deserve to have the same freedoms you do?

I have absolutely no respect for any First Mom who doesn't care about adoptee rights. No sympathy for those who claim they are not strong enough to speak out while allowing others to use them as the excuse for why their OWN CHILD does not deserve to be treated with the same equality as the rest of us.

In my opinion, any First Mom who sits back and does nothing, allows the fate her child will face in their adult years and accepts the fact that her "privacy" will be used over and over again against her own son or daughter, has failed their child in a horrible way.

And there are no excuses, no explanations that will ever change that.

Meet My Husband

2011-06-20T09:44:00.003-06:00

The picture is of my wonderful husband and I with our oldest son, the one we lost to adoption, in the middle.

I've talked before about my husband being a First Dad but I don't say much about his feelings and emotions because they are his to tell, not mine.

But thanks to Amanda over at Declassified Adoptee, my husband, for the first time, has put into his own words some of what it is like for him being a dad who lost his first born child to adoption.

So for your reading pleasure, I proudly present my husband and his own words . . .

Guest Post: a Letter to my Readers from a Reunited Original Dad

Daddy's Day Wishes

2011-06-19T08:45:00.006-06:00

For the dads who have attended tea parties.

For the dads who read bedtime stories.

For the dads who fight for Father's rights.

For the dads who lost a child.

For the dads that protect.

For the dads that teach.

For the dads who have fought for their children.

For the dads who make a difference . . .

Happy Father's Day!

The Silent Voices

2011-06-13T16:43:00.008-06:00

So I’ve noticed something as I have ventured through the different blogs listed on the BirthMom Buds site. There is a silence there that I don’t understand. One I can’t believe hasn’t been addressed yet by these mothers who are such firm advocates for adoption.

It involves adoptees and restoring their rights back to them.

I see them over and over again, repeating exactly what I was told over twenty-three years ago and believed for so long – adoption is different, better, than it once was because of the practice of open adoption.

And in open adoption there is to be no lies told, no secrets kept.

So why would any one of them not be concerned about the fact that adoptees in almost all states are forced to live with a lie, a secret, because they are denied what the rest of us take for granted . . . our original birth certificates. That their own children – the very ones they are certain they gave a better life to – will face the same denial of their rights if something isn’t done now to change things.

I realize that many don’t allow much of a voice to the adult adoptees who speak out. They aren’t represented on their blogs all too often. They aren’t listened to with any great interest when they speak. But I would think they would at least realize the struggles these adoptees speak of when it comes to being denied their equal rights are the same struggles their own children will face in the decades to come.

Whether they are in an open adoption or not. Whether they are happy with their situation, believe they made the best choice. None of that has absolutely any impact on the fact that their children will be denied their rights in almost every state if something isn’t done now to make changes.

And the adult adoptees, many of whom so many of the “new-generation” of First Moms disregard and refuse to listen to, are the very ones who are fighting, speaking out, writing letters, attending protests, so that they – and the young children of today’s First Moms – are restored their rights and will not have to face the same struggles they have faced in the past.

Is it fair to keep your voice out of such a fight? Is it right to support, encourage and believe in openness and do nothing to assure your own child will be given that when they grow past their childhood years?

First Moms, like those who post on BirthMom Buds, have a large audience to speak to. Adoption advocates and adoptive parents love their blogs. They link to them from their own, encourage others to read what they have to say.

It’s a perfect set-up to speak out and gain support for open records, equal rights, for all adoptees – especially your very own child. I can’t think of a better way to raise awareness than to use the support you have in the adoption world to reach those who are usually the most close-minded about the importance of restoring equal rights to adoptees. To use your belief in openness and all the wonderful things you think it does for adoption, to show them that it isn’t something to be against but to support in every way.

It’s long past time to finally step up and speak out. Because this area of adoption has not changed, and it will not change until we all, First Moms from all sides, do something about it.

This is not something that can be ignored. Especially not by those First Moms who have children that will someday become the adult adoptees being denied their rights.

If they truly support openness, an end to the lies and secrets that make up adoption, than it’s time for them to add their voices to the fight and make a real change, if not for them . . . for their children.

Loving You This Memorial Day

2011-05-30T13:37:00.011-06:00

That wonderfully handsome man in the picture with me is one of the best friends a woman could ever hope to have blessing her life.

To me, he is Sergeant Chuckles. A combination of his nickname as a boy and his position in the United States Air Force.

As an only child, I never had the experience of siblings. But I did have Sergeant Chuckles. Our families were neighbors when I was born and he was just barely a year old. Our mothers good friends who enjoyed taking embarrassing pictures (such as us together in the bathtub) and planned our wedding before we ever even reached the potty-training stage.

But we had our own future ahead of us. One that didn’t include nuptials but instead one of the strongest, greatest friendships I have ever known in my life.

Sergeant Chuckles was my protector. My shoulder to lean on. My strength when I was weak.

Over twenty-three years ago, he was the one who took me to Planned Parenthood for my pregnancy test. The one who held my hand as I learned the news, hovered nearby while I told my husband (then boyfriend) that I was pregnant.

He was there, holding it together, when I was falling apart during those painful, confusing months. No longer only protective of me, but of the child I carried.

There wasn’t a time when I was alone, because of him. It didn’t matter what time of the day or night it was. Didn’t matter what he was doing. If I needed him, he was there. Always there. My rock when I wanted to crumble. My hero holding me together when all I wanted to do was fall apart.

At eighteen, after graduation, following his family legacy, he joined the Air Force. Moved away from home. From the house where we had shared so many memories. The one place I always knew I could find him.

My middle son was only an infant when he first left for overseas. I remember watching the news religiously during the Gulf War. Always needing information, assurance that he was okay. And yet, on those rare occasions when we had a chance to talk, his concern was on myself and my family. He wanted to know how my middle son was doing. Would make his typical jokes to make me laugh, to get my mind off my worry for him.

That was always his way. Always the friend he has been to me. Nobody has been able to irritate me, make me laugh, or support me in the way he has.

After 9/11, he returned to Iraq to continue to fight for us. At that time in his life, he was dealing with his own struggles. His marriage was ending and not only was he facing the knowledge that he would no longer have any connection to the step-daughter he had raised as his own for five years, but he had also recently been told that his chances of fathering a child of his own were slim to none.

And yet, he put all of that aside and went, without argument, to where he was needed.

After that, he used to tell me, his life was full even without children. He was single, could come and go as he pleased and he had my kids to spoil, to love, to be there for. Which he always was. Always! My children love him. And even though he doesn’t live close, they know he is always there for them. Have always known that.

And when, four and a half years ago, I found my oldest son and reunited with him, Sergeant Chuckles cried with me, celebrated with me, and understood just how much it meant to have him back in my life. When he received the okay from me, he reached out to my oldest son, embraced him in the same way he had always embraced all of my children and took leave to come out and reunite with my only child that he had been there, every step of the way, from learning of my pregnancy to giving birth.

Then, just a few years ago, Sergeant Chuckles learned, against what the doctors had told him, that he was going to be a father. And along came the sweetest, cutest little girl. “T” is amazing. She looks so much like her daddy. She has his spirit, his personality and even his dance moves.

She is his everything. His world revolves around her. And a year ago, when it came time, AGAIN, for him to make the decision on whether or not to retire from the Air Force, he decided to go ahead and do it, for her. So that he could be there. So that she would never have to know what it was like to have her daddy so far away, unable to see him, talk to him, know that he was okay.

But, Sergeant Chuckles has always had the blood of an American soldier running through is veins. It is not only what he knows after over two decades of serving our country. It is what he used to dream about, plan for, when he was nothing more than a small boy with his entire future ahead of him.

So it did not surprise me when he took the offer given him and returned to the Air Force before his retirement became official.

What did surprise me was the fact that just a couple months after that, he was called to go overseas again. To Afghanistan this time. He has been there since January, fighting for all of us, for our freedom, our way of life.

And here at home, his little girl misses her daddy. And his family prays for his safety.

So today, on Memorial Day, I want to use my blog to honor him. To love him. And to let everyone out there know what an amazing, courageous soldier they have fighting for them.

I love you Sergeant Chuckles. Be safe!

Who Are You Angry For?

2011-05-27T12:56:00.005-06:00

Four and a half years ago, when I first found my oldest son’s MySpace page, it felt like a miracle. After over thirteen years of knowing nothing about him, about his life, here was this wealth of information about him. Pictures and information I could have only dreamed of having before.

And one bit of that information was his current place of employment which happened to be only an hour away from where we lived.

For me, the fear was too great to do anything with that information. I was so sure then that my son would hate me. I was so afraid of ever being able to explain to him why I gave him up when I could no longer explain it even to myself. Could no longer find any reason that would justify not fighting for and keeping him all those years ago.

Thank goodness, my husband wasn’t held back by such fears and doubts. Taking my youngest son along with him, he made the drive to my oldest son’s work and took that very first, frightening step into reuniting with him.

It was, literally, the first day of a brand new life for all of us.

It was also an act that, to this day, my oldest son’s adoptive mother is still angry with my husband for doing.

And the question is . . . who is she angry for?

Is she angry for us, my oldest son’s First Family, who never would have had to seek our oldest son out in such a way if promises hadn’t been broken and the adoption completely closed by the time my son was five years old?

Nope. That one is a definite no. Don’t even have to think twice about that one.

Is she angry for my oldest son who, though there have been ups and downs, gained another family in his life? Who, because of reunion, was aware of his family history and knew to act quickly when he was first told about the lump on his thyroid?

No. That’s not it either.

There is only one person she is angry for . . . herself. Angry because she doesn’t like how it has turned out since that first day of reunion. Because that day, to her, forced her to accept that my oldest son’s First Family didn’t just drift off into nowhere land and forget about him. And because, she lost her control over my son, no longer able to abuse him because he had nowhere else to go.

It’s as it always seems to be . . . all about her. It’s not about my son in any way, just, as I believe, it never has been.

And yet, it doesn’t surprise me that she’s that way. It doesn’t shock me that it’s that way for many other adoptees as well, making my oldest son’s experience far from unique.

When adoption is, in so many ways, about satisfying the desires of hopeful couples rather than helping out children truly in need, it only makes sense that there are going to be adoptive parents out there who will forever remain in that frame of mind, expecting it to always be about them and not about the child they adopted.

And with so much of society accepting the same beliefs, seeing no problem in taking children from capable mothers and giving them to wealthier, more successful, married couples who “deserve” a child more, you compound the problem of adoptees being used to satisfy others and being expected to keep their own feelings and desires hidden away.

Do I believe every adoptee has this experience . . . no. Do I think every adoptive parent is concerned only about themselves and their desires . . . of course not.

But the reality is, it is out there. It is a part of adoption for so many. And it can’t be ignored.

Though “selfish” is a word piled heavy on the shoulders of many First Moms, the fact is, adoption, in so many ways, in its very practice, is full of selfishness.

When couples are adopting, not to help a child but to fulfill their own desires, there is a selfish act involved. When adoption agencies counsel pregnant women on the “greatness” of adoption without informing them of the risks . . . the pain, the loss, the feelings of abandonment . . . to increase their profits, there is definitely selfishness motivating them.

And yes, if a mom TRULY falls into that very small percentage of women who doesn’t want to raise her own child because of how it might disturb her life . . . that is selfish.

So, how can it be a surprise that there are adoptive parents out there who are selfish in their belief that it is all about them. All about the ways their child is to satisfy their life. Keep them happy. Give them what they have always wanted.

How can it be anything different than an adoptee’s feelings being ignored and neglected for the considered “better” of others when society supports and promotes what is, in so many ways, a practice designed to use human beings as remedies to another’s wants, whether it be a child for the adoptive parents or money deposited into the accounts of the adoption industry.

It is a reality of adoption that, in today’s world, is never going to change.

I only wish, expectant mothers considering adoption, would step back and think of this. Think of what it does to put their child in such a position. One expected from them, not only, possibly, by their adoptive parents, but by the world they will grow up in.

I wish they could step out of the mindset of, “It won’t happen to my child,” and realize the very act of adoption puts their child at risk of being expected to always fulfill the desires and needs of another while their child’s own feelings are ignored.

It is a reality that is out there. A reality that exists for so many. And the only way to change that is to change the belief that it’s okay to take babies away from good mothers in need of some help and support and give them to someone deemed more “worthy” simply to justify a selfish desire that no child should ever be expected to fulfill.

The Fog Returns

2011-05-25T19:51:00.003-06:00

You know, I think, over the last couple years, with my son adopted back and life going on as if he was never separated from us, I slipped back in to a mild form of the denial I lived with for so many years.

It didn’t take the same shape as before, forcing me to believe adoption was such a wonderful, loving thing I did just so I could actually get up in the morning and face a new day with a justification for the pain I was feeling inside.

It didn’t, at least lately, take me into the hibernation mode where I simply wanted to snuggle down in a world where I didn’t have to think or talk about adoption in any way, shape or form.

Instead, this time around, the denial was more of a fantasy belief. One shaped from the years my son lived with us, the time I actually got the chance to be his mom in every way, and the knowledge that he was again both biologically and legally my child.

It was one that had me believing that my future with adoption would be different now, better in some way. Brought me to a point where I was so comfortable and accepting of my oldest son back in my life that I let go of just how hard so many of the struggles were with his adoptive mom and the abuse he suffered from her. And I pushed to the back of my mind, where they wouldn’t affect me, the worries I lived with and the fears that haunted me.

Because it was easier that way. Just as it was easier, in some ways, to live all those years denying the pain losing my son to adoption had caused.

And how could it not be?

I could hold on to and live in the memories of my oldest son living with us rather than imagining what he must have gone through growing up under the ugly shadow of abuse. I could see his smiles, hear his laughter instead of experiencing the terrifying images of him being beaten with a tree branch, called the worst of names, and demeaned over and over again until he believed he was nothing and deserved the abuse he suffered.

See, in that time when my oldest son first moved back in with us, and in the months that followed, it was hell. Not for me, or my husband or my other children, but for him. Not only was he having to adjust to this family that was his and yet was foreign to him, he was also struggling with the effects of the abuse he had suffered for so many years and continuing to be a victim to the verbal abuse that was still coming his way from his adoptive mom.

I can still remember the first time he actually got mad at his dad . . . compared to, in the only way I can put it, “kissing ass” because of his fear of making his parents mad and them leaving him or punishing him in a way that didn’t teach but, instead, abused in so many ways.

I was so happy, I was literally laughing. And the first thing I could think to do was give my oldest son the biggest, sloppiest kiss possible. Because, to me, it was a huge obstacle he had just dared. He had taken the risk and gotten mad at his dad, as was normal for any father-son relationship. He wasn’t happy, and for the first time since he moved in, he showed it.

It was wonderful. It was terrific. And it was, in so many ways, that first step for me into another form of denial.

Because, in some way, it gave me permission to start letting go of the worries and just accept my son in my life in a way I could have only dreamed about in the past.

Permission to let go of the hell of knowing my child had been abused. Of the guilt from knowing I was the one who placed him in the arms of the one who did such a thing to him. In a family where the only thing I can be grateful for is the love and kindness his adoptive grandfather gave him during the years he was alive.

But, just like with my previous run with denial, this current bout was bound to end at some point. I just wish it hadn’t come at the same time my son was facing his battle with cancer.

Because all it succeeded in doing was throwing me back into that stupid, old question of what kind of mom was I? And was I really good enough for him, for any of my children, if I spent time dwelling on my feelings when my son was facing the worst battle of his life?

Was I making this about myself when it should be all about my oldest son?

Was I being “selfish?” Yeah!!!! . . . That word . . . The one us First Moms get to struggle with for our entire lives.

It was all there, making me wish I had stayed in my current denial for a little while longer.

But, as I have learned along the way, adoption crap hits you whenever it damn well feels like it. And, unfortunately, it hit me when his adoptive mom made that phone call and then, once the worry and fear of my son’s operation passed, set in with an old force I was familiar with.

One, while I was in this latest fog, I thought I had moved past a while ago.

Because after talking to her again, and then seeing her for the first time since learning of my son’s abuse, I realized, there is nothing, not even the strongest form of denial, that can ever take away my hatred for what she did to my son.

And during his surgery, her biggest concern seemed to be letting everyone know that she was his mom. The surgeon, the nurses who came out to advise us of his condition, she had to make sure that they all knew exactly who she was.

And she did that for her . . . not for him! It was her insecurities, or whatever was rumbling around inside her, that caused her to make sure everyone around knew exactly who she was. It wasn’t about my son, just as it never has been. It was about her and the recognition she sought for being a “mom.”

Like anyone, at that point, really gives one damn bit of care to who is who in relationship to the patient. What the hell does it matter at that time? He’s an adult and we are nothing more than the ones they are advising of his situation. Who gives a damn which one is the mom, the dad, grandma, sibling, or visitor from outer space.

It’s just us. All of us. There for him. That’s what they know and that is all they care about.

But truthfully, what does it matter anyhow? She is going to be who she is going to be, and I . . . I have realized and accepted, I will never be at a point where I can forgive her for what she did to my son. I had thought, during the last couple years, after the fog came back and I lived that time in a kind of oblivion to my feelings, that I could move past that, forgive and embrace her in the way my son desires.

But I just can’t. And I am so sorry to my oldest son for that admission.

There are things I can’t do in this life. And one, I have come to realize, is forgive anyone, for any reason, who harms my children in any way. I am so sorry for that – to him . . . my oldest son. I know, as a mother, I should be able to do whatever I can to make things easier on him.

But I just can’t do this. I just can’t.

She abused my son. She left him believing that he was the cause for every bad thing that happened in her life (caused by her alcohol addiction.) She said such terrible things to him. Things I heard while he was living with me.

