About Cheerio

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In general I am a cheery and energetic person. But I am enshrouded in a cloak of iron. That cloak is the weight of greiving my son, whom I've lost to adoption.

Monday, December 29, 2008

Talked Into adoption?

I want to expand on a comment someone made.

This post is not intended in any way to be an attack against the other FirstMom who made the comment. We all have our own feelings and opinions at various stages in our own journey. Instead the comment really is a great opportunity for me to try answering the “why” question – that people have asked me.

 Here is the comment that got my mind cranking along. "Unlike many women, and you apparently, I really was NOT 'talked into' placing my birthson for adoption. It was really my idea, does that make me a bad person? "

 There are at least two parts to the Cheerio story. Part I: The early Cheerio days. Part II: Cheerio awakens from the spell. Sometimes Knowledge is not the same as Truth. It is only our perception of things as we know them at that time. Unlike ‘Truth’ our perceptions may change as we change, grow, learn, and mature.

 I was not talked into or “coerced” into adoption the way many other expectant moms were. However, there are two vital things from my adoption experience that I MUST talk about - because it is part of my story.

 #1.) I THOUGHT (bold, highlight, italicize, underline – don’t miss that emphasis...) i THOUGHT adoption was my idea too. But it wasn't really. Before I even got the 'positive' results back from the pregnancy test, my mind was made up that my baby would be adopted. Reality and logic forces me to ask myself ... where did THAT idea come from? Was it really from deep inside of me? Did it come from God in a dream? Was it Fate? Where did this idea originate? Where did it really come from? I didn't think about adoption all on my own. Someone else did. Someone else with a lot of money and perfected marketing skills. Someone else who wanted my baby for their own gain. A gianormous industry wanted to rake in some dough.
 Again, reason and logic must ask - where did I get this idea? Some answers only come from hindsight. And that is the case here. It came from a seed that was planted in my mind years and years and years ago. That seed was just laying there waiting for the conditions to be just right, then it germinated and immediately too root in my mind.

 When I was a very impressionable pre-teen ... I was sucked into the pro-life agenda. The pro-life agenda has adoption entwined in its very existence. Adoption is not about pro-life, vs., pro-choice -- not abortion vs. life; HOWEVER, the adoption industry has taken pro-life under its wings as its personal means to continue making their profit. A Profit. To them it is not a life, it is a profit! When I was a good little teen girl, a seed was planted in my head that ADOPTION IS THE ANSWER to an unplanned pregnancy.

That could also be read as adoption is THE ONLY ANSWER, meaning that any other choice is wrong - wrong - wrong - wrong. That doesn't leave very much room for thinking or even considering anything OTHER THAN ADOPTION. And THAT is my Problem with the Pro-Life Agenda... it is in bed with the Adoption Industry.

 So, according to reason and logic, no, Adoption was not my idea, even though 15 years ago, I firmly believed it was. It was part of the master marketing plan. If I was not sold on the pro-life adoption is THE RIGHT CHOICE, when I was a teen...Where would my son be right now? What happened when I was pregnant was that I KNEW (cough, cough, cough - hairball) adoption was THE RIGHT ANSWER to my "problem."

 But you know what... I did not even realize at the time WHAT my problem was. I thought my problem was being pregnant and unmarried. However, my problem was the overwhelming fear that history was doomed to repeat itself. That my child would grow up like I did. That he would grow up without the protection of good father. And that leads me to the second thing.

#2.) While I was already sold on the adoption ideology. The second vital thing I must say in all of this is that yes, I was still manipulated, because of what the adoption agency DID NOT say.

Lying by omission is a very real thing. They did not help me see my real problem, and overcome it so my family could stay together. They were too greedy. They did NOT WANT me to see that I could overcome my childhood. They did NOT WANT me to see that I could parent my child. They did NOT WANT me to see that I could have afforded it. They did NOT WANT me to see how much the FATHER of my child WANTED to parent.
And he did. He wanted us to keep his son, our son. Instead they emphasized how shot-gun weddings don’t last. If they were really ‘christains’ as they claimed, they would have encouraged keeping the family together and counseling to help us through. The father and I have been married now for over 12 years. We’ve lost our only child.

 The last part of the comment quoted at the beginning of this post “…does that make me a bad person?” No! No! No! A Thousand times no.
In fact the adoption industry preys on the ‘goodness’ of women.
The BAD People are the unethical adoption professionals.

