Love You, Hate Me, that's Adoption

Today is Sunday 5/9/2021 – mother’s day. 

I spent the day yesterday with my son and his wife (beginning our 3rd year in reunion). I always, ALWAYS enjoy spending time with them. It was an invitation to visit on “mothers day weekend”.   The kids (as I call them) planned some very special surprise activities during the day creating incredibly sweet and thoughtful memories, we went hiking, played games, and had good food.  I received so many gifts that day – the gift of their love, the gift of their time, the gift of us making memories together, A special gift that demands a post all of its own, and the gift of story time.

During the day my son asked if I would be willing to share his birth story again later in the day.   

Hasn’t he heard his birth story before?

Well, yes.  

Twice, kind of.  

Knowing that adoptees often feel like their life’s story starts on chapter two, I wrote out his birth story in a letter on his birthday when he turned the same age I was when he was born, before our face to face reunion.  And then just about two months ago he asked if I would be willing to share it with him.  At the time I was caught a little off-guard and was really nervous sharing his/our story. 

When I was actually sitting across from my own son and his wife telling him his birth story for the first time, I was wrapped in shame and regret, my heart was very heavy.  I wanted so much to tell him a birth story the way most mothers would share with their children, family, or friends.  I wanted the story to be happy, and full of celebration, and joy.  Which is how it should have been – but the cold hard fact is - it wasn’t.  His birth story culminated in the tragedy of our separation, and there is nothing but sadness in that fact to me. 

So that first time of verbally telling him his own story, I started at the beginning, literally from when I went to the Dr’s for the blood test until the hospital stay when he was born.  In that first telling, I included why I “chose” adoption and what I believed then vs what I know now, such as realizing the blank slate theory is a lie and the disguised coercion of adoption.  It was so difficult telling his story that time.  I was not able to have other children so that is the only birth story I personally know and it ended up sad, so very very painful and sad. 

At the end of that telling, he made some kind of statement like “…the past…and…moving forward.” 

It got me to thinking that, yes our separation was sad.  The coercion and brainwashing were awful.  But not everything was sad or awful, after all HE was born, perfect, and beautiful, and healthy.  So, since that first telling I started making a list of fun or interesting facts about my pregnancy and our early months together so when he asked to hear his birth story again, it did not have to be total doom & gloom (which was the reality of my heart before reunion & without him). And so that brings me back to yesterday.  I am having lunch with my son (lost to adoption for so many years, and is now including me & his original father in his life) and he asks if we can do “story time” again later in the day. 

And this time I was ready for him. 

We were all four of us (me, my son, his original father, and his wife) sitting together on the couch eating our chocolate pie dessert for “story time” of his birth.  This time I did not feel a need to start at the the beginning.  I pulled up my notes on my phone and talked about where I worked while I was carrying him, the apartment “we” lived in, the very mischievous young cat/kitten “we” had, “us” taking walks along the river, all 3 of “us” going for ice cream, and how he got his given name.  He was sitting right beside me and I was able to smile and say “I spent as much time as possible with you during those first three days” and “I love you.”

And so here I am on mother’s day reflecting on yesterday and all the meaning it had for me, for Mr Cheerio, for our son and his family.  I have ALWAYS loved him, ALWAYS,  ALWAYS.  That has been a constant through all the years, and that love has never ever faded. 

Looking back on his birth story/our story it is so inter-twined with love and hate.

This is what you don’t hear about adoption.  It is not about us loving our child “more” than ourself -- it is about making us hate ourself and love ourself LESS.

The adoption professionals wanted and needed for me to hate myself so they could pitch “a loving couple” solution – to something that was never a problem.

 

Why do we, as a society perpetuate the loved so much, without recognizing that it also promotes self-hate so much…in a nutshell, that’s adoption.

love you, hate me, that's adoption

song dedicated to his birthmother

I was talking with a dear friend of mine.  She told me she heard of a singer/songwriter she hadn’t heard before, so she googled him and found out that Mark Schultz is adopted and, she excitedly tells me that he wrote a beautiful song to his birthmom.  She has been waiting to tell me about it!

 I did not do a very good job at all with softening my response.  “Oh, great! Don’t tell me, it’s another song saying ‘Thanks for giving me away, I’ve had a great life, and I’m fine without you.’”

