What Choices are There for a Potential Birthmother?

There has been a lot of talk about “making the choice” of adoption it seems.
What is enough informed consent for a birthmother to make an adoption plan?
Are there birthmother who are truly content?
Can we define the subtle and obvious coercion.
Whose responsibility it is to educate perspective mothers considering adoption?
Do we need to be protected from ourselves?
Who is shirking personal responsibility for their actions and just crying foul?

When I read the things that people say about mothers considering adoption for their babies such as:

“I hardly picture the woman placing a baby for adoption as weak, ignorant, or coerced.”

or

“The concept of domestic adoption is not bad just because individuals screwed up because they lacked the ability emotionally to be responsible in so many different areas of their lives”

or:

“So how else do you drive it home to a woman how bad that will be? Like isn’t it just obvious how horrible that separation will be, or do adoption professionals really have to teach that? This is what I don’t get about the informed consent…how much info do you need to know how devastating the separation is going to be?”

And I don’t put these quotes here in a bad way. They are good examples of how people DO think. And makes me ever so much clearer that the path of a mother of adoption loss is still not understood. Plus, it makes me go back and think again about what I was told, what I believed  and how I did what I did. Sometimes checks and balances are a good thing..even if they do sting a little.

What We Know About Adoption Before We Relinquish a Baby

What is becoming more and more glaringly clear to me is that, while I can say till the cows come home that I can take responsibility for what is “My Choice”, that while I had “other options”, really nothing was explored and made into any form of reality. Not by me, not by those close to me, not by those who were suppose to guide me.

I have talked a bit about what my original feelings of Adoption as a whole was here. How my general, non experienced  non “touched” in a personal way, really no clue way of thinking got me to there and here. And unless you have gone and read the, I am told more than 50 pages, of “How I Became Birthmother” story,  I don’t really feel like making a Reader’s Digest condensed version and eliminate important stuff. As it is, I have a lot more to beef up the thing with as it is..so it is the condensed version already.

Anyway, what I would like to do is follow what I did to prepare myself for the reality of adoption and what was offered to me. An maybe you can see then, how I did the unthinkable “bizarre to give away your own flesh and blood to other people to raise”
In a word: Nothing.

My Condensed Adoption Story

OK..so I have these completely unreal, generic, la-la version of adoption in my head. And then I am pregnant. Oh, all right..I will condense!

Pregnant by a man more than twice my age, who is my boss, and is probably also in a relationship with my Aunt through marriage. Messy, secret, ashamed.

Adoption Mythology Option #1:  You Could Have Choosen Abortion

I hide that pregnancy for 22 weeks..give or take, but I was 22 weeks when I was finally confronted by the mother of the Aunt who was for all purposes family, whom I trusted, whom I worked with, whom I had tremendous fear of as she had the ability to open up the whole can of worms, to see the affair, to hold judgement over the relationship, who had unknown to me ulterior motives to keep the Boss man free and clear for her own daughter…after not being able to utter a word to ANYONE about the pregnancy, she not only told me that I was pregnant, confronted me, but she called and made the appointments for termination. She put me in the cab and sent me on my way. “Abort!” she commands, “Save your life!”

Did I want to? I really cannot say..there was no thought, there was just relief that someone finally even bothered to notice. That I wasn’t alone in this, not that she was the best ally, but she was my only ally. She was the only person who even noticed. I had spent years not being noticed.
She sent the bundle of money, $750.00 in cash, to have it done, she insisted that I go to another doctor..and, once again, I am glad that for whatever reason I was deemed “too far along” even though I really wasn’t. I went along with the “too big” just as compliantly as I went along with being put in the cab.

I had lived in the depths of mortal fear and deep denial. I have trouble understanding it myself, I didn’t know what the heck I was doing even then, but I was scared to death for months. A heightened sense of panic consumed me..fear of the pregnancy, of my life, of the father knowing, of him not knowing, of having to deal, of being found out with the father, of everything falling apart. In a complete and utter fog, I followed her direction to termination which was then denied.

