Thursday, March 5, 2015

Adoption Reunion From An Adoptee's Point of View

Most of the stories you see of adoption reunion in the media are just sort snippets in time ~ the moment that family members see each other face-to-face for the first time since birth.  How happy and exciting it all is.

Those short snippets don't show what happens in the time after the first emails, letters, in-person visits.

Reunion was life changing for me.  There are still times, six years later, that I find myself lost in some aspects; trying to figure out how to navigate this new life with my firstborn son included.  

Today I read this adoptee's story of her experience and feelings in being reunited with her natural family.

It's an important read I think, especially for those expectant mothers considering adoption who are still landing here on my blog.  If the hope of a future reunion with your child is something that you are holding onto in order to be able to go through with adoption ~ take that hope off the table.  It's not a sure thing.  I have come to know some wonderful reunion stories, but there are far more where either the natural mother (or father) or the grown adoptee is unable to have a relationship with the other. 

Here are a few things that Jessenia said that I want to share here, but if you have time please go read Jessenia's post here.  (I added emphasis on the words that cut like a knife into this mothers heart)

I used to think that searching for my birth mother would be the hardest part about my adoption besides dealing with being adopted (I got used to that already). However, I learned that life post reunion has to be the most difficult part about being adopted.

It's complicated. Everything about it is complicated.


It was well over a year, maybe two, that I reunited with my birth family face-to-face. Simply put, I wasn't ready. I learned that I had six siblings - two older and four younger. That in itself added another degree of pain to know that my birth mother had other child and more children. Why was I the one that was abandoned? What was so bad about me? I struggle with it often till this day because I don't have all the answers, but even with them, I am afraid I will always feel this way.


Today, in my heart and in my mind, I struggle with how to live my life with two mothers even though my adoptive mom is my mom. She is number one and will always be that because she raised me, loved me, and never gave up on me or our family no matter how tough it was. She worked three jobs and did her best as a widow. That is what a mother does. However, be it the loving person I am, deep inside I want to be able to love my birth mother and call her "mom" or something close to that, but I can't. I want to compartmentalize everyone into their spaces. Two mom's just doesn't feel right. It doesn't fit. It is awkward. It is like I have a family over here and a family over there. And I must keep them separated, my moms anyways. I am afraid that one will feel loved more than the other. Not that my adoptive mom ever said anything like that to me before. It's an adoptee thing. But I have no desire to love my birth mom how I love my adoptive mom. I just wish things could be normal? Whatever that is.

However, on the flip-side, my biological siblings are dying to be in my life and want to do all that, but I cannot let them in until I figure out things with my adoptive family. Because again, I don't ever want my adoptive family to feel that I am showing more love to my birth family. My mind won't let me rest on this. These are the effects of adoption.

There is so much more to this story, but the bottom line is that I still don't feel like I am connected to anyone. I learned that blood or biological ties really doesn't secure a bond like I had imagined. That comes with time. Unfortunately, my siblings are having to pay for the decisions that was beyond their control because I know they love me like crazy, but I won't let them grow close to me. I am traumatized by what has already happened in my reunion that I am afraid to subject myself to more pain that I can easily avoid by closing the door. I wish I wouldn't do this to them, but this is what being abandoned and adoption did to me. I pray like crazy that one day I can let my guard down and be open to love without fear.
Oh Jessenia...  I hope and pray also that one day you can let your guard down and be open to love without fear.  I hope that for all adoptees.  I also hope that for all mothers who have lost a child to adoption.  Myself included.

a

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Stop Shorstein Network - Open Adoption Fraud

I previously posted about the Shorstein Advocacy Group and the filing of a class-action lawsuit against them.  I was recently contacted and asked to help spread the word that they hope to file the lawsuit this summer.

If you were defrauded by the promise of open adoption in the state of Florida since 1990, please join this class-action lawsuit.