I could see she wasn’t at all expecting such a reaction.  She is a friend and I felt horrible for such a harsh response even though it was truly from my heart.  I know she had honest intentions, so I suggested that maybe I was wrong and promised to look it up. 

So look it up I did. 

This post is response to what I found. 

Believe it or not, what I found is worse, actually much worse than just “thanks, don’t need you.”  Let me share with you what I found.  My anger induced commentary is included, with no extra charge.

The below was uploaded on youtube by BS.  Yes, the diabolical UNChrist-like Bethany Christian Services, who rapes mothers of their babies to make a buck – in the name of God even.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z61zdZJ9uZc

disclaimer, video contains disturbing monologue

This very insightful interview starts of with the distorted “three options” rhetoric which claims abortion as one of those “options.”

   While it is true that abortion is a readily available option these days, it is NOT a valid consideration with women who give their babies up.  In FACT the in the 40 page counseling guide used to teach crisis pregnancy center workers how to talk women into giving their babies up, they clearly

   - in black and white

- they state

- they are not competing with abortion.

 

   With this, I agree. Those who are going to have an abortion have already done it and at the second phase of decision making – abortion is no longer an option.  So if they are not competing with abortion, then who or what are they competing with?!? 

 
   The question is answered by reading the entire sentence from the publication,  “Adoption really does not compete with abortion; it is competing with the emotionally compelling [and might I add, natural] alternative of parenting the child” (Young, 31)*. 

Did you catch that?

Abortion is not what they are fighting.
They acknowledge that they are competing against parenting. 

But why?
Simply said, if a woman chooses parenting, then they have no babies to sell and make their profit from.

   And yet people vehemently resist this fact?  

Near the end of the interview Mark tells that he sang part of his song at a Bethany fundraiser where someone told him of a pregnant girl in the audience decided to not have an abortion because of his song.

   Personally, I don’t believe that story. If all it took for her to “change her mind” was a song, she was not determined to abort – she was already doubtful. And yet they are going to use this as unproven proof that adoption save lives from abortion.

   Right, people don't want to hear that adoption professionals are competing with parenting, they WANT to believe that they are saving babies from being aborted!  That makes them feel good. 

But that is just not the truth! 

Do you want something that makes you feel good?

Or do you want the truth?

   The truth is that the adoption industry – Including Bethany Christian Services, who put ‘Christian’ in their name to appeal to a certain clientele as another piece in their marketing scheme to make adoption more accepted and more sellable – promotes adoption BECAUSE IT GUARANTEES REVENUE.

Moving back to this interview… did you listen to it? 

This man has not met his original mother – he has not heard her side of the story – he has no idea what her actual experience was.  This is not at all fantastic, but extremely cowardice of him to write a song pretending he is standing at her door.  Make no doubt about it – this song is not genuine, it is pretending, period.  How can it be genuine to write and sing (and make money ) about this subject that you aren't really willing to do yourself.   Don't tell it was inspired by what you 'would do if'  - when you clearly are not willing to actually do it. 

But hey, if you in bed with Bethany, then maybe you are just in  it for the money, like they are. 

So, What would he say? 

Having no clue of her experience, he would say

– “Thank you. I’ve had a great life.”

How predictable.  Pure adoption marketing at it's finest.

Further in the interview he discusses that he realizes that he could write a song to his own birthmom.   (hmmmm....is it a song born out of love inside, or just to make money with a new hit?) He goes on to describe a discussion with a “counselor” (who is an expert at coercing women into adoption).  She hears part of the song so far and she has a strong reaction because – she jut had her second child, and expressed to him that she has no idea what an expectant mom would go through in making an adoption decision.

Stop.  Rewind.  Replay.

 

She jut had her second child, and expressed to him that she has no idea what an expectant mom would go through in making an adoption decision.

Pause.  Evaluate.

Ok.  Here's what we have so far.
Two people involved in the history of this song.
Both are are seeing it with their own preconceived notions.  There is no indicator so far about getting actual insight from a mother who has gone through losing her child to adoption.

Later he mentions one person saying that "something is missing" from the song.  ((Duh, yeah, heart for one and not spitting in his mothers face with the "thank you" garbage.))  OOOOhhhh, they include him playing ball with his own son so it "comes full circle!"   Is it really a full circle if they've completly left out the original mother to start with?  Ummm, no.

If you made it through the video, it included clips from the released video with the song (whatever that technical term is).

