“Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that is where I renew my springs that never dry up.” – Pearl S. Buck
Wednesday night I heard this during a string of emails from various adoptive mom friends:
“I am tired of all adoptive parents looking like demons”
“I adopted to help a woman who did not want her child. I wanted the child she didn’t. I did a good thing. She did the bad thing but I am so glad she did. I got to be a mom.”
“Don’t classify all adopters as evil when there are only a few.”
“Adoption is a good, good thing”.
“There is no such thing as primal wound. That’s hooha made up by bitter mothers and angry adoptees. I am a good adoptive mother. Better than most natural mothers”
Thursday during the day from natural mom friends:
“I am tired of adoptive mothers”.
“I am tired of everone caring how adoptive mothers feel and no one caring about me”.
“I cannot stand that we cater to the adopters. What about us? We are only nice to them because they have our children.”
“Suz, you shouldn’t be friendly with adoptive mothers.”
“Why don’t adoptive parents see our pain? See our loss? Why should we be nice to them when they are so awful to us – and in many cases to our children?”
I am very tired of being me. Tired of trying to manage the grey zone. Tired of trying to get adoptive mothers to understand the damage done to children and mothers following adoption trauma. Tired of natural mothers who despise the women who adopted our children.
Don’t we see who continues to get hurt by this? Sure it’s us, and them, but it’s also our children.
Haven’t they been hurt enough?
I need to get to bed early tonight. I am exhausted and my well of diplomacy has run dry for the day.