 They match an expectant mom with a couple as early in her pregnancy so that the “goodness” in the emom will override her own needs. They depend on her feeling sorry for the couple, that her compassion would want THEM to be happy… to not want to disappoint THEM by her changing her mind.

 They emphasize by disproportionately talking about the financial needs of the child. The child deserves more than she can provide. They do not mention that finances are temporary and that she has resources available to help her and her baby. Real life, there are no guarantees. Aparents lose their jobs, or make poor financial choices too.

 They emphasize by disproportionately pointing to their two parent PotentialAParents. They tout and talk about the “perfect couple.” Reality check – the only perfect couple does not exist, unless they are dead. As long a humans are breathing and living, they are IMPERFECT. But adoption professionals help her find the perfect couple, eroding her own confidence and making her feel ridiculous for even THINKING she should parent her own child.

 With all their claims about doing what is best for the child, it should raise red flags that they never mention any risks to the adopted child. Risks like abandonment issues, low self esteem, feeling responsible for fixing other people’s problems, lacking self-worth, struggle maintaining relationships. They claim what is in best interest of the child, but AParents are still so uneducated to the specific needs of the adopted child. They don't realize what a huge loss it is for the child who has lost their natural family.

 I could go on and on and on listing the known and expertly used tactics. But I think you get the point now.

 Those tactics were only used on Cheerio as backup reinforcements, because Cheerio was already brainwashed (at that time).

 And that is why I am here.
 That is why I write – to help people realize that our society is PRECONDIDITONED into thinking certain things about adoption, even though those things are not true.

If you are not a firstmom or an adoptee – I challenge you to start to research adoption on your own.

 Walk away from the Hallmark channel.
Stop listening to the pro-lifers who claim that adoption saves a life.
Don’t listen to the religious distortion of the Holy Bible.
 Search it for yourself.
Find out just how much money is made by ‘legal baby selling.’
Look into the funding by adoption professionals to the lawmakers.
Check into how unregulated the adoption industry is.

 The answers are all there … are you willing to take off the rose colored glasses to see it?
Or are you already “talked into adoption”?

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Adoptee Rights Demonstration 2009

http://adopteerightsphilly.blogspot.com/ Adoptee Rights Protest 2009 The Adoptee Rights Demonstration, scheduled for July 21, 2009, is in the process of being organized. The AdopteeRights website will be updated soon. Until then, this blog will temporarily announce Demonstration information and news.This page will serve as a mirror of AdopteeRights when the site is back online.Please browse the links on the right for Demonstration details. We look forward to seeing you in Philadelphia! ------- Cheerio is an in the closet on-line firstmom writer. (translation, actual people in my day to day life have no idea I have a 14 yr old son) HOWEVER, adoptee rights are an important issue. I am going to find out more, and see what I can do to participate. I am willing to do this for them, for adoptees rights, for my son's own future rights.
Check it out and participate in this very important Demonstration for the adoptees you love.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

my Littl Angel

If you’re going to follow this blog, you need to remember who my Little Angel is, because I’ll post about her every now and then. My Little Angel was a high-stung, wound-tight, wired little attention seeking girl. When I first started getting to know her and her family, she was about 7 or 8 years old. With her being so bouncy ball-like, I would sarcastically ask her parents, “so how are the little angels doing.” Somehow I started hanging out with her and her older (by only 11 months) sister. We’d go for ice cream, go for trips to the mall (yuck! I hate shopping). They’d come over and dress up in costumes. We’d go for a movie. The older sister and I aren’t as close once she got her first ‘real’ boyfriend. She has graduated from high school and is engaged to be married next year. Once my Little Angel turned into a teen, I asked if I should stop calling her Little Angel. To which she replied, “No. I’m your Little Angel, and you’re my big Angel, my Guardian Angel.” ((sniff sniff I’m getting all teary eyed thinking about this mushy stuff – lol) As time goes on, they grow up, don’t they. This year as her 18th birthday was approaching. I said to her, “You’re gonna turn 18. Are you sure you want to do this?” She says to me, “Yes, I’m growing up and you need to just accept that.” Then we both laughed. She's blossomed into an absolutely gorgeous young woman. She has very pretty eyes, and a beautiful smile. All that is nothing compared to the very sweet personality she has. She is very tender, well just sweet. I hope I won't have to threaten any of her boyfriends, like my sister did to at least one of mine.
Tonight after work I picked her up and we went to a coffee house. We’re driving along when she hears the faint sound of music. She turns to me and asked “Do you have Shackles” – referring to the CD with our favorite song. I’ve totally lost count of how many times we’d be driving in the convertible with the top down. She pulls the ponytail holder out and lets her beautiful long hair whip in the wind as we’re jamming to “Shackles” by the group Mary Mary. I love to make her laugh. And I am just excited to be part of her journey through life. What started out sarcastically has become quite endearing…I wouldn’t want it any other way. She’s My

