During the last 25 years living life as a birthmother, I have found one of the repeated themes used to dismiss us goes like this;
“So you are sad, boo hoo, just because you made a mistake and now regret doesn’t mean the whole adoption industry is bad. Accept your own mistakes and get a life”
Or something to that effect. Sometimes, they are more gently put and even prefaced with a sincere sounding acknowledgment of the loss, before somehow our entire viewpoint is undermined by some thinly veiled remark.
I have found that usually the people who make statements like these are not likely to be open to being told how erroneous they are. If nothing else, I am very aware that people who states such things to me, about me, truly have no idea who I really am. It’s most obvious that they have not spent any time reading here or they would see that I have, many times, accepted my role in Max’s adoption and admit that indeed it was a huge mistake on my part. They will believe what they want.
Is Feeling Adoption Regret a Bad Thing?
What puzzles me is that this kind of attitude rests on the ideal that it is somehow a bad thing to regret something. Isn’t saying that you feel regret also saying that by design, you must have made a mistake? And isn’t that accepting personal responsibility? As a criticism, it twists upon itself.
Within the framework of adoption, regret is a big player. Probably because no one has the guidebook, this stuff is hard and very emotional and we are all flawed, so we all make mistakes. I think the feelings of regret are something we can all identity with to some extent. This post was actually inspired by this lovely description of regret posted on Facebook by a friend in adoption.
“Saying you have no regrets is saying you’re perfect. We all make mistakes, we all speak and act in ways that if we have a proper working conscience, we regret, meaning we feel bad, we experience grief, and usually a longing that we could unspeak, undo, what we said and what we did, it is because we can’t, that we are left with regret. It’s natural, and a sign that your conscience isn’t so damaged or seared. Having regret doesn’t mean you’re still eaten up with guilt. It doesn’t mean you haven’t moved on. It just means you own your behavior, and you cared that it had a negative impact, one regardless if you intended it or not, you would undo it, change it, if you could.”
I would undo it, I would change it, but I can’t.
Yes, I regret that I let my son be adopted. I know no one held a gun to my head and no one, in my case, forced me to sign those papers. I know that I had my reasons at the time and they are perfectly acceptable reasons and common to adoption practices to this day. In many ways, I know that I was an ideal birthmother and I admit, over and over, that I was visibly a “content, peaceful and happy” birthmother for many years. I am aware that I sent myself away; I plucked the idea of adoption out of thin air, and I presented it as a solution to my friends and family.
Oh, believe me: I am well aware of the parts I played and the mistakes I have made.
I Will Eat My Fair Share of Regret Pie, but That’s It
I refuse to accept complete culpability. If we are going to be completely honest and truthful and if I can admit my mistakes and accept personal responsibility, then do not I deserve the same in return?
My agency was not evil, but I also made the mistake of trusting them completely and believing that they represented friends who really had my best interest at heart. If they were truly so unaware of what they ask mothers to do and the impact upon us, then they had no business providing counsel as they were woefully uneducated. The studies were out when I relinquished in 1987. The reality could very well be more sinister than that. In the end, their motivation matters not; I was failed.
I was not presented with enough information for my relinquishment to be considered an informed choice. The agency directed me, as a matter of adoption practice, to do things that were (in my view now) quite unethical. Specifically; conspiring to terminate Max’s father’s parental rights without his knowledge, having the Commonwealth of Massachusetts provide for my medical care, allowing, and even supporting, a period of non-communication with my own mother during the entire pregnancy, customizing their parent profile to appeal to me and counseling that was just lacking, for starters.
My mother reacted badly, as did I, and I believe that our estrangement contributed to my determination to relinquish. The fact is that she failed me at a time when I needed her most. I can be at a place now where I am sure there are things that she would say are mistakes and that she regrets as well. I don’t harbor anger over these things, but it is the truth and should not be glossed over.
