“It’s discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit.” – Noel Coward

Her parents fostered 78 babies that were placed in the care of the agency I surrendered my daughter to.

78.

A staggering number to me.

While it was over a period of years, the visual image that formed in my head was 78 babies in a room all crying for their mamas. Elsewhere, 78 mothers were feeling the loss of their child. Seventy eight closed files. Seventy eight families forever changed by adoption.

78.

Recovering from the visual image in my head, I found myself aching. Feeling angry and sad and lost again.

I was never told my daughter would go into foster care. Again, more lack of informed consent.

In fact, foster care was one of the many lies that were told to me to get me to surrender to that agency in that state.

When my mother and I asked if I could stay in my home state, we were quickly told “no”. I was informed that my home state had cruel adoption laws that required a surrendered child to be left in foster care system for a year before the child could be placed with a family.

This horrified me. Truly horrified me. OMG. It would be bad enough that my child would be without me, but to be passed to strangers not once but twice? And to have a period of a year in between there?

No. Good god. No foster care. Mom, please. Don’t do that to her. If she cannot be with me, please let her go right to her adoptive family home.

And they told me she would IF I flew to Illinois and surrendered her there.

The truth?

The agency was involved in a legal battle with my home state. My home state had blocked them from taking or placing babies from/into our state due to the agencies illegal practices. Furthermore, the agency wanted to take advantage of Illinois conservative laws. And that could only be done if I gave birth in that state.To get the child in my womb they needed me in a different state.

Did I know this? Was I told this? Were my parents?

No.

That might have caused me to change my mind.

If foster care was required, even for a week or two, why couldn’t she have stayed with me during that time period?

Why?

I am going to assume that it was dangerous. We would bond even further. I might change my mind. Maybe I would turn my head on that lawsuit they threatened me with.

Its often too much for me to ponder. It hurts too much.

The lies.

My ignorance.

My lack of self esteem

The deceit.

The manipulation.

Why did I ever trust them?

Why didn’t I challenge them?

Who cared for my baby after she left me?

Were they good to her? She told me she was very sick at birth and afterwards. Did she have health problems in foster care?

Those nights that I was alone, having nightmares, hearing a baby crying, was she really crying? Was she crying for me?

I was lied to

She was fostered.

She might have been one of the 78 my new friends family fostered.

One of 78.

“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.” – Jim Morrison

While I am clearly struggling with accepting the fact that the loss of my daughter from my life could or would ever been okay, I have been able to let go of some of the negative emotions and anger surrounding the loss of her. I see these as two separate things. The loss will always be there and will always hurt but the events that lead up the loss can be minimized or “let go”, at least for me.

I achieved these things in a variety of manners. They varied based upon the event, person, topic at hand. Clearly, only my approach and I share not to recommend others do the same, but to note what worked for me and worked well.

I had been angry or emotional at a few things over the years. Three of the top five:

• My Daughters father
• Her Birthday
• Being interred in a maternity home

Natural Father
My daughter’s father and I had quite a relationship. To protect him, his family and even my daughter, I don’t share it. She was conceived in love. End of story as it will be shared publicly. I was deeply distraught following the loss of her not only with losing her but with losing him. The agencies tactics, the way the situation played out, left a lot of unanswered questions and unresolved grief. I needed so badly to talk with him about all the pain, torment, sadness and I could not. It was just pushed aside. He went on with his life and I went on with mine. But that anger, sadness, torment, bubbled in my soul. It affected every relationship I had following him.

When I found her, I contacted him via email. I had always kept tabs on him for her benefit. I knew where he was, that he was married, had other children, etc. I thought I should “warn” him that should she ask, I was going to give her his name and contact details. I had no idea if he had told his family (as far I knew he never did) and I wanted to give him that chance. (Note, I lived to regret the entire approach I took here but that’s an entirely different story).

Long story short: I finally got the opportunity after nearly 20 years to talk with him. We cried. We apologized. We asked and answered questions for each other. We filled in gaps. I had no idea how things had been positioned to him. My mind had blocked a lot out and talking to him brought back emotional tidal waves.  I was told a lot of lies by the agency and by others. The differing realities were startling. What he remembered versus what I remember, things he had been told (that were contrary to what I had been told). It became so obvious how he had been played, just as well as I had, by the agency and by my parents and society at large. Lacking information, you fill in your own gaps and you don’t always fill them in with healthy information.

I forgave him. I let go of that anger at him. I did not want to carry it around. He is a good man. Always was. Could he have changed things? Sure. So could a lot o others (including myself). Should my daughter ever want to meet him, or ask about him, I don’t want any weirdness. Any negative projections. I want her to feel comfortable to talk about him, develop a relationship with him – separate from me. Its not a bleeding wound anymore. If she wants to talk about him with me, she can.

Birthdays
Up until the day I found my daughter, her birthday would be torture. I would often take the day off of work, lay in bed and cry. Sometimes I would go out for a long walk and many times I would plant trees or flowers in her memory.  I would wonder what she got for her birthday, how it was celebrated, if she had a cake, did she like cake, did she have big parties, what did she look like, did she think of me, did her adoptive mother think of me,  was she even alive. Torture. Utter complete torture. Having a major wound ripped open once a year.  Emotional annihilation.

The first year in reunion with my daughter, I celebrated her birthday by driving back to the place she was conceived. I walked the shores of the beach. I brought some candles, I brought pictures of her with me.  I burnt sage. I talked to her and to myself. It was symbolic to me. I am into symbolism. To bring her back to the place where her life began.

I celebrate her birthdays now. Now I can send her presents, ecards. Gone are the days of weeping alone. Now I celebrate her. I also celebrate the day I found her again. I send her gifts and messages on that day too. Its like her second birthday to me. Her reunion anniversary birthday. She thinks I am a bit silly but she tolerates it.