Here is the info I received:

We have updated our Facebook page and email address. We are under the gun to find a few more mothers so we can file this summer. PLEASE help in any way you can. THIS MAY BE THE ONLY opportunity we have to stop or at least decrease the number of coerced and fraudulent “open” adoptions in FL. It may also pave the way to unsealing records. ANY help is GREATLY appreciated! There is no cost to the moms to join.

https://www.facebook.com/stop.shorstein

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

The Strings of Life (Re-Post)

This is a re-post that was originally published on June 14, 2012:

The Strings of Life

I stumbled onto the writing of Dabeshim a couple of days ago.  One of his poems caught me from the very first stanza.  I again am amazed at how the words of someone adopted can be so meaningful to me as a mother of adoption loss.  Below is the poem, interspersed with my own rambling thoughts brought to mind as I read the words. 


There once was a day
The winds were cold, darkness creped as far
As the inside, It had its say
We did as others wished
Serving them on a golden dish.
We knew no other way.
Like marionettes we lived,
Upon the Strings of Life.
Giving no thought at all.


The Florence Crittenton building was a big, old brick building. Dark. Cold. Always. Not the temperature, it was the atmosphere in that building…

I did only as they wished. As society expected of me. I made sure to let them all know that I wasn’t “one of those girls”. I really was a good girl, not a crack-whore. I really did love my baby, I really only wanted the best for him ~ It wasn’t at all that I didn’t want to be a mom, it wasn’t that I wanted to have a life full of fun instead of responsibility. I proved that I really did love my baby, loved him even more than I loved myself. I served my son up to the adoption industry on a golden dish…

What a good marionette I was, right in line being the good birthmother without any further convincing necessary. I already knew that there was no way I would raise a child in the way I was living. I knew that the only way I would be able to raise my child would be to move out of the house, and that would have been impossible on my own. I gave no thought towards the future, only to finishing what I had started by becoming pregnant while unmarried and young. No thought was given to what it would actually be like to give birth to my child, much less live without him. No thought was given to the fact that I couldn’t really ensure that my child would have a better life. No thought was given to what an adoptees life was like, how their life was affected by adoption. I was just following along with what was expected of me, like a marionette I lived…

I returned to school that fall unable to really be myself. I was sure that any classmates who knew of my pregnancy thought of me as either the classic whore or as a heartless person who gave her child away. I never breathed a word of my son to anyone afterwards, losing the freedom to be myself. Always fearful that someone would find out the truth. In addition, without even realizing it, my heart was locked up tight in order to not fully feel the loss of my son. How heavy was the weight of that prison I imposed on myself…

For our own freedom, our own call.
Now after so many years
I awoke to see that the power to live is
In you and in me.
We could be
Light as the air
With the wind through your hair

Free to move, here and there.
There and here, everywhere.
Now that we are no longer tied to the loom.
We can go from room to room.
We are Free at last,
no more strings of life to hold us down,
making us like clowns


In the moment of reading the first emails telling me that my son was looking for me, I awoke. I awoke from 30 years of denial and felt the power, the freedom, of living in my truth. I felt as light as air ~ the weight of that self-imposed prison was lifted. Once I had the chance to bask in the joy and treasure this new life that now included my first born son, I wanted to share the news with everyone. Christopher himself told me that I could go stand on the sandhills of Nebraska and yell the news out to the world. I was no longer tied to the loom that was labeled birthmother. The loom of shame. Shame that wasn’t mine to take on, but that I willingly accepted from the judgment of our society. The loom of despair and grief from the loss of my son ~ loss that I wasn’t even allowed to speak of. Loss that nobody in society sees, much less understands to have any empathy for. (Except for the others who live with the loss of adoption that is)

In talking to the search angel who matched our profiles, I felt as though I had beaten the system. Even though deep down I knew it wasn't true, the remnants of former beliefs were still there. I had believed the social worker when she told me it would be against the law to ever look for my son. Taking on that lie, it tied me further to the loom of adoption loss. Now here I was, being told by an angel named Kim that my son had been searching for me for a while, was very excited and waiting to finally hear from me. Just as I had been tied to the loom of adoption, so had he. In the finding, we were both freed from the looms, we were free to go from the room of secrecy into the room of truth.