There could have been a different outcome if ANYONE had stepped in at so many different points along the way and said, “Wait a minute. Something is going on here; Claud is in trouble.” It would not have been uncalled for, way before I was even pregnant. I was in visible “trouble” long before, but no one raised a voice. I have had friends over the years come to me privately and say how sorry they were. My brother has fretted and said, “Where was I when this all happened?” But my brother was 7 then, and my friends were hardly equipped to deal with something like this, either. I do not blame them, but I am touched that they can see now what we could not see then. Why I was invisible to the other adults in my life, I don’t think I will ever know? I’m not going to go off and interrogate people and demand answers. And it’s not like I am wanting to point fingers and caste blame either, thinking that someone should have saved me from myself. But is it wrong to say I was left to my own devices and allowed to make a decision that I was ill-equipped to make and I am sad that no one even really checked up on me? That’s how I feel. It makes me sad to think of the girl I was then: floundering, yet no one came to my aid.
I regret that I did not clearly communicate the situation to Max’s father. That decision was based on fear, anger, embarrassment and a desire to avoid any unpleasantness on my part. All completely lousy reasons that I should not have been allowed to get away with, by any of the other parties involved. On the same note, I am still 99.99% sure that he was well aware that I was pregnant and could have very easily brought up the topic, so I will accept my half of the blame for being uncommunicative, not all of it. In this, too, I will say that he had the advantage or power and maturity. I was out of my league.
The way I see it: if we make the concept of responsibility (or even blame) a pie, then I will eat my share of Regret Pie. I will not, however, eat my mother’s share, my family’s share, the adoption agency’s fair share or Max’s dad’s fair share of Regret Pie. I am quite full enough.
I Have No Problem Admitting My Mistake
I tell you, it’s much more liberating this way. By admitting that I was wrong, I don’t have to keep on defending why adoption was right. Too much thought and energy goes into trying to convince yourself that it’s such a great thing. I think you have to perform such emotional acrobatics and so twist around the truth that it gets exhausting to even keep up with yourself. I know people, folks removed from adoption, who spend their whole lives trying to keep their false fronts convincing enough for public scrutiny. I don’t want to live that way.
It’s much easier to say; relinquishing my son to adoption was a mistake on my part. I wish I had never done it and I regret the decision.
And the funny thing is; I don’t think people really care whether or not I accept personal responsibility for the part I played. I think they are mad because I speak out against the other things that factored in. Like I should just eat up the whole Regret Pie and slink away with my bloated belly. And maybe I would, if I could, but it would make me too sick and besides, in the end, adoption just wasn’t worth it.
It wasn’t worth it to trade the life I would have had for the one I did have. It wasn’t worth it to feel all these things for whatever value I thought a life post-relinquishment offered me. It wasn’t worth it to be so compliant that I sold myself out. And bottom line: the life that Max has had (as an adoptee), though there isn’t much wrong with it, is not so far superior that it was worth the ramifications for all of us; him, me, Rye, the kids, my family.
And you know, I think that if it wasn’t worth it for me, under such acceptable circumstances, then it probably won’t be the best for other women in similar situations. So I can accept that I made a mistake and I can’t change that, but I can change what are still variables. I can provide some understanding about life and feelings post relinquishment, question acceptable adoption practices, call out predatory adoption tactics, fight to restore the human rights to our children, support others along the way and maybe, just maybe, I can help prevent another woman from having to make the same mistake I made.
This is what I call a life worth getting. I accept.
It never ceases to amaze me that the same people yelling at a survivor of exploitation about how the survivor should “just accept personal responsibility,” never seem to demand that of the people doing the exploiting.
It’s like with welfare, that people who go on welfare should “just get a job,” but we’re not supposed to have a minimum wage, either, according to them.
For me now, it’s a litmus test. If you (general “you”) would tell me something like this, your opinions are worth exactly nothing and you have just shown me that you are not a person worth knowing. I cut people out of my life now for saying things like this to me, with very few exceptions.