She was going to send me to Kansas, pay for my airfare, lie to my mother, another 3 thousand dollars, legal there until 26 weeks, for one if I couldn’t have it in NY. And then, finally  I began to realize that I did have a say at least a little bit and I said no more. Ah, I could feel my baby moving inside me. I felt joy within my secret terror. I said no to Kansas to which this woman, this person that I considered an adoptive grandmother freaked out completely about the idea of me having a baby. So I went from the invisible girl with no one noticing anything and having a secret life, to the greatest hold of denial I have ever experienced  to the drama of a great crisis in days. Having a baby was presented to me as the greatest tragedy of my young life. It would ruin me forever.

Abortion Was Never Really an Option

I feel inside that if I had wanted it really, I could have simply told my lover and I would have been given a check to cover all and gone on my merry way. If the deep denial had any purpose, that was it.

No one offered adoption as a solution to me. No one pressured me, it was something that I pulled up out of the magic memories of my childhood. But there was no speaking about parenting either. The only thing my mother said to me was that she would not “raise my baby”.. to which I answered that I would place him for adoption and that satisfied her enough.

And then I live though a few weeks of hell until I got to the warm protective bosom of agency life. So happy I was just to be someplace safe. Someplace where the feelings of joy that I had kept inside, as this new life inside me kicked and made it’s presence known, were shared. Where the pregnancy was not a curse, nor a burden, nor a way to destroy myself, but a blessing and a good thing. Just being able to stop being in a panic and left go of some of the fear, was refreshing beyond all.

Adoption Counseling or a Course in Justifiable Abandonment?

Adoption Mythology Option #2:  You Could Have Parented Your Child

OK, I had counselling, but lately I am remembering more and more of what it was like. Much of it was centered on what I would do after the adoption, what I wanted for me in life after the birth. No much on why I wanted to do it, or examining how I got there in the first place. Much of it centered on my mother and my relationship with her. It was very strained and I was working though not only her temporary physical abandonment and her long term emotional restraint, but also my father’s absolute divorce of myself and long term rejection. Hmm..so let’s see..I have my own abandonment issues and I am seeking to abandon my own child? Interesting parallel, don’t you think? Funny how now I wonder how come it wasn’t obvious that by rejecting my own child also gave me reason and justification to be rejected myself. If I love my baby and can do this, then maybe my parents also had love for me?

Now one might say that it wasn’t the agencies responsibility to find nor fix my own deep set issues, but then what were they offering to me really in that counselling? I trusted them. They were the professionals  In my mind, thinking of professional ethics, they should have seen the reality and at least tried to get me to see it too. Was it help they really offered? Or what did I really offer to them?

I clearly remember the conversation on parenting. The conversation. One. I can see myself sitting in the little office, speaking to Jeanne. Hearing her tell me that I could choose to parent. That there was options out there..social services, food stamps. It was not appealing. I was very sure in my head of what I wanted to do and I said NO, most adamantly. It was presented to me that if I kept this child I would be all on my own. And we didn’t really come up with anything that at all felt that a possible, deal-able plan for parenting. Not in a three minute conversation. Looking back, it was more of “Step three..make sure you offer resources for parenting..say blah,blah and then move on if it is refused” Informed..yes. Like in a check box, informed  Really attempt to make a viable, appealing plan..no way.

Now my feelings when speaking of parenting: more terror and panic. I resisted terribly. I did not let myself go there at all. The idea was completely closed off in my mind. One might think that this only made my decision more sure, but it was more of fear that wouldn’t allow me to think of it. I could not tempt myself. For I wanted it that badly. And I truly believed that it was not an option at all. If I did not feel that parenting was an option, then how could adoption been a choice to make? One option means no choice.

Offering Option, Real Choices in Adoption

One thing that I like to do when playing devil’s advocate with someone considering placement..ask what would they do if they won Lotto tomorrow. Most reply that they would “of course” keep their baby. So the desire is there, it is the means of doing so. The next job is to whittle down the objections on the list that prevent the option of parenting.