She told me horrible things about him in a ridiculous belief that it would somehow change my desire to have him in my life. She lied to him to try and keep us out of his life. She beat up on him, some physically, most of it mentally, and blamed him for it, never once realizing how amazingly lucky she was to have him in her life.

There is just too much. Too much that I can’t go on denying any longer.

I love my oldest son more than I could ever say. I want to do whatever I can for him. I never want to place him in a situation where he feels like he has to choose between the families he wants in his life. I wish, with everything I have, that he could have that “perfect” scenario he craves where he has both moms there for him, happy together, and loving each other because we love him.

But that won’t happen. And I admit, I am part of the reason why.

And so, where does that leave me . . . leave him? Because I can’t, ever, expect him to walk away from his adoptive mother or his adoptive family (though this post isn’t exactly uplifting, the conversation my husband had with his adoptive aunt is actually a much, MUCH happier topic I plan to write about later. Our goodbyes on the final day in the hospital were actually given with true “heart-felt” kisses and hugs.)

The only thing I can think of – and PLEASE, those who have lived adoption, abuse, or anything close, tell me if you think, from your own knowledge or experience, if it’s right or wrong –is to be honest with my son (after recovery and treatment for his cancer.) To tell him that I will be respectful to his adoptive mom when we are together, for him, because he wants both his mothers in his life, but that I just can’t forgive her for the abuse she put him through and that will probably always prevent me from embracing her in the way he might desire.

And the only way I can think of to maybe get him to understand is to use (yeah that word sounds icky here) his baby sister as an example. He is very protective of my daughter. He tracks everything she posts on Facebook. Is very aware of any boy that might pay her attention. She is, in this point of his life – single with no children - the one person who might make him understand.

If she were to get involved with anyone who caused her harm in any way, his first instinct would be to stand up, fight and protect her. But what if the person who harmed her still wanted to be a part of her life and she believed he (or she) had changed. And what if, after starting to believe that the person had changed, he was told by them that she lied about the abuse and deserved what happened to her because of how bad she was (though he at this point still doesn’t know about what was said in the last phone call with his adoptive mom.)

I can only hope that I’m right when I say he would struggle too with trying to understand the reasons why she would want this person back in her life while also realizing that his actions, in any way, could affect, for better or worse, her treatment by this person because of past history.

I hope he can understand, with the example of his love for his little sister, that the last thing I ever want to do is hurt him anymore than he has already been hurt by adoption and abuse. That I don’t want to place him in a situation where he feels like he ever has to choose between one mom or the other. And that I will always respect his desire to have whoever he wants in his life and do whatever I can for him.

But there are some things I can’t do . . . I can never forgive his adoptive mom for abusing him, especially not now when she still is blaming him for what happened. I can never fully embrace and love someone who put my child through such pain.

I thought for a while there that I could. But after talking to her and hearing her blame my son for his abuse and then seeing her and knowing, every time I looked at her, what she did to my son, I just can’t do it.

I just can’t.

Is it one of my shortcomings? Maybe . . . Probably.

But what is worse . . . lying to my son and making him believe in something that isn’t true or being honest with him and hoping he’ll understand?

At this point, I have to go with the truth because during his last twenty-three years of life he’s been lied to enough.

And living like that, believing something that isn’t so, isn’t good or healthy for anyone. To do that to him, to put him in such a situation, just doesn’t seem right, fair, or even loving.

So I’m hoping for the best with what I know. Hoping the advice of others, as it has in the past, will help guide my way. And hoping, most of all, that whatever happens, my son will be spared the pain and loss he has suffered for so much of his short life.

It’s the least I can do after everything I have already done.

The Day Is Here

2011-05-16T13:35:00.004-06:00

This Thursday is the day . . .

My oldest son goes into surgery, right at noon, to have his thyroid gland removed.

It’s the first step in his treatment against Papillary Thyroid Cancer. After he recovers from the surgery, he will have to go through radiation and then spend the rest of his life on medication to replace the functions of his thyroid.

In some ways, these last couple months have felt like they have passed at a snail’s pace. In other ways, it feels like everything has happened in a blink of an eye. And life has gone on, in between the doctor’s appointments and hours of research and learning about my son’s cancer. On as normal with holidays and family dinners, big brother driving lessons for my little girl and pool games between my boys.

And yet, in the back of my mind, the reality has always existed, the fear and worry lingering. Even knowing his cancer is very treatable, meeting and talking with his doctors, his surgeon, and confident they are some of the best in our state, there is still those moments when I think of all my son will have to face and the tears come and I want nothing more than to find a way to protect him from all of this.

But I know I can’t. I can only be there, support him and take care of him for as long as he needs me . . .

And, of course, because it doesn’t seem like it can ever keep its ugly hand out of things, adoption has to be a part of this too. And I hate that. I hate that all I want is to put every bit of my thoughts and energy into my oldest son and him getting better and yet I find myself battling my anger toward his adoptive mother and struggling with the worry of what might happen when we are all together in the hospital while my son is in surgery.

His adoptive mother and I have not been together in the same room since December 27, 2006 (my oldest son’s 19^th birthday.) And before her last phone call, I believed I was prepared to see her again. Believed she had changed and things would be different than they had been in the past.

But, now, I find myself dwelling (and I hate dwelling on anything) on what might set her off. Put at risk her starting a scene there in the hospital while we are supposed to be supporting our son.

Will she get angry that his surgeon, through the appointments we have been to with our son, only knows his dad and I as his parents and has never been told anything different?

Will she throw a fit that he will be checking in to the hospital under his legal name, which includes our last name rather than his adoptive last name? Even though she told him, before we ever adopted him back, that his adoptive family didn’t think he was worthy of carrying on their last name.

Will she be uncomfortable and become upset to be surrounded by so much of his First Family from his parents to grandparents and siblings? All of whom know the abuse he suffered from her.

Or worst of all, when it’s time for him to be released, will she continue to insist as she has been this past week, against the decision he made to stay with us, that he come home with her? Will that be the time, while our son is there and needing us the most, that she goes into one of her rages and starts going after whoever she can?

See, I told you . . . I’m dwelling.

And that is why, after talking with my husband, I’m going to let go and stop worrying about how she might or might not act at the hospital. I will be there for my son, and only my son. I will be respectful to her but will have no problem walking away if she starts anything that might explode into more.

I’ll be far from alone while I’m there and my husband seems to be enough of a barrier towards her that she usually holds her tongue better when she knows he is around to listen. And if she doesn’t, if, for any reason, she picks that time, when it should be only about our son, to fly into one of her rages, it’s been decided my husband or stepfather will be the ones to take care of the situation.

That is the sad reality of this. Another ugly part of adoption that I hate with a passion.

We actually have to make a “just in case” plan before ever going to the hospital because nobody knows how his adoptive mother is going to react. Nobody knows what, if anything, might set her off. Or even if she will choose that time to take her punches all over again to try and put me in my place as the “other – not so important” mother.

I’m going to hope for the best. That it will be just as it should be and we are all there for just one reason . . . to support my oldest son during one of the most difficult and frightening times of his life.

In these days leading up to his surgery, I’m going to stay positive . . . for my oldest son, myself, and the rest of my family. I will not allow my fears or my anger toward his adoptive mother take away any more of my time or energy.

I wish she hadn’t called me. I wish she hadn’t reminded me of what she is capable of.

But I can’t change that. The only thing I can change is to take myself back to being there 100% for my oldest son without letting anyone or anything distract me again.

Because that is what he deserves and I refuse to offer him any less.

And on Thursday, I will hold my oldest son tight and pray, like I never have before.

A Different Kind Of Mother's Day Wish

2011-05-05T16:51:00.005-06:00

Today, I reach out and hold all that are suffering.

Today, I embrace in my arms those who mourn a mother who will not be there, a child whose voice they will not hear.

Today, I offer a shoulder to lean on for those who faced the day with tears. An understanding ear for those who feel nobody truly knows their pain.

Today, I hold the hand of those who have a hope that the day will be done. That a new day will dawn before the worst of their pain emerges.

Today, I am there for you. Thinking of you. Loving you. And wishing, with all my heart, I could offer more than just words to get you through your struggles.

Today, please know, you are not alone!

Here We Go Again

2011-05-04T16:58:00.004-06:00

Oh, it’s that time of year again.

The time of year when mothers who are without their children because of adoption are celebrated for a loss that is like no other.

The time of year when they are reminded that they aren’t “good enough” to be a mother so they cannot celebrate on the day designated to honor ALL mothers but instead must take a back seat to the day before the official holiday.

And yes, being a First Mom who dares to speak out against the day, I have heard all the reasons why such a day is a good thing. I’m aware that it was actually a First Mom who started Birth Mother’s Day. I know that many women who have lost their children to adoption find comfort in being honored for giving their child away as a gift to a couple who would not be parents without her sacrifice.

I’ve heard it over and over and over and over and over again. And I’m not even surprised by it. I was there once. I stood on my pedestal and held tight to my halo and believed I was worthy of being remembered and celebrated for the loving, mature “choice” I made to ensure my son had the kind of life I couldn’t offer him.

Had I known such a day existed while I was still deep in my denial, I’m sure I would have fought just as hard against anyone who spoke negative about it. I would have felt special for being honored for giving up my child. Proud that I could stand up on my pedestal and by thanked by the adoptive parents who saw me as the symbol for what made their family complete.

Back then it would have been exactly what I needed to remind me of the good thing I had done. It would have continued to keep away my true feelings. Would have made that sick knowledge I refused to accept, that I had given away my child, bury itself further in under the bright cloud of what a hero I was, how much I deserved to have a special day to be celebrated for what I did instead of being forced to recognize and accept the truth of what I ACTUALLY did.

But that was before . . .

Before I finally found the courage to break free from the fog and face the reality of what it was like to lose my son.

Before I stopped seeing things in the way the adoption industry wanted me to and began to see them in the true light of what it means to separate a mother and child.

Before I realized that it is easier, for so many, to accept the happy version of adoption rather than face the loss, pain and grief that comes with it.

See, whether or not Birth Mother’s Day was started by a First Mom or not. Whether it is a day that many accept the honor and celebration given to them. It is, in my book, still a day that shouldn’t exist.

Because it creates yet another false light to the truth of adoption, and encourages an acceptance of the many women and children who are unnecessarily separated.

Instead of honoring a mother for her “difficult decision” to give her child up, we should be mourning the fact that any mother, anywhere, faces such situations that they actually feel as if they have no other choice but to lose their child.

Instead of celebrating the supposed gift she gave to another couple, we should be questioning why she felt as if she wouldn’t be enough for her own child. What factors contributed to lowering her self-worth to the point she believed another woman was more worthy of her own son or daughter.

And instead of accepting a “special” day for her to be recognized, we should be fighting for her to be recognized long before adoption has ever taken place through un-biased counseling and legal protections against those who use coercion and manipulation to get her baby.

Birth Mother’s Day is yet another diversion from the truth that is adoption. It suggests that which we know, in our hearts and minds, makes no sense . . . that mothers are happy giving away their children and should be celebrated for doing so.

It’s another one of those logical realities that becomes completely illogical when adoption is thrown into the mix.

In any other situation, we would mourn and our hearts would break for any mother separated from her child without reason.

We would question how in the world any women could give away her child and then claim she was happily moving on with her life.

Our tears would flow for the innocent baby who no longer has a chance to hear his mother’s voice, smell her scent or be comforted next to the heartbeat he grew under for nine months.

And we would stand up and scream at anyone or anything that suggested children were nothing more than merchandise to be bought and sold.

But adoption changes it all and suddenly that which we would never accept becomes, not only accepted, but encouraged by so many. And Birth Mother’s Day does nothing but continue to feed such thoughts, such blindness to the true pain and damage of separating a mother and child.

It creates even thicker blinders so that nobody dares to step out and realize just how wrong adoption in today’s world truly is and creates even more support to continue blindly believing in an act that breaks one of the most important things of all . . .

The bond between a mother and her child.

The Worst Guilt

2011-04-30T14:00:00.003-06:00

I’ve always carried around a terrible guilt. One I have never mentioned here on my blog.

A guilt that, next to the fact that I have three sons who I believe should always have the right to be a father, pushes me to fight for father’s rights, to detest those who try and take them away from any man who wants to raise his child.

In the last few months of my pregnancy, my husband (boyfriend at that time) was in California. He was sixteen when he left and felt like the weight of the world was bearing down on his shoulders. So, yes, he was one of those that ran. And his running took him across state lines.

It didn’t take long though for him to call and reach out to me. Within a couple weeks after he left, we were talking daily on the telephone and as my due date approached, he made the decision to come home.

Unfortunately, I went into labor while he was on the road with his stepfather, heading back. As soon as he found out I had given birth to his son, he called me in the hospital and told me something that, at that time in my life, angered me – his parents wanted a blood test to prove he was the father of our son.

Back then, I didn’t know why they were asking and I wasn’t yet a mother of three sons myself. It felt like a slap in the face. Here I was, without my husband for the last three months of my pregnancy, had just given birth, was facing the knowledge that I would soon lose my child to another woman, and they wanted a blood test.

Reluctantly, I agreed (I was still very naïve in the ways of the world and never thought of the fact that even if I had disagreed, he still had a right to get a blood test for his child.) For my son, the sample was taken before he left the hospital and when my husband made it back to Colorado – the day after I gave up our child – he provided his own sample for the test.

The results were what I already knew, he was the father. What I didn’t know was what his mother and stepfather planned to do with that knowledge.

I was actually with my husband when my adoption counselor called to tell me . . .

My husband’s parents had contacted her to let her know that they, and my husband, wanted to keep our son.

At that time, I didn’t understand that I had been misled about when my rights for my son had actually been terminated. Twenty three years ago, when I gave birth to my oldest son, the law was that a mother had three months to change her mind.

But that wasn’t how it was presented to me. When my counselor first handed me the clipboard in the hospital with the paperwork I needed to sign, it was explained to me that I was, at that time, giving up my rights to my son. And the wait between that time and having to go to court and do so in front of a legal official was just a matter of waiting until we could fit into the schedule to be seen.

So when I received that call less than two weeks after giving birth, I believed I had already given up any and all rights to my son. At first, though, I had this small glimmer of hope. With as desperately as I wanted to keep my son back in the hospital, but didn’t because of my fear of hurting his adoptive parents, I wondered if this could be the answer. My husband and his parents weren’t concerned about the adoptive parents and their feelings. They could be the “monster” I was so terrified of being and I could have my son back.

But that idea was completely destroyed when my adoption counselor told me that if my husband and his parents fought for our son he would then be taken away from his adoptive parents and could spend up to a year or more in foster care while they fought the adoption.

I didn’t know any better then. The only thing I did know, and the one key element that my adoption counselor also knew, was the thought of my son in foster care terrified me. It was why I had first turned down a closed adoption when it was presented to me, because my son would have been placed in foster care before going home with his adoptive parents.

Back then, with the visions I had of foster care and my belief that it would desperately screw up my child to be shuffled between families right after birth, and believing I had given up all my rights to my child so could not possibly ask for him back to save him from such a fate, I was terrified and desperation set in with a vengeance.

And so I did something I will forever regret and am ashamed of admitting, I begged and pleaded with my husband to not try and get our son back.

The memory of that is still deeply imbedded inside me. I can still see myself holding as tight as I could to his hand, crying tears I couldn’t stop, saying whatever I could, whatever might convince him to change his mind.

I did that to him and to my son.

I was one of those women. One that took my husband’s rights as a father and tossed them out the window.

And my husband . . . he reluctantly agreed and convinced his parents that the best thing would be to let our son stay where he was.

That guilt of what I did has forever stayed with me. I’m ashamed of it. I avoid admitting to it if I possibly can.

My oldest son knows the truth but most others don’t.

Most don’t know that I not only gave away my son but also stole the chance he had, and my husband had, to be together.

It is something I have learned to live with but will probably never learn to accept.

And it is also something that will forever drive me to stand up and speak out when other men are denied their rights as fathers. When I see agencies play the same games, tell the same lies, to get a child away from the family that wants them.

I hate what I did. I hate having to live with such a guilt for the rest of my life.

But I have decided, it is long past time to share that dark part of my experience. To use it to show that there are fathers out there who deserve their children and should never be denied the right to have them and raise them and love them.

My husband is an amazing father. Yes he ran in those last few months but that had absolutely nothing to do with his parenting skills and ability to be there for his children.

And today, our oldest son will be the first to tell you, he only has one father – my husband.

The man I cheated out of the right to keep his child. The man who wanted to fight for him when I couldn’t. The man who deserved everything I took away.

ANGRY!

2011-04-15T20:11:00.003-06:00

Yep, I know there is so much in the world of adoption I keep needing to talk about, but right now, I wish MORE THAN ANYTHING adoption WAS NOT a part of my oldest son’s life.

And for the record . . . NO! It is not okay to call, after all this time, and claim you only want to help “our” son while telling me he lied about the abuse he went through and that he “deserved” what you did to him because of the “bad” things he did!!!!!

He is an amazing person and he has NEVER deserved anything that has happened to him since the moment he was born and I placed him in the arms of a stranger.

Women Versus Women

2011-04-12T16:27:00.007-06:00

I’m second guessing a decision I made to like a page on Facebook – One Million Pissed Off Women.

It’s not that I don’t believe in what they stand for overall, or want to add my voice to their fight. But, after reading some comments left by one of the co-founders of the page on Motherhood Deleted’s latest post, Pissed Off and Proud, I really don’t like the idea of supporting any group that doesn’t take the time to research and see that supporting adoption, as it is practiced today, actually goes against the women’s rights they are fighting for.