Did you notice anything about the birthmother?  She seems pretty much ok.  Well, except when she is at the park when she goes into labor and all the Potential Adoptive Moms come in to grab her wet-fresh-from-the-womb baby. 

Let me tell you a little secret, the expectant mother - she is ACTING.  Right, she is a paid actor.  Sure, they tried to make it look like she cried a little when she handed her baby to the nurse at the hospital. That is so very far from reality. 

When I was in the hospital with my son, the last time I looked into his face I could not stop the tears.  It hurt to even breathe because my still beating heart was ripped from my chest.  It is over 17 years later as I write this and even now after all that time, the tears burn as they stream down my face and I try to only think about the day without feeling the horror and the trauma all over again.

 

Oh, when they pan a shot of the “birthmother” looking at her child’s picture while in college – and she smiles.  That is another bit of acting.  They ‘forgot’ to show the depression that nearly crushes the original mom.  They ‘forgot’ to show her tired she is, because of all the times the nightmares jolt her awake.  They ‘forgot’ to show the pain from when the adoption closes and the adoptive parents don’t let her have the visits or send pictures that was all part of the adoption agreement (which is not legally binding by the way).  They 'forgot' to show any of the torment.

   In the interview

   Mark goes on to say that someday in Heaven he’ll meet people who were born because of his song.  But the real clincher is the next thought.  He can’t wait until his birthmom meets these people too, (listen closely to his reason) “so she will know she didn’t make a mistake.”

 

Wow, that’s cold man. 

You’re going to pretend you know all about this woman, your original mother.  You’re going to put words in her mouth and pretend you know what she was thinking and feeling.  You are going to pretend that adoption was a willing choice she made – without realizing that adoption agencies, especially Bethany Christian Services, make gobs of money from needlessly separating families when they have the resources to help them stay together. You’re also going to continue your willful blindness right up until her death when you want her to meet strangers – but you don’t have the heart to risk meeting her yourself???

If my own son were to read this,

I would beg him to wait; to not say "Thank you" as the first words to me.  Instead get to know me for a period of time, and you’ll realize how much it would pierce the depths of my soul to hear “Thank you.” 

 Why?  Because it would actually mean,

“Thank you for being used like a womb for hire by those who profited by selling me.  Thank you for spending many years in agonizing pain and self-hate for making a choice from faulty information given to you. Thank you for separating me from my original father who loved me and waned to keep me. Thank you for making sure I’d never experience how great of a father he’d be. Thank you for not healing all those years so he would never have another child – and I will never have a biological brother or sister. Thank you for burning the possibility of a family.  Thank you for not loving me enough to even try parenting.”

No, please don’t thank me. 

Please forgive me, and let’s work at building a new relationship with the splintered pieces that are left.  That would mean Everything to me. 

*  Young, Curtis J. The Missing Piece: Adoption Counseling in Pregnancy Resource Centers. Washington, D.C.: Family Research Council, 2000. Print.

Everything

empty

and

hollow

Mother's Day Madness

It is June now, almost a month since Mother's Day has come and gone. 

I was afraid to write how I was feeling, for fear that it would jinx me. 

 The first m-day after my son was born, my (now) MIL gave me a small bouquet of spring flowers she cut from her garden when we were at their house for a gathering. She wanted to acknowledge me as a mother too. (this was before she had any other grandchildren) I don't remember what I did or what I said. I think it made me cry - as I did not consider myself to be a mother. Whatever my reaction was, it caused her to never do it again. 

Which is a shame, because it is what every original mom needs, to be acknowledged as a mother.

Inside I appreciated the gesture and have never forgotten it over the years. 

M-day has always been hard personally, not as hard as his birthday, but pretty close to it. There are advertisements for m-day weeks in advance. It's on the radio, tv, billboards, and all over the newspapers! It's inescapable. On m-day I'd wake up. When I washed my face I would look in the mirror and hate the woman staring back at me. M-day was a mockery of how much of a failure I'd become. 

The adoption industry wants people to believe that we 'get over it' or 'move on'. 

But we don't. 

Adoption leaves a deep wound inside that nothing can heal or mend. I often find myself riddled with guilt from the past and fear the future -if I will ever find my child again? If I find him, will he allow us to be a part of his adult life? Will he hate me (as much as I hate myself)? 

 Oh, and you can't go anywhere on m-day, not out to eat or to any stores, because everyone is so eager to wish you Happy Mother's Day! or If you're a mother, we'll give you a carnation. 