Do you know how long I stayed away from Lotto after Max? I could not dare to play for almost 5 years. So fearful that I would win, and all would have been for naught. So if I was given a way,a real way out of adoption besides Lotto, I know I would have taken that. Funny, I do not recall anyone mentioning child support. Surely the adults in this situation knew I was entitled to 17% of this head-of-his-own-law-firm-name-on-the-Mid-town-Manhattan-door-no-other-children income. Kind of like Lotto? Surely I, a child of divorce, knew about support? What did it matter that it was presented to me by my own  parents as something that must be fought, with all the hatred and brilliance of a marriage gone wrong? Want to know how long it too me to realize that child support could have been an option that could have saved it all? Ten years. Ten years after the fact, as an adult, in my own house, did it strike me as something I could have done. Pretty stupid, I bet you think?

Father’s rights? He had none. That he was an real adult, fully capable, educated, a lawyer for Pete’s sake, wealthy? Forget what was moral, ethical. I was afraid of dealing with him and I bet they were too. I was allowed, given directions, enabled and helped to make him non existent. Poof! Father unknown.

Parenting was considered impossible and no one told me otherwise  There was zero offers to help make it possible.

Adoption Mythology Option #3:  Adoption “the Loving Choice”

What was I told about adoption? How was I prepared?

A book on poetry regarding adoption. I have a bunch that I liked handwritten in a notebook from that time. Mostly sappy and sweet, they spoke of the joy that they adoptive parents would have, the kind hearted ways they would think of me, the thankfulness  the sharing, the gift. “Legacy of the Adopted Child is in there” ..that kind of stuff. There was one about the heartache, but it was from a “forced” time and I didn’t relate as this was MY choice. Right…times were different. Adoption had changed. My story would be different. How many people have you heard say that. Especially about “open” adoptions? Yeah, I know that school of thought.

Never spoke to another birthmother. It was not offered. I had never known another  birthmother, so no experience there, just those great heartfelt made for TV movies again.
Never spoke to an Adoptee until after either, not about how they really felt, pre Primal Wound society. Again, not offered.

Just the Beautiful Side of Adoption

I did get to see the other side of adoption. I lived with an adoptive couple and their newly adopted daughter. So I got to see the beauty, the joy, how much they loved her. I never once thought about what this baby girl’s mother might be feeling. How I might soon feel. I saw no tears, only the joy. I saw a vision of my child’s life and it was good. I mean, I totally loved these folks I lived with..and knowing them so put my heart at ease. This agency had great people. My son would have great people. Yeah!

Books? None.

Articles? Not a one.

Scientific Research? Not a whisper.
What my child might feel. A little.  How he might like some pictures, a letter, an explanation  some reasons, heritage. How he could search at 18 and I could sign the consent form to open my identification . I signed consent to be found before he was even born. So before I lost him I was leaving the trail of breadcrumbs back to my door, to my heart. So, to me the concept of adoption was more like an 18 year lease. Something I know I could attempt now, but surely in 18 years (the only amount of time offered as an option) it would be possible to reclaim some part of him. And of course, in my head, the grateful adoptive family would welcome me with open arms. Umhmm.

But all and all, I was assured that he would be fine and happy. That knowing something about me, having something from me would be the key to his whole happiness. The ancient rites of closed adoptions were discussed and how children from those times had nothing. And though it was still to be a traditional closed adoption but New and Improved! Now with pictures!, I was given the important job of deciding on what legacy I would leave for him to ensure his wholeness. I spent a lot of time on the perfect gifts and words to send him off into the world with. Yes, lots of effort on that. They liked that.