I just don’t see how anyone claiming to fight for women’s rights can support the billion dollar profits the adoption industry makes from taking children away from young, poor, single women. How they can support anything that encourages the coercive and manipulative tactics that are given in Birthmother, Good Mother, to “convince” a women she is not good enough to be a mother.

How can they stand behind an industry that markets to our young daughters that unless they are married, successful and wealthy, they do not deserve to keep their children. That uses women in their most vulnerable, desperate time in order to take from them their own child. That instills the belief that mothers who are viewed by society as “not good enough” should give up their children to those that are viewed as better than them.

I just can’t get myself to support such a way of thinking.

The co-founder of the site who commented, outside of, of course, knowing a first mom and adoptees who are perfectly happy with their situation, voiced a concern that by taking away the “choice” of adoption, you run the risk of forcing a woman to parent.

What she doesn’t seem to understand is that the vast majority of adoptions that happen today are not because a women simply chooses not to parent, but because she is FORCED into losing her child because she feels as if she has NO OTHER CHOICE.

The typical woman facing a crisis pregnancy isn’t walking into an adoption agency and declaring, “I just really don’t want this baby. Please let me give him away so I’m not forced to spend the rest of my life raising him.”

No, the truth of most, is much different than that. For them, it is a situation where they want to raise their child but don’t have the support or help to do so. They feel desperate, unsure and terrified of what the future holds.

They may have nobody to support them. Don’t have the money and resources they deserve, as their basic human right, to keep and care for their child. Can’t imagine how they can ever make it work when everything seems so dark, so terrifying at the moment.

And only in so-called adoption counseling is it actually encouraged, when anyone in the mental health field knows the harm in it, to push someone to make a life-changing decision while in the midst of a crisis. To actually guide their decision-making by shoving adoption at them as the “loving” solution to their problems.

Such situations can never be seen as a good thing for women’s rights.

If someone truly supported women’s rights, even with the belief that adoption should be a choice, then they would stand up and fight for better support and help offered to young, single, poor pregnant women to enable them to keep and raise their child instead of feeling as if they have no choice but to give them up.

They would stand up and shout for the millions of dollars our government pays to teach how to “convince” a woman to give up her baby be redirected into programs that offered better sex education for our youth. Parenting and job skills for mothers. Financial support so that no mother ever again has to lose her child due to poverty.

They would demand an end to the profits made off of women giving up their babies. Would fight against the unrealistic portrayal of adoption that is fed into our society. Scream at the top of their lungs that women in crisis pregnancies must have true, unbiased counseling that does not push adoption at them as the “loving option.” But instead works with the woman, in each individual situation, to determine what factors are contributing to her belief that she can’t keep her baby. And warning her of the risks, to both herself, and her child, that adoption brings with it.

Just as there is a fight for women to have the right to abortions and pregnancy prevention, there should also be a fight for women to have the right, the means, and the support, to try parenting their child before ever being forced to make the decision to give her own flesh and blood away.

Womens rights supporters should be outraged that, while still under the effects of giving birth, it is legal for a mother to sign away her rights to her child forever. That women can be threatened with things such as paying back medical bills and being turned into social services if they change their mind.

Whether you believe in adoption or not, I just don’t see how you can support women’s rights and not fight for drastic reform in the acts that are used, over and over again, to separate women from their children every day. How you can say adoption is a good thing while knowing there are so many women who have been lied to, used, coerced, forced and manipulated into losing their sons or daughters.

And how can anyone who claims to stand for women’s rights, support an act such as adoption, that denies millions of women adoptees the most basic of human rights, their original birth certificates.

Supporting both women’s rights and adoption, at this point in our nation’s history, just isn’t possible. Because to do so, you make the very clear statement that some women deserve their equal rights while others must suffer and sacrifice without the help of the very people . . . other women . . . who should be helping them the most.

What If

2011-04-08T17:03:00.006-06:00

I keep seeing, over and over again, the suggestion that those of us who blog about adoption, from whatever side we might be on, are not “representative” of the normal, everyday folks who walk the same journey.

I hear it mostly in regards to Adoptees and First Moms. The suggestion that we are a minority and don’t truly portray the overall feelings of Adoptees and First Moms who don’t blog about their experiences.

We are the weird ones. The ones who don’t truly portray adoption as what it is. We’re those ones to pat on the head and say, “Oh so sorry for your experience, but it isn’t the norm so you really shouldn’t be given much credit for what you have to say.”

It is, to me, just another way to ignore and discredit the truths that are being spoken, over and over again, in adoption blog world. It’s a denial of the painful side that so many don’t want to acknowledge. Because it is much easier to say, “So sorry for your experience but it’s not like the majority” than it is to say, “I want to hear and listen and learn from another side I might not have thought about before.”

I firmly believe it takes a strong, brave person to dare to step into waters they have never waded through before. To open themselves up to hearing something different than what they believe, have been told or witness in their day to day life. It takes courage to ask yourself . . .

“. . . what if . . . ”

--What if, the Adoptees and First Moms who blog about adoption are actually the ones who have fought the boundaries of having to be what is expected from them and are finally honest about their feelings when it comes to the loss of adoption?--

It took me a long time to fight against the bonds that held me in the happy “beemommie” stage. Even when I was starting to slip free from my denial and questioning everything that happened, I never dared to say anything different to anyone about my feelings. Even to my own husband, and my parents, who are as close to me as anyone can get.

I spent years, terrified of sharing what I was actually feeling, because, in my mind, it was wrong. It took a lot of time before I even found the slightest bit of courage to post what I do here on my blog. It took finally breaking free of what was expected from me and becoming my own person before I dared to ever send a single word out into the blog world.

--What if, those who blog, have a life outside of the blog world and come across, more times than some might think, others who are more open, more honest, when they find that kindred soul who allows them to say and feel what they need to, instead of what they are expected to feel.—

Overall, Adoptees and First Moms are told to be thankful for their loss.

How many times have we heard that Adoptees are told they should be grateful they were adopted because it saved them from abortion and gave them better lives?

And, as a First Mom, there were very few times, in the past, that I would say anything about what I was truly feeling because I knew it was going to come with the same response I had heard, over and over and over and over . . . . again . . . “At least you can be thankful that you gave your son a better life.”

It wasn’t until I began to find other First Moms who were daring to speak out about their true feelings that I was finally able to be honest with others about how I was feeling. It took knowing that there were others out there who understood what I was going through and wouldn’t give me the same mumbo jumbo I heard for years to give me the ability to speak out about my own true feelings.

And I saw the proof of this in another just last summer. I met her only once and only for a couple hours. I was at an old friend’s house when his younger brother showed up with a girl he was dating – a short lived relationship. She was only twenty and had given up her child for adoption only six months earlier.

She didn’t know immediately that I was a First Mom myself and as she talked to me, she said all the right things, repeated the script us First Moms are expected to say to anyone who asks about our experience. But when she was done, I didn’t repeat back the same “scripted” response. Instead I hugged her and told her I was sorry for her loss. That I had lost my own child to adoption and it was, for me, the worst thing I had ever gone through.

And her response . . . she cried. And cried. And cried.

I will never forget that moment. I will never forget how long we stood out there on the back porch while I held her and she let go of the pain that was inside of her.

It didn’t matter what she had been taught to say . . . “I couldn’t give him what he deserved so I decided to place him for adoption . . . I knew I wasn’t prepared to parent so I gave a gift to a couple who couldn’t have children of their own . . . I’m happy just to know he will have everything I couldn’t provide . . . etc . . . etc . . . etc.”

In that moment, on that summer evening, she was allowed to just hurt. To cry and feel the pain that was inside of her because somebody else understood. Somebody else acknowledged that losing a child was the worst thing anyone could ever go through. The boundaries were gone and she was free to feel however she needed to feel.

--What if, with open adoption being the norm now, there are many First Moms out there who don’t dare share with anyone their true feelings because they know they could very well risk the adoptive parents closing the adoption.—

Back in March, I wrote about a new First Mom who faced the terrible reality of the adoptive parents closing the adoption because she wasn’t “happy.” They didn’t like that she was grieving and hurting and so thought the solution was to restrict her from having any contact with her child.

And her story, sadly, is one I have seen over and over again happen to First Moms. The minute they step over the line and share too much of their feelings, they are cut off from any contact with their child. It doesn’t matter what promises they were made. If they show anything that does not fall in to what is expected from them, they are left without the openness they were promised.

--What if, plain and simply, there are First Moms and Adoptees who don’t want to, or know how to, blog. What if they aren’t writers. What if their lives are just so overwhelming, they don’t even want to think of what it would take to maintain a blog. What if they just aren’t ready to go that public with their experience. –

When I finally decided to bring my two worlds – real life and adoption – together, I placed my blog address on my Facebook page, letting everyone and anyone who knew me find and read my experience and my opinions on adoption.

Since I have done that, I have been contacted by four women who I went to school with (one happens to be my husband’s first serious girlfriend way back when) who, unknown to me, also lost their children to adoption. They don’t blog, they don’t share their experience on Facebook or anywhere else, but they wanted to let me know that they understood and felt the same way. That what I wrote made sense to them because they were there too. They just didn’t write about what happened to them.

And in the different groups I have belonged to (both online and in real life) for First Moms, there are so MANY women who share their stories, their pain, their grief, who don’t have a blog or share their experience in any way in the public forum.

Some don’t do it because they just aren’t strong enough, in this part of their journey, to share their stories in the blog world. Some don’t because they believe setting up and maintaining a blog takes more time and knowledge than they have. And some don’t because, for them, all they need, all they want, is that understanding from another person who has been where they have been to give them the support they need to make it through another day.

--What if many of the experiences seen as normal are still in the “young” stage of their adoption journey. What if they have not yet experienced what the loss of a child feels like after ten, twenty or more years. What if they were more than capable of raising their child but are not yet at the point in their lives where they realize that or begin to question why others told them they were unable to.--

There is a common theme among many First Moms who lost their children to adoption. They started out, in the early years, believing what they were told. Believing they were undeserving of being a mother, unable to raise their child in the way he or she deserved.

They cloaked their loss with the same sentiment many new First Moms today do, by hiding it behind being grateful and happy they gave their child a better life. Offered a gift to some random couple more fit to be parents.

It’s not hard to hear what they have to say about their past experience and compare it to what new First Moms today have to say. Most of it is repeated word for word, whether it’s separated by a year or ten years.

When you lose your child, that intimate part of you that you can never get back, it can, many times, be an act of self-preservation to hold on to the belief that the pain you feel inside is okay because you did the right thing. To believe the grief and loss will get better, like you were told, as time goes on.

There are, most often, two choices you can make after giving up your baby. You either continue to believe you weren’t good enough for your child and the pain and loss is worth it because you gave him or her a better life. Or you take in and accept that heart-wrenching ache that is inside of you and live with it for so many, MANY years to come.

And I firmly believe, no matter if it is in real life, in blog world, or anywhere else, the majority of First Moms out there are traveling one of these two paths. Either they need to accept, “the pain is worth it because my child deserved more than I could offer” train of thought to help them handle and deal with the loss that, if allowed to, can overwhelm them. Or they have stepped past that boundary, allowed themselves to truly grieve the loss of their child and now face years of living with such a painful emotion that so many will never understand.

What changes though, over the years, for the ones who hold on to the belief that their pain and loss is worth it because they were unfit to be a mother, is the realization that the pain doesn’t go away like they promised. That time gives us an insight that makes us realize many of our insecurities and doubts were unfounded. And that age brings wisdom and the need to question what happened to us during the times we felt so young and naïve.

It is then we realize what common sense and our own true feelings have told us all along, losing a child is one of the worst pains a mother can suffer. Trusting strangers to raise our own flesh and blood because they have more money, marriage, a nice home, just isn’t right.

And the worst one, that seems to knock us all back and leave us breathless . . . our children deserved us. They deserved their mothers to step up and do everything they could to give them the better lives WITHOUT giving them away. They deserved everything we gave to any other children that came before or after their births. They deserved to have us be just as much, work just as hard, do what we should have, to keep and care for them just as we have done, or are doing, for the sons and/or daughters we kept.

Such an understanding is one, from my own personal experience, that is hell to accept and acknowledge, much less write about for all to read. And maybe that is where I, and others, are in the minority from all the new First Moms who are out there. Because we can admit that now. We can admit that sacrificing for our child meant giving up our own life, our own freedom to be whatever he or she needed. Not handing them over to strangers to raise. Not walking out of the hospital empty-handed believing our life would go on as usual while changing theirs forever.

And maybe that is where it is. Maybe that is why those of us who blog about adoption aren’t seen as the “norm.” Because admitting we failed our children. Facing the truth that we should have been there when we weren’t, is a hard step to take and an even harder fact to live with.

And who really wants to say that, admit to that when they risk being the “bad” mother all over again?

In that, I guess we are the minority and don’t fit the norm. But that doesn’t, and never will, change my belief that if someone just takes the time to ask “what if” and dares to look deeper , they might not be so quick to disregard a bloggers experiences as, not so important, because it doesn’t fit what they think they know.

Because, for many of us, our stories are shared in the experiences of others. We speak where others can’t, for whatever reason. But our voices are still just as strong and just as important. We don’t walk this journey alone or in the minority. We walk it with many who have come before us and will come after us. We walk it, and share it, together, with everyone who has ever experienced the loss of adoption and the continuing affects it has, and will continue to have, in our lives.

***Just to make it known, the experiences of First Moms that I mention are in regards to those who lost their children to adoption after the BSE/EMS era that forever marks our countries history. Those moms have a completely different story that I can't pretend to ever know or fully understand.***

San Antonio . . .

2011-04-06T19:15:00.006-06:00

. . . Here I come.

I was thinking there for a while that I would again miss out on the adoptee rights demonstration.

Since the one held in New Orleans (when I first learned of the adoptee rights movement) I’ve sworn to myself, over and over again, that I would be there, I would stand up and fight for what I believe in.

And yet, another year passed, and then another, and still I wasn’t there.

So, this year was going to be different. This year I was going to be there. I was going to be a part of fighting for what I believed in.

And then my daughter-in-law became pregnant with my very first grandchild with a due date within a month of the date of the demonstration. And my oldest son was diagnosed with cancer, and I began to think I would again, miss out on another year.

With a heavy heart, and a huge load of disappointment, I resigned myself to accepting the fact that I would again be home, watching from the sidelines, as those I respected and admired, stood up and fought for adoptee rights.

I mean, how could I up and leave when so much was happening in my life. How could I be away during the time when my sons might need me more than ever.

That was my mindset. One my wonderful husband let me toss around, gnaw on, and work through before he finally stepped in and suggested what I didn’t, in my mind, ever believe I could do . . .

Just go.

That simple. That easy. If I wanted to be a part of it, than just be a part of it. No “mother” worries. No fears. Just my desire to be there and be a part of what I have wanted to be a part of for so long.

Yes, I run the risk of my daughter-in-law going into labor while I am away. Yes, I have no idea what will happen in the next few months with my oldest son going through surgery to remove, at the very least, his right thyroid gland, and having to undergo radiation treatment.

But I also have the reassurance that, from Texas to Colorado, home is a short flight away. And if I need to, I will be on the first flight I can get. Running back as quick as I can to be there for whatever might happen. And, until then, I have an amazing, supportive family that will step in and do everything I would do. Who will “hold down the fort” until I can get back.

And, the sealer of the deal, as my husband pointed out, is the fact that being a part of the adoptee rights demonstration isn’t something I have just expressed my desire to be a part of. My oldest son has let it be known that he would like to be a part of it too. Would like to be there and fight for the very rights, he himself, is being denied, every day of his life.

So why not, with everything he is going to have to go through in the next couple months, give my oldest son that chance to be there, to be a part of, something he believes in and wants to be a part of, as well.

Which, is now, what the plan is. We’ll be there . . . my husband and I and my oldest son. The rooms have been booked, the plans have been made. And barring any unexpected complications, we will be there to stand up and fight for what we believe in.

And I am so happy, and grateful, for the chance to get to do this.

I have, for so long, felt like I haven’t put enough into the fight for adoptee rights since my writing tends to, move often than not, center on First Moms and their experiences. But it has always been close to my heart. Always been something I believe strongly in.

How could it not be when one of my own children faces the same denial of his own equal rights. When, every semester, when he registers for our local community college here, he is forced to jump through hoops just to get the “in-state” tuition he qualifies for – all because, proving his identity, is a hurdle he must jump through, over and over again, for the one and only reason of, his records are sealed, and denied from him.

I want change. I want my oldest son to be given the same rights his younger siblings are given. I want to see an end to the struggle he must go through for no other reason than he was adopted. And I want to be a part of that fight for change that will someday, hopefully, bring that to him.

And, now, I will be. Finally, after years of hoping for it. I will be there. I will get to stand up “in real life” for what I believe in. And I will get to do it by the sides of my husband (a First Dad) and my oldest son, who I lost to adoption all those years ago.

In that chance, though, I’m asking for help, from anyone who can provide it.

Though my husband is the First Dad of my oldest son, he isn’t involved in adoption reform as I am. He has struggled with his own problems from the adoption . . . guilt, loss, grief . . . but has, though hearing and supporting my fight, never become an active part in changing the wrongs in the adoption world.

But, since he will be joining us, and will stand up and fight right along with everyone there, he has requested that I send him information about adoptee rights, outside of the standard articles and information, he’s read in the past.

So, I’m asking . . . pleading . . . from those who read here, if you have a good post, source or article about adoptee rights, please leave the link in my comments so I can pass them on to my husband.

In the years since I have started this blog, I have read so much, taken in an abundance of information, from personal stories, studies, public information, that has helped me to understand how very important adoptee rights are.

