The Day I Knew I Didn’t Want Any Other Mothers to Relinquish

I know sometimes I must come across as harsh. I hear it in myself, but it’s real, I am feeling harsh, raw, frustrated at times. And I know that it is wrong of me to be rough sometimes with people, with their hearts, with who they are, to rock them so. One of my biggest failings is impatience. Always has been, probably always will be. I am willful, demanding.

There has been a lot ofdiscussionall around the internet adoption world lately on the separation and persecution of each other as birthmothers…a divide and conquer, a judgement of sorts, endless terminology debates, issues of respect. And I think that what it comes to is that we all see it. I know I can contribute to it. I was rough with that last anonymous and I knew it. I’ll get back to the whys later on. What I think, though, what is plain also..is that IF we could get by what separates us, we can really be impressive with pure numbers. IF we all managed to come together on something. We can’t even get together on the loss of our children because some of us still can’t see the loss.

Once Upon a Time, I Thought Adoption Was Good

I remember being like that. When I first came to the internet, I thought that the adoption of Max was a good positive experience. And I felt that I had done all that I was suppose to do. I had cried when I was sad, I tried to jump back into the life that I had left behind, I over achieved, I made good and, while sad at appropriate times, I felt good – mostly. I had not buried my emotions or been silenced by shame, I was proud of what I had done. I had done what I thought best for my child. It was a good thing and I had no regrets. He was happy, I was OK, life went on. I had healed. Scarred, I knew, but whole again.

For fourteen years after Max I did live. I suffered no major depressions and any minor ones were just as likely caused by stress in my life. I had no addictions, no dependencies, therapy when needed, I functioned, excelled even. I went to school. I worked, I moved, married, had another son, separated, reconciled, divorced, lost my mother to cancer, loved and lost, broken engagement, broken heart, bought a house, redid a house, loved again, had another child and one on the way…and at this point, we got high speed internet and I typed in the word “adoption”. I was FINE, but still it was adoption I went to first.

The point is..I thought myself FINE. I KNEW it. Yet, I longed to be with others who shared this experience. It was not as I had expected.

When I Came Out of The Adoption Fog

I have told this story before. How I fell on to Exiled Mothers, and was shocked and awed by the dark truth and left the most chipper happy “Not all adoptions are like this, not all BIRTHmothers are miserable. I am just FINE” Yes, me.

And how when I was, as expected, called out..I lashed back (oh I had no internet manners yet) and linked it to other adoption boards. Created a bit of a ruckus, I did.

I HATED the woman who called me out. Oh the “Mistress Maxine”…how I respect and love her now..but then, to me she was so vicious, so lashing, so assuming in what she said about me. She said: I was in denial. ALl she did really, was on her board, which she was managing, and openly not “happy adoption”, challenged my way of thinking…defeated my message..and spoke her truth. And I know it is the same thing I do here. So I can imagine some people just not loving me at the time.

When I made my way to Adoption Insights, I wasn’t shocked so much to hear the stories of others, because I knew that now they were out there, but I was glued in a disgusted way. Like viewing that car wreck, watching the body count…horrified yet unable to pull away my eyes. And the more I watched, the more bodes kept piling on. It was on AI that I tripped into chat and was openly challenged to my face about my views, my “non regretful status”..and again, I was angered and horrified that people could even think of me in such a manner and dismiss what I had to say about my own situation. How dare they see something else in it then what I said it was.

But it was that initial anger that kept me there. That kept me going back for more..what shocks us, what angers..perhaps might have a morsel of truth in it? For at this point, I did not look at what might be a loss. No loss…all was fine. Looking at the bright side, finding the positives, accepting things for what they seemed to be, what I had been taught them to be..adoption was a great win win situation and I made a great choice. Yeah, I had to get hit over the head with it. Sometimes it is a harsh blow to the noggin, what makes us inflamed, allows us to see more clearly when the dust and cobwebs of thoughts have settled.

Slowly, I began to examine what it really meant to ME. Not the great thing I did by building a family, not measuring my success on someone else s happiness. Not what I had achieved afterwards as a measure of the righteousness of the act, nor a deciding factor of what I could not have done with my first son in tow. Not even by what Max had gained though his adoptive family, nor judged by what I had hopes for him, but for what was loving and available to him by US..his family of blood.