What I was Taught About Adoption

Was I told it was mature and loving? Yes. Was I treated like a special queen who had this immense power to give this courageous gift to the otherwise sad and childless? Yes. Were the adoptive parents the best things since sliced bread? Oh, they were wonderful. Was I revered and given attention, noticed, and coddled and enabled to my every whim? Yes. Did I love being told how wonderful I was, how special, how strong, how worthy? Indeed. For the first time in my life, I had people judging me on an action that was deemed noble  I felt that they all really liked me, saw my innate goodness and after being ignored, loved on condition, judged, devalued, played upon, used for sex, and generally broken..I ate it up. Did I feel for years that I had paved my way to heaven for this one truly unselfish act..all the time for over ten years after.

Was I told it would be hard and painful? Yes. But assured that it would be OK over time, that time heals all wounds. That I would move on and prosper. I was given the tools to make my newly found way. I was given the right to grieve, but it had a time limit on it. Again, never warned that many mothers never get over the loss. Never explained that the majority find that the loss increases over time, rather than decrease, never told that with every year that passes more things are added to the missing so the loss is continuous and grows. I was assured that if I was unashamed, that I knew my strength, that I cried when I needed to, and took heart in the happy pictures  that it would be great. Granted they might have believed it themselves  but none of them were natural mothers of loss either. In fact, it was all adoptive parents. The director, the social workers, the counselors, all people who had benefited from women like me. And they shared their happy versions of life, form their perspectives.

I loved them all. I so wanted to make them proud and so I did all that they requested. I wanted so to prove how good I was, how strong, how courageous that I banished all doubt from my mind. I was a failure at so much else in life, at least I could be the Perfect Birthmother. And I was.

What did I know of the mother child bond? My own childhood was fraught with conflicts that my mother was all too open about  I had witnessed her ambivalence about the birth of my brother at age twelve, her own shame, her conflict, her resentments, her dance with a possible abortion rather than another life tie to my then obviously troubled father. I knew she felt trapped in her own marriage by my conception and birth. I had heard the stories on how she was just about to leave him and then there was me. So the messy divorce was postponed for another 17 years. And I all too much knew the hell that happened in that time frame. I had lived it and I knew to be afraid.

I knew what child felt like if they were resented. And that was the biggest fear for Max. that I would treat him the way my mother dealt with us. Too young still to realize that the sins of the father’s do not have to color the future. That my mothering ability would be that much more assured as I knew exactly what NOT to do. Instead of questioning why I felt I would possibly resent my child and made to work though it, or why I might not and given better tools to ensure that  improbability, it was just accept as a real reason to relinquish. Enabled my fears, I say, some might see it as taking advantage even.

Education was also in the forefront. And obtaining a college degree with a baby in tow was equally deemed impossible. It was one or the other, never looked at as a possibility.  Again, no tools, no hope, just one or the other, never both. Scholarships? Day care? Funding for mothers for education? Nope. But adoption would clear the path for me to be a real success in life. Yeah. Ok.

What Choice Was There Really?

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.

As I told my darling first born, as I whispered into his head of baby soft hair:

“I am so sorry, but there is no other way. It must be like this. I have no choice.”

When I first came to realize “Oh my fucking God! What the hell was I thinking? How could I have given away my baby”, I was very angry at myself for doing such a thing. I was repelled by my own actions and I still seek to understand fully the girl that I once was. I still blame myself a lot. Yeah, personal responsibility  I know I am intelligent. I know I am strong. I know I am capable and I should have known better. But the truth is, I did not.

As painful as it often is to understand that girl who did such a thing, it is a journey that I take often to allow myself to relive it, to remember, to see the keys and twist that made me into the kind of girl who can walk away from her baby. It was seen as a “good” thing, not the true horror, the bizarre  something to strive to do…walk away and shed a tear and don’t look back. I was proud of what I had done, how I was strong. Girls who kept their children in cases like mine were weak and selfish. I was better than them. Who is laughing now? Who can hug all their children at night? Who will watch their child graduate with honors and know that they did an incredible job? Not I.

