Sometimes I Hate Facebook

Jenna posted about a Facebook meme that triggered her. Read her post here. I winced for her when I read that post. I have those moments.

In fact, I had one of those moments tonight. Just a minutes ago.

A high school friend had this message as her status:

“Daughter Week !!! ♥ If you have one Daughter or more, who makes your life interesting and fun, Is a blessing in your life and makes life worth living, copy and paste this to your status. ♥ The world would not be the same without our beautiful GIRLS!!! I LOVE MY DAUGHTERS!!”

Guh.

I winced again. This time for myself.

Confession.

I hide my adoption status, my scarlet letter, parts of myself from Facebook.  I am not proud of this but I am not necessarily ashamed either. It is just that I want somewhere, anywhere, that I don’t have to think all adoption all the time.  Many of my Facebook friends are readers here and even friends there. And yet I steer clear of adoption there. It is my private play ground. A place for silly statuses, photos, dialogue with friends. It is me without the horror of adoption. It is me not weeping daily over the loss of my daughter, over her lack of interest in me and her first family, it is me, being, well, happy.

Tonight? Me? Not so happy about Facebook and its random triggers. (Remember THIS one? I was able to correct that).

Bleh.

Cold Turkey Aint For Me

I’m still lost but at least I can see where I’m going. – Unknown

I am a junkie. 

No really. 

I need yet another  support group. Or maybe a patch. Maybe some sort of deterrent. Something that shocks my fingers or sticks me in the eyeballs when I click and view there.

I am talking about my daughters twitter and website.

While my checking on her has gone down considerably, and my commenting has ceased all together, I am struggling with completely writing her off. I am struggling with not wondering what she is up to since NY fashion week since she is a fashion blogger, fashion press and more. I couldn’t help but think of her when I learned of the death of Alexander McQueen or when I saw a fabulous Rodarte slide show. It just happens. She just pops into my head.

POP! POP! POP!

I am struggling with training myself NOT to think of my daughter.

How asinine is that?

The first step in solving a problem is admitting you have it, right?

Well, I must admit, in my down times at the office (okay, maybe not so down times) I click over to her twitter feed. (It doesn’t have stats right? Or does it? Have I missed an app that tells you who is stalking your twitter stream?) and I catch up on her news (it’s all public, I am not following her) and I scamper away like the stalking mother that I am. My belief, however misguided, is that the key is to not make myself known. That it makes her more comfortable if she doesn’t have to acknowledge that I exist and as long as I don’t comment, I am good, right? As long as I don’t leave birthmom droppings on her blog (i.e., “Hey, that was a great post. I love your writing style”) I am not in violation. Right? Right?

Meh. Yeah. You don’t have to agree with me. I know what you would say.

It is just so gosh danged impossible NOT to think of my child. Not to worry about her. Not to want to read her fabulous rants on her blog and see her latest outfit. She is neat. She is interesting. She is someone I would have as a friend if she wasnt my daughter. She reminds me of myself, of Claud, of so many other amazing articulate young women I know.

But yes, yes, I get it. I am violating a boundary by stalking her work online.  The desired state is to cut the cords completely. I get that. I am not the type to utilize those services that hide your IP. I will not go that low. I will not use a “friend” to get me my stuff.

I will cut myself off. I will. I must.

It’s just taking me longer to implement.

I relapse occasionally.

I realize this post sounds like I am a making a joke of it. I am not. Well, maybe I am. Maybe if I dont laugh I am afraid I will cry.

But I swear I am working on it.

I just can’t go cold turkey.

Dear MP

“Stranger adoption should be considered a crime against humanity. It is experienced as an emotional death by the mother who does not recover; …the saddest and most horrifying aspect of adoption is the amount of emotional damage inflicted upon the natural mother. To call her the ‘birth mother’ instead of the ‘natural mother’ allows her only the physical birth and denies her those feelings she wasn’t supposed to have. By implication this makes the adoptive parents unnatural, but secret adoption cannot be considered natural when the real mother, the victim of this hit and run, is left battered shocked and damaged. Nothing could be more unnatural” – Joss Sawyer

Dear MP

Please forgive my very public addressing of you. I am going to do my best to keep this short and avoid revealing any personal details. I use only your initial and will state that I know you have a daughter. I am writing this post with a great deal of intent. I sincerely hope you find it now or in the future.

