stupid shit people say to me

Ugly Truths

- Suz 13 Comments

Following my presentation, I was approached by a conference attendee, a social worker from Illinois. She wanted me to know that she knew about the Kurtz network and his for profit agencies. She carried on about how Sara Fiegenholtz had worked with many others to change the laws in Illinois. She told me that Easter House was shut down and the many of the Illinois changes were done to address unscrupulous for profit agencies like Easter House.

I nodded confidently, smiled, and interjected now and then. I had to use the ladies room and I was rather desperate to end the conversation and attend to mother nature. She was steadfast. She wanted to talk as much as I wanted to urinate.

“You do know of course that Easter House catered to wealthy families, right?” she stated.

Internally the not so professional me said “Really? No shit Sherlock! I had no idea!”. I did not say this of course, I realize it was my bladder discomfort speaking.

Yes, I knew this. I informed my new friend that I had reams of data on the network, most of it collected and expertly documented by my friend and fellow Easter House mother/victim, Dr. Bernadette Wright. I also let her know that I was made aware that the reason my daughters parents were able to adopt through them was not due to their individual or family wealth but rather that they had won their state lottery.

This news seemed to startle my chatty friend.

“Really? Wow. Do you know how much they won?” she asked.

I did know but I was not going to share. And I really really needed to go to the bathroom.

“No, I dont but it was listed on a profile the agency gave me”. I said as I started to walk away.

“Wow. Technically then your daughter has lots of adoptive parents, right?” She says as she grins as if she has just said something incredibly funny.

I stop walking and turn my head.

“What?” I ask in a very confused tone.

“Well, technically, if you follow the money, the entire state populace, those that purchased lottery tickets, are the ones who paid the agency for your daughter. So she has LOTS of adoptive parents in that state!” she says with more enthusiasm than I find appropriate.

I am taken back. I feel a flash of anger and disgust.

“Yeah, uh, I guess you could suggest that…” I state as I finally walk away.

A few minutes later, in the rest room, I start to cry. I am not sure if it was due to the ugliness of the statement I just heard or the fact that my bladder is literally constricted from holding back my urine and I now cannot pee.

Perhaps it was both.

My Girl(s)

- Suz 5 Comments

Some people think having large breasts makes a woman stupid. Actually, it’s quite the opposite: a woman having large breasts makes men stupid. – Rita Rudner

I had the girls smooshed this morning. You know, mammogram. Not a pleasant experience, particularly when your girls are as large as mine. But important to do. Preventative maintenance, ya know?

During the smooshing, the tech, named Beth, was quite chatty. I usually dislike this. Just smoosh my girly bits, take some photos and let me be on my way. Not so today. I was chatty today. I felt good. It is Christmas Eve. I am looking forward to my first christmas with my fiance and sons in our new home. I am looking forward to giving and receiving and being with ones I love. So I chatted with Beth.

Blah blah, she carries on as she twists my left girl this way or that, mashes it into the vice of a machine and I attempt to respond to her chatter as I stand naked and gasping for air as the machine compresses my left breast.

“How many children do you have? How old are they?” Beth asks.

For a split second, but a flash in time, I ponder responding this way or that.

“Three” I respond.

“Oh, what are their ages?” Beth asks as she takes my left breast and arranges more of the flesh on the plate.

Good golly. Must I really discuss this, be triggered by adoption while I stand bare-chested in a dark room with a woman as she turns my girls into mashed potatoes?

“24, 12 and 7” I respond.

“Wow, big age range..” Beth says as she moves my armpit closer to the table and jams the corner of the machine into my right eyeball. “Ooh, sorry about that. Bad design”

“So what did your kids ask from Santa? I bet the 24-year-old wants money. Thats all my 24-year-old wants”

Beth walks back to take the picture and I remain silent. I have no idea what my 24-year-old wants.

“Does your 24 yo live at home? Mine lives in Wallingford but recently asked to move back home. I told him no. It’s for his own good, you know? I am not trying to be mean…” Beth rambles. Machine clicks away.

