As an Adoptee I have wondered a lot.
And working it out inside your mind is work folks, for us.
I wonder a lot of the time about my Mom. When I was pregnant with my first child I wondered about my own Mom. Not about my adopted Mom, she never talked to me about being pregnant. Or really anything like that.
I wondered about the woman that gave birth to me, and what she felt like knowing she would give me away. Did she wish I would just go? Was my presence inside her tummy making her disgusted? Was my presence disgusting. Why does God put babies into woman that don’t want them? Why does society tell woman they are sluts for becoming pregnant? Why is the world so down on woman? Why does the world expect so much from Mothers? Why are we required to work on top of taking care of kids? Why do woman have abortions? Why do they not love what they made? Why are kids always caught in the middle.
I wonder why my Mother didn’t even think I would not come back? I wonder why she doesn’t understand me. I wonder why my Mothers can’t get together? I wonder why one woman just drops a child off and then leaves as if her jobs done? I wonder why everyone thinks Adoptions so great? And I wonder how those who have been kept would like to walk a few days in my shoes.
I wonder about myself. I wonder why I love a woman who could do this to me. I wonder why I have such strong feeling about this. I wonder why people are so judgmental of Adoptees feelings. I wonder why society thinks treating children as trash feels. I wonder why society can not see that children need their Mothers, and that the Mother child bond needs to be sacred.
My life is a bunch of wondering, questioning, confusion a lot. Why? Because an adoptees life is extremely different than the life of one who has been kept. And I wonder what makes a Mother not want her child. I wonder about woman and the capabilities they have to give live, and how irresponsible they are with that life.
It makes me wonder why the hell our Government has kept our records from us. I wonder why we must be nomads. I wonder why I did not feel a bond with my Adopted Mom, a bond like I feel with my birth Mom. They are not the same. One comes from the heart, and one comes from the head. I have beat myself up for years for not being able to give my Adopted Mom the love I have in my heart for my Birth Mom. I write to help myself to understand.
How does doctor who has never been adopted council an Adoptee? Like how do they even know what to do? And why should an Adoptee go spend hours and money to fix something they did not break? But I am broken, my heart broken. For my Adopted Mom cares for me, but she is very callus at times. She says things I have told her hurt. She treats me like I am ridiculous, and I am tired of this.
I wonder about my voice here. The first things the doctor said to my Adopted Mom was, she’s got good lungs. And I think that says a lot about how I felt at two days old. I came here to change something about this. For I have felt the depths of despair like I really did not want to feel.
This blog started the day my grief could not be contained any longer. I had carried this for 50+ years, all these wonderings, and questions that challenged my world. I had reached out to my Birth Mother, trying to get her to help me. I might as well have been a Monster stalking her. My emails not understood, not cared about. As I pored my heart out, looking for some kind of comfort from the place I came, I found not comfort there for me.
And the worlds words had nothing too. We adoptees must find a way to unite. If we can not trust each other, and come together on this one issue, what the fuck are we here for?
If adoption has frustrated, confused, overwhelmed, befuddled, exasperated, wounded, tormented, you then you should speak about it. I write here to show Adoptees that their voices are valid. Our fears of being abandoned are from our past. And we are our own anyway. Our adoptive families garner what they have contributed to us. And most of them were caught with there pants down anyway. After the kids home and they show signs of trauma, there really isn’t a lot of support for them. The mutual through trying to be a family under a bunch of lies. And we adoptees have to live these lies. We do, but it would be more honest to just call it like it is. I guess I will never know. Honesty is hard to find these days. Everyone wants to candy coat things. WE don’t want our medicine.
I don’t claim to know it all. I only know me. And I am trying to figure it out, so I can go on to live a rich life full of joy. The one thing in my way is my grief for my first Mommy. And I just want it gone, but as hard as I try. As many councilors as I have been to, I struggle without her.
I have tried to bust it open with her. But my first Mom is tough as nails. And she does not want to let me in. Or she can not. I am not presentable enough. Even though I got this way without her? And she has all these rules I must follow? Like just look pretty and shut up.
What I would like is to be able to go and sit and be with her. Theres so much research out there that shows the benefit of being with your family. And well she’s back in my life, but not. It is kind of tormenting. Cuz I want to know her, but she just can’t deal with me. It is painful to think of your Mother acting like that towards you. It is painful thinking about not wanting one of my kids. I love my kids, probably to much. Little pieces of me, amazing and unique.
Pain is a funny thing, it’s expressed differently in each person. I have held my tongue and my pain for years. And I just can no longer do so.
I wonder what the world would be like if there was not adoption? Why do we need to belong at all? Jesus said, be ye in the world, but not of it. I would say that my life is a lot like that. I always feel as the observer on the outside. I guess our own God feels this way with us sometimes. Always on the outside while we just make decisions without our sources input. And I wonder, did she ask her God what to do? These are things that I think and wish I knew the answer. Maybe it is to hard for her to do so.
Accepting a life like this is very complicated. Not sure why I am unable to settle down. Just wanting to be ok. I guess I need to loos my mind, so it doesn’t matter anymore.
They say, You never get over loosing you Mom… Wonder if she even thought about her value to me? But if she could do this to me? What does that say about her? Is she more selfless? Or selfish? The later is the truth, and so I struggle with my own selfish needs for a woman who gave birth to me. For she struggles to accept a child she made like me.