Adoption Mythology

No More Sarahs

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?


The Choice of the Damned

Yes, I “decided” to lose my child. Yes, I was “very sure”. Yes, technically, I had ‘other options’, but in my heart, in my head..there was no other option just this thing that I must do for us both. I believed what I was told. I wanted to believe it since at least believing it gave me some hope. Of abortion, of parenting..both were dark and cold as seen by me. My views were skewed. Our lives at stake. And I was in no position to make this life long decision. Yes, I needed to be protected from myself.


Adoption: The Tapestry of Gray, Weaving Truth.

There is no simple answer in adoption. Adoption is made of millions of individual experiences. We all have a thread in it. We all weave it together.

Adoption is not one color. It is not one shade. It is millions of different shades of gray, some threads change mid stream…from brightly colored, to the black of death, back to a pale whisper of what it once was. Some are almost invisible, but they are still there, holding their place, keeping the pattern alive.


Momma Bears Unhinged and Non-thinking Pitfalls

How else can a mother be able to walk away from her child except that she feels that it is the best and only thing for her baby’s well being? Where else does she get that strength except from her internal momma bear? And what if that momma bear has been given the wrong messages? What is it is based on crazed idealistic fantasies and stupid lists based on doubt? What if she could harness all that internal strength needed to fight the grief and instead use it to fight all the reasoning behind a possible loss? What if she stopped trying to be the “best birthmother” but tried to be the best mother? What if adoption reasoning and lists and generic feel good thoughts of grateful and happy adoptive parents didn’t get in the way of natures supreme processes?


Shattered and Broken Hard

I would love to see a real deep physiological study done on the growing up, formative years of women who “choose” to become mothers of loss. My guess is that we were not loved unconditionally by mothers with issues who tended to be narcissistic I think our fathers might be either absent or didn’t stand up to our mothers rule. And maybe that could also be reversed too? I wonder if we ever felt worthy of anything, so how could we be worthy of our children?
It’s a hard battle to feel I am suppose to have anything I want and keep it. Sometimes I don’t feel I deserve it at all. And then, part of me screams how much I should have and I am entitled. But I still am afraid of the loss again.


The Long Term Ripples in Adoption

Sometimes, it comes with the birth of a second child that makes us realize what motherhood means, what was truly lost, what is gone forever.
Sometimes, it just comes with maturity. We become less self absorbed and see what we decided does not just effect us, does not just “build a family” that makes us feel good, but that the loss continues to grow and effect others in our lives in ways we could not see.
I tell the pregnant and considering adoption to look beyond the immediate. Not just at NOW, but at later.


Adoption: an American Revolution

Will you document the Mothers who were lied to and forced to lose the children they so desperately wanted, or will you only show the few happy reunions of such broken women? Will you discuss the issues and problems of current adoption practices that do not really honor the bond between mother and child and how to make things better, or will you just show the smiling faces of the “happy good birthmother” and promote more adoptions for a 13 billion dollar industry?



The Adoption Reunion with My Son; Making it Current

Since he would be 18, he could open up his records..if he desired. And if he did that, then he could “find” me and we could be “official” and then completely manage to avoid telling his folks that this has now been happening already for almost 7 months. Really, at this point all I wanted to do was avoid getting them upset and get him out form the burden of secrets.



The End of Exile

After Finding my Son on Social Media Into MySpace and the future I went. And I found..nothing. No response, no message, no signs, BUT he had added me to his Friends list..so what did it all mean? Back into chat, we went over what we knew and what I had sent in the first message. It was decided that it was just too cryptic and that he didn’t put it…



This is What A Birth Mother Looks Like

My eyes stare into the camera as if saying “Mine, still mine.” Then I put those maternal feelings aside and took on the mantle of being a good birthmother. I look at this face of my own and think, “How could anyone not have seen it and not felt the absolute cruel injustice of separating me from this babe? Why did no one say ‘just don’t'”


Adoption Reunion: and then wait some more….

And then April came around and MySpace had a new feature. You could look up kids by their school listing. So of course, I plugged in his High School. At this point, I had trouble understanding WHY this kid was NOT on MySpace when it seemed like half the world was on it.After finding tons of kids, but no sign of my own, I decided to see who the kids had listed on their friends list. I think it was the second kid that I looked at..and BOOM! I almost feel off my chair. There he was.


Contact in Adoption

At this point, my dearest and greatest wish was just to have a picture of my son.The waiting was, completely, making me crazy.After I looked at the return address, it registered what I held in my hands. Pictures of my son..the face that I had not seen in 16 and a half years, my baby, grown man/teenager /son.