And I would like to provide my husband with the same. He knows, and he sees, firsthand, our oldest son’s struggles with being denied such rights. But, I think, to be more “in tune” with what he will be a part of in August, he desires to know more, from outside sources, so he can be as aware as possible in his fight.

And since I am so madly in love with him, and believe he is one of the best husbands on earth, I want to provide him that.

So I would greatly appreciate any help in that area.

And I look forward to August and San Antonio.

And to not only be able to stand up for what I believe in, but to have the chance to do it with my husband, and hopefully, my oldest son, by my side.

Thankful Through Sadness

2011-04-01T20:42:00.003-06:00

I’m thankful for . . .

-The creation of MySpace that created the first step for my reunion with my oldest son.

-My husband’s courage where I had none to reach out and make the first contact with my oldest son.

-The many emails and MySpace messages my husband and I sent to let our oldest son know we were still there and loving him when he pulled away.

-The many adoptees who reached out to me and helped me in any way they could to better understand my son’s feelings and what he was going through.

-Cheerio, who was the first one I shared the knowledge of my oldest son’s abuse. And who held me up and supported me. And gave me the strength I needed to get through the worst time of my life.

-Daria, the first adoptive mom I ever trusted, who held my hand and guided me through those dark months after learning of my oldest son’s abuse when I still had no contact with him. Who offered an understanding I never, at that point in my journey, believed an adoptive mother would be able to give.

-That first message I received from my oldest son on MySpace, after our reunion and the following year of silence.

-The moment in the parking lot of my husband’s work, where my oldest son and I stood, waiting for him. When I just knew it was the time to reach out to him and to tell him that it didn’t matter to us what had happened in his past, or how “bad” he saw himself, or had been led to believe he was. We loved him and would always love him, no matter what.

-The summer day when he moved in with us.

-The first holidays we spent as a complete family.

-November 28, 2008, the day we adopted our oldest son back which also happened to fall on my husband’s 38^th birthday. Even the judge cried that day.

-My oldest son’s adoptive mom reaching out to him, after all the dark times, and showing him, for the first time, that he was important to her and that she did want him in her life, and was willing to make changes for that to happen.

-The chance my oldest son received to get to know his great-grandmother on his father’s side, his great-grandfather on his mother’s side, and his uncle, before they sadly left our lives.

-My oldest son being there to toast his baby brother at his wedding.

-The nickname “Uncle Ju-Ju” my oldest son has already been dubbed with before the birth of his first nephew.

-My oldest son’s car accident, as strange as it sounds, because it got him to the hospital where it was first discovered he had a calcium buildup on his thyroid gland.

-The medical history my oldest son had information to because of reunion.

-The detection of cancer early enough that his chances are very good.

-A family, on both my side and my husband’s side, who love him and support him, and will be there for him through every step of his battle with cancer.

-His adoptive family who has finally seen what an amazing young man he is and will, hopefully, be there to support him as well.

-His adoptive mother who is sober and fighting her addiction successfully and has given him back the mom he deserved. She may not yet accept the fact that he does have two moms in his life. But, at least, she is there for him and will be another source of love and support as he goes through his latest fight.

-The many amazing Adoptees, First Moms and Adoptive Moms who have left such warm, caring messages on my blog. Though I have never met you in person, your words and thoughts have done so much for me over the past month. I am grateful for each and every one of you!

-The bonds of my children that adoption was not able to sever, giving my oldest son siblings who will do everything they can to fight right along with him.

-And the knowledge that, against everything that has happened. Against the separation that adoption brings, his father and I will be there at my oldest son’s side, through every step of his battle with cancer. We will be there and we will support him because he’s our son and we love him and he deserves everything we can possibly give him, now and in the future.

God Won't Answer

2011-03-23T17:54:00.002-06:00

I have so many questions running through my head these days that I just want answers to. So many “whys” that I so desperately wish I could find the reasons for.

But I can’t and I never will, because the one who I want to answer me, to explain, is one that never will.

I’ve never been one who can recite bible verses from memory. The only time I’ve ever even known all the books of the bible was when I had to memorize them in order, first to last, old testament and new, for my confirmation when I was fourteen.

I readily admit to not being educated in many of God’s teachings or understanding, as so many others do, His direction in His words. I don’t talk like the “Godly” do. I don’t fill my life with scripture to constantly keep me “in line” or “in check” with what He wants from me.

But I have never lost my faith in Him. I have never questioned His existence or the powerful hold He has in my life.

I have though, recently, found myself angry with Him. Very angry with Him.

Because I can’t, and never will, understand . . .why . . .

Why does my oldest son have to continuously face so much pain when he deserves so much happiness?

Why wasn’t it enough that he had to be abandoned by his mother and father at birth, only to be abandoned by his adoptive father by the time he was five years old? Why did he have to live a life of being abused, both mentally and physically, by his adoptive mother and step-father? Why is it that only now, after more than twenty years, his adoptive family is starting to realize how special and amazing he is when they should have known it from the very start?

And why . . . why . . .why . . . after all he has already been through, all the struggles life has given him, does he now have to face and fight the threat of cancer in his life?

I just don’t understand it and I just don’t know if I even want to try anymore.

I keep thinking of all of those who I come across in the world of adoption who claim God has control over everything that happens in our life. That it is His doing when a child is separated from his or her mother. That it is His hand that creates the loss and pain we suffer with.

And I wonder how they can truly believe that. How they can really look inside themselves, inside their belief, and hold on so loyally to such a thought.

I want those who believe such things to look me in the eye and to tell me that God meant for my oldest son to suffer, over and over again. I want them to explain to me why He would ever bring such a fate on someone who is good, worthy, and working to build a future that revolves around helping others, comforting others, and supporting them in a way he never was.

I want to know if they truly believe that my son has to suffer, I have to suffer, my entire family has to suffer because of some supposed sin I committed way back when I became pregnant. If they continue to hold their faith that this is God’s way and that somehow all the pain and loss and grief is meant to be.

I want them, or God, or somebody, to tell me why it is, after all my oldest son has gone through, that he still has to go through so much more. Why him? Why this amazing young man who never deserved anything that life has dealt out to him?

I just want to know why.

And yet, I know I have to accept that I never will know why. I will never get the answers I seek.

And I will never know, even if I ask a million times, why it is through adoption, abuse, and now cancer, my oldest son continually has to face so much pain in such a short life that he always deserved to have filled with good.

Irish Roots

2011-03-17T19:09:00.003-06:00

Us Irish folks are creative souls.

It never surprises me when I learn the talented writers of adoptee blogs such as, Amanda at Declassified Adoptee or Linda at Real Daughter/Adopted Daughter have learned, since reunion, of their Irish heritage.

Whatever it is, whatever is born inside of us Irish men and women, tends to lean us heavily toward the arts, in some form or another.

On the maternal side of my family, the Gradys, I have a grandfather who had several of his short stories published, a mother who is amazing in her glass work and sculpting.

My aunt can paint a picture so realistic, you feel as if you are actually there, in real time, seeing it happen. And my uncle’s success in creating one of a kind snowboards has nothing to do with the hardware but everything to do with the unique designs he paints on the top of each and everyone one.

Some, without ever knowing, may have seen my cousin’s creative work. She’s a costume designer for movies and daytime soap operas. And as for myself, I’m a published fiction (romance suspense) writer and, obviously, the author of this very blog.

It’s true, Irish have a flair for the dramatic. Whether it be by means of drawing or painting, writing or singing, we show the proof of that over and over again.

Even in my oldest son it exists. He may have never known he was Irish until he was almost nineteen years old, but he was a part of his roots in every way through his poems and art. It was a talent he carried that his adoptive family never shared. One he never grasped with pride until reunion. Until learning of the long line of his Irish heritage that became a part of him.

I believe in nurture, I truly do. But I also believe, just as strongly, in the power of nature. In the blood and heritage that makes us what we are today.

To me, nurture comes from recognizing and supporting our children’s talents and abilities. Encouraging them to make the best of it. Believing in them and letting them know, over and over again, how amazing it is they are able to hold such a special trait that so many will never know.

But nature is the reason why, I believe, they have such talents. Nature is why children, perhaps raised in an adoptive family of athletic, competitive-driven individuals, are more prone to pick up a book and read instead of thrive after that next big score. Would rather be the one behind the instrument playing the victory song instead of experiencing the rush of being the one to add three points to the scoreboard.

It’s a part of who we are as human beings. A part of our genetic make-up. We inherit the talents we are so good at from so many ancestors who have come before us. At birth, we are more likely to be an athelete, an accountant, a writer, an artist . . . whatever . . . because of the roots we share with those from our family who have come before us.

And no “blank slate” can change that. There is no such thing as, “if born to” that has the power to take away the very real, very powerful talents we inherit from our German, Irish, Italian, Cuban, English . . . etc . . . relatives.

Yes, adoptees, just like all of us . . . even the non-adopted . . . are a part of the nurture they received during their childhood. Encouragement and support of their talents is a vital part of building their self-esteem. Acknowledging their abilities, those special traits that make them . . . them . . . can give them the confidence to build stronger on such a foundation and realize their true potential in the gifts they carry inside of them.

But even without nurture, I believe, nature has its own way of breaking through and being seen. Even if a child is discouraged from recognizing and embracing their true talents, they still exist within them. Those natural abilities they have inherited continue to exist, continue to be a part of who they are.

Because in the complex world of roots and heritage, of what we gain from the ancestors that have come before us, there is one thing that always remains the same . . .

We cannot change that which we were given through who we are.

We can, or others can, try to hide it, bury it, or ignore it. But none of that changes the fact that we are born with certain talents and abilities that we share with those who have come before us and will continue to share with our own children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren . . . and on . . . and on . . . and on . . .

It’s just simply a part of us, a part of who we are and how we were created. And not even adoption, or any other force, can take that away. Nor should they ever have the power or desire to.

My Son

2011-03-10T16:24:00.010-07:00

Four and a half years ago, I sat at my desk and did what I had done so many times before, searched the internet for my oldest son who I had lost to adoption.

In the past I had always searched for him through his first name and what I had always believed was his last name. I didn’t know about the divorce of his adoptive parents when he was five. I didn’t know his adoptive mom had changed his last name many times after that point.

But on that day, back in December of 2006, for whatever reason, I decided to search MySpace with only his first name and the city where I believed he lived.

And I found him. I knew when I was watching the slide show of pictures on his page. There was a close up of his face and his eyes . . . oh his eyes . . . I knew that had to be him because those were my eyes I was looking in to.

I can remember screaming for my husband. To this day, when he tells that story he always includes the fact that he had never heard me sound that way. Such a mixture of pain and happiness. Frantic and overjoyed with finding my son. It was a moment I will forever remember. A time in my life that was so thrilling and terrifying all wrapped up into one.

There was a lot of tears that day. Mine and my husbands, his natural father, our parents, even friends who understood just what it meant to finally find my oldest son. My two younger sons, already on MySpace, immediately sent friend requests. And daily we watched his page, learned about him and his life through his pictures and the information he shared there.

That was, in every way, the first moment that was to change my life, my family’s life, forever.

Today, my oldest son is back in my life in every way possible. Just a month before his twenty-first birthday, my husband and I adopted him back. He’s become his little sister’s hero. Been there to toast his youngest brother at his wedding. Is looking forward to becoming an uncle for the first time.

There is no area in my life now that he is not a part of. He’s there, always there, just as much as all my other children. He’s a part of me, a part of my life, in every way. I could never, and would never, go back to those long, empty years when he was gone and that emptiness filled my heart and soul.

Which is why, today, as we face a new challenge we never expected, I know I will fight for whatever it is my oldest son needs.

He’s been diagnosed with cancer. Papillary Thyroid Cancer, to be exact.

A little over a month ago, he was in a car accident, and though his injuries were very minor, he did, after pressure from his mother, agree to go to the hospital to be checked out.

While there, during the tests they ran, it was discovered that he had a calcium buildup on his thyroid gland. And I will thank God everyday now that he was back in our lives before this happened. Because I knew immediately it wasn’t something to be ignored. I knew because I have hypothyroid disease, because my cousin was diagnosed with Thyroid Cancer and has been in treatment for it since this summer.

We had the knowledge to know and understand the importance of my oldest son getting in for a biopsy as soon as possible. It wasn’t something to play around with or ignore. Not with the family history we have.

And because of that, he’s been diagnosed early enough that his chances are very, very good.

I will pray every day for him. I will ask God, as often as I have to, to not take this amazing wonderful son of mine from my life. He’s strong and he’s stubborn and I have to believe he will fight this and he will win.

Because the alternative is not something I will ever allow myself to consider.

My son is good. My son is working hard to make a difference in this world. He needs to be here. He needs to be allowed to achieve what he wants for himself, for his future.

He won’t leave my life again. I won’t allow it. I will fight with every last breath I have. I will be his strength when he needs it. His support to get him through this.

There is no other choice. There never can be.

This world needs the amazing young man he is. This world will only benefit from all he has to offer.

There is no alternative to that. No “but ifs.” No excuses.

He deserves the future he has ahead of him. And I will use everything in my power to make sure he gets exactly that!

Don't We Sacrifice Enough

2011-03-09T16:03:00.004-07:00

Letters to Ms. Feverfew has a new post, Some People Rob You With a Six-Gun, about a new mom who not only had to go through the pain of losing her child at birth to adoption, but now has to suffer the heart-wrenching reality of losing her son all over again because the adoptive parents have chosen to close the adoption after promising her an open adoption.

And their reasons for doing this . . . because she is speaking out and sharing how badly she has been hurt by the loss of her baby.

For the last few weeks, through this First Mom’s blog (which she has now set to private) my heart has ached, not only for the grief she is suffering and the loss she is struggling to deal with, but also for the cold-hearted comments she has received in response. Blaming her, attacking her feelings as wrong, accusing her of doing wrong and deserving what she got, as this particular commenter felt he had the right to do . . .

***And this, my dear (****), is why you wait to be intimate until AFTER you find and marry your (***).

You call it corrupt that a committed couple is willing to take (****) as their own? and provide(****) the loving environment he deserves? that you were unwilling to wait until you were ready to fully provide?

You say you felt like you had to place (****) - and you were right to do so. As soon as you have sex you invite a life and if one comes, your own life, your own wants become secondary.***

And another particular commenter, who I am unable to copy exactly what she said so will have to paraphrase, told her all about everything the adoptive couple had to put up with from this First Mom while she was pregnant (always love how, after the adoption finalizes, it goes from we love you and are here for you for whatever you need to, look at everything we had to put up with just to get our baby) and made sure she, over and over again, capitalized “you” to emphasis that it was all in this First Mom’s control. She made all the choices. Everything happened because of what she wanted. And, because of that, she had no right to be upset or angry now that she has lost her son.

This mom, who has already been victimized (she was against adoption until, as seems to happen way too often, she was “counseled” by LDSFS) and beat up on enough, is going through it all over again, in the absolute worst kind of way, and all for one reason . . .

Because instead of being the good “beemommie” she is expected to be, she is actually grieving the tremendous loss she has suffered. Is angry over what happened to her. And is speaking out about her true feelings in an attempt to heal from what has been one of the worst traumas she has experienced in her life.

She is doing and feeling what so many of us never had the courage to do. What so many of us First Moms wish we had been brave enough to feel, to say, to be against everything expected from us.

After losing my first son to adoption, I was too frightened of what it would mean if I actually expressed the terrible grief I was suffering. I wasn’t brave enough to admit to anyone how badly I was hurting, how much losing him was affecting me. Instead, I stuffed all those feelings deep down inside of me, did my best to ignore them, and concentrated only on being the good “beemommie” I was expected to be. The one everyone would like. The one they wanted me to be. Happy and content with losing my son. Admitting that I wasn’t good enough and loved him so much I gave him away to a couple that was better than I could ever be.

And it is First Moms like who I once was and many of the ones you see today who have a part in why this particular mom is being met with such hostility and anger. Why the adoptive parents expected her to be happy and content and couldn’t imagine the loss of her son would hurt so bad.

Because, though not intentionally, we set the standard that is expected from moms who have lost their children to adoption. We give the belief that it’s okay. That it doesn’t tear us apart, rip everything from the very depths of our souls. Change everything we are and everything we are yet to become.

We provide the proof, for those who seek it, for something that, when truly thought about, doesn’t make sense in any way. We justify what is unjustifiable – the terrible pain of losing a child. We become the balm over that deep, forbidden knowledge that losing a child is a horrific event that nobody should ever have to suffer through.

We become the poster child for what they want, what they so desperately need to believe.

And, just as the post at Letters to Ms. Feverfew pointed out, many of the happy “beemommies” who do this, who create that image of happiness at losing their child, really don’t have much of a choice. Because if they were to even dare to show even a sliver of the true grief that comes with losing your child, they could very well face the same terrible fate this First Mom now must live with, having their open adoption close because they are not reacting in the way they are expected.

That’s the sad reality of the vicious cycle that adoption creates. It inflicts the worst kind of loss on a mother then demands she be happy and content with that loss and threatens her with losing her child all over again if she dares to speak the true depth of her feelings and her grief over losing her own flesh and blood.

And yet, because she cannot express her true feelings and must be happy with adoption, she lays the foundation for more mothers to step into the same cycle, because those who don’t know and are told over and over again that adoption is the loving option, believe that they will be just as happy, just as grateful to be separated from their child. And once such a loss becomes a reality, they face the same expectations of having to be the perfect “beemommie” or being cruelly rejected if they feel otherwise.

It’s a sick fact that exists in the world of adoption. And what makes it even sicker is that whether you are a happy “beemommie” or not, you are still being treated in the worst of ways. Because, the simple fact is, even the ones who are loved by adoptive parents because they are so good with losing their child, are being abused and used as well.

