The Birthday Blues

it isn't even March yet, but they seem to have come early this year. Particularly the "this time 6 years ago." This time 6 years ago,  I was preparing to move back to Fresno. I was certain that I would pop any day and did not for a second think I would make it to my due date. I remember thinking that the time could not pass fast enough- I just wanted this nightmare to be over- because I really thought it would be over. I somehow expected the placement to make me un-mothered somehow.

I remember the agency prepping me for amom's arrival. She was to arrive March 1 and stay til the baby was born. I was being reminded of course how much international flights cost, and how excited amom was to take my, I mean her, child out of the country.

I was also very hopeful. I felt that the aparents- who I had gotten to know so well over our middle of the night calls, and who seemed to care so much about me- were wonderful people. And for all I know, they are. I thought that I was doing everything right. That once I did this thing, that everything would go back to normal. That my family would accept me again (which has sort of happened, but some grudges are difficult for me to let go of). I thought that I was doing the right thing and that I would go back to school and go to college and get grow up to get my white picket fence and marry and "just have more children later." Everything was supposed to just be wonderful.

But look at me now- 23 years old, and full of dreams, but devoid of everything else. My peers, and those younger than me now- are all graduating college. Many of them have married and have started families of their own. Me? I've barely completed my two year degree. Which has done me a world of good in securing that fast food job that I hate, I have a tiny apartment where I barely keep the bills paid. Oh, and a kid I don't even know. I'm doing just fan-fucking-tastic.

So much for everything being alright. So much for the nightmare being over. I just wish I could go back to the days when I just knew that I had done the right thing. I wish that I could go back to that day in the hospital and tell those people to go home and have their own baby. I wish had truly done the right thing. I wish I had brought my girl home with me- like any real mom does- and raised her at home, with her family, where she belongs. We would have made it work. I just know it. I just wish I knew it then.

On Anger and Opinions

Lately, I have found myself back in the angry phases of adoption. I have become as some would call me, an angry bitter birthmom. Well, I don't think I am bitter. But I sure am one pissed off mama, and the way I see it, I have every reason to be pissed off. I was robbed of my mother hood. My daughter lives hundreds of miles away with people I don't even know. Every time I see a license plate from the state she lives in, any time I hear any news from the state she lives in, I have to feel the pang of knowing that that person who I have no clue who they are, was closer to my daughter than I have been in five years.

Adoption was not my choice. I wanted my daughter. I wanted to raise her. Granted, the pregnancy couldn't have come at a worse time. Sure, I balled my eyes out all the way home from the clinic after finding out (the clinic  that I had scheduled an appointment at to get on birth control ironically.) Yes, I was petrified of telling my family that I was pregnant, and how I was going to cope as a teen mom. But I wanted my daughter. I loved her from the first time I saw her little gummy bear form dancing for me on the sonogram. My heart melted.

But my love wasn't enough. I couldn't get on welfare and be just a free loader. So, under pressure of my family and the adoption industry, I gave up. It was wrong. My daughter was taken from me. I live every day of my life with that pain. Sometimes I am kept up at night, remembering those feelings of being all alone, remembering being made to feel like it was me against the world. I remember not wanting that. The only way to get the world on my side again was to just give it what it wanted. And that's what I did. I convinced myself it was a good idea. And now I am pissed.

I am pissed that I had to lose my daughter. I am pissed at the system. I am pissed that those I counted on weren't there for me. I am pissed at myself, for not having a backbone. This was the only time in my life I've ever been a wimp. The only time in my life that I have lacked resolve.

But that brings me to my next point. Why does me being pissed make my experience any less valid? Why does my being pissed mean that my opinion doesn't matter? Why is it acceptable for people to tell me to shut up, and that nobody wants my two cents, just because I am angry?

What if we dismissed everybody's story just because they were angry? I'm not just talking about adoption. What if we told angry soldiers returning from the reality war that their opinions and experiences were invalid because they were angry? What if we told victims of abuse that their feelings are irrelevant because "their just angry"? What if we told disgruntled voters that their opinions were irrelevant, because they are just angry? None of this would be okay. So why is it okay, in the world of adoption, to dismiss an opinion on the grounds of being angry?

Why the Veronica Brown Case is Frustrating Me So

Veronica Brown. By now, everybody in adoption land, and many people who aren't, are familiar with the name. But in case you haven't, Veronica Brown was relinquished at birth by her mother. Her father, Dusten Brown, fought the APs for a year and a half before, with the help of the Indian Child Welfare Act and his Cherokee heritage, he was able to have his daughter returned home. What should have been a happy ending to a tragic story was in fact just the beginning of the long legal battle between Brown and Veronica would-be adopters, the Capobiancos. The battle ultimately led to the Supreme Court, where the decision to stop the adoption on the grounds of ICWA was overturned, as it was decided that Brown was an "uninvolved" father (despite his years of legal battles to keep his daughter, he is somehow considered uninvolved) and South Carolina courts later ordered the adoption to be finalized.

Certainly, this isn't the first news story, court ruling, etc. to upset me. But for some reason, this one really gets to me. It keeps me up at night. Every time I read or hear about Veronica Brown I am overcome by feelings of intense anger, and sadness. The emotional drag of this case weighs more on me than anything I have ever seen on the news. Then, last night, I had a realization.

This case gets to me because it is hitting too close to home. The biological father of my daughter, I believe now more than ever, had his paternal rights illegally revoked. I have gotten different stories from the agency that handled my adoption and the couple who got to be my daughters parents. But only one story from my daughter's biological father: nobody told him anything. He was never served, as the adoption agency claims. He was never contacted by any attorneys, as my daughters adopters claim. He was never given any rights. He was never given a say. And I carry a tremendous amount of guilt for that.