The past is the in the past
None of that matter anymore
Yesterday is out the door
Let’s make the most of now
Since time doesn’t last

We made our own many mistakes
Sacrificed the best of ourselves at the stake
Yet we are free now to move every which way
To say what we want to say
no more strings of life to tie us down
making us look just  like clowns


Yes ~ the past is in the past. I can’t get back those lost years with Christopher. I made my mistakes. Many mistakes were made in the years after I lost Christopher to adoption. My biggest wish is that I had been strong enough to live my truth, instead of hiding from it.  For I wasn't really hiding from it.  It was always there, just under the surface, just out of reach of my conscious being.  I not only sacrificed my son, I sacrificed my authentic self. Being silent after the loss of my son to adoption only allowed the myths to continue. Being silent gave the impression that losing my son to adoption was ok. Being silent kept the tremendous loss and grief hidden. Did another mother go on to choose adoption because she saw that my life did seem to go on as before after losing my son to adoption? I will never know. But I do feel that I fed the adoption industry with my silence. The strings tying me down are gone, I am free now to speak of my experience. I am free to speak of the child, now a grown man, forever lost to adoption. There are no self or society imposed strings keeping me silent now. I speak out of the truth of adoption loss on my life. I speak out not because it can change anything for us ~ but maybe I can change something for another mother, for the children of that mother. I speak out now to help another living with the loss of adoption to free themselves from their own loom, to no longer be a marionette of the adoption industry.



We are as light as the air
With the wind through your hair
We have no more cares
That will hold us and keep us,
From ourselves,
like marionettes up on the shelves.

Oh you must believe me!
Oh can you see me?
Can you hear this song I sing?
It brings me here to you!

The strings of life have all disappeared
The strife we lived, sheared and blown away
We are free now to move every which way
To say what we want to say
no more strings of life to tie us down
lifting us high above the ground

We are free now to just be. The strings of adoption no longer control us as though we are only marionettes. I am his mother, he is my son. I love Christopher no less than the children I raised. The strings of adoption could take away my legal rights, but could never take away my love for him.

Oh come with me
And Fly! You will see
The music is playing, the choir is saying
We are Light as the air
The wind through your hair
Free to move, here and there.
There and here, everywhere.
With no more ties
Gone are The Strings of Life.

………………………………

© 2012 Dabeshim

Thank you for sharing these beautiful, yet haunting, words Dabeshim. Thank you for allowing me to ramble on and write of how the words touched my heart.




"The Strings of Life" by Dabeshim at http://anunrequitedlife.wordpress.com/2012/02/22/the-strings-of-life/ 

5 comments:

Susie has not only complimented and interpreted my poem "The Strings of Life" she has likewise created a beautifully expressed narrative revealing the pain and joy of a mother who lost a child to adoption with the words of pain and joy of an adult adoptee she doesn't know.
Well done!
Dabeshim

Friday, January 16, 2015

Happy 6th Reunion-versary!

Six years ago today I finally had answers to the three questions that had been haunting me since the first and only time I saw my firstborn child.  Questions that haunted me for 29 years, 7 months, and 13 days.

Yes, he was alive
Yes, he was healthy
Yes, he was happy
And yes, he got great parents too.

Despite the laws in the State of Iowa (where grown adults are denied the right to know their true origins) my son was still able to find me. There are no words to express the gratitude I have for the online reunion registries and for Kim, one of the many amazing people known as "Search Angels".

As I remember that wonderful, yet frightening, day six years ago, I find myself again with mixed emotions.