Think about it this way, my husband’s grandmother, over fifty years ago, had a son who died at birth. It was a terrible tragedy in her life, one that still affects her today. In all the times she has talked about it, her grief comes through loud and clear. To this day, she still mourns that loss. Still feels the emptiness inside.

But what if, right after she had lost her son, she proclaimed she was happy with what happened, and never expressed any grief or loss from such a tragedy in her life?

Such a reaction would have thrown up red flags to everyone and anyone near her. They would understand immediately she wasn’t processing or dealing with the trauma she had suffered. They would clearly see something was wrong and seek help for her so that she could begin to deal with it and heal from such a terrible event in her life.

And one of the ways she would have been encouraged to deal with it was to allow herself to be sad and angry. To question what had happened. To share whatever she could in an attempt to heal.

But in adoption, many don’t see a happy acceptance over the loss of a child as a red flag. And they don’t, because of their own feelings, their own need to believe the separation of mother and child was a good thing and meant to be.

Adoptive parents claim to love and care for the First Moms of their children. They proclaim, over and over again, how they are part of the family. Special to them. An important part of their lives.

But are they really? Do they truly mean that much to them?

Because the fact of the matter is, if adoptive parents love and cherish the First Moms so much then why are they so eager, so willing to embrace and believe that the ones that mean so much to them are perfectly happy and okay with the loss of their child. Why do they not see the same red flags they would hopefully never miss if a spouse or child, sibling or parent, proclaimed such an unrealistic acceptance of such a terrible loss in their lives?

Because, in the truth of it, the acceptance of such a terrible loss and denial of feelings by happy “beemommies” serves to make adoptive parents feel better. The red flags that would be so obvious to them in other situations, are ignored and explained away. Not because of their love or concern about the First Mom of their child. But because such reactions make them feel better. Offer them the proof that their adoption was for the best.

And in that, they use the First Mom who has already lost and suffered through so much, to make them feel better about the very real fact that their happiness comes at the terrible loss of another. Such a happiness reassures them and helps calm their doubts. It gives them proof that, though they would suffer from the loss of a child, it just has to be different for that mother who gave them her child and she obviously doesn’t feel what they would if they ever had to suffer such a loss.

It’s a cruel, cruel box First Moms are shoved in to with no escape. Either they are everything expected from them and adoptive parents love them and allow them to be a part of their child’s life as long as they continue to be happy and content and satisfy the adoptive parent’s own fear and doubts. Or they show the true grief and struggle that comes with losing your child. They are honest with themselves and their feelings. And then they risk losing any and all contact with their child because they threaten the beliefs the adoptive parents desperately need to cling to and give them a glimpse of the very real fact that losing a child is hell and it is far from normal for anyone, for any reason, to be okay with such a deep, painful wound.

And it’s wrong, and, to me, it’s an abuse in every way against women who don’t deserve it. Having sex, getting pregnant when you aren’t planning it. Being unmarried or poor does not justify such treatment against any living, breathing human being. Nobody should be used in such a way. Nobody ever deserves to be treated like so many First Moms are.

And nobody, ABSOLUTELY NOBODY, should have to continuously, whether through giving up their own flesh and blood or burying and denying their feelings, be expected to, over and over again, sacrifice in such terrible ways for the happiness and acceptance of another.

Losing a child is one of the worst experiences any mother can go through. No excuses, no “but ifs.” It’s a terrible fate for any person to go through. And adoption is not an excuse to ignore or punish mothers for such a terrible grief.

First Mom’s already sacrifice their own flesh and blood. Should they really also be expected to sacrifice their own feelings as well so that adoptive parents can feel better about their own feelings?

(I feel I need to add the disclaimer - though I mention adoptive parents in general, I hope it is known that I am not trying to clump any and all adoptive parents together. I am very much aware and have a great respect for those adoptive parents who don't fit the mold of what I portrayed here.)

You Breed, We'll Benefit

2011-02-16T14:37:00.004-07:00

You know, sometimes, even today, with all I’ve seen and learned about adoption, there comes a point when all I can do is wonder . . .

How in the world does anyone actually think about and come up with such an idea and believe it’s a good one . . .

--“Paying women not to get abortions makes perfect sense. Doing so would reduce the number of abortions — a goal shared by the overwhelming majority of people on both sides of the abortion debate — and increase the number of babies available for adoption (there is currently a major shortage of babies available for adoption in the US, which is why Americans often adopt children from other countries)” - -

And to top it off, there are actually others who agree with this and think it’s a good idea.

Here’s a news flash for the man who came up with such an idea and for all those who believe as he does . . . WOMEN ARE NOT BREEDERS FOR YOUR SELFISH DESIRES! Nobody should ever be expected to carry to term a pregnancy just so they can “cure” the shortage of available babies up for adoption. And to pay a woman to not terminate a pregnancy only to separate her from her child at the end with nothing more than a shrug of the shoulders and a signed check is, to me, disgusting and immoral, in every way.

It has been proven, time and time again, that adoption DOES NOT lower the number of abortions performed in our country. If you really want to lower the number of abortions, take that money (which the author estimated as $363 million per year) along with the billion dollar profits from the adoption industry and invest in Family Preservation instead of Family Separation.

Offer help and support to women facing unplanned pregnancies that DOES NOT include them giving up their child, but instead instills in them the confidence and ability to keep and raise their sons or daughters. Take out the threat of living a lifetime without your child, or failing because you are unable to provide for your child, and replace it with true, beneficial, and easy to find assistance to help women and their children remain together, and I would bet you would see a drop in those numbers.

Women and their unborn children are not mere “pawns” to be shuffled around and used for another’s gain. They are living, breathing human beings. They matter. They count. To degrade them in such a horrific way speaks a lot to what adoption, in today’s world, has done to our society and the importance we place on the mother/child bond.

“DNA doesn’t matter, love does.”

“Anybody can give birth, but it takes someone truly special to be a mother.”

“Family isn’t about who you are related to by blood.”

“It’s not the parents you are born to that matter. It’s the ones who raise you that count.”

With such opinions so common in our culture, I suppose it really shouldn’t be all that surprising that such an idea as paying women to continue their pregnancies so they will become the breeders for the desperate couples wanting to be parents, is not only actually out there, but agreed upon by so many.

I mean, it is common to hear the belief that it’s unfair that so many “unfit” mothers can just “pop” out a baby while so many “deserving” women are unable to have a child of their own.

So, sure, why not solve that by gathering up all those “unfit” mothers – single, poor, uneducated, etc – pay them off so they won’t terminate their pregnancy and then use them to provide for the much more “deserving” women who desperately wants a child.

Oh, and, in case that’s not enough, lets also do this . . .

--“As part of the deal, they would have to test negative for drugs and get proper prenatal care.”—

Because, you know, we also have to make sure we provide those “deserving” women with the “perfect” babies too. Us breeders do have to abide by their standards to make them happy and our children must also abide by entering this world (and their greedy arms) as healthy and happy as possible.

How can ANYONE see this as right? How can someone agree with treating another human being in such a way?

What is wrong with us? What is wrong with our society?

The author of this disgusting idea claims . . .

--“It wouldn’t in any way restrict women’s constitutional rights, and it wouldn’t limit women’s options. In fact, it would do the opposite: it would expand women’s options by offering a way out for women who don’t want an abortion but can’t raise a child. It wouldn’t exploit poor women, because the amount of money involved would only be enough to cover the costs of pregnancy and wouldn’t affect mothers’ financial situations.”—

…The amount of money involved would only be enough to cover the costs of pregnancy and wouldn’t affect mothers’ financial situations … which is exactly how you restrict their rights and their options and exploit poor women.

How can anyone not see that or believe otherwise?

You use a poor woman who is facing an unplanned pregnancy, you pay her just enough to supply her baby, and then you walk away. And you believe this is a good thing for her?

“Expectant and new mothers have the RIGHT to financial support to keep and raise their baby. (United Nations – Declaration of Human Rights.)”

But such a thought as only paying them “enough” to cover pregnancy costs without affecting their financial situations goes completely against that right. In fact, it completely strips them of it because instead of supporting them and helping them to keep and raise their child, you are suggesting help should only be offered if they are willing to give up their child, and only long enough for them to give birth and hand their son or daughter over.

You are restricting their rights. You are limiting, if not completely taking away, their options, and you are exploiting them in the worst of ways – by using them as breeders to feed the adoption need instead of helping them as mothers to be able to provide for their children.

And this is sadly, so much the truth of adoption. We help, we support, but only if a mother is willing to lose her child forever. We pay her expenses, give her somewhere to live, send her to college, whatever it takes, as long as, in the end, she provides another baby for the growing list of couples waiting to adopt.

And that is, so much, why the ideas of this particular man are even sadder than one would think. Because what he is suggesting is already happening . . .

Under the disguise of supposedly reducing the number of abortions in our country, adoption agencies follow this very same train of thought. They bring a pregnant woman in, they pay her, support her, just long enough for her pregnancy costs to be covered. And then they take her baby and set her out into the world, empty-handed and broken hearted while they provide yet another infant to that “more deserving” women waiting on the sidelines.

It is the dark truth of what adoption has become in today’s world. It is the horror so many women face, day after day, year after year. The only difference is, this man put it in terms the adoption industry wouldn’t dare use because they have researched and learned that it is much better to present it as a loving option and win-win-win situation versus an outright call to pay all those poor, unfit mothers for their babies so that they can provide the best of benefits for all those hopeful couples waiting on the side.

***You can find the article I quoted here . . . We Should Pay Women Not To Get Abortions.***

You Have No Right

2011-02-11T18:11:00.016-07:00

I’ve sat on this one for a few days.

I’ve learned from past experiences, when something strikes a nerve and I go at it full force without giving myself time to sit and digest what is bothering me, I can end up throwing punches where none are needed and spend a lot of time apologizing for what I’ve said or done.

But I’m not so sure, this time around, sitting on it and waiting is doing much good because the longer I think about it, the angrier I get.

So I’m just going to try my hardest to jump in and make some sense of what is bothering me without, hopefully, rambling on, or taking too many unnecessary punches.

There is a recent post on the blog, Paper Pregnancy 2.0, titled, The Other Crazies Out There…(Part 2). And though the post itself definitely generates some very strong opinions, it is part of a comment made by the author of this blog in response to an adoptee that has had my blood boiling for the last few days…

- - ******* writes ad nauseum of the abuse she suffered at the hands of her adoptive parents, which is, needless to say, a tragedy. But she also functions as evidence of the adage that victims of abuse grow up to be abusive themselves, and clearly it’s not passed genetically. - -

I know that some might not understand why this bothered me. Why reading her words kicked me swift and hard. But they did to the point where I was cursing at my computer screen as if she could really hear me on the other end and have been gnawing on it and flipping it around every which way since I first read it.

So I am going to do my best to try and explain in a clear, calm voice that gives no hint to the roar of anger that first swelled when I read what she had to say.

But before doing that, I want to make one thing clear, I don’t accept “passcards.” In other words, when someone says something like, “which is, needless to say, a tragedy,” as they are saying something so vicious and cruel, does not, in any way, to me, give them an okay or a “pass” for what they might have said before or after such a statement.

To me, in my mind, if someone truly thought it was, “a tragedy” then they would have never even dared to say such a thing in the first place. It never would have even entered their mind to use such a terrible thing like abuse as a weapon against another human being.

Just my opinion, but one I firmly stick too. You, plain and simple, don’t get to do such things and get an out because you at least thought enough to back it up with your false sympathies.

And, for the record, I did respond to Ms. Paper Pregnant on her blog but, as of now, she has still refused to allow my comment to be displayed. So I will instead use my own blog to not only respond but go into much more depth about the reasons why I find such a comment from her not only completely wrong but also as an act of revictimizing those who have already suffered through so much.

Ms. Paper Pregnant says . . . ******* writes ad nauseum of the abuse she suffered.

“Ad nauseum” really?!?! Have you ever been abused? Have you ever been violated, beaten, left alone and unprotected, discarded, by the very people who are supposed to protect and defend you? Have you walked in those shoes, ever understood what that is really like?

I never have. I don’t know such a terror. I can’t imagine what that is like. What such a complete violation can do to you, change you, affect you. But I do know that I am “on my knees” thankful for those who do go through the painful process of talking about their abuse, no matter how terribly painful it is to relive.

When I first learned of the abuse my son suffered it was adoptees who had also been abused that helped me in so many ways. They relived painful experiences, reopened wounds, relived some of the worst moments of their lives to help me and to help my son. They hurt, they bled and they suffered. Never for themselves, but for me and for my son. So that I could learn how to help him. Could find a way to reach him and let him see that the abuse wasn’t his fault. That he didn’t deserve it. And that he wasn’t alone.

These amazing men and women relived their own hell for another’s well-being.

Do you not understand how hard it is, how much work it takes, to even be able to admit abuse, much less talk about it? Do you not know how very painful it can be to open old wounds, to relive such dark, terrifying memories?

EVERY single victim of abuse who speaks out about what happens to them should be hailed as a hero, because that is what they are. They are facing their demons. They are standing up to the horrors they faced, the fears inside of them, and they are speaking out, sharing their experiences, and helping those who have been there and need to know that they are not alone.

One of my most poignant memories is when my oldest son, after living with us for a few months, was on the telephone with another adoptee who had been abused. In his efforts to help her, he was sharing some of his most painful memories and the grief and pain was in his voice as he told her what had happened to him, let her know she wasn’t alone, and encouraged her to realize it wasn’t her and that she deserved so much better than what she was getting and how she was being treated.

It hurt him, there was no question about that, to give of those most painful memories he had. But he did it, he shared and opened himself up, because he believed it was what he needed to do to help another. To give them the understanding and care they weren’t receiving in their life.

To claim that anyone who has the courage to do this is “ad nauseum” is one of the worst, most demeaning insults one could ever launch against another human being.

Unless you have been there, lived through such horror, you have no right to make such a statement. Absolutely no right!!

Do you really think it’s just so easy, so “no big deal?” Something you can so easily mock because it means nothing?

I can’t imagine that pain, that horror to not only live but then relive, over and over again, such a terrible violation of everything you are.

We should be supportive, stand behind each and every victim of abuse that has found their voice and is able to speak out about it. There is never too much said or shared when it comes to such a horrible act against children who should never, EVER, be a part of such a vulgar, disgusting act of abuse, in any way, shape, or form.

In my opinion, you are wrong, so VERY wrong, to ever have anything negative to say about anyone speaking out and creating an awareness of abuse. I don’t care the situation. I don’t care how “bad” you think someone treated you. To come back with such a degrading, belittling response to someone who has been a part of horrors you can never imagine, just shows me that you are so desperate to lower another human being to another level, that you will even sink as low as to degrade them, mock them, for speaking out about what is, often times, the worst experiences of their life.

And if that isn’t enough, you go on to claim that . . . she also functions as evidence of the adage that victims of abuse grow up to be abusive themselves, and clearly it’s not passed genetically.

And this is where you revictimize someone who has already been victimized in the worst of ways. You lower her, and all victims of abuse, to nothing more than “doomed to abuse themselves.” And all because you didn’t like, or took offense to what this particular adoptee had to say to you.

You took the easy route, the sure way to lower her to a level beneath you, to raise yourself above her and prove you were better, more powerful, more controlling, than she could ever be. Because she was flawed. Messed up beyond her control. And so much less than those who perceive themselves to have the power.

Which is exactly what abusers do to their victims over and over AND OVER again. They condemn then. Lower then to a level beneath them. Predict they are bad, worthless, deserving of punishment, all in the attempts to make themselves better. Insure they are right and make sure they hold control over their victim who they shame, humiliate, weaken and try to force into remaining silent with their attempts at trying to convince them that their actions, whatever they might be, are the reasons why they deserve such punishment and are “doomed” to be SO bad.

I can remember, so clearly, when my son would talk about the abuse he suffered. It always came with the added on . . . but I did this.

In other words, when he told me about his mom locking him out of his house and refusing to give him the inhaler he so desperately needed because he is asthmatic, he included it was because he had poured a bottle of her tequila down the drain.

When he talked about her throwing him repeatedly into a wall, it was because he had gotten into her stash of Hershey bars that he knew she didn’t want him to touch.

And when she would leave him for a week or more without food or money or any means to provide for himself, it was because he had said or did the wrong thing to make her mad.

He was lowered to a level where it became all about his wrongs that “earned” the abuse he received. He was degraded, belittled and stomped on all in an effort to give his adoptive mother the right to do and say as she pleased against him.

And that, Ms. Paper Pregnant, is exactly what you did when you made such a statement, insinuating that the adoptee you were speaking to was just so bad because of whatever you perceived as her wrongs. You lowered her back to that defenseless child who somehow, in some sick way of thinking, deserves whatever abuse you pile upon her. Because the problem is her. Because what she receives is her fault, and she deserves it.

And you are so wrong! And you are so low, so unethical, so uncaring, to ever do such a thing to anyone who has ever been abused.

How dare you! How could you!

I don’t care how desperate you are, how bad you feel, how much you are sure you have been wronged by something someone else has said to you. You NEVER, EVER go so low as to revictimize someone who has already been abused and terrorized enough.

You never bring up that pain, use it against somebody for your own gain, your own need to feel right and superior over another.

What you have shown, what you have given, is a complete disregard and total lack of compassion for those who have been victims to such terrible actions. Who have been cheated out of what we all should have in our childhood years, the knowledge that we will be loved and protected and saved from harm.

You have wielded your ugly wand and come down in the most cruel of ways against everyone who has ever had to suffer through abuse. You have ignored and negated the very real pain they have gone through. You have taken what is one of the worst horrors a child could ever face and lowered it into nothing, all for your own personal gain. Your own ability to say you are better than another.

