In The Funk. Again.

I've been in an adoption funk again for the last couple of weeks.  I know it's partially because a planned visit to see Christopher in July didn't happen due to my getting another kidney stone a couple of days before I was supposed to go.  Now we are finding it difficult to find time when we are both free at the same time.  It's been over a year since I've seen him, two years since I've seen his children.  I miss them dearly.

The funk felt bigger than that though. 

On facebook the other night, someone had posted a link to a site that calculates your probable conception date according to the date of birth.  Since I was bored, I clicked on the link and was going to punch in my kids' birthdays, starting with the first one ~  Christopher's birthday. 

Then I see.  Huh...  Does the body, the heart and soul remember? 

It's probably exactly 37 years ago, give or take a day or five, that I became pregnant with my firstborn son lost to adoption.

The Birthday was: Tuesday, May 8, 1979
Conception Date: Tuesday, August 15, 1978
Implantation Dates: Between Monday, August 21, 1978 and Sunday, August 27, 1978

The persons birthday was on Tuesday, May 8, 1979 at 40 weeks, and conception would have been on or around Tuesday, August 15, 1978 with sex likely between Wednesday, August 9, 1978 and Tuesday, August 15, 1978

37 years sounds so long ago.  So many things have changed in 37 years.  Sadly, much has not changed. 

Mothers are still being shamed into giving their children up for adoption. 

No ~ not as as it was,
having no choice if you were unmarried.

But in different ways. 
In more subtle ways. 
And some not so subtle.

I wonder if I will ever see a day in my lifetime when motherhood is honored again? 
When the mother and child bond is cherished as it should be? 
When the trauma and loss of a mother losing a child and a child losing a mother are losses that are recognized for everyone ~ and not completely dismissed if adoption is a part of the story?

I wonder...

Shame

I ordered the new adoption memoir "A Life Let Go: A Memoir and Five Birth Mother Stories of Closed Adoption".

As I was reading the reviews for the book on Amazon, I found my breath taken away by one of them.  One sentence in particular:

"...true story of a pregnant teen hiding in the house, frozen and blind to all possibility beyond invisibility, as a baby grew in the dark and a mother weds herself to shame"

 "a mother weds herself to shame"

Yes.

That so perfectly describes happened 

The shame of the evidence of my lost virginity at only 15 years old.  Not shame of the baby growing in the dark, it was shame of my sexuality.

The shame of my 15 year old self with visible proof that I really wasn't a "good girl". 

Shame that society handed to me and that I so willingly put on myself

Shame that only reinforced the belief I already had that I wasn't good enough.  That I wasn't worthy of the love that I craved.  

Therefore,  my child deserved so much more than I had to give him.

He deserved more than me.

*sigh*

I wish I could go back and talk to that 15 year old mother...