Granted, my daughter's adoption has never been challenged. He knew that he had a daughter on the way, and knew that before we stopped communicating, adoption was still in the cards. But, as he claims, he didn't learn of her placement until it was too late. And he doesn't have the backing of a strong Indian nation to help him.

My daughter's father's rights never existed. Much like the Supreme Court has decided that Dusten Brown, or any other father for that matter, has no right to any of his children that somebody is willing to pay a pretty penny for.

Can "Voluntary" Relinquishment Occur without Coercion?

The more I think of it, the more I've come to realize that, at least in your "normal" agency adoption, coercion is a necessary element of adoption. In order to get a women to surrender her child, you first have to convince her that she would make such a terrible mother, that her child would have such a miserable life with her, that she can best serve her child by rolling the dice and sending her home with total strangers. You have to convince her that she is such a threat to her child, that she will be making the best parenting decision by giving up her right to protect her child from harm, to make sure her child is always happy and safe.

Does this seem like the conclusion that any woman can come to with an ounce of self esteem? Does it sound like a decision that can be arrived at on one's own accord? No. This requires brainwashing. It requires demolishing any self esteem. It requires preying upon weaknesses. 

And then, we wonder why it is so impossible for mothers to carry on with their lives, missing their flesh and blood child, and convinced that they are worthless. 

It still keeps me up at night

I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I'm 16 again, just a couple months pregnant. I remember the evening I told my dad that I was keeping the baby. I had written out a letter to myself that has long since disappeared. The letter said pretty much everything we tell girls now. Adopters can lose jobs, get divorced, etc. And I will finish school and we will be fine. I told my father I was going to raise my baby. It should have been the last time adoption was ever mentioned. Instead, he said "so you mean I'm going to raise the baby."

I had an uncle willing to take me in. He can't do much, he told me, but he could offer a roof and food. Suddenly my father was open to the idea of keeping my daughter.

Until all of a sudden, he told me I better start looking into TANF and section 8. Because I wasn't coming home with that baby.

I remember worrying about whether my dad would ever see his grandbaby in my daughter, whether he would ever look at her and not see Daniel, and the months of lies that led to me getting pregnant. He said he didn't know either.

So, reluctantly, I picked up the phone book and dialed the first number I saw under adoption. I wasn't going to go through with it. I was just going to humor him.

Next thing I know, I have an appointment with an adoption "counselor " at my house. Then, I'm matched. Marine father. Sah mother. Living in Japan.

I convinced myself that this was what I wanted. I convinced myself that this was what God wanted. I actually remember saying to myself at one point "A stupid 16 year old girl needs a lesson. A couple on the other side of tthe world prays for a baby. Funny how the world works."

I want to go tell that girl "no. That's not how it works."

My dad was working when I had her. I was in the hospital a whopping 12 hours after her birth. I know if he'd have seen her, he would have told me not to go through with it. He would have told those people to get lost. I would still have my little girl.

But thats not what happened. Adad drove me home from the hospital. I walked into my house, stuffed bear under my arm. They went home with my baby. And it still keeps me up at night 5 years later.

That moment you realize that you are "okay"

Things have been going pretty decent for me the past few weeks. I've been working (somewhat) steady. I've graduated. I'm 5 weeks away from moving across the country to finish my Bachelor's Degree. I will for the first time in my life have my own apartment. No roommates. No parents. Just me and my dog. I've been so focused on the upcoming move, that I haven't really had time to feel bad about the adoption.

Until of course, I realize that I've been pretty "okay" lately. That's when it has to hit me, and start dragging me down again. Kind of like having a headache, that comes back the second you realize that it's been gone. How could I possibly be okay? Why do I have to beat myself up for feeling this way? Why can't I just be happy? I mean, I am happy. But life is moving forward. Again. And I'm about to be alone. Again.

I just wish that I could put adoption in my rear view mirror once and for all. I want it to be a thing of my past, and I want to move forward in my life without having this lurking in the corners, ready to pull me into its grip whenever it sees fit.

But that is, of course, an awful thought to have. Forgetting about adoption, putting adoption in my past, even wanting to, is to deny my daughter, my only child. Adoption will always be a part of my life. As long as she is living, growing, exploring, I will always have a daughter that I lost. The story wasn't over when I handed her over to the people she calls mom and dad. Not for her. Not for them. And not for me. It never will be. But maybe, just maybe, I can keep the monster at bay. 

Abducted and Adopted

Imagine the following scenario. You are at the mall, shopping, or sitting in your front yard. You watch as your child is playing, and in the second you turn your head around, somebody snatches her, and drives off, leaving you to begin the heart breaking search for your abducted child. Sometime later, you find out that she was sold to an adoption agency, and then adopted by a family in another country. By some stroke of luck, you manage to find exactly where your child is, and where they have been living. But because of the exchange of money and signatures (not yours or your child's), the law is unwilling to return your child to you.

Sadly, this case is not imaginary. It has been the story of many women in recent years. It is likely the story of many who have their children abducted, never to be seen from again. And yet, people will argue that the child should stay where they are, with the traffickers.

"You shouldn't take the child from the only home they know" "They have been there for 10 years. How can you take them away now"

I wonder, if I were to say that perhaps Elizabeth Smart should have stayed with her abductor, after all, that was the only home she had known for the past 14 months. Or how about Stephen Stayner. He was abducted for 9 years to be found alive. Or let's take the most recent case, of the 3 women who had been in their abductor's home for 10 years. Maybe they should just stay with the only home and family they've had for the past decade. But wait, I forgot. There was no exchange of money, or binding legal (and I use that term loosely) agreements made.


http://latino.foxnews.com/latino/news/2012/05/15/us-wont-return-adopted-girl-guatemalan-authorities-say/
http://www.abc.net.au/7.30/content/2013/s3695695.htm