Ms. Paper Pregnant. You are wrong and you are, in my opinion, cold and uncaring. Whatever you might try to say that would hint at you being enlightened to anything adoption related, is lost on me and will never be heard. Because you showed your true self, your true ability for human kindness and concern the minute you used another’s abuse as your own weapon to lower them to whatever level you deemed them worthy of.

But She Wanted To

2011-02-09T10:00:00.008-07:00

“I don’t see how there can be coercion if a woman seeks out an adoption agency because she has already made the decision that adoption is her best choice.”

This came from a discussion I stumbled upon about ethical adoptions. It was a discussion solely between adoptive mothers and their opinions. As you can imagine, the answers were varied, but the topic was handled civilly, in my opinion, without any intentional disrespect, I believe, to mothers who have lost their child to adoption. (Though I believe using “lost her child” probably wouldn’t have gone over so well with some.)

But there was still the misconceptions. The pre-formed beliefs so common in the world of adoption, especially when it comes to the topic of whether or not an expectant mom TRULY chooses to surrender her child to adoption.

Because there are so many situations where it all seemed so easy. Expectant mom got pregnant, knew she could not care for her child, went to adoption agency, picked the “perfect” parents, made an “adoption plan” and left hospital without her son or daughter.

So cut and dried. No coercion, manipulation or misconceptions in that scenario. She knew from day one her decision , made it, and went on with her life.

But could it ever really be that easily explained and understood when we are talking about a mother losing her child, handing her son or daughter over to someone else to raise and walking away? Does it really make sense that such terrible losses happen without any outside influence?

I just don’t see it as possible. If you take out that very rare, small percent of women who TRULY do not want anything to do with their child and have absolutely no desire to parent in any way, then you are left with a huge majority of women who feel and act and have the very same natural maternal instincts all of us carry within us.

So then why, if we are created to love and care for our children, to guide them through their younger years into productive, capable adults, are there so many mothers who go against this natural act and supposively “choose” to give their child away to another to raise?

One answer is . . . because, even when it doesn’t seem so, there is always outside influences pushing a confused, vulnerable pregnant mother toward adoption, even when they might not see or recognize it in their everyday lives.

Two very poignant quotes that have always stuck with me are the ones from the Family Research Council and their publication, The Missing Piece: Adoption Counseling in Pregnancy Resource Centers, in which they state . . .

“As important as influencing adults is on this matter, influencing children must be the highest priority. First impressions of adoption tend to last a lifetime. To be effective, any public-relations effort must encompass programming and media that are child-friendly. A constant national message directed toward the next generation could help permanently change the value this culture places on adoption.”

And from the National Council for Adoption and their manual, Birthmother, Good Mother,” which encourages . . .

“Influencing children must be the highest priority. First impressions of adoption tend to last a lifetime. To be effective, any public-relations effort must encompass programming and media that are child-friendly. A consistent, national message directed toward the next generation could help permanently change the value this culture places on adoption.”

Both of these publications show, without doubt, that the adoption industry intentionally targets children to imbed their message of adoption being the “loving option.” They know that “influencing” the young can help manipulate them to further their agenda in the future that follows. They have learned, through their research, that one of the best ways to get a woman to surrender her baby is to reach out to them before they are even of the age to become pregnant.

A pregnant woman doesn’t need to come anywhere near an adoption agency to have their coercive tactics take effect. She has already been surrounded by them since she was a small child. Flooded with the message that the answer to a crisis pregnancy is adoption and anything less than that automatically makes her an unloving, selfish human being.

And add to that the lingering shame and judgment our society continues to place on women in such situations, and you have everything you need to see why it is so many expectant moms claim they knew from the start they couldn’t keep their baby and that adoption is their only “choice.”

The media, and any other avenue the Adoption Industry can find to use, is instilling in our daughters a sense of failure long before they might ever face an unexpected pregnancy. They have, and continue to, use young women for their own gain, making sure the message they send to them is that the only way they can be deemed “good” if they become pregnant outside of “ideal” circumstances, is to save themselves through adoption.

They know exactly what they are doing every time our children are introduced to another “happy” adoption story. They have no doubt of the impact it makes for our youth to see their “mistakes” rectified through sacrificing their own flesh and blood.

And because we have become such a materialistic society, so wrapped up in who has bigger and better, the industry has no problem guiding the majority of us to believe the way they want us to. To see failure in any pregnant woman who is poor and without proper support to raise her child. To see doom for a child born into anything outside of what is now perceived as the “perfect” life. And to cringe and pull back anytime we might be asked to help those who have less than us.

We pound our chests and demand women’s rights and yet have no problem with making many women feel like they will be failures as mothers, leaving them weak and helpless and encouraging those feelings for the profits and gains of another. Us women, the very ones who should be fighting the hardest for change, become a part of the message to our young girls and young women that if they don’t have what society has deemed as enough then they don’t have a right to their own child.

Confidence is power. It is the driving force behind pushing ourselves for more, reaching our goals and being the kind of person we want to be. When you strip that confidence away and send the very clear message that someone can’t do something, without even giving them a chance to try, you take away their power, their ability to believe in themselves and what they are capable of doing.

And when that stripping of confidence comes in a loud and clear message tossed over and over again on the shoulders of our young, it’s very clear why so many women facing a crisis pregnancy believe from the very start that they aren’t good enough, can’t offer enough to their own child and so must lose them to give them what they deserve.

We aren’t encouraging women to find their strength, their confidence, to become the best mother’s possible even in the desperate times. We aren’t reaching out and saying, “I believe in you and all that you can do to become the best mom your child deserves.”

Instead we are sending the very clear message that if a woman is single or still in school. If she doesn’t have a good job or make enough money, she isn’t worthy of her own child and will only harm her son or daughter by raising them.

We, society as a whole, shame and degrade them, pull them down to a level where they believe they can’t do it when we should be holding them up, supporting them and giving them the confidence that they can.

And every time we do this, every time it happens, we send a very clear message to our children that if they ever face the same situation, they will be expected to fail as well and the only way they can prove themselves and their worthiness is to give up their child.

And the Adoption Industry eats this up likes its candy and adds to the message with their own images of smiling First Mom’s “saved” by adoption. With tales of young women who would have been doomed, and in return, doomed their children, to a life of nothing but are now happy and thriving because, they couldn’t possibly do both, but by losing their child, they were able to build a good life for themselves.

Young girls don’t sit around and dream about losing their children but they are very much surrounded by the message that if they aren’t “good” enough when they do become pregnant then the only way to redeem themselves and give the best to their child is to give him or her away.

We are repeating a cycle, generation after generation, of stripping women of their confidence when it comes to their worth and ability to be a mother. We’re teaching our daughters that it’s okay to see yourself as “less than.” It’s okay for others to view you as “not as good.” We’re teaching them to hang on to their doubts and fears, to believe they can’t do it before even trying.

And worst of all, we’re teaching them that what’s important in mothering is not love and care and giving of yourself in any way you can to raise your child but instead it’s the material things and the marriage certificate and college degree that makes a good mother and if they don’t have those things they aren’t worthy of the title.

That’s one reason why so many women walk into adoption agencies already “knowing” they want to lose their child to adoption. It isn’t a decision that is just theirs to make. It’s one that has been given to them, year after year, in so many different ways. One that makes it very clear to them that keeping and loving your child when society views you as not having enough is a selfish act and the only way they can prove themselves and their love for their child is to lose them forever.

Forever is Forever

2011-02-01T12:52:00.004-07:00

My house is much quieter these days.

For many years, it was always a loud busy place. Full of comings and goings, of constant activity. And in the last two and a half years, since my oldest son who I lost to adoption moved back in with us, it was even more so. And better . . . so much, WONDERFULLY better. Not because I didn’t treasure and love every moment with my three younger children, because I did. I am very biased there believing I have the most amazing, wonderful children any mother would want blessing their lives.

But it was better because, for the first time, our family was truly complete. Complete in the way that there wasn’t always that constant knowledge in my heart that one of my children was always missing. Wasn’t a part of everything our family shared.

Time moves on though, and our children grow. And my three boys have grown and moved on with their lives, leaving just me, my husband and my youngest, and only daughter, in the house.

It is, I’ve realized, yet another phase of motherhood. From their young years, when they are dependent on you for everything, when scraped knees and nightmares brings them running to mom’s arms for comfort. To their older years when they begin to step away. When they groan if you dare to kiss them in front of their friends or roll their eyes at you if you even suggest you might have any kind of idea what they are going through as they start to learn who they are independently of their parents.

To now this phase, for me, when they are venturing out on their own. Their own homes, college and work. Falling in love, and for my youngest son, marriage and a child on the way. They don’t need mom so much anymore. I’m not a central part of their life. They are moving on, just as they are supposed to and I am a different role in their life than I have been in the past.

And it makes me stop to think about how when I look back and look forward, and look on what today brings, there is so much of being a mother that is never shared with a new mom, pregnant and confused. There is so much we don’t tell them about how much adoption continues on. Not only through childhood and teenage years, but into adult years as well.

The adoption industry takes so much of what an expectant mom feels in the moment and isolates it. They encourage, suggest, and even push for her to only see the “now” instead of looking at the overall picture. Of the many, many years that are yet to come, of the different phases of motherhood and all that comes with it. They hold them in whatever crisis they are currently facing, using that to convince them adoption is the best option, cheating them out of the very real fact that there is so much, so many years, so many changes, that they have ahead of them.

I can look back now and see, when I was pregnant with my oldest son who I lost to adoption, just how much I was isolated in the here and now. It’s a common factor, I know, for most mothers facing an unexpected pregnancy, struggling to see past the next day, much less the next year. And my counselor was very good at keeping me in that moment, never encouraging me to look past it at the real truth of what it meant to lose my child.

But the reality is, being a mother is forever. It shifts and changes. What you face one day will be so different a year later, a decade later. It’s the natural process of life.

And when you lose a phase of mothering, it’s gone forever. You can never get it back. Not even the best of open adoptions, most successful reunions, can ever get that back for you. It’s gone, no matter what, and it will ALWAYS affect every other phase you might go through as the mother of your child.

EVERY pregnant woman considering adoption, should be made to understand how much more there is, at the moment they become pregnant, to their child’s life than what they can possibly see at the moment. They need to know that missing out on their child in their early years will affect them, and their child, in the years to come.

And that there is absolutely nothing . . . . NOTHING . . . that can take away that loss. Because it’s a part of nature, a part of life, that is gone forever.

My oldest son is back in my life in every way imaginable now and yet that will never change the fact that there is a void there between us. A missing part that I have with my other children that I can never get with him.

And it’s because, through adoption, I lost those phases of motherhood that are such a fundamental part of a mother and child relationship. No, I do not love my oldest son any less. My feelings for him are just as strong and powerful as they are for my three younger children. Read anywhere in my blog and you will find that.

But how much I love my son or how much he loves me, can never change what we lost, that part of his life that is void of the memories parents and children carry of each other. Those early phases of being a mother. Of being there for him in every way as he first started to grow and learn to letting go a little at a time as he started to test the waters to learn who he was independently of who his parents are.

And that loss will always be felt. It will always exist between us.

There are no words I can think of to describe that “black hole” kind of feeling. And unless you have lost a child to adoption, or are a child lost to adoption, I don’t believe there is any way you could truly understand what it’s like. Understand the true magnitude of such a void in your life in something that is so unnatural to feel.

And it’s not healed with visits or pictures or letters about how your child is doing. Because the natural act of mothering isn’t there. Those first steps we take in caring for our children, so much a part of us, are absent even if we get to see our children and know about their lives.

It’s a “forever” loss. One that we will be reminded of for the rest of our lives.

I think of my youngest son, about to be a father. I think of what we will share just in the simple act of watching his own child grow and being able to look back on when he was so small. Of knowing the answers to, how long did it take me to sleep through the night? Was I this hard/easy to potty train? How did you finally break me off the bottle?

Those oh so simple questions, shared between parents and their children everywhere. Questions I will never, EVER have the answers to when my oldest son first steps into fatherhood. Moments we can never share because they are lost forever in the ugly reality that is adoption.

Twenty three years ago, I never imagined just how much and how deeply adoption would continue to affect my life, that the loss will always continue on until the day I die. Even with my son back in my life, even with adopting him back, even with those first years of a very open adoption, that loss will remain forever.

Pregnant women who feel they have no choice other than losing their child to adoption need to know the truth of what they, and their unborn child is facing. Not just in the few years to come, but for their entire lifetime. They need to know that forever really is forever when it comes to such losses they and their child will go through. And that nothing, absolutely nothing, will ever take that away.

Because, as we all know . . .

Adoption is forever!

Pick Your Family

2011-01-23T17:14:00.003-07:00

Linda over at Real Daughter/Adopted Daughter has a post up, All My Birth Certificates, that I think really shows how uninformed, clueless, or just, sometimes, uncaring, some people can be when it comes to the truth of adoption and what adoptees face through their lives because of it.

On one of her previous posts, she received a comment from someone named Ellis, who without ANY clue to as to the truth behind such an action, threw out at her, in what I believe was nothing more than yet another cheap, weak attempt to discredit her, the suggestion . . .

---"If you feel so strongly about being adopted, then why you have your bparents adopt you back? Cut off all ties to your aparents and start "fresh" and make up for all that "lost time.”---

To me, as a mom who has adopted back her son she lost to adoption, such a comment is idiotic as well as disgusting, uncalled for, and degrading.

Think about it, when you say such a thing to an adoptee. Are you really suggesting that they could, or should, just drop kick one family to the curb for another? Do you still buy into the “empty slate” theory and apply it to them even when they are grown, capable adults? Suggesting they can just go to another famiy, AGAIN, and start all over, AGAIN, without any problems or struggles.

And do you really think, for those adoptees who have been adopted-back that it was just a knee-jerk decision, based on them shrugging their shoulders and saying this adoption thing sucks, I think I’ll just saunter on over to my other family and have them adopt me back?

This comment by Ellis, I believe, was more of an attempt to slap Linda in the face and try to shut her up more than anything else. But it still rubs me the wrong way when I see people throw such a thing out there without a clue as to what it really means. Especially when they do it to try and silence an adoptee from speaking their truth.

Deciding to be adopted back isn’t something I think would be easy for any adoptee to decide. It’s a hard, very personal decision. I try not to speak for my oldest son as much as possible, but I do know when he first considered being adopted back by me and his father, it was something he thought about and struggled with for some time before he ever even broached the subject with us. And when he did, there was still lots of long talks and discussions before anything was decided.

He didn’t just get an idea in his head, jump on it, and we all merrily walked off arm in arm to the courthouse to have it done.

And he sure as hell didn’t make such a huge decision because he simply doesn’t like adoption and wanted to “dump” his adoptive family for his other family so he could just start all over again.

But I know there have been people who have believed exactly that. I know there have been those who see it exactly as Ellis does, that he just simply wanted to switch from one family to the other and that was all of it. That it was just because he doesn’t love adoption and all that it is that he up and decided to make up for that “lost time” by tossing aside his adoptive family and caring only about his first family.

Except that wasn’t any of it. My son made his decision for him, for what he needed in his own personal way. It wasn’t about which family he did or didn’t want, especially since he still has both families in his life and in fact has healed some painful wounds with his adoptive family and is actually closer to them now, since being adopted back, then he was before.

So suggesting to any adoptee that if they are just so upset with this or that then they should just go get adopted back, is such an insult to my son and those who have been adopted back as well as to those adoptees who have no desire to be adopted back.

You’re attacking a very personal decision. You’re lowering an adoptees own intelligence and ability to make decisions for their life without anyone else’s control. Decisions they did not have a part of when they were first adopted but are now theirs to make, based on their feelings and no one else’s.

And you know, I always wonder when adults talk to other adults like their children, like Ellis did, simply because their adoptees, how much would their tune change if they were to come face to face with them. It almost gives me a giggle to imagine this “Ellis” coming face to face with my oldest son and suggesting he “dumped’ his adoptive family to be adopted back by his first family, all because he just didn’t like this darn, pesky adoption thing.

I would bet, that she or he (since there is no determination of what Ellis is) would change their tone if they had to actually stand in front of my twenty-three year old, six foot, two hundred and fifty pound son who I have to stand on my toes just to reach his shoulders and could lift me up and carry me anywhere he wanted to go.

And if not, and if she/he still insisted on telling my son what to do because he is somehow eternally a child because he was adopted, then she/he would only have themselves to blame for whatever happened.

Because my son, and only my son, knows what was in his heart and head when he made the difficult decision to be adopted back and anyone who would suggest otherwise to him would not get, I am sure, any kind of “nice” response in return.

They’d get exactly what they deserved, the same disrespect they gave. Just as Ellis gave her/his disrespect to Linda, my son, and every other adoptee out there.

(P.S. I just went back and read a comment from Ellis and she/he claims to be an adoptee who believes Linda, and “her kind” should really just be grateful for being adopted or move on and be adopted back. (Of course she also mentions how because us First Moms were so young, our children would have somehow ended up waiting for us in Foster Care to get our acts together.) So much more I could say there and so much change I could do in this post after learning that, but, after some thought, I have decided to leave this post as is and let it speak for itself.)

Cry Me A River

2011-01-21T19:41:00.005-07:00

All right, so really, I do get so tired of the same old statement (whining) . . . “How come we have to go through so much (home studies, background checks, etc) to adopt a baby when there are so many unfit, terrible, uncapable (enter whatever adjective you want) parents out there who don’t have to go through any of that to have a baby.”