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Dec 18th, candle lighting

Tonight 8pm in my time zone,
I'll be joining the Lighting Candles World Wide...
I'm lighting three candles, two for Mammabear, whose two oldest lost sons are missing (her blog is where I originally found this link).
A third candle for my own son lost to adoption.
It is a time just to think about the importance of family.
A time to silently pray for the many families hurting by separaion;
whether that separation is by adoption, divorce, missing/abducted children, and children in foster care.
Feel free to join me? Light a candle for a child/family you know hurting this season...
*** 8:53 pm
That was extremely emotional. I am still crying. So I'm standing out on the deck, in the dark watching these three candles. And I'm begging and pleading and begging Dear God Please bring them back into our lives! Please....
I cried over my nephews like I haven't done in a very very long time.
I'm remembering the very last day I saw them. I have picture of the two of them sitting out on the new 'patio' we were building in our backyard. The oldest is smiling and holding up a soda can. The youngest one is just smiling his cute adorable little smile, curly dark hair.
My heart aches for their Mamma, for my sister. Some days I can barely live with the loss of one son - how does one go on in life missing two?
We never ever imagined 10 years would go by -without even beling allowed to at least talk on the phone.
How do you go though life not knowing what your boys look like? knowing if they okay? and having doubts about their safety and emotional health and wellbeing? how?
Before they were gone, the boys visited often. We'd often go to the river or a creek near my husband's parents house. One of those times we took the oldest boy fishing.
I have a picture of him with his first fish! - that boy is gone In that picture I was pregnant with my only child, my son. That boy is gone.
A beautfully marred picture.
ooooh, just to be able to go back in time....................

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Priority Mail

I should have made supper and be eating right now. But here I sit at the keyboard. I know it is just one week from Christmas. It’s a busy season in the shipping world. Everything must “arrive in time”. You saw my post earlier about the pillows I made for my son’s amom. Well, I was waiting for one last thing to come in. And I just got a call last Friday 12/12 that they weren’t going to get it in at all. So I had to go out over the weekend to find a replacement. Monday night was dance class, so I did the wrapping last night. Before getting ready for work this morning I went to the US Post Office to mail the package. If I had taken off work a little early, I could have driven the hour to deliver the package to the !@#$ agency, who would forward the package onto the afamily. But I could not get off work. Besides, I hate that place! Even if they were only 5 minutes away, I’d hate going there. It’s like walking into a cemetery of the living dead. I hate talking to anyone who works there. I hate making eye contact. I especially hate seeing their smiles. I’d pull my coat close to me, as if the lurking, lingering, partying evil would get its hold on me. My imagination gets carried away as I envision their smile fading away to a sinister sneer when I turn my back. I absolutely hate that place. I hate it so much that I would risk the package being late. The USPS worker gives me the rates for my two shipping options. Priority mail would arrive by 8:45 tomorrow; regular parcel deliver would be a minimum of 3 days. I’m sure he rattled off prices, but numbers fall out of my head and I promptly forgot them. I opted for the regular delivery – since it should not take 3 days for a package to go from one main shipping ‘city’ to another that is only 45 minutes away. And it takes that long only if you drive the speed limit. Then as the fellow was ringing up the total, I asked him what the difference was between priority and regular delivery. He explains again how long it would take to deliver, and laughed as he said didn’t we already go over that. I laughed too and said, “Yes, but I wasn’t listening. What was the price difference?” So, for a little over a dollar more, my package will arrive at the agency’s lair, oops, I mean office tomorrow morning. And that is where the priority mail has lost its priority. It was a priority to me. It may be a priority to my son. But the agency? What do they really care? Why should they even care? They have nothing to gain anymore. In fact it will cost them to forward the package on. I can’t imagine that spending money; even “in the interest of the child” would cause it to be a priority to them. I’ve resigned that they will do “their best,” which to me is a very low standard anyway. My son may not get his Christmas gifts until January.
But at least I put my heart and soul into that package before I sent it.
And I need to remind myself that therein is where the priority really is.

