A Sad Truth

I read about this today – We adopted an 8 year old in June. She is not taking it very well. We decorated her room the way she asked. We are sending her to a fabulous school in September. We tell her we love her and we buy her toys. My parents came around with tons of gifts for her and my husband’s dad came to see her as well (his mother passed away).

She refuses to give her granny and grandpa a kiss. She refuses to call us mom and dad. We are trying to be patient but after waiting so long to have a child, we finally got a child but our child does not want us.

She thinks her mom is coming to get her. She was put into the system at the age of 6 due to neglect. Her mother is an alcoholic and her father isn’t around. Her mom forced her to steal alcohol and she got caught. I’m only sharing this because I don’t understand why our daughter does not want a regular mom and dad.

I just walked into her room to collect her laundry and saw her crying. When I asked her what the matter was, she told me that she has her own family who are her “real” family and my husband and I are a “pretend” family.

So, I came up with the idea of teaching her about ancestral magic. Maybe she will be able to feel a connection with her ancestors. That might help her feel that we are also a part of her biological family (watching over her). Do you think this might help ?

blogger’s note – I found this in a book advertisement – LINK>Ancestral Magic by Kirsten Riddle. Empower the here and now with enchanting guidance from your past family history. It is described as “A positive and practical guide to discovering not only your family roots but also your purpose and the magical healing energy available through connecting with your ancestors.”

On to some comments in the group where I saw this –

From a kinship adoptee – my heart breaks for this child. The void & sadness I felt from wanting my mom was almost too much to bear at times. I know what it’s like being that young & longing to be w my real mother.

From another adoptee – this is horrible to read. How do they expect this to go?? It’s a child. A human. Not a product. Ffs. And as a Christian, what if her real family is Christian and they’re going to be shoving this ‘ancestral magic’ nonsense down her throat? Nauseating. And trying to force her to KISS them??? They did that to my daughter who was medical kidnapped as a newborn and tried to force an adoption for 2.5 years and now she has cold sores every month. Sick people. Thank God my adoptive parents never forced me to KISS them, even as a newborn adoption just hugging makes me uncomfortable.

Another writes – Adoptive parents should go through mandatory counselling prior to adopting. This adoptive mother has no idea of the physiological damage she is causing that little girl. Its heart breaking.

Another person asks – so she wants to teach her about deceased ancestors to brainwash her from loving living ancestors ? This is disgusting.

An kinship adoptive parent and the sister of an adoptee suggests – how about some trauma therapy and empathy magic instead?

And a reality check – I understand they love her, but she is not just MAGICALLY your child. She is going through so much trauma being ripped away from her mom. I don’t know why this is a hard concept for this woman to understand.

It Could Happen To You

When I imagine my dad’s genetic biological mother, I think of her having an actual relationship with the man who, it is certain now, was his father. She did have a head shot photo of him and wrote his name and the word “boyfriend” on the back. She placed the image in her photo album next to a photo of her holding my dad. That actually did eventually reveal for me who my dad’s genetic biological father was. My DNA and his geographical proximity at the time proved it and none of his other genetic biological relatives were in the area. It does not appear that my Danish immigrant grandfather ever knew he was a father. Self-reliant woman that she was, she simply handled it by going to a Salvation Army home for unwed mothers in Ocean Beach California. Some month later, the Salvation Army hired her and transported my grandmother and baby dad to El Paso Texas. I don’t think she really wanted to give him up for adoption but I think she was strongly coerced just to do it. He was already 8 months old when his first adoption was finalized (he actually was adopted a second time and his name changed again, after his adoptive mother divorced the abusive alcoholic husband and remarried, a marriage that lasted until she died).

This morning, I have read two stories about one night stands that actually resulted in pregnancies. That got me to wondering . . . , other than my grandmother’s clear feelings that my dad’s married father was her “boyfriend”, I really can’t know all the details. Be careful out there having casual sex because it could happen to you if you are not careful.

One from LINK>Quora – I had a one night stand and she’s pregnant and wants to keep the baby. I have no desire to be with this woman. Does this mean I’ll have to pay child support?

The answer from a Relationship Counsellor – Yes, you are responsible for that child if it is yours. A paternity test is certainly highly recommended. You are under no obligation at all to enter into a relationship with the mother (actually, that would be a spectacularly bad idea!!) but you do have an obligation towards the human you created, who had no say in the matter.