To me, while agreeing with all the explanations of why it is adoptive parents are put through such steps before being allowed to adopt, there’s even more to it from my own experience and my oldest son’s experience.

Just as adoption does not promise a better life, home studies and background checks do not promise better parents than those, oh so unimportant ones that give birth to their children. And adoptive parents who gripe and moan about what they must go through to adopt another woman’s child really have no clue as to what First Mom’s, and regular, every day, not “home study-approved” parents go through every day of their lives.

The, “Oh why, oh why, must I be put through this when I am obviously so much better of a parent than that mom or dad who treats their child terribly and didn’t have to go through anything” cry, to me, brings about visions of a spoiled little child, stomping his foot while declaring, “It’s not fair. I am so much more entitled to a child than those unimportant people who actually give birth to them and yet I have to go through this when they don’t.”

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. And cry me a river while you are at it.

Cause the plain and simple truth is, if you think those things are just so bad and not worth going through then you have NO clue what you are in for when it comes to raising a child. Because those kinds of things are just hiccups compared to the true determination and loyalty you give to your child. Those pesky little home studies and background checks are nothing compared to the constant ups and downs, ins and outs you will face as your child grows from the cute, innocent, infant and toddler stage into their preteen and teenage years.

I would walk through the fires of hell for my children if I had to. I would lie myself down on an alter of sacrifice and give myself and my very being for my sons or daughter. None of it would be too much to ask or too annoying to do. If it was for my child, I’d do it without question. I would be and would give everything for them, without question or complaint. I would have done that, even before their birth, before I held them in my arms, kissed their sweet, tender cheeks, and made them everything and anything that was my life.

Oh wait, isn’t that what I supposively did anyhow, before the birth of my first son. Didn’t I sacrifice everything I have, everything I am, for him? Didn’t I, in my belief that I wasn’t worthy enough or good enough, watch another woman, a stranger to my son, hold him in her arms while I walked out of the hospital with empty arms and a breaking heart?

But I guess that wasn’t as bad as all the “unfairness” adoptive parents have to go through to be approved to adopt another woman’s child.

All that “unfairness” that still does not promise them to be the better parent.

My son’s adoptive parents had to go through all of that too. The home study, the background checks, looking into their finances, talking to their friends and family. Yep, they went through all that pesky, irritating stuff to prove they would be good parents to my son . . .

And you know what he got . . .

He got a childhood of abuse and neglect. He got an adoptive father who had nothing to do with him by the age of five. A mother who put her addiction to alcohol (and drugs for a time) above her care for her son.

He got a discouragement, instead of an encouragement, of who he was. Of his self worth and ability. His importance to the family he was a part of.

He got abandoned with no food or money to support himself. He got dumped off at his grandparent’s house when his mother decided he was too much to handle. He got thrown into walls, beat with tree branches, locked out of his house, and the blame for all the bad that happened in his mother’s life.

That is what he got for all the annoying “checks” his adoptive parents had to go through before they were allowed to be the ones to carry him out of the hospital while I walked out with empty arms and a broken heart.

And yet, let’s see, my three younger children, who I never had to go through any kind of home study or background check with because I did the little, minor, unimportant thing of giving birth to them, have never faced any of those things.

Home to them has always been, and will always be, their comfort zone. The place they know they will never be denied and can go to whenever they need, for whatever reason. Never, not a day in my life, would I ever lock them out or deny them the right to be here, their place, their safety. Because it’s their’s. It’s where they should always feel most safe.

And they don’t know abuse, except for what they have learned of what their oldest brother has gone through. They have never been “dumped” off for some other family member to take care of them. Have always had the knowledge that both their father and mother are there for them, no matter what the situation.

And no, their father and I have never had to go through a home study to prove our worthiness but we have sure as hell done our absolute best to let them know we love them unconditionally and we would go through anything for them, not for us or our desire to be parents, but because of them, of who they are, of how very important they are to us, to our family.

But, twenty some years ago, we never would have passed any kind of home study. We were too young . . . too poor . . . too whatever you could possibly think of to make us “unfit” parents. But, yet, I can guarantee you, we would have gone through a federal inquiry, lie detector, blood transfusion, organ donation, or any other thing asked of us.

Not for ourselves or any desire to be a parent. But for our children. For our love for them that always has been and always will be worth whatever it takes . . .

With or without a home study.

Tit For Tat

2011-01-18T18:12:00.003-07:00

It’s always hard, isn’t it, to accept the loss of another, especially if it comes at your gain.

It’s hard to think about what pain another might be suffering, of the tears they shed while you’re smiling with joy.

But honestly, if you are going to walk into the world of adoption, that’s a reality that exists, whether you want it to or not. And playing the “tit for tat” game, trying to justify one loss over another, does not change this fact. And it never will.

In my last post, We Bleed Too, I DID ask Adoptive Mom’s what is going through their heads and hearts that they believe another mother would be “okay” in losing their child. I asked, because I was curious. Because I believe the Adoption Industry is untruthful to adoptive parents just as they are to adoptees and First Moms.

I asked because I truly wanted to know. And I was answered and I am thankful for those who answered me.

But I DID NOT, in any way shape or form, ask for justification of why one loss was more or less than another. Nor, did I, anywhere in my post, suggest that the loss of a child through adoption was any worse or better than the loss women feel who suffer through infertility.

I did not make it into a battle. I did not set out to say, “Hey, look at us First Moms, we suffer a loss so much more than anyone suffering with infertility could ever know.”

What I did is, I believe, point out a very true fact . . . First Moms suffer from the loss of their children and yes, in a very real and true way, when one prays for a child to adopt, they are also, in return, praying for another woman to suffer such a loss.

Is it an ugly truth? Yes! Is it an intentional pain one intends to cause on another? In most cases, no, I don’t believe it is. But it is still the truth of adoption. That “other” truth that so many don’t want to think about or worry about.

And yet my post brought about the same old, “Sure that might hurt a First Mom BUT infertility hurts us in this way and that, and every other way that you couldn’t possibly imagine.”

Which, in my mind, when pulled apart to see the meaning behind it, is one woman saying to another, “Oh yeah, I can acknowledge that it might hurt to lose your child but my loss with infertility is SO much worse than yours which means I am SO much more worthy of you suffering your loss so that I can be happy after all of the terrible suffering I have had to go through.”

It’s said, most simply, in these words . . .

--I do feel badly for first moms who have experienced the pain of losing a precious child. An adoptive mother often experiences that pain repeatedly (failed fertility attempts, miscarriages, placement of child who returns to bio family...) --

See that “tit for tat?” See the, “Yeah, you hurt, but our hurt is worse because we not only go through “this” but we go through “this much more” as well?”

Such a statement I could see if my post had, in any way, suggested that the loss a woman feels with infertility is less than the loss a woman feels through adoption. But I didn’t do that. I merely stated what I believe, without question, is true . . . losing a child to adoption is a loss for First Moms. Plain and simple! And I stated what I believe is fact, praying for a child to adopt is also praying for another woman to suffer such a loss.

I don’t believe, nor did I state, that this is a “direct” wish another woman has. I didn’t claim that women are out there praying to God that someone will suffer terribly so they can be happy.

But that doesn’t, and won’t change the fact that for an Adoptive Mom to gain through adoption, a First Mom must suffer. And there is that connection that while one woman is suffering a loss through infertility she is also, in the very act of adoption, leaving another woman to suffer her own terrible loss.

But some can’t accept that truth. Some simply don’t want to see it at all. While some might see it but brush it off as “not as bad” as what they have gone through.

But that doesn’t change a thing.

Just as comments such as this . . .

- - Just because someone feels pain as a result of something is not proof that it was wrong. I have often felt pain over experiences and have grown from them or later have gained understanding of why I went through it. - -

. . . do nothing to change the reality of loss either.

Because those kinds of comments, really, when I read them, make no sense to the kind of situation we are talking about. Adoption is, to start with, about a mother and child being separated from one another. It’s about the loss they suffer from such an act.

To say, “well we often go through hard choices that we later learn to grow from,” is, to me, a complete disregard to the emotional impact that adoption has on First Moms and their children. It’s a way to try and lessen what has really happened. To take it down to a “live and learn” level that we all can look back on and shrug our shoulders at.

And for the record, I’m twenty-three years into this adoption nightmare. I’ve lived a life of good and bad, of tough choices, of learning from life’s lessons. And yet, I have not “gained an understanding” for what happened to my son and I all those years ago. And I don't look back and say, “Oh yeah, that was why this happened and it all makes sense now and that terrible loss I have lived with all these years, really was worth it even if it was a “painful” decision.”

You can’t wipe away such a loss with such “logic.” You can’t take away their pain, the emotional battles they suffer with their entire life , with such a broad statement that suggests losing our children is as simple as a tough decision we make to learn and grow from.

Maybe it does make some feel better. Maybe it gives them a better feeling when they look at their own experiences. But that doesn’t, and never will, change the very real and true fact, that adoption begins with a terrible loss. That First Moms hurt and suffer without their children. And there is ABSOLUTELY nothing that justifies the pain of infertility as so much worse that it makes one woman worthy of gaining happiness at another woman’s loss.

It just isn’t so.

Grand Mystery

2011-01-14T19:40:00.003-07:00

Life works in mysterious ways.

We hear that quote all the time.

And really, it’s probably a much deeper quote than this post really calls for. But I’m still sticking with it, just cause I like it and it works as my opening line.

After taking my holiday “blog” break, something I refuse to give up because, since my oldest son has been back in my life, I really need to enjoy that time without the ups and downs of adoption, I was all prepared to jump back in with a piece I’ve worked on for the last couple days in response to a comment left on my last entry, We Bleed Too.

But my writing was interrupted by my youngest son . . . who recently had his amazing wedding reception back in September . . . who, with his new wife, dared the slippery, snowy streets to come by and share his news . . .

My daughter-in-law is pregnant. I’m going to be a Grandma!

(And for those of you who know me on Facebook, please keep this news quiet there for the time being since my son wants to be the one to let the family know and since there is an onslaught of our family on Facebook, I have to keep mum about the news until he’s shared it or it will spread like a virus. Especially since I have a wonderful, over-protective uncle who goes into a frenzy and shoots off emails to every other family member anytime something remotely interesting is posted on Facebook.)

But . . . back to the whole life and mysterious ways . . .

The post I was working on, and completely discarded after learning the news, made me think of how very much my son and his new wife could be seen, by others in different circles, as new “prey” for the adoption industry.

To them, they would have all the strikes against them.

They’re still young and just barely married. They live in a modest home they are renting. My son works part time and is in college. His wife has just enrolled for her first semester of college that is set to start next week.

They don’t have a lot of money. They don’t have successful careers or the means to provide the very best of material goods for their expectant child. At this point in their lives, they can’t offer the fancy vacations or designer clothes for their little one. No fancy gates around their house. No high-class SUV to get them around.

They are, in the eyes of the adoption world, unfit and undeserving of the new life they have created.

But in my eyes, I see it all so much different.

I see a wonderful couple who will be amazing parents, not by the size of their checking accounts, or status of their careers, or style of their house, but by who they are as people. By the love they have for each other and the love their family has for them.

See, my boy, is going to be a great father. I know that, without doubt. I don’t care if my grandchild has little baby shoes with the Nike emblem on the side. It won’t bother me if he/she won’t be able to celebrate their First Birthday at Disney World or be given the most high-tech baby products being pawned all over television.

Yes, my son and daughter-in-law will have to juggle work and school and raising a baby. But I did it. My son’s father (my husband) did it. Their grandparents did it. We did it and we made it work. Just like I know they will make it work.

And my husband and I, as the proud grandparents, will be there to help and support them. My son’s siblings, his two older brothers and younger sister, will be there too. Just as a family should be. One unit, working together, because we love each other and will never give up on any single member of our family.

And nobody . . . absolutely nobody . . . will take this baby from our family.

I’ve never been known for a violent temper, but let just one person even suggest that my son or daughter-in-law aren’t good enough for their own child, that they are selfish for keeping their baby, that there are so many couples out there would could offer a better life, and there will be more violence in my temper than anyone has ever seen.

Let just one person pull what this person pulled, Predators and Prey and hand my daughter-in-law a card because she’s young and pregnant and they are desperately hoping to adopt. Let just one nurse or doctor even attempt to suggest they know “a couple” and there will be an anger unlike any I have ever known.

Because I’m going to be a Grandma and I’m going to cherish and love my grandchild with everything I have. And I don’t care that society views my son and daughter-in-law as too young, poor, or unsuccessful to be good parents. I don’t care if the adoption industry rhetoric has convinced the majority that my son and his wife are somehow “less loving” because they are going to keep and raise their child.

I care about that tiny life that will bless our lives in eight short months. I care about my son and my daughter-in-law. And I care about my family. Intact and whole and never again a victim to the terrible loss adoption causes so many.

And for the record, though I will keep dying my hair to keep away the gray and curse the wrinkles that multiply every morning when I look in the mirror, being a Grandmother is one of the greatest blessings I have ever known and I am going to be the best darn “Granny” I can possibly be.

And I’m going to love every minute of it!

We Bleed Too

2010-11-11T16:27:00.003-07:00

“This emptiness in my life is so hard to deal with but I pray every day and I know God has the perfect baby and the perfect birthmother planned for us. I must be patient and someday this sadness will be forgotten.”

I hear statements like this over and over again in the world of adoption. Hopeful couples struggling with their desire to have a child while praying desperately for the pregnant woman who will choose them to raise her baby.

And when I run across them, I can’t help but to wonder if they realize, in their grief, they are praying for another women to suffer a terrible loss even as they are struggling with their own.

I know, when we are hurting, it is so hard to see outside that pain that surrounds us, controls us. But, I believe, when what you are praying or wishing so desperately for involves harming another to heal your heart, you must look outside your personal sadness and understand the affects your “answered prayers” will have on another human being.

Because, no matter what you might believe from what others have told you, when a woman gives up her child for adoption, she suffers a great loss. Losing a child, for whatever reason, is a horrid event, something most people would never even wish on their worst enemy. But in the world of adoption, it’s not only okay to wish this on another person, it’s accepted and encouraged.

First moms aren’t some strange creatures who don’t feel pain when they lose their child. They aren’t unknown life forms who can suddenly shut off that emptiness in their heart, that void in their life, when they face day after day, month after month, year after year, empty arms that were meant to hold their child.

And telling us we’re brave or strong or unselfish doesn’t change it. That loss is still there. It still exists and doesn’t ever go away. Because, we too, have a mother’s heart and it breaks just as easily when we don’t have our children.

When I hear other women say how hard it is to see mothers with their babies, how dark things like the holidays can be without a child to celebrate with. How they will go out of their way in stores to avoid anything baby or child related because they can’t handle the pain it causes them, I wonder if they realize the very act of adoption transfers that loss and pain to another women in order for them to move past it.

Because once they hold that baby they have prayed for in their arms, there is then a mother who walks down the street, sees a baby being pushed in a stroller and feels that terrible ache in her heart. There is a mother who hurts deep into her core when Christmas comes and her child isn’t there with her around the tree. When the birthdays hit and she isn’t baking a cake and wrapping the present.

And as an adoptive mother gets to suddenly hit every baby and child section in the stores with a new found glee. The mother who carried that child inside of her for nine months is now the one who will go out of her way to avoid any reminder of the loss she now suffers and struggles with.

Our pain is there. Our loss is real.

We may create ways to avoid it, to deny it, but it still exists within us. It still has a bearing on who we are and who we will become.

We don’t get a pass on that simply because we are First moms. We don’t get a special remedy that makes our heart ache any less for the child we’ve lost.

Even if we sink into denial or close ourselves off because of the shame, it is that loss that brings us to that point. It’s that ache deep in our souls that brings about such ways to somehow try and protect ourselves from that which we can never truly get away from.

Because we are mothers too. We hurt, we mourn and we bleed from the wounds left the moment our children were no longer in our arms.

What Do We Hear In Their Voices

2010-11-09T15:24:00.003-07:00

When we hear the stories of many First Moms, read their blogs, watch their videos, there is so much they can TRULY tell us if we listen to what they have to say.

Listen outside of the limitations the adoption industry places on us. Outside of what so many need to believe to make themselves feel better. To carry the belief that there couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with adoption.

Listen without the beliefs we’ve formed through the media. The beliefs that saturate our society and make it okay for a mother and child to be separated. Not only okay, but often, encouraged.

Yes, First Moms do have their own experiences. And, no, nobody should ever try to take that away from them. But in those experiences is a similarity so many of us went through and still go through to this day. A repeat of how we felt, through society’s view of us, of where we searched for help and the counseling we received.

In those areas, it’s not hard to find a pattern. A repeated script, replaying over and over again.

And when you listen to the stories of First Moms and compare it to the research and studies the adoption industry uses to create more babies available for adoption, you quickly see the connection and the same old routine used over and over again.

And you see where none of us were ever individuals to them with our own experiences deserving personal attention and care. We were merely numbers, herded through the same gates with the same manipulation used over and over again, so that we too would give up our babies.

In so many First Mom stories, we hear things like these women have shared . . .

“I just couldn’t see myself going through with adoption. I couldn’t stand the thought of it. How could I place this baby for adoption knowing how many wonderful things my two sons had brought into my life? I felt like placing the baby for adoption was like giving away an unwanted piece of furniture.”

“I spent the next few months preparing to single-parent, I was set on single-parenting and nothing was going to stop me.”

“I was sure I was going to raise my baby. It made so much sense, I would get to do what I love and I was ready to be a mom.”

“I wanted to parent my little girl so badly, I loved her with my every being, experiencing her life forming within me was the most amazing miracle I had ever witnessed!”