And in that process my anger went from “Fuck you!” to “ohhhhh..uh huh!…ouch”

New Adoption Thoughts Rock Our Foundations

We are told that becoming this thing, this revered and feared person, this family builder, this saint, the strong…is selfless. And IMO, we latch on that we must continue to be selfless forever. We suffered this pain for our children’s well being, we give up what is ours to create joy for others, we hide the feelings to make our families and friends feel more comfortable. We incorporated the mode of selflessness so deeply into our personas that thinking about our own feelings, just what happened to US in the process…seems sacrilegious to the whole essence of our being. And so we fight it.

And perhaps that is the cause of the battle between mothers? I now no mother on line or IRL who will say that losing or placing a child is a cakewalk, but then the opinions differ….is it best, was it awful, etc. We all know the pain, but it is how we choose to look at it? Where we are in time, what truth we have embraced? And I think what is hard, what I know is hard for me, is seeing others still in the same place..and believing that they have just not taken that other step…to look at what it is for them, to stop the endless selfless ride. But who am I or anyone else to make that ride stop prematurely??

To me there is a line. It doesn’t matter to me where you are when you are above (or below even) the line. You can be the most militant abolish adoption and hate it in all forms. You can be someone just struggling though. You can think that it worked out good for you personally. You can want reform, call yourself a first mom, an birthmom if you want. You can be in CUB, be in OriginsUSA, joined the social workers guild based on your experience, speak at conferences. I can’t judge that, that is YOUR truth. WE all fit somewhere..and does it matter exactly where you are on your journey?

What Birthmothers Say About Adoption Matters!

What matters, I say, is this:

• If your words alone could influence another woman to place or not to place, to parent or to let her child go…what would your words say?
• What does the message come across as??
• Maybe you are harsh, maybe you are gentle, maybe you don’t sugar coat, maybe you acknoledge all sides of the coin, maybe you only speak for yourself..but what actions are caused by what you speak or write??

If just based ALONE on what you say..what will she do? And that is the line for me. Speak your truth, whatever it may be, but if you are encouraging another woman to live this life…then we are at odds you and I.

For no matter what your personal experience may be…if a woman can walk away from you with the hopes that she might have your positive experience rather than the possibility of any other moms who speaks in less than rosy terms..then you have done her a disservice..and you have hurts us all collectively.

I don’t care if you think we are gathering respect, or understanding, or showing the world that we can be human and all…If you make woman think that being a mother of loss is a good thing..then I have issues. Don’t glorify this. Don’t make it seem noble even if you just want others to see that you did the best that you could at the time. Don’t show your strength if it makes other women and girls look up to you as a role model. Do you want to know that any other woman and children in this lifetime are crying alone and feeling any loss based on what you said?

I get told I have the fence up my ass. Yeah, I sit on the fence because I WILL talk to adoptive parents like they are people too. At the same time I am harsh because I will try to throw other mothers up over the fence…kicking and screaming, like I was, if I must. Maybe it is not a fence up my butt, but I make myself into a human bridge or catapult if necessary. But it is not the pain of the fence post that I register..it it the future pain of another mother crying alone at night with empty arms that thrusts me out here..into cyber-word  And to me..that is the line. That is what I crossed one day.

The Story of Sarah and How We Changed Each Other

When a young woman named Sameol’ Sarah wanted to keep her baby and I realized I wanted her too also. Her joining the world as a mother of adoption loss was not going to make what I did any better or worse. It wouldn’t change my past, restore my tears, or get me back my son. Another mom with us would not justify my reasons or make what I did any more right nor wrong. It just would have allowed this pain into her life. And it is for the Sarah’s of this world that I fight you…my other sisters of loss. It is for the Sarah’s of the future that I am mean and harsh with you as Maxine was with me.

No more Sarah’s.

Think about what you say…how you say it..and think about your Sarah out there..reading you maybe years form now..what will she do based in just what you have said? Then join me on the other side of the line…help me save Sarah…again and again and again.