Monday, December 15, 2008

But you don't regret

It was supposed to be a girl’s day out for a little fun. Her hubby was out hunting, mine was working on a house project. I did not get to her house as early as planned. She’s a kitchen hugging, rather be cooking wacko. I’ve never met someone who loves to cook like this woman! So we hung out at the house as she made all kinds of Christmas goodies to give away. Oh, and we made yummy oatmeal raisin cookies (per my request). She ran out of those little pretzel bites and needed more. So we dash down to the little store nearby. She was so disappointed that they only had 5 bags (see, a cook freak). On the extremely short drive back I was telling her about a new feature I added to my blog. I mentioned Google, and she asked me “what would someone Google to find your blog?” So I mentioned “adoption loss” and “regretting adoption decision.” She’s driving, but glances at me quickly and interjects, “But you don’t regret the adoption…” and I think it trailed off. It was more of a statement, rather than a question. Or at least that’s how it sounded by the tone. And it sounded like she was going to go on, but waited for my answer. I was caught off-guard and was very nervous. My thoughts were all jumbled and I gave a lame reply that I regret how it happened, that I didn’t get support, and that my son was sold for adoption because of the money-grubbing agency’s greed. And it hurts to realize now how unnecessary it was to lose him. Why did I not just say to her that “Yes, I emphatically regret the adoption!”? I am not entirely sure. It leaves me with more pondering. Maybe I did not answer with my mouth what my mind was screaming, was because to simply say yes would have “labeled” it. Then it could be marked on the folder ‘regrets’. Then the folder would be hidden away in a dark filing cabinet. Never to be discussed again. And that is what I don’t want. I WANT to talk about it. Talk especially to her. She is my best friend, and yet she has no idea how painful adoption is to me. I want her to hear me and listen. When I am down or hurting or struggling, I want to be able to go to her for support. Not to ‘fix’ it or make it better. But just to sit with me while I cry. That’s the kind of support I’d like. ‘Regret’ as we hear it in every day talk, doesn’t seem to fit how I feel. In my mind regret sounds as if I want to go back to the past and undo it. I am not trying to go back. I have accepted that my decision was made and there is no undoing it. However, there is a gigantic difference between accepting my decision, and liking it. I am remorseful of it. I am sorry for the decision I made. It haunts me, both the past and the future. In addition to saying I regret my decision; I can easily say I am NOT proud of my decision. I am disappointed in so many facets of my decision (myself, the pro-life / pro-adoption marketing, the perversion of true religion and manipulation for monetary gain, the willful blindness of society in general, myself again). Here is what I found when I checked Webster’s. Regret: as a verb - "1 a: to mourn the loss or death of; b: to miss very much 2 : to be very sorry for" as a noun - "2 : an expression of distressing emotion (as sorrow or disappointment)" Not only do I regret (as both a noun and verb at different times), but I also am very remorseful... Remorse: "1 : a gnawing distress arising from a sense of guilt for past wrongs." If we will ‘allow’ criminals to regret their actions and decisions, then why is it so unthinkable for a woman to regret not having her own child call her Mom? I suppose I will always have both - regret

Saturday, December 13, 2008

if I could reach out and touch your face ...

Oh, my dear son... 
 If I could just reach out and touch your face... 
 If I could, I don't think I would right now. 
I would not want you to see me like this. 

 The tears streaming down my face, my lips quiver, and I ache. 
I am sure the pain is etched on my face. 

It hurts, my son, it physically and literally hurts when I think of you and long so much to be with you again. It's almost as if my chest cavity is in a vice and slowly the clamp is closing tighter and tighter. 

Oh, what have I done? 

How could I have been such a FOOL to believe all the lies of SOCIETY and the disgusting MONEY GRUBBING adoption agency. The deceivers don't even mention that they are an adoption agency; they try to portray themselves as a loving ministry who cares about women and their babies. 

They DON'T. 

They don't give a rip that I am sitting here aching and hurting. Going on through life having been mangled emotionally. 

They only care about the profit they make with each mother whom they can deceive to snatch her child. 

My child. 
My Only child. 
My only child ... gone ... so they could make a buck. So someone could make a payment on their fancy car or some other worthless material thing. 

I can't believe you're missing from my life because of greed. 
It makes it even harder to bear. 

Maybe, just maybe I would be able to bear it if it was necessary to let you go. 
But it was not. 

Oh, how I wish I would have seen that when you were an infant in my arms. 
In my arms where you were quiet and sleeping. 
Where you were content. 

How could I have been so blinded by their lies that someone else deserved you more? 