My story is so very similar to yours it’s scary. For so many years I would tell people I have no regrets because to admit I did regret it would mean that I own my mistake. And it was a huge one.
It feels good to say I made a mistake now. It feels good to acknowledge it, to own it. To admit that I can’t change it, but maybe I can change the way some other expectant mother views adoption.
Me saying out loud that I made a mistake in no way means that I should take on everyone else’s mistakes in my adoption. It’s important for others to hear about their mistakes as I see them, even if they refuse to admit them.
Objecting to the current adoption industry is not neglecting to admit my part in it. To me, it’s more of a mea culpa to be able to discuss injustices and unethical behaviors. It’s an “I’m sorry” to my son because I can’t say it directly to him right now.
It’s similar to being pressured into having an abortion. I myself was pressured into deciding on an abortion back when I was 16. I definitely regret it. This is a great article.
Great post.
After coming out of the “fog” I was in for 20 years, I was so angry. Angry at the agency, the social worker, my parents, the birthdad, and most of all myself. Angry that I didn’t question or fight hard enough, that I blindly believed what the social worker told me. Now, after the acute anger, is regret. Just yesterday I told my husband, “If just one person told me when I was pregnant that I could raise her, that I had the ability to be a mom, I would have never given her up.” I don’t understand how my parents could have watched me cry for my baby and not help me keep her.
On the other hand, I have to accept the fact that I didn’t try hard enough, never stood up for myself or my daughter, and went along with it, because I didn’t know any better. I have to own up to the fact that I could have spoken up, I could have said “No”, but I didn’t. The reasons why I didn’t, although significant, aren’t important anymore. I just have to accept what is, and hope that by speaking out, we can change the standard in adoption practices.
I said this same thing to my partner just now. Not one fellow human said, ‘Wait a minute, think it through. In five years time she’ll be at school, in your lifetime that is virtually nothing.’
My mother accepted my choice willingly, in fact found the parents.
My sister said she couldn’t believe I’d ‘done that’ about an hour after we left my birth-daughters new home, aged 13 days.
My father expressed his usual alcoholics contempt through silent scowls and slamming doors.
No one offered help apart from the birth-dad whom I’d broken up with months and months before (for good reason), no one suggested I might actually be a good mother to my daughter- I was 22.
An adopted friend who had so many issues stemming from her own adoption didn’t say anything- she just sort of glowered at me for weeks till I fled that city. She seemed disgusted with me for considering it but never opened a discussion. Never said a word. I felt so guilty being pregnant- all she wanted was a blood relative, a baby and she was in hospital with a miscarriage- one of a few due to PCOS. I would have listened to her but our relationship was always a bit strained.
I gave the social worker advice she was so woefully inadequate to council me.
Our society is in very poor shape indeed.
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First off, let me say that I just love this post and can so relate. The Regret Pie is a great metaphor and I, too, refuse to eat the whole pie although my child would like me to do just that and then some! I will only have one slice, thank you. Can you imagine having your own child constantly accusing you of abandonment and insisting that you tossed him/her out like a piece of trash? That’s what happened to me and eventually the reunion relationship got eaten away!
I was told never to tell anyone what happened. This made the sale easier. But I was surprised how quickly I met amoms that needed to know so they would stop abusing their “boughten” child. The response I would get from those “rescuers” was extremely condesending so I quickly reverted to telling no one. The selling agency completely made up a story to “make the adoption legal”. I have met so many failed adoptions and damaged mothers I have to do what i can to stop such adoptions. I found out that a selling agency will rarely say they should not have placed. Saying a natural mom should apologize for being in this situation is like telling a jew to apologize for getting caught by nazis and shame on them for making us feel bad. the industry has to change. no doubt ever!
Love the pie image. Love it. And I hate pie. : )
Yes, that pie! I too felt liberated by finally admitting a big piece of the pie was mine, my responsibility that I could not push off on the other players in the drama, much as I tried for many years to be the blameless victim that things were done to, who did nothing herself. I finally had to admit that “doing nothing” was a choice in itself that led to disastrous consequences for myself and my son. Taking responsibility for my part helped me to move on towards a real reunion, and a realistic assessment of both my part and the part of others in what happened.