Sheesh! 

 I participate in an on-line support group for original moms only. And prior to m-day this year I posted a thread asking how others deal with m-day? On my reply about how I deal with m-day, it's been avoidance all the way! I don't torture myself by going to church and pretending everything's just fine, when I know very well it isn't. Why go and just sit there holding back the tears and wishing it was over soon! 

I don't even send my own mom m-day cards anymore - because I won't make myself go to a hallmark store and read card after card about how wonderful and loving moms are. Just can't do it. 

So I pretend it doesn't exist, at least for me it doesn't. 

Past two years my Hubby has finally seen how painful it is for me and he at least gets me a card letting me know that he loves me. He is definitely the greatest guy on earth, and I'm lucky, so incredibly lucky he's stood beside me through it all. 

 Another member of the Cheerios Group replied with a statement that immediately struck me. She ended her reply with, "...I do feel bad if I am "unacknowledged" by my daughter's amom on that day. I make a point to send her a card & letter so she will know I am thinking of and appreciating her." 

The word "unacknowledged" has a new meaning to me this year than it did former years. 

This new perspective came from the tragic loss of our baby last fall. One of the things that hurt me the most is when people did not acknowledge the loss. My company for example - 3 day bereavement didn't "count" for my unborn baby. My boss who sends flowers to co-workers when their is a loss in their family (even if it's not immediate family, such as an in-law), did not send flowers or a card or even tell the team of my loss. The 'friends' I called after losing her, and they never once bothered to check back on me - not a phone call, not a card, not even an e-mail or message on fb. 

So I am very in-tune with the unacknowledged feeling. 

It is very fresh to me now. 

What I've had to do with those people - was basically dismiss them. I had to realize that they are not true friends that I believed them to be. Therefore, I've had to bump their status in my life. For now their thoughts mean nothing to me. Their excuses are lame and as worthless as watered down milk. I don't count on them at all. So, when she responded, the Acknowledged vs Unacknowledged immediately surfaced inside of me. It was like an immediate transformation that I felt inside as I replied with the following: "unacknowledged

yeah, Mamba- - maybe that's the crux of what eats at me. I AM unacknowledged - Yes, I am a mother, but not to the majority in my life who don't know I have a teenage son 'out there somewhere'. And to the rest who know about him (mostly family) , they don't think about it. BECAUSE they don't think of me as a mother.

Thanks Mamba-. I think you helped me a LOT. This is where I can change my future...

I need to stop accepting the projections people put on me. I KNOW who and what I am. My Husband knows who and what I am. We both know what it has done to me (&us) so who cares what they think or how they do OR DON"T view me.

I don't think I realized this until now. Thanks for helping me see the forest AND the trees!" And this is how I approached m-day this year. I don't need anyone else to acknowledge my motherhood. It all starts with me. I know the truth of it all. And even if others don't consider me to be a mother, that can't steal motherhood away from me. 

An expression I've heard before is that adoption cannot make someone an unmother. 

Whether his family likes it or not, my son has two mothers, and I am one of them. 

Whether his family likes it or not, my son has two fathers, and my husband is one of them. 

I don't care if people don't know, or don't understand, or misunderstand. THEIR OPINION doesn't count to me anymore! I know who and what I am, and they (whoever they are) can't change that! Shortly after writing this, I shared it with my hubby. His reply was honest and humorous as he said, "I don't understand what you just said, but it sounds like it's a good thing." And a good thing it has turned out to be. M-day 2010 was the very first m-day I did not shrivel in on myself and wish to die and merely survive the day. I overcame it!

Mother's Day it's Their Madness NOT MINE!

a witness?

