I want my baby back

Just four little words. Four innocent words when used separately  But when put together in this particular order, it feels like a dirty confessions. It's what we think, but aren't allowed to actually say. I mean, after all, we made this decision, so now we have to live with it, right? As someone told me once, if you hate adoption so much, you shouldn't have chosen it. It's almost blasphemy to admit that you want your child back, that you think giving them up (yes, i used that dirty phrase too, gave up) was the worst decision you could have possibly made, that everything else in your life will pale in comparison to the atrocity you committed when signing that paper.

But of course, we aren't allowed to think this way. We are supposed to happy. Happy that our children have a much better life without us (or so the agencies and manipulators want you to think). But I don't believe that. Not for a second.It's a big heap of bull, because I could have provided for my daughter. It would have been difficult, yes. But I could have done it. Instead, I was weak. I gave up. I let myself be bullied into making a decision that I knew at that time to be wrong, and that will continue to haunt me for the rest of my life.

Oh, but I gave that couple such an amazing gift and I should be proud. yea. say this to my face, and you won't fucking have a face. I gave them nothing. My daughter isn't some fucking present to be wrapped up and put beneath a Christmas tree. Children are not marketable commodoties, unless of course you work in the adoption industry. Then I guess you see all pregnant bellies as giant dollar signs.

So you know what, FUCK YOU. I want my baby back. I spend night after night wishing I could hold her, kiss her, sing her lullabies, read to her, take her for walks. Hell, I wish I would be woken up in the middle of the night to clean the messes made when she wet the bed. I wish I had to go down to the school to deal with teachers or principals when she gets in trouble. I wish I could spend hours in the kitchen trying to figure out how to get her to eat her vegetables. I want it all. I want to be my daughters mommy, not just her mother. But of course, these are all sinful thoughts that are supposed to be kept to one's self.  Regret isn't something we are allowed to feel, or at least, admit that we feel. Well guess what? I regret giving up on my daughter, and giving up on myself.

I'm not okay

Every passing day, the pain gets worse. I am sinking into a dark, deep abyss. I don't know what lies ahead, and sometimes I just don't care. The anger, the anger is overpowering. The self pity leads to more anger. Anger towards myself. I wish I could just pinch myself and wake up from this terrible night mare, and have none of it ever happen. I wish that I could close my eyes and have my mind and soul cease to exist. I wish I were dead. No, I wish I was non-existence. I wish that I never was. I'm no good to anybody the way I am, and obviously I was no good to anybody before. I've asked for help. I've called out with my weak, trembling voice. But my cry was heard by no one that cared. The ones that had promised they'd be there to help have turned their back on me, probably so they can focus on destroying more lives. Mine was not enough. I hope their all fucking happy with themselves. That the "deserving Christian family" got their fucking kid. I hope their pleased that they milked this cow for all it was worth, before leaving it to shrivel up slowly. But I should be happy. After all, I gave such an amazing gift to that family.

Grief, anger, fear

So here goes my first post in nearly a year and a half. I've gone months of feeling "okay". This is not to say that I've gone months without thinking about or missing my daughter, or that I haven't felt sad, but I've more or less been at terms with the adoption.

But lately I've been overcome with anger and fear. I've been angry beyond comprehension at the adoption agency. I've been learning about various methods of coercion, and how they've been used on me. I've been asking myself questions that I can't answer for myself, and that the agency has been unable to answer for me.

Questions like: Why is it okay to have a mother sign away rights while still in the hospital and under the influence of very strong pain killers? You can't get a tattoo while drunk or high. You can't sign for a loan while drunk or high. But you can sign away parental rights to your child while under the influence of hospital grade pain killers.

Why is it okay for adoption agencies to not fully disclose the side effects of adoption, side effects to both mother and child? Why is it okay for them to not tell me that adoptees often grow up feeling abandoned? Why is it okay not to tell me that birth mothers often suffer from numerous mental disorders?

Why wasn't I made aware of my rights at the hospital? How come nobody ever told me I had the right to spend time alone with my daughter before I signed my rights away. Why wasn't I told that I DON'T have to allow the amom to have a wristband matching her to MY baby? Why was I only offered the option of my daughter sleeping in their room, or the amom sleeping in my room with us, but not the option of sleeping alone with my daughter? Why I was I asked to leave the hospital at noon the next day, just 15 hours after giving birth, after being told by the doctor that I needed to stay 24 hours?

Why wasn't I told that the adoption agency would have no obligation to follow through on the counseling the promised me I would have access to? Now, that I need it most. Now that I am serrating my friendships, one by one, as my girlfriends have babies and or wed, and it eats me alive that they are becoming happy wives and mothers, while I am nothing but an used up hen? Now that I need help, and have reached out for it, I realize that the ones who promised to be there are long gone. But then, I guess it's foolish of me to expect the predator to cure the wounds of the prey.