Monthly Archives: October 2008

Wake Up

“BIRTH MOTHERS: did your family resent you for your decision?

my family and my boyfriends family wants us to keep the baby but we both want to give it up for adoption.. how can i deal with the pressure from our famalies?”

I saw this on yahoo answers a couple days ago and didn’t respond. It’s still on my mind.  My family pressure was in the other direction and I went with it.  I relinquished my firstborn child to adoption.  That family pressure during pregnancy is the tip of the iceberg.  It’s the known part, from your past.  Look at what’s coming in the future, your future family member, the one about to be born.

When you “give it (your baby) up for adoption” you are giving away something that isn’t yours. You’re giving away that child’s birthright, their heritage, their connection to their genetic lineage.

I’ve read about online reunions of people identifying themselves as family based on DNA tests. People that haven’t ever met are finding commonality based on their DNA that is calling them to join an online reunion.

When we give our children to strangers, we are shutting them out of their own genetic family, our genetic family.

Finding oneself pregnant in an ‘unstable’ relationship, is a clear message to start taking more responsibility. The ‘pro-life’/aka adoption agenda says you can ‘place’ your baby in a better home and take your time growing up or sidestep responsibility. Even if that were true, there is a family member (your child) likely to resent the rationalization that you gave “this baby a shot at life”, while shutting them out of your life.

being a birth mother does not mean you dont love your child either.”

Yes, not only do you love your child, you will grieve for your loss much more than you realize beforehand. And you will learn there is likely a day of reckoning ahead of you even if you choose a closed adoption. A day you may secretly or openly yearn for. Our society is becoming more transparent. We are moving closer to open records, which all adoptees deserve.

Wouldn’t you want to know where you came from? Imagine yourself wondering about your roots, your biological origin on this planet.  Wouldn’t you want to know? And when a young adopted adult comes looking for their original parents, yes he or she is often resentful. They may try to hide it or deny it, but resentment gets muddled in with the trauma of losing one’s mother and growing up not knowing why. There is a lot of pain when a child loses it’s mother no matter the child’s age. That pain and loss gets protected with anger and resentment. The child you love has a lot of debris to clear before they can recognize your love, because of the strange way you demonstrate it – walking away from your baby.

Choosing the path of adoption is simply postponing and prolonging your difficulties. If you simply feel you’re too immature to take responsibility for your creation, your pregnancy, your child, you are fooling yourself to think you gain anything by taking a pass now. It’s procrastinating, delaying and compounding your mistakes instead of facing them and taking care of them as they come to meet you.

Standing up

Sometimes I wonder, really, what should I be saying?  I’ve explored my feelings here and my process and some of my dreams.  Even though I’ve been able to be more free here than in a lot of my ‘real life’, I still find myself covering and hiding.  I excuse myself in the name of protecting the innocent.  That’s a diversion, because I don’t need to expose anyone else in order to tell the truth.

I have praised Joy for her tenacity while I was still reinforcing my defenses.

I just did not want to be exposed because I did not want to face the trauma.  I didn’t want my little ones to know what had happened to my eldest, or to me.  They were raised on the disneyfied versions of fairytales.  I remember  the Disneyland Snow White ride when I was seven.  It was terrifying and I had to close my eyes midway through and wait till it was over.  I didn’t want, didn’t want, didn’t want to face what Joy had to tell me when we met.

So as much as I clung to her, feeling like I was clinging to life itself in some ways, I held her off.  I was waiting for things to get better.  I was waiting for her to forgive me, to absolve me.  For everything to be ok, the way it was supposed to be.

I’ve mentioned that I lay on the bed and shook through our first phone conversation.  I have no idea how long we talked.  I don’t know if it was before or after dinner or if there was dinner that night.  I don’t know what Ezzy and Buster thought was going on that evening.

The thing is, the shaking wasn’t just that first conversation.  I shook everytime we talked on the phone for years.  All through the time I lived in Kansas.  It continued when I moved back to CA.  It was just me and spouse and Ezzy then.  But I remember them looking at me as though they were just checking on me, watching, wondering what was going on.  It was easily at least 11 years of shaking whenever we talked on the phone.

Then there was a period where I started to get mad, trying to get some kind of conscious control, to make things change.  I started hanging up sometimes.  I started trying to do something different because what I’d been doing wasn’t working out too well.

I was so tired of feeling like I was being dragged down into a whirlpool of guilt and blame.  As long as I was not willing to face it, it just kept dragging on me.  I was fighting to maintain my sense of worth, to be worthy of my raised children– fighting based on the reasoning of adoption, that Joy had been adopted because I wasn’t good enough for her.  It was my fault.

Joy was relentless.  She is a warrior.  She kept rising up despite all the crap she went through.  She kept asking me to participate with her, to go deeper, to be real.

We had some great moments between the battles.  I remember her telling me something like she didn’t understand why I made her laugh.  I was always going off on a side tangent to find something funny.  I do like that about myself.  She often called me to discuss serious issues and I tend to disrespect ‘serious’.

Lately I feel like I’m getting up again and getting maybe a little bit higher this time, a little bit straighter, a little more honest, a little more willing to tell the truth, to stand in the hurricane because it’s just wind.  And I’m more than that.

Life is a Carnival

I’ve written a lot lately, mostly not online.  It is hard work.  I would rather be dancing.  I am excavating.  Blogging, mine and others, has helped me to see who and what I can be/am.

I keep struggling to be open, to understand, to grow, to learn.  The ongoing lesson is to keep going.  I mean the choice is simple,  I can die or I can go on.   Ok, I’ve got my reasons to go on.  So now I’ve got a second choice, how to go on?  I go on asking.  I ask God because I trust no one.  I ask others because I want more ways to look at things, more information.  I ask myself, because I am.

I listen.  That means I quit talking, even to myself, and I listen.  I listen to the emptiness.  I listen to mySelf, the inner voice.  I listen to my loved ones because they’re talking to me and I love them.  They are also a part of God speaking to me.

I let it in.  I let myself be.  I let myself be full, always looking for the good, the Divine, the highest good.  So I can embrace this kaleidoscopic life and keep going.  “two bits a shot”  The Band’s song Life is a Carnival cheers me on.  I love to sing along.