I dont know if you read my blog. I dont know if you ever looked me up. I only know that I have sent you several emails and facebook messages and you have not responded.

This does not upset me. I dont take it personal. If anything, I completely understand. More than you know. Easter House lied to me too. They made promises to me that heavily influenced my decision to surrender my only daughter to them.  They also threatened me with lawsuits. Out of fear, shame and more, I gave my only daughter to them. They promised me a semi-open adoption. They told me I would get updates and pictures for my daughters entire life. I took comfort in that. In signing my rights away, I reflected that “at least” I would  know how she was, if she was still alive, what she liked and what she looked like. She would be better off without me but I would know how that “better off” would play out. This never came to be. Within six months of my signing the papers the adoption was final and my daughter was forever gone from me.

But this is not about me, it is about you. Let me tell you why.

I understand some of my story is also yours.   I also understand that you surrendered your daughter to Easter House under false promises.  I understand they lied to you and ignored you and that perhaps, you hold your daughters adoptive parents responsible for that.

Please don’t. Your daughters adoptive parents are wonderful people. I know them. Your daughters adoptive mother is an amazing woman. She adopted three other children and all others are fully open adoptions. She views her children’s first families as an extension of her own. She wants to know you. She wants you to know your daughter. Your daughter, while only seven, is regularly asking about you.

Just this week she asked her adoptive mother if she had your phone number. When adoptive mother responded she had an old one but did not know if she had a current one your daughter replied “Well, could you find out, cuz I wanna call her”.  Adoptive mom asked daughter what she would say to you. Your daughter responded that she would ask you if your last name was X (her unamended last name) and if you answered “yes” she was going to tell you that you were her birth mother. Adoptive mother smiled and asked “well, then what would you say?”.  Your daughter said “Well, if she said yes, I would say “well, hi, it is very nice to meet you again”.

M, your daughter wants to know you. She needs to know you.  I am going to guess your lack of response to me and your daughters adoptive mother is rooted in anger, fear, pain, anxiety and more.  I know the pain the loss of my daughter has caused me. I know how it has effected every aspect of my life.  Your daughter is only seven. Mine will be 24. I found her five years ago and have yet to meet her. She doesn’t want to meet me. She doesn’t want to know her half brothers or her medical history. She wants to pretend I don’t exist.

I don’t know why this is but again, I am going to guess that it is too painful for my daughter. It is easier to avoid me than deal with the pain of what happened to both of us.  It is easier to stay in one life than integrate two. I am going to guess you are doing this too.

You have a chance here M. You have an opportunity here. You can minimize the future pain for both of you. Oh, how I wish I had that chance.

Your daughter is beautiful. Her hair, her smile, her face, is clearly yours. You would be so proud of her.

I may sound like I am begging. May be I am. Maybe I am envious of the situation you don’t even know you are in. Maybe I am older and wiser and don’t want younger mothers to make the mistakes I did.  Whatever it is, please know that I, and your daughters mother, and even your daughter have only your best interests at heart. They want to respect your boundaries, your needs, while trying to manage their own. (I know this all too well). They wont push. They wont demand.  They will wait. But what happens in that waiting period? What does your daughter feel like each year that passes and you don’t respond. How does that affect her?  What does she falsely interpret?  How does she handle the fact that her three adopted siblings have their first families in their lives but she does not? She is clearly bright but she is still a child. A child that is not likely to understand that her first mother is hurting too and is not responding for reasons of her own. Reasons that may have nothing at all to do with the child and her adoptive family.

Oh MP. My heart aches for you, for your daughter, for me and for my daughter.

I have friends, experienced first mothers and adoptive mothers, who can help you with opening an adoption that should never have been closed. Easter House lied and closed it – not your daughters adoptive parents. I know people you can talk to. I know people who will understand your situation far better than I do.  Please MP Now or in the future, please consider letting your daughter and her adoptive family into your heart.

You are already in theirs.

Happy Holidays.