You can draw the line at providing financial support only, but do think carefully about whether this is the kind of person you want to be. What will future partners think of you if you explain that you have a child that you pay child support for, but that you don’t have anything to do with because you don’t want it? If you have kids later in life what will they think of you when they find out they have a half sibling that their dad just abandoned? More importantly – What will you think of yourself? I understand that it is a horrible situation to find yourself in, but try to accept the reality of it as soon as possible and decide what kind of a man you want to be – then live like that man.

Going for mediation with the mother is a very good way to figure out a way forward, and how to co-parent, in a way that both of you can live with. Becoming a dad may not have been on your to-do list for the immediate future, but it doesn’t have to turn out badly. The one way to ensure you achieve the best outcome from this is to make sure that you have the most amicable relationship possible with the mother – this should actually be easier for you than for most divorced couples who have a lot of hurt and baggage.

If the mother is keeping the baby simply because she is against abortion, and not because she really wants to have a child or is in a position to raise one, try to talk to her about adoption. This would certainly be in the best interests of the child, and could give that child a loving home with parents whose biggest dream would be fulfilled by the child’s existence, instead of their worst nightmare. (blogger’s note – that advice is where I part company with this relationship counselor’s advice but it would be very common to receive that advice.)

If you don’t want to have children, please consider going for a vasectomy. This is the only option men have for taking control of whether they become dads or not, aside from never having vaginal intercourse. If you might want to have kids later, make sure to always use a condom, and talk to your sexual partners about their views on abortion and what they would expect should your liaison result in pregnancy. Too often men just leave it all up to the woman, assume that she is on birth control, assume that she will have an abortion if she falls pregnant, then they are horrified when they realize that they missed their ONE AND ONLY opportunity to influence whether they become parents through simple carelessness.

I do wish you the best of luck going forward. Sometimes a stupid mistake costs far more than it should, but such is life – I hope you can make the best of it.

I read another similar story in LINK>Slate – I Just Told My One-Night Stand I’m Pregnant. Then I Heard From His Wife. Apparently, I’m “baby-trapping.” (blogger’s note – I had never heard this term “baby-trapping” before.) A few months ago, I matched with a man on Tinder, “John,” who was in town on a work trip for a few days. We met for drinks, ended up sleeping together (with protection), and agreed that this wasn’t more than a one-time hookup. However, the condom must have failed because I very unexpectedly discovered I was pregnant.

She had several heartbreaking miscarriages and failed rounds of IVF and those experiences pushed her marriage to the breaking point and divorce. She was already at 14 weeks, twice as far as I had gotten when I’d miscarried in the past, and that the fetus was healthy. So, she is not unhappy this has finally happened for her. She writes – I decided to keep the baby. I have a house in an area with great schools, make more than enough to support a child, and will receive generous maternity leave. I already love my baby so much, and still can’t believe that this actually is happening.

Because she believed the man deserved to know, she tried to inform him but got an angry response from his wife. So, she replied to the wife – I truly did not know he was married and have no interest in keeping in touch after what was supposed to be a night of casual sex. I told her that this was a complete surprise to me, but that she needed to talk to her husband because he had gotten me pregnant, and while I was fine with him not being in the picture, he deserved to know. Her only response was to curse me out, accuse me of baby-trapping, and say that she wouldn’t be spending her money on my “bastard.” When I showed this conversation thread to my friends, they advised me to stop there and keep my baby away “from a cheater and a victim-blamer.”

She Loved Me So Much

At least the woman in this photo got to hold her baby before handing her son over to another couple to raise. Like many young women who surrender their newborn to adoption, this young woman was at rock bottom and living in her car. She had no familial support and was alone with her pregnancy. One common perspective is – God wanted me to take this path. Religion often plays a role in couples wanting to adopt and in biological, genetic mothers making that choice to surrender their baby. Maternity homes are often linked to a religion.

An adoptee shares her experience – My mother left me at the hospital, when I was born. I was told – she did it because she loved me. After a brief stay at the hospital, where I (and others) were denied the comfort of being held, I went to a foster home. There I learned to walk and use some words. I had developed 2-3 word sentences, when the social worker took me from my foster home and dropped me at a stranger’s home. These became my adoptive parents. By the time I was in 3rd grade, my adoptive mother was “sick”. She stayed in bed with the door closed a lot. She always seemed mad.

I would learn 22 years later, it was because she had discovered alcohol took her arthritic pain away. Then Cortizone became available but that shot every 2 weeks didn’t change her alcoholism. So she also became addicted to steroids. I grew up thinking addiction issues were “normal”. Growing up, I wasn’t taught there was anything wrong with my mother leaving me. She did it because she loved me. My parenting skills were warped by my reality. I never received the therapy I needed as a child. If I had, I’m pretty sure I would have chosen to not procreate. I was left in the dark world of popular adoption narratives that never matched my reality.