Sadness
That adoption is still celebrated and treated as sacred in this country.  Despite the many, many studies proving the trauma to both mother and child due to unnecessary separation.  Despite the many people now speaking out their truths regarding adoption loss.  The adoption industry is just another example proving that it is the almighty dollar that runs this country.  I long to see the day when the mother-child relationship is celebrated and treated as sacred ~ despite the mothers marital status, age, income level, etc. 

Anger 
That adoptees are still denied their rights to their own true stories.   That mothers are used as the reason for keeping those records sealed ~ when the vast majority of mothers welcome and hope for reunion themselves.  It is inhumane to expect a mother to not know if her child is even alive, much less healthy and happy. 
Gratitude
For those who help the lost be found.  For those who help those lost in grief to find their way out.  For those who speak out their truths so others know they are no longer alone.   For those who advocate for equal rights for those who are adopted.  For those who lift up and advocate for mothers facing an unexpected pregnancy.  For the many friends I have met in Adopto-land, who have helped me find my way out of the closet, out of denial, and out of the grief that had been buried for so very many years. 
Love
For Christopher.  As well as for his beautiful children and wife, I am overjoyed to be able to know them and be a part of their lives.  Love for his parents, who have welcomed me into their lives as well. 
 And for the first time in forever ~ love for myself.  
It's taken most of these last six years to get to this point,
there were times I wondered if I would really survive it all ~
but I did.  
 I am stronger and braver and wiser for it.

 This year I was finally able to embrace my younger self 
and show her the love and support she didn't have all those years ago.  


We deserve it. 


a

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Heartbreaking - Another Open Adoption Closed...

Today in one of my online support groups there was yet another post from a mother of adoption loss who was promised an open adoption ~ which never came to be. 

Today is her babies 1st birthday. 

She has never received one single photo. 
Not.  One.  Photo.
Even though the adoptive parents promised her that she would be a part of her child's life always.

She has never received one update. 
Not.  One.  Update. 
Even though the adoptive parents promised her that she would be a part of her child's life always.

Another mother who was told that an open adoption consisted of photos and updates. 
Yet she has no idea where these parents live, doesn't know their name, doesn't know anyhing about them. 

Another mother who wasn't told that receiving correspondence through an adoption agency really isn't an open adoption.

Another mother who wasn't told that this so-called open adoption isn't legally binding.

Another mother who wouldn't have chosen adoption if she wouldn't even be able to know if her child was still alive, much less healthy and happy.

Another adoptive family who thought it was ok to lie ~ whatever it took to get what they wanted.

Another adoption agency that doesn't care about the mother or child once the papers are signed.  They got the baby to supply to the parents who are willing to pay them thousands of dollars in exchange. 

For that's what adoption has become in this day and age my folks. 

Adoption is now about providing a child to a family that wants one.

When it should be about giving a family to a child that doesn't have one.

Two things feed the corruption that adoption has become:

Big Business

Finding the supply to meet the demand to make the $$ 

No matter what lies and myths are necessary to keep that supply and demand coming in

Entitlement

Wanting a baby.  At any cost. 

Who cares about the mothers left behind?

They didn't really want their babies anyways, did they?

For if you really wanted your baby, why would you even THINK of contacting an adoption agency??









Monday, October 20, 2014

Teen Moms - Stereotypes

PLEASE read this article on RH Reality Check!  (Especially if you are one of the many people who land here by searching for advice on your teen daughters unexpected pregnancy.)

Where's the "16, Parenting, and OK" Reality Show?

While the article focuses on the role of media in the stereotypes, the problem goes beyond that to the whole of society. 

Here are a few paragraphs ~ but the entire article is a must read:


...Teen pregnancy and parenthood has almost always been framed as the beginning of the end of a young person’s life

Then there’s the fact that the media often overrepresents adoption, especially when it comes to teenage mothers. “The adoption story line is often used as a way to fix the ‘problem,’” sociologist Gretchen Sisson, whose work focuses on teenage pregnancy, parenting, and adoption, told RH Reality Check. “Teen parenthood and abortion are both very stigmatized. So adoption is kind of the way out and a way for the character to redeem themselves. Before abortion was legal, adoption was a way for white women to ‘undue’ the sins of sexuality outside of marriage. Adoption is used as a solution for teen pregnancy and abortion, when really it is neither of these things.