Have you ever witnessed someone or something die? Until yesterday morning (with the exception of plant life), I have not. In 2001, I spent a lot of time with my sister at our Grammy’s house during her last days. They did not expect her to be with us 2 months, but she decided to hang on that long. I remember coming home from work and preparing to go to Grammy’s house. I called my sister to see if she wanted me to pick anything up on my way over. She gave me a short list. A few moments later she called me to let me know our Grammy was gone. I headed right over to the house, the list completely irrelevant now. My sister was worried how I would handle it if I had been there at the very end. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to handle it if I had been alone, but I don’t really know what I would have done had I been there with them at the time. There were some people who told me to put Monster Paws down, that it was “the right thing to do.” That last night as he struggled, I wondered if that’s what I should do? I second-guessed myself and wondered if I was just being cruel to him? The truth is that there is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ in the decision. It ripped my heart out watching him. It was very hard on me, but what about him? If I were to drag his tiny frame to a vet, he would sense it. Why distress him? Why drag him to a sterile office for his last memories? Yet even on that last night he, he was aware. He was very aware of us, his surroundings, and what he wanted. He would still purr when we pet him. I carried him upstairs that night. At one point he must’ve made his way into the bedroom as I noticed he was lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. He’d spent most of his days up in that room since we lived here. At that moment though, he looked content. The next morning Hubby was kind enough to let me sleep in. When I made my way downstairs, Monster was laying on the carpet all stretched out, with the water bowl next to him. He did not lift his head when I came in the room. It was evident that his time was very close. It was very hard watching him and mentally prepare for the rest of the day at the same time. It was our Christmas get together with family that afternoon. I sat on the couch and cried for a long time. I finally got up and pulled out the ingredients to make a cheesecake for our gathering in a few hours. I was out of a key ingredient, and asked George to run to the store to pick some up as I got everything else ready. He had his coat on and was headed toward the door, but my heart stopped when he paused to pet Monster. I suggested he stay home instead. So he took off his coat and sat beside Monster. I grabbed a box of tissues and sat on the other side of him. He was never a lap cat, so we just sat there with him. Petting him softly, comforting him. I kept talking to him, assuring him we were there and that it was ok. All morning his breathing was shallow. We’d have to look very close to see if he was still breathing. But at that point he wasn’t really breathing, there were a few gasps with pauses between each. I’d wonder if he was gone, and then his whiskers twitched. His front legs moved. After a few moments his back legs moved too, but I think he was already gone and it was just the muscles. So the precise moment of when he was gone, I don’t know. His coat was still shiny and soft. His eyes were wide open. I kept stroking his head and the tears rolled down my face and I looked at the empty shell of my little “Spuddy Wuddy”. Then came the decision of what to do next? I found myself feeling like it was Dejvue as I went up to my craft room looking for a box. Wasn’t I doing this just a few months ago? Only this time I needed a much bigger box. I came downstairs with two medium size boxes. The smaller of the two was a decorative storage box. It was sturdier, so we decided to try that one first. I put in the blanket I had used to carry him outside just two days before. Hubby and I moved him together. I didn’t think the box was big enough, but I could tell Hubby thought he fit okay. To me though, Monster just didn’t look comfortable. Yes, I know he was already gone but that was not the point. Since he was already lying in the blanket, we were able to easily move him to the bigger box, then he looked comfortable. It kept taking me back to September when we lost the baby. Unlike Monster Paws, we didn’t get to see or hold the baby, nor do we have memories of or even with the baby; we only had futile hopes and dreams. But as we did in September, we’ll again have to decide on a final resting spot. Saying ‘Goodbye’ to Monster has been difficult in another way. You see, I had Monster for about a year when I got pregnant the first time. So Monster Paws was there during my pregnancy, and he was there when I lost my son to adoption. He was there that first Christmas Season when my son was gone and my heart was broken -- when I couldn’t sleep at night and cried most of the time. He was there for all the years to follow with each Mother’s Day when I looked in the mirror and hated myself. He was there for all the birthdays as I searched until I found just the right gift for my son. He was there to ‘help’ me wrap the gifts that I’d send. In a bizarre sort of way, Monster Paws is connected to my adoption story. And,well, losing him, feels like I’ve lost another piece of my son.

Mother's Day Greeting Cards

this is written from the point of view from a natural mom who lost her son to adoption i step into the store the pungent smell of candles offends my nose i slink past the other customers hoping to not be noticed i pause momentarily as i lift my gaze toward the goa lto many it's just the greeting card aisle to me ,it's like walking through a graveyard mothers day mothers day mothers day card after card sings the praises heralds her courage applauds her strength and worthiness to bear the title 'Mother'. ahhh, but that title has been taken from me the day my son was handed to another woman there was a day she too dreaded this aisle, this hallmark holiday the irony - that to fill her void as mother was to create the same void eternally in my own soul so now we stand in the greeting card aisle i'm standing on one side of those cards with my heart aching, and shoulders weighed down and she, she stands on the other side with all the joy that could have been my own