I am still silent. I am responding but only I hear the sound. The conversation is in my head.

No Beth, my 24-year-old doesn’t live at home. In fact she hasn’t since she was three days old. I have no fricking clue if she wants money. As far as I know she wants nothing from me. Nothing at all. So I donate to charities in her name. And yeah, Beth, if my 24-year-old wanted to come home I would get in my car right now, bare-chested, mammaries bouncing free and fly to pick her up. I would be so distracted by the thought of having my child home at Christmas I would forget to put my shirt on Beth. You don’t know what a gift it is that your 24 yo wants to come home….

Of course I don’t say that. I just think it. A tear forms in my eye and rolls down my cheek.

“Oh, I am sorry, did I pinch you too hard? Did I hurt you? I am sorry. I just want to get a good picture.” Beth says.

“No, its okay.I am fine.” I respond as I wipe the tear from my face.

“Okay. Well we are done here. The doctor will call you. We used to read them here but they don’t anymore. It done in Farmington. But from my quick review I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Your “girls” are fine. ” chuckles Beth as directs me back to the changing room.

Are my girls fine Beth? Really? Which girls are you referring to Beth?

“Merry Christmas. Remember, give the 24 yo money and don’t let them move home. And don’t worry about the girls” she says as she walks away.

I will always worry about at least one girl Beth. And she is not on my chest but in my heart.

I drive my sore boobs and equally aching heart home.

What Would Happen?

- Suz 10 Comments

“… people try to make sense of the world they encounter. But how? In effect,they do this by looking for some consistency among their own experiences and memories, and turning to other people for comparison and confirmation. If all checks out, then all well and good. But what if there is some inconsistency? ” Basic Psychology”, Henry Gleitman, Norton 1983 Cognitive Consistency

A commenter challenged my post on my friends experience of being ordered to perform community service cuz like you know, a mother WOULD make that up. Further implied was that well, I made it up, did not have my facts cuz like I do that, right?

Sigh.

I found the comment offensive to the mother in question and to all mothers in general. In accordance with my comment policy, I deleted it. Not only am I protective of this mother in question but it struck me as yet another example of the typical cognitive dissonance rampant in adoption circles.

Cognitive dissonance is an uncomfortable feeling caused by holding two contradictory ideas simultaneously. Using my friends outrageous experience as an example, the idea of surrendering your child to adoption (doing something believed to good) conflicts with being sentenced to perform community service.

It makes no sense. Rather than believe that it truly happened and accept the discomfort that rides along with doing so, the reaction by some is to refute it, blame the victim, challenge it. Doing so allows the challenger to stay comfortable in their belief system no matter how flawed it may be.

Consider this.

A facebook friend shared Clauds contribution to the GIMH carnival on her facebook page. A friend of the friend commented on Clauds contribution with very negative, inflammatory and ignorant statements. I commented and attempted to educate the person on the darker side of adoption. Yes, there can be good in adoption but there is also a great deal of evil. Since the person admitted their own ignorance and asked for clarification, I offered up links, resources and books (Fessler, Verrier, Sollinger, etc.) they could read to understand the negatives of adoption and the traumatic effect it can have on mother and child. To give some credibility to my position, I shared bits of my own experience (maternity homes, baby brokers, promissory notes and such).

The persons response?

“Well, clearly you could not have been a good parent becuase you were not strong enough to fight for yourself and your child. Your child is better off.”

Whaaa?

Person completely and utterly missed the point. They did not read any of the links I sent, they did not consider educating themselves on coercion, intimidation and more. They instead chose to lash out, blame the victim, to justify their own position.

Why? Because the truth made them uncomfortable?

I was not upset or offended. I actually chuckled. So typical.

Yet it makes me wonder what my commentor or friends facebook commenter fear.

What EXACTLY will happen to them if they admit they have been duped? What will happen if they acknowledge they have been lead down the wrong adoption path, the one labeled lies and untruths, and suddenly walk down the one that more accurately highlights the good and evil inherent in adoption?