Why do they deserve you so much more than I did? than I do? 
If they were so worthy and deserving, why didn't God answer their prayers to have their own biological child? Since God did not grant that wish, I am left to realize now that they were NOT more deserving. 

I am sure you are happy with your family. 
I know that you are loved and well cared for. 

But if you open the closet door of your mind, picture your family here too. 
When you picture us, do not imagine a couple that was happy that you are gone. 

That is so very far from the truth. 
I lament that you are gone. 
It was an awful horrible wrong choice to let you go. 

When the day comes, I know my eyes will be looking down, when you ask why? 
And all I will be able to respond with is "Because I was a fool." 

No matter how many people tell me how brave and courageous I was. 
No - I was a fool. 

No matter how many people tell me how selfless I was. 
 No! - I was a fool. 

 No teenage boy wants to hear his mother talk about how much she misses him. But I just can't help it. I do, I miss you terribly. I hope, just hope and pray that someday ... someday (soon?) I will get to look at you with my own eyes. Oh, to hear your voice for the first time... I know I will memorize the sound and play it back over and over. 
I hope that on that day, no matter if the tears are a gushing well, or like a trickling brook, that when you look in my eyes you would be able to look past the tears and see the enormous amount of love I have for you. 

the enormous amount of love I have for y o u ! ! !
original date 10/10/2008 2:35pm
3 days before his 14th bday

Thursday, December 11, 2008

"suffer" and "punishment"

Even if it's not on the front burner, the "A" word is always at the very least simmering on the back burner of my mind. I can't recall what sparked these thoughts. But today while at work, I was thinking about some of the 'adoption counseling' while I was carrying my son. The phrase that just kept rolling over and over in my mind was, "You made a mistake. Why should you have to suffer or be punished for the rest of your life for that one mistake. The rest of your life, that's an unreasonable time to be punished for one mistake." All day long I kept thinking about that "suffer" and "punishment".
They kept planting in my mind that there is nothing good about parenting. Not knowing any better (was not around babies at all growing up) I just accepted this perspective. Looking back, it's now apparent to me that not one time in any of those 'counseling sessions' (brainwashing sessions) did they talk about the joys of parenting. Not one time. Parenting, the subject did not come up at all, other than it being described as punishment or suffering. Nothing good or positive at all about parenting. For people who say that there are no 'coercion' tactics... do you think
it was a mere oversight? Not a chance! It was a well thought out and
perfectly manipulative conversation. Oh, and of course this was a "christian" adoption agency. They're amazing at perverting true religion. The sick and twisted irony of it is this ... I 'thought' at that time that the mistake was getting pregnant. No! The mistake was letting him go for adoption. And that mistake has brought to me and my family indescribable suffering and punishment. Nope - not at all the picture you'll see from those sweet little Hallmark Stories on TV. That's not what they show with their absurdly fairy-tale ending of Juno. Once the denial is gone and the grieving hits- there is no walking away into the sunset. It's more like walking from the shallow to the deep end of the pool with ankle weights on. "Suffer" and "Punishment" = Parenting. Just another one of their mind-playing tactics of eroding the natural mother/child bond.
the natural mother/child bond

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Treasure Found In The Dust

This week I took some time off work to do a little shopping with my young nephew, W-. His birthday is at the end of December, 12/29. He will be a whole 8 years old. He is a very sweet boy and a good kid. You can’t spend much time with him until you find yourself smiling. He has a refreshing perspective on this old world we live in. His little eyes seem to look right inside you. He is a beautiful soul, just like his Mom. As we were shopping, we saw a toy he was interested in. The recommended age printed on the box was for 8+. So my little buddy didn’t check it out too much longer, because after all he’s “only 7.” We picked up a few crafts to work on; one for his Dad, one for his Mom, one for his Grandma, one for his Uncle (my hubby), and one for his Grandma’s neighbor. We joked and kidded around. We went to Burger King and I read his Batman book while he ate his lunch. Tears are welling up in my eyes as I remember that short amount of time we had. We had fun and I loved being with him. That was Monday morning. Tuesday couldn’t possibly be as fun of a day, since I had to go to work. I was saying to myself, as I drove into the parking lot, how Oh so excited I was to be back to work. I walked around my truck to the passenger door to get out my stuff. Before I opened the door, I saw it. I saw my treasure of the day! My treasure of the week. I know other people who drove by thought I was a nut case as I got my cell phone out to take a picture of the door on my truck. But I had to, I was compelled. Do you see it? Do you see it for yourself? It’s my treasure! Precious tiny handprints in the dust!