If one does not give their child up for adoption or marry the father of their child (if the father did not leave them already, as the narrative goes in the media) the identity oft given to parenting teens is one of a desolate existence for both mother and child.

While the media has taken on the role of “teaching” about teenage pregnancy, mostly through shame and stigma, media makers need to acknowledge they are influencing how gatekeepers—including school administrators, health-care providers, and other adults in a young person’s life—perceive and treat young pregnant people.

We have to start asking ourselves, as former teen mother and #NoTeenShame member Christina Martinez recently mentioned to me, “What if we were to surround young parents with messages of hope, support, and encouragement? How might that alter the confidence in which they approach their role as parent?”

I try to not imagine what my life might have been like if I would have had someone to surround me with messages of hope, support, and encouragement...


as

Monday, October 6, 2014

Step Into Your Feminine Power

I read a blog post tonight about stepping into your feminine power.  The title of the blog post is "Strong Like the Water". 

As I read this post, I found myself thinking that the authors words could be great inspiration for someone facing an unexpected pregnancy:
What is an empowered woman like?
I keep returning to this question and wondering. What is the nature of feminine power? Is it different from masculine power? Do we have any models?
What is more representative of the nature of feminine power than childbirth?  Is there anything that more differentiates feminine power from masculine power?  I think not. 

The author ponders on how to step more fully into her power, finding that answer in the element of water ~ from a small droplet to a raging waterfall:

Droplets of water were rolling from the soft moss into the lake. As I listened to their delicate music, I marveled at how these sweet droplets were made of the same stuff that filled the great lake, and which had, over millennia, carved the entire valley.
She goes on to compare that to the daily job of mothering:

I was put in mind of the daily tasks of mothering, which in themselves are so small, yet which add up to something great. ‘Take heart’, the droplets seemed to say. ‘Each sandwich made, each sock hung up to dry, each goodnight kiss is a droplet that partakes of the great lake of love, which has huge power.’ This put me in mind of Mother Theresa’s advice that we should not pursue “great deeds” but rather “small deeds with great love.”

It's Not About The Big Picture All At Once

Often a mother makes the mistake of going to an adoption agency or crisis pregnancy center when looking for advice and help while facing an unexpected pregnancy.  The problem with this is that they aren't there to offer help to that mom.  They aren't there to help her step into her power.  They are there to supply the adoption industry.  In order to do that they have to make the mother think that she isn't worthy of being a mother to her child.  One of the ways they frighten the mother into considering adoption is by having her look at the big picture of being a mother.  How much does it cost to raise a child?  How will you continue school/settle into your career/whatever while raising a child?  How will you work/go to school ~ do you want your child raised by a babysitter? And more...  Oh, so much more do they throw at you to make you feel unworthy...

It's About The Droplets Creating the Great Lake of Love

It's the love and care shown in the small every day tasks that put together has huge power.  It's the small deeds with great love.  You don't have to face the entire first 18 years of your child's life in the first day home from the hospital.  As quoted above ‘Take heart’, the droplets seemed to say. ‘Each sandwich made, each sock hung up to dry, each goodnight kiss is a droplet that partakes of the great lake of love, which has huge power.’


The selling of adoption makes you look at the big picture all at once in an attempt to take your power away. But it's the little pictures that matter. It's all the little pictures ~ taken one day at a time ~ that make up the big picture. The love given, the kisses goodnight, the diapers changed and the belly filled. The boo-boos kissed, the lessons taught.

       The joys of being a mother.

           The joys and privilege of living your feminine power.

                  Is there anything greater?

I think not