We all have our pie, for some with very different portions to each part. My pie would be cut up about like yours, and I have decided that the other parties’ pieces are their problem, not mine to stew over or place blame. My parents are dead, they regretted their actions until the day they died. If there is any afterlife, they are watching over all their grandchildren, including the first. The state agency was just doing its bureaucratic job in 1968, inadequate and soulless that it was. Those losers are not worth hating. The bio father has his own guilt he has lived with all his life for his actions.
I am sorry for my part, have said so, and now can go on to a healthier and more hopeful future, and maybe help prevent the same kind of thing from happening to some others today by speaking out.
I have always thought that the whole pie was mine and was more than willing to eat it. (Even though I only like French Silk pie and regret pie doesn’t taste like that at all!)
Same here Starr. All mine. Huge responsibility, I took it all. Now I look around and start to wonder. We most definitely live in an extremely misogynistic society. All the propaganda on tv, film, books, those god-awful women’s magazines, even vegetarianism/veganism- you name it, it’s aimed at taking women down.
I once heard ‘If the world is to be saved, it’ll be the women who’ll do it.’
Not if the male-dominators have half a say. I say the world is run by some very evil men. Joseph P. Farrell would most likely agree- one of the best male brains I’ve ever encountered in 40 years…
I do think it would be harder for mothers who relinquished after the formal BSE to convince anyone that they had made anything other than a free choice in giving up their child. I have to admit that I probably would not have searched for my first mother if I had been born during a different time period. I would have thought that there really was no justification for my n-mother giving me up and that if she had really wanted to she could have kept me. But what I have learned from your story and the other blogs is how massively manipulated you all were. I can see how you went for help and advice and assumed that the person counseling you was giving you unbiased, objective information. You had no idea that this person so-called ‘helping’ you actually had a huge hidden agenda. You ladies were naive. And why wouldn’t you be? It’s not as if there was tons of information out there that adoption agencies and attorneys were selling you snake oil.
For a great many of surrendering mothers the “BSE” designation only signifies greater numbers of surrenders among post-war baby boomer moms, not a huge difference in how mothers caught in the teeth of unscrupulous adoption brokers were and are treated right up until today. Yes, there was more choice for some, many more abortions, many more single moms raising their children. But for those pushed towards adoption by their family, church, or circumstance there continued to be little realistic choice. Rather than thinking in eras or number, think of individual women in dire circumstances taken advantage of by those who profit from adoption. It did not end in 1973 or 1980 or 1990 or any other date, and is still going on right now.
Maryanne sorry no no no. after the war these maternity places wanted to teach women lessons. they didn’t just tell girls lies, they did in fact torture them to take their babies. some of it isn’t written because it is too brutal.
sorry mya i know what you are trying to say, but if you read what happened to post war girls you have to honor what happened to them. if the only gift you can give to them is that someone knew why they died too young
What about mothers who were not coerced? I have open adoptions and neither was forced into relinquishing their child?
Assuming that “I have open adoptions” means that you are an adoptive parent? To this, I have to say that you probably do not know if they were coerced at all. It’s so subtle, it’s so well done, most moms can’t even see it. I didn’t think I was coerced at all. I thought I made a choice. And just because the adoption is open that does NOT by any means guarantee that you are told the truth about how your children’s mothers really feel. Birthmothers know that they must walk the chappy birthmother walk and do the happy birthmother dance. We have all seen the horror stories to adoptions being closed because the adoptive parents ” couldn’t take see how upset she was” or thought that “she needed to move on” or that they “child was confused or upset by her”. I’m all for truth and honesty, but I openly tell moms in open adoptions to play the damn game and to not rock the boat. We know to lie to adoptive parents because the risk is if we do not, we lose our children all over again.