The adoption industry calls these very real, NATURAL feelings, “barriers and/or obstacles” that prevent women from giving their children up for adoption. And because they see this as a “bad” thing, they’ve conducted plenty of research on mothers who have already given up their children in order to learn what best works to push a woman past these barriers/obstacles so she will view adoption as a good thing for her child.

As they say, in their own words . . .

“These recommendations are intended to diminish the elements that inhibit women from contemplating adoption and to enhance those that motivate them.”

“Challenge the assumption that all women should want to keep their unplanned babies and/or want to parent.”

“Inform a pregnant woman . . . Adoption can be a courageous and unselfish decision because you are putting the child above yourself . . . and . . . Adoption is an act of love .”

“Give women sound reasons that will counter the desire to keep their babies. One example is to reinforce the notion that it takes a strong, mature woman to place a child for adoption.”

“Help potential birthmothers see that choosing adoption can be what it means to be the best mother possible.”

And from this counseling, we get statements such as these from the stories of First Moms . . .

“All my reasons for choosing to be a single parent were selfish.”

“I put my son before myself and knew that it was selfish to believe that just because I was pregnant I should be the one to raise him when he deserved so much better .”

“After talking to my counselor I decided that adoption was probably my best choice. I had to stop thinking about myself and start thinking about this baby.”

Do you hear the eerie repeat in what is “coached” compared to what a First Mom says?

And if that’s not enough, let’s look at what is encouraged to tell a First Mom to get her to see that she isn’t good enough for her child and that some other couple is “better” than her . . .

“Enable a Birthmother to choose adoption by helping her see that adoption can provide the joy and security of family life for her child that she cannot.”

“Ask a Birthmother what she believes her child’s life will be like being raised by a single mother compared to being raised by a mother and a father in an intact family.”

“Question the Birthmother on her financial resources, the kind of childhood she desires for her baby and is she able to provide that kind of childhood.”

And in this, we get First Moms who share these kinds of stories . . .

“This baby needed to go to somebody who could give it everything I couldn’t, including a mother and father and a wonderful place to grow up.”

“My baby deserved so much more than I could ever give her. I wanted her to have the perfect childhood and J*** and A***** were able to give that to her when I could not.”

“This little girl not only deserved but needed the eternal blessings of life and the eternal blessing of having a daddy by her side and a mommy who could raise her. I could have given her so much love, but I could not have been there for her in the way I felt was right.”

See, us First Moms aren’t “born” to be failures to our children. We’re told that, over and over and over again, until the message sinks in that we will be no good, that our children deserve more than we could ever give them and that the very thought of keeping them and raising them “on love alone” is so very wrong.

We understand that message loud and clear. It’s shoved at us, pounded into our brains, our hearts, until we believe, as we are expected to, that we would be no good for our own flesh and blood. Our own child that God has blessed us with.

And just to be sure, the adoption industry knows a vital part of it is to create a trust between the expectant mom and the hopeful adoptive couple and to bring the expectant mom to a point where she no longer sees her child as hers but instead as the hopeful adoptive couple waiting to be the “perfect” parents . . .

“A Birthmother’s positive attitude toward the Adoptive parents can help a Birthmother see her baby as belonging to the adoptive parents and not to her.”

“A Birthmother will feel more confident about an adoptive parents ability to love her child and feel that she is making the right decision if she is able to get to know the adoptive parents through files and meetings.”

“Make sure that birthmothers understand the extensive screening procedures that are followed in selecting adoptive parents so they will believe that their babies will be cared for.”

“When the Birthmother can see firsthand how important adoption is to the family it is more difficult for her to back out and disappoint them.”

And that is why, in their stories, First Moms share this . . .

“I had refused to allow myself to enjoy my pregnancy or even bond with her. I was determined to stick through with my decision so I shut myself off emotionally.”

“I knew I couldn’t disappoint them. No matter how bad I wanted my baby, they were the ones who deserved her with all they could offer her and give her what I could not.”

“After their miscarriage and failed adoption, I couldn’t bear to break their heart and keep my baby. I trust them and I know they will be everything I can hope for him.”

It’s the same old, tired script. Drummed into pregnant moms facing crisis pregnancies and then repeated by them, over and over again. The same feelings of inadequacy, of believing someone else is better than you. It’s that same vision of yourself when you look in the mirror. The mother who first wanted to keep her baby more than anything but, along the way, was forced into seeing herself as less worthy and selfish by the very natural love and desire to raise your child.

Though many don’t want to believe it, the minute a First Mom says . . .

“After a few hard, but caring talks, I was able to make a decision that was right for my situation.”

“I got hooked up with the adoption counselor at the Light House. We met every week and discussed all my options. She really helped me put things in perspective.”

“So I called the 1-800 number and a sweet lady answered the phone and she told me that Jesus loved my baby. I cried and then again I felt not alone. My counselor was loving and kind. We just sat and talked and talked. I did a lot of homework and journaling and a lot of sessions I decided on choosing an adoption plan for my baby.”

It’s very obvious what happened. The minute a confused, frightened women walks into an adoption agency and meets with one of their counselors, it’s next to impossible for her to walk out of there with the decision of parenting her child. Because, though they pretend they are, they aren’t there to help her make any TRUE choice. They are there to make sure she gives up her baby . . .

“There must be solid counsel and encouragement of adoption.”

“She will be guaranteed at least one very positive exposure to adoption on her first visit, even if low-key.”

“Present adoption as one of the most unselfish decisions a birthmother could make. Reinforce the many benefits her child will acquire through adoption.”

There is no choice in any of this. Only a very careful manipulation, designed to convince mothers they are no good for their children while encouraging them to give them up.

And if you are wondering about all those “happy” first moms who encourage adoption for other pregnant women . . .

“Adoption has got to be the most amazing thing ever!! I placed my son for adoption about a little over a year ago and the family that he's with is so freakin amazing!!! God truly works in mysterious ways!!!”

“I love adoption because it is thru adoption that i was able to give my son everything i could have ever wanted for him, and that's what I think being a mom is all about! “

“Adoption is a win-win-win decision. My daughter's parents win by finally getting to become parents, I win by knowing I did what's best for her, and she wins by being able to live a life far healthier than I could've provided.”

The adoption industry knows very well how to use them to get more babies in their clutches . . .

“Deliver the message through other birthmothers that choosing adoption is what it means to be a good mother.”

“Include birthmothers in messages by having them speak directly to pregnant women considering adoption.”

“Continue reassuring birthmothers by putting together a book of interviews with birthmothers and their adoption experience.”

And for those who like to bring up the old adage of . . . she chose adoption before she ever talked to anyone. It was all her decision . . .

“It was interesting because I was standing there one day and it hit me that this baby needed to go to somebody who could give it everything I couldn’t.”

“I knew before I ever talked to anyone that adoption was the best choice for me and for my baby.”

“As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I knew in my heart that adoption was God's plan for my baby.”

“The more I thought about it, the more I knew I wanted to choose adoption. “

Remember this very important fact, the adoption industry knows that one of the best ways to get more women to give up their babies is to feed the “greatness” of adoption into our society in any way they can and they have no problem targeting the youngest of victims . . .

“Work to include adoption in sex education classes. If young women are aware of adoption, they are more likely to consider it as an option.”

“Educate adults who work with young people. Make them aware that adoption is a positive option for women with unplanned pregnancies.”

“Use the media and public relations to help potential birthmothers understand the positive message of adoption in advance of unplanned pregnancy.”

See, all we have to do is listen. Listen to what first moms share in their stories. Listen to what the industry teaches others in their hopes of getting more babies.

By doing that, we see the connection in what happens to so many mothers out there who never deserved to lose their children. We see how this . . .

“Choosing adoption enables birthmothers to see themselves in compassionate, noble and heroic terms, righting the wrong and correcting the mistake of their unplanned pregnancies.”

“In doing what is best for her child, she fulfills her need to see herself as a good mother and can accept the pain of relinquishment.”

Has so much to do with first moms who share this . . .

“It makes me very proud. I made a mistake, but made the best of it.”

“I’m proud to know I sacrificed my own feelings, put my own feelings aside to help a complete stranger. I was like a hero.”

“I was pregnant and not married. So I had to make it right and started looking at adoption.”

“I know I messed up but knowing I did the right thing by placing my daughter for adoption makes it so much better.”

The truth of adoption lies here, in the voices of those who have lived it and in the coercion of those who use it for their own profit. We can’t keep turning a blind eye to what is happening. We can’t continue to accept such practices as okay.

If we don’t stand up and speak out then we condone, and in many ways, encourage, this kind of treatment against mothers and their unborn children. By keeping our voices silent we are exactly what the adoption industry wants us to be . . . pawns who will do and believe whatever they tell us.

Is that who we want to be? Is such treatment of pregnant mothers really what we want to support?

In my book, the answer is simple.

What’s the answer for you?

I'm Sorry

2010-11-03T17:27:00.003-06:00

Those of us who speak out about adoption have become very, VERY used to the “cookie cutter” responses we receive, over and over again. And one of the classics that I hear ALL the time is . . .

“I’m so sorry you had a bad experience but . . . “

The rest is always a mix of things but the plain and clear message that is there is – “What you have to say really doesn’t count because your opinion, feelings . . . whatever . . . is jaded by your “bad” experience. Your voice should really just be ignored and disregarded because you aren’t talking from any true kind of knowledge, only from those screwed up emotions inside of you that really don’t mean much of anything to anyone and are nowhere near the experience the majority has had.”

And to think, I once let such a response get to me.

But when I step back and look at it logically, I almost have to laugh at the ridiculous nature of it. Because the truth of the matter is, my experience, in so many ways, mirrors that of so many of the other mothers who gave up their children, years ago and right into the present day.

But still, some will cling to whatever they can find. Most often, that ends up being the abuse my son suffered at the hands of his adoptive mother and first step-father. People are notorious for grabbing on to that, the worst heartache and horror I have ever known, and twisting it around to use against me.

And yet, that wasn’t even a bad experience. That was a nightmare. That was hell on earth. And for everything it was to me it was a hundred times worse for my son who lived it. Was hurt by it in a way nobody should ever be.

Of course that doesn’t matter to those who see it as their chance to discredit whatever I have to say. That’s their easy out. Their “winning hand” to make sure I mean nothing in the wonderful world of adoption.

Except for one thing, if I were speaking only from that nightmare and letting it jade my feelings and views of adoption, my blog would be full of post after post stereotyping all and every adoptive parent into a abusive maniac.

I mean, that is what they are suggesting, isn’t it, every time they give me that condescending pat on the back with the even more condescending, “I’m sorry you had a bad experience but . . . “

I must not be speaking with anything other than my emotionally challenged and prejudice view because of the nightmare my son faced and had to live with for so many years.

But then show me, in that train of thought, where has that prejudice that clouds my judgment brought me to speaking out about adoption because my son was abused and therefore, all adoptive parents must be abusive. Show me just ONE instance where I have let my emotions rule in such a way that I have said adoption needs to be changed because it causes adoptive children to be abused and mistreated like my son was.

You won’t find a post like that. Not even in the hardest and darkest moments that I have blogged about, will you find anything where I have ever declared that I speak out about adoption because my experience, my son’s experience, makes it very clear that adoption is bad because adoptive children are abused.

Infact, if anyone were to take the time, they would find that, even here on my blog, I began speaking out about adoption BEFORE I knew the horrible abuse my son faced.

And the thing that makes me laugh, brings me to shake my head in total bewilderment is . . . outside of what my son suffered . . . my experience is actually the exact same as so many. And that could be easily discovered if some actually took the time to read what I have posted.

I was THAT woman. I faced an unexpected pregnancy. I dealt with the fear and confusion. I went through the adoption agency counseling. Was told the EXACT same things pregnant women are still told today. The exact same things that come right out of their “instruction” manual Birthmother, Good Mother.

I met the adoptive parents early in my pregnancy, formed a relationship with them, trusted them. The adoptive mom was there when I gave birth, in the delivery room. I saw her and her husband, the adoptive father, as an amazing couple who could offer my child the kind of life I could never dream of. I was thankful for them, for all the “wonderful” things they could offer my son. And I believed my son would understand and be grateful for everything I had given him by giving him up for adoption.

For fifteen years, I lived a life where I claimed adoption was the most wonderful, loving option. I saw myself as better than those other First Mom’s who didn’t believe as I did. I felt sorry for the ones who had a bad experience because I was so much better in what I had. So much more special to be “happy” with the way my son’s adoption was.

I was oh so proud to be a birthmother.

Do you hear an echo here of what so many other First Mom’s say? I sure do. I know that. I lived that. That was MY experience.

And yet, today, that experience is labeled “bad.” It had to have been. It’s the only explanation for why I wouldn’t embrace adoption with all that love and joy and encourage it for everyone.

So what’s bad if my experience is so similar to so many others?

Is it bad because after fifteen years I began to slip out of my denial and question what had happened?

Is it bad because I started to wonder how in the world I had ever let anyone convince me that loving my child meant giving him away?

Is it bad that I found an amazing therapist and wonderful support group that finally gave me the freedom to be true with my feelings and work through them and realize the core of their existence?

Is it bad that, after four years of telling myself I was crazy, that nobody felt what I did, that I actually found others who shared my experience and began to read and research EVERYTHING I could find about adoption to try to come to some kind of answer to what had happened?

Is it bad that I took the initiative to learn what the adoption industry feeds into our society and realize just how much control they have over First Moms, Adoptees and Adoptive Parents?

Is it bad that I now realize that the best thing I could have done for my son was to stand up and fight for him with everything I have inside me? To give him what he deserved, a mother who would do whatever it took to keep him and raise him to the best of my ability?

If that is my bad experience, then I will take it.

Because I am them. I am one of those First Moms that so many hail and praise and use as an example to encourage more adoptions.

The difference is, I found a courage I never knew I had and I began to heal in the way I needed to. In a way that allowed me to begin to truly heal from the loss of my child. And I did it without having to worry if it was a good or bad thing. I did it because I knew it was time and I just couldn’t continue to live with the masquerade I had for so many long years.

And for me, there isn’t anything “bad” about that.

Beware the Awareness

2010-11-01T16:39:00.007-06:00

You know, I find it a bit fitting that after a night of ghouls and monsters . . . a night of trickery and masquerading . . . National Adoption Awareness month begins. There’s not much more I could think more fitting for such a campaign shrouded in lies and deception with the constant hope of tricking others into believing adoption is all sunshine and roses.

I understand there are many different views and feelings when it comes to adoption. I’m not blind to the different sides, the different feelings and opinions. I expect that with something that brings so much gain for some and so much loss for others.

But how in the world can you have an “awareness” of anything if the only thing you want to portray, and the only thing you will allow yourself to believe in is the “happy, happy, joy, joy” that this month shoves at us, over and over . . .and over again?

And boy, do so many jump up on to that bandwagon and ride it to its fullest extent while kicking fiercely at those of us scrambling below, trying to change the route its taking by bringing awareness from all sides and experiences.

See, that’s where my problem lies in this month. That’s where my hatred stews for thirty long days as we are bombarded over and over again by all the “wonderfulness” of adoption. How in the world can you build awareness of anything if you shove the darker truths into a corner and do your best to silence them?

The only people we are helping with that are the ones who want to live in a bubble and believe everything is so great in adoption world so they don’t have to face the harder truths. And the industry, so greedy to deposit that next check and continue to make their billions off the backs of frightened, desperate women and their children.

Truth is rarely one-sided and it isn’t always pretty. And you sure as hell can’t have true awareness without truth. It just simply isn’t possible.

And, for the record, half-truths don’t count.

You can’t say adoption is all good and great, when there are so many out there who have suffered with what adoption has brought into their life.

You can’t declare that it’s always a “loving” option, when so often it’s full of fear and desperation, heartache and terrible loss.

You can’t claim it helps all children and is better for them, when there are so many adoptees who are standing up and speaking out about their own struggles.

You can’t call it choice, when there is a very clear and deceptive practice created to insure more women will give up their children without having any choice at all.

If you want to build awareness, you can’t do it by encouraging the majority to keep their head stuck in the sand and not face EVERYTHING that exists in adoption. By encouraging the same antiquated beliefs that have existed in our society for far too long.

Awareness should come with the sharing of the many who have been coerced and manipulated into giving up their children right along with the stories of the mothers claiming they are happy with their choice.

It should come with those who felt they had no choice but to give away their child because of the relationship they had formed with the adoptive parents speaking in the same breath as those who proclaim how much it meant to them to have the adoptive couple so much a part of their pregnancy and in the delivery room and becoming “just like a part of their family.”

There should be the very real fact of the many who are denied their rights and can’t obtain their OBC’s shared in the same way as the stories of all the great things adoption can offer a child.

Everyone should be encouraged to read the studies and the books and the classes the adoption industry uses to convince more mothers to give up their babies just as they are encouraged to read books such as Dear Birthmother and So, I Was Thinking about Adoption

There should be just as much said about a child’s loss of their heritage and roots as there is about how wonderful international adoption is and what a “savior” you can be by "rescuing" a child.

And there should be a constant reminder that adoption is suppose to be about a child TRULY in need of a home and family in the midst of those who talk about their own infertility and desire to become a parent through adoption and then are hailed for how wonderful they are for adopting.

These truths, and so many more (I know I’ve only touched the very tip of everything that exists) should be an absolute must in this month that claims to build awareness for adoption.

If you aren’t going to share all sides, all experiences and all feelings. If you insist on hiding the very real truths that so many know and have experienced along their own journey . . . then you aren’t building awareness.

All you are doing. All you are accomplishing and believing in is a myth concocted by those whose only desire is to continue to gain and profit from something that is full of just as much corruption, pain and heartache for many as it is full of joy and happiness for others.