Maternity Home
While some women I know thought their stay in a home was a big dorm party, I despised it. One thousand miles from my family, the father, and friends, I was terrified and alone. I cried almost non stop. I was depressed. I hated the building, the food, the monitoring of our comings and goings, scrubbing the nasty bathrooms, the chores. When I think back now, the visual I get is a lonely, fully pregnant young girl in a stark room with a window open. She is in shadow. You cannot really see her face. But then again, no one really saw her did they? Its very cold in there. Single bed, small desk. Sink and closet. Green vinyl flooring. So cold. So very cold. I wish I was an artist or painter. I could draw or paint the picture in my head.

The same year I found my daughter I went back to the maternity home. Alone. I had to. Something inside me demanded it. I flew to Chicago. Checked into a nice hotel and hopped the El up to Lincoln Park. I walked the same streets I walked then. I took pictures. The closer I got to the home the more labored my breathing became. Many times I had to stop and sit down on the steps of some fancy Lincoln Park home to catch my breath and cry.

This is where my inner child work came in handy. I felt the emotion, the tears, the terror was my 18 year old self acting up. She (I) was afraid to face the place that took her baby. She (I) was afraid to go back there. To feel the dead dying energy of a building that kept women locked up and then took their babies.  I talked to myself at those emotional times. I told myself she was back, we had her back, we knew where our baby was. She’s okay. I am okay. We will be okay.

I stood across the street from the home and my internal dialogue was one of spite. I literally talked to the building. I mocked it. I told it that it took my baby but I got her back. I was victorious.

Some might find this crazy, but to me it was symbolic. Closure. Ironing a wrinkle in time. Righting a wrong. Flattening a rippled force field. Giving back to Mother Nature what man had taken away.

Following the home, I bordered buses and trains and went to the hospital she was born at. Same thing. Same emotion. Same internal dialogue. But this time I was taking her back versus giving her away. I had a picture of her in my hand. I walked the halls of the hospital, the grounds and I held her pictures close to my heart. Its okay, I told myself.

I also went to Lake Michigan, with a plastic bottle. I had written some angry words, some thoughts. I put some pictures in there and I literally let them go. Dropped them in the lake and watched them float away. I suppose burning would have been more appropriate but for some reason I wanted to see the anger float away from me. Leave me. Not just burn in front of me.

Sure, I have more to work through. I never doubted that. But I am proud of how far I have come in managing my pain.

It’s not good.

It’s not healed.

But it’s lessened.

"Knowing is not enough; we must apply!" – Goethe

I agree so strongly, I had to share.

Copyright Wraith:

Recommendations to Adoptive Parents from an Adoptee:

1. Educate yourself, read every book you can find on adoptees and on
   being an adoptive parent. (If you need any recommendations, ask me)
2. Decide now, if you are doing this for a child, or for yourself. (Is
   it about image or love? Is it about your own needs, to be a parent, to
   be needed, to fit in society?)
3. Mourn what you may not have. (As in blood children of their own.)
4. Never say, “We love you as our own.” The adoptee will be your child and that’s a mixed message if there ever was one.
5. Don’t overdo the “you are so special/lucky” thing. They aren’t going to feel that, so actions will speak louder than words.
6. Always be there for them, they may have anxiety when you leave them
   at daycare, or anywhere else. This is normal for most kids, but often
   worse for an adoptee.
7. Join a support group, somewhere they can play with other adopted kids and you can talk about your life with your child.
8. Love them unconditionally. Even when they shout you are not my family. Even more so then.
9. Find out everything you can about your child’s heritage and family
   and try to incorporate some of it into your own. Allow them to freedom
   to explore their history as well as yours.
10. Don’t take it personal if they decide to search for their blood.
    It’s not about you or something you did wrong, it’s about wanting to
    know where you came from. After all, you probably know where you came
    from right?
11. Be honest in all things. Don’t LIE to your adopted chid about their origins.
12. Love them, UNCONDITIONALLY.
13. If a member of the birthfamily comes around searching, be honest
    and truthful with the adoptee about it. Let them make the decision or
    if still very young, ask their opinion. Don’t hold it against them and
    don’t think you need to “defend” your child from these people. After
    all, from a biological stand point, your child is theirs as well.
14. If the adoptee is reunited, try to not hold animosity toward the
    birth family. Also understand that the adoptee may spend more time with
    them for a while. He or she hasn’t forgotten you, they are just
    reveling in something new, like looking at someone who looks like them.
    (Want to know what I mean? If you are ever around a bunch of adoptees
    and one of them just reunited and is showing pictures, the first
    comment is probably going to be “Wow, you look just like them.” It’s
    one of the first things we notice, because we don’t see it in
    ourselves.)
15. Encourage them to talk about adoption and their birth family. Never
    give them any sense that it is not okay to talk about it -by a look,
    tone of voice, etc.
16. Do not expect that if you “love them enough” that will solve magically solve all adoption issues that they might have.
17. Never say anything negative about the birth family. Part of their
    identity comes from their birth family. Insulting the birth family is
    like insulting the child.
18. Never “make up” anything about the birth family. If you do, it may come back to bite you later.
19. Encourage contact with the birth family. Never withhold any letters, pictures, etc. unless it is necessary for safety concerns.
20. Do not wait to “tell” a child they are adopted. Make it something that they have always known.
21. Never say “I understand how you feel or I know what you are going
    through.” Unless you have been adopted yourself, and even then, you
    have no way of truly understanding the pain and hurt that an adoptee
    may be feeling.
22. LOVE THEM, UNCONDITIONALLY.

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