And I can see her again, I feel her pain once more, the desperation, the fear, the need to have to be OK, the desire to be made worthy of good things in life, love and acceptance, possible success and true happiness, to redeem myself for my sins and failures by sacrificing what I loved most, what was all too dear to me, deny and redeem.

Understanding and Forgiveness for the Girls that Become Birthmothers

By understanding, I have found forgiveness. I see the sadness. I can feel what I was too afraid to feel then. And I know now that I did not have to do this horrible act to make me worthy. There were other ways to save myself without having to give up my child in the process, but I had not the tools. They were not there. I had not the life experience nor the esteem. I was broken and the care I was given, the tools presented to “fix” me, the options as presented, were surely lacking in something, even if the intentions were pure. Surely, I could have fixed myself one might say, but once one begins to buy into the “loving option”, it is not quite so easy as one might think. Ah, the glory of a quick fix. If parenting had been given equal weight as adoption, equal ability to be made worthy by being a good, hard working mother instead of a good hard working sponge birthmother, I might have had the same strength to look into my heart and keep him close forever, physically as well as emotional.

Yes, I regret. I regret that I did not do what I should have. I regret that I had not the tools in my own arsenal.  I regret that I pulled this path of horror out of thin air and walked though the door myself. I regret that no one tried to really help in a way that would have enabled me to keep my baby. I regret that no one believed that I was capable nor worthy enough to try, not even me. I regret that the internet was nonexistent in 1987. I regret it all.

And mostly I regret that I let my son slip away with nary a whimper  Oh I cried, but I was strong. How could I have thought that such a thing would really be OK??

The Conflicts in Adoption When the Damn Become Saints and then Damned Again

I was the poster child for a good adoption experience  Sure and steady, the right reasons, the super strength  the positive mindset, the unashamed grieving, the loving pictures, the perfect adoptive parents, the blued eyed, white son of a Harvard graduate. Just the way it should be. Adoption gave me the opportunity to take a dreadful and obvious personal failure and make it into a wonderful golden and treasured opportunity that would enrich so many lives. Isn’t that they way we want to see adoption. Isn’t that how we would like to view it. I just wasn’t “ready”, I was young, and so the obvious beautiful choice is to give my son the chances I couldn’t with a family that was all that I was not. Even though I was, I really could have been, with just a little help.

Then why is it so horrible now? Why is it bad that I regret it? Why does it hurt?

• Oh, because we can’t give away our children and think it is OK. And if we do and don’t look back then we are missing something in our souls, wrong in our hearts, we are cold, we are selfish..because a real mother would rather die than lose her child, right?
• We should have fought more, found a way, but it’s mature and loving too..if we don’t? If we think we are not capable.
• Bad for not being capable, then mature for knowing it, mature for doing it, but bad for being able to do it, yet strong to be able to do it.
• Weak for not fighting and really doing it, bad for not finding a way, but weak if you ask for help, but strong to get the help, but not right if you expect and trust in the help.
• Strong again for giving others a good thing, but bad if you do it for yourself for the wrong reasons, but good for doing it for the best, but bad again because no one should be able to do it at all.
• Good that you are not still such a loser, but bad for realizing you never were you should have known that!
• Good to have done it, but bad if you regret it. And if you do, don’t say a word!
• Good for you if you don’t do it, but bad if you change your mind and hurt the others, only good if you are sure, but bad if you wonder and bad if you are sure about it for what kind of woman can do such a thing?
• Bad if you do wonder and do it anyway and aren’t sure and then feel like you were talked into it, because it is good if you know what you want and don’t want if for the right reasons and they never change.
• Bad for changing and growing, but good for growing up because you are bad if you don’t change and bad if you don’t think you really have changed all that much.
• Bad if you keep it and you aren’t totally prepared, so it good then if you do it because you are not prepared, but you shouldn’t have done it if you aren’t prepared, so how dare you even think to have sex!
• What ever you do just don’t get pregnant! Or you are just screwed!

See the conflicts?

So much for choices. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t.

It is a damnable choice, but often, not much of a choice at all. We are just Damned