Another adoptee responds – I never did completely buy that BS about “your [biological] mother loved you SO much she gave you away, so you would have a better life.” Then when I had my own first child, at 25, same age as my biological mother had been when she had me, whatever shred of the BS I had wanted to believe was somehow true was blown out of the water, as soon as I held my newborn infant. There are some biological mothers who gave their babies away that have convinced themselves that this narrative is true. Some of them have told me the reason adoptions were closed is to “protect” the mothers from “adoptees like me” who don’t buy that line, and who are angry with them, rather than grateful for having been “loved so much.” Adopted adults have been experiencing reunions, after finding their biological, genetic family, since the 60’s. There are no credible stories of an adopted person who has injured or killed their biological mother. That “excuse” is just a part of the industry propaganda.

One woman notes – When are people going to wake up that adoption is NOT for the child. My adoptive mother had SEVERE mental illness and NEVER left the house after I turned 6 – literally NEVER!

And the truth is, they won’t as long as the adoption industry propaganda continues to be the acceptable narrative. Sort of tongue in cheek – it would help if babies had a vocabulary and could use their words. As it is, by the time they could, they’ve been pretty much brainwashed into a kind of Stockholm syndrome. They have developed a fear of expressing anything that might be interpreted by the adoptive parents as displeasure in them, as parents.

Emotional withdrawal or neglect is just another form of abandonment…and it is not an expression of love, no matter how adoptive parents spin it. Only my adopters didn’t stay confined to their rooms; they constantly violated my boundaries. I was the one who tried to isolate as much as I could. My room wasn’t safe enough, so I’d escape by running away.

Another considers herself lucky enough to have been abandoned or emotionally neglected. She notes, “It’s a wonder I function pretty well and cover it up. However, I’m just numb to most of life.”

Someone else says, I had one of those kind of “moms” who stayed in her bed in her room. No wonder I feel guilty for staying in bed when I actually have a real illness.

Lastly, yet another adoptee shares her story – I started to doubt the “loved you so much she gave you away.” line when I was still young. People would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I said a birth mom. I wanted to have kids and give them away to people who couldn’t have kids, so they could be happy. (Just repeating the crap I had been told.) And I was met with silence. Or “oh, you don’t want to give your babies away, your such a good little babysitter”, etc. Nope. I am going to give them away because I love them and want them to have money for the doctor. I’d say. Their faces were so unhappy. I was so confused. I look back at that little me and just cringe….

She was reassured – the fact that all the adults in our lives pushed the same narrative results in our blaming ourselves for the confusion we feel emotionally towards adoption.

A Reality Check

So a struggling mother asks – Is it wrong to give your kid up for adoption if you deal with depression/anxiety and don’t really have much help ? A part of me feels like I will get over everything and be just fine .. another part of me wants to give my kid up for adoption so that they can have 2 parents and grow up in a loving home with good opportunities. Is any of it feasible ?

The reality – Adoption won’t guarantee a better life for your child, only a different one. Adoption is random. Hopeful adoptive parents are not evaluated for mental health, as biological parents are when Child Protective Services is after their kids. Also, divorce is just as common for adoptive parents as it is for everyone else.

Adoption is permanent.

So, you could give your kid away to some random strangers, then go on to win the lottery, meet the love of your life, and meanwhile the adoptive parents could get divorced, lose their jobs, your kid could be raised by an alcoholic hoarder who won’t allow any contact with you, and then when they do find you, they could resent you for depriving them of the life they could have had with you.

Someone else who suffers from depression/anxiety admits – I go through this thought process with every episode. It’s so hard. Adoption doesn’t always equal better.

Someone who experienced both foster care and adoption notes – People have all sorts of reasons to justify giving up their child. They often sell themselves the line that 2 parents are better than a single one, or they are better off because I am dealing with x/y/z. Your kids love you in spite of all of the hard things in life, and honestly, if its something you struggle with – they likely will too. And no one is better to help them navigate it than their birth parent because often times adopted parents just gaslight their kids and don’t get them the proper therapies and then, its compounded by attachment trauma too. Hugs. You are a good mom no matter how you are struggling because you love your kids enough to ask tough questions about your own mental and emotional health. That’s more than most hopeful adopted parents will ever do!

The issue of abortion often comes up in adoptee circles with a variety of opinions. Comparing the trauma on the biological mother of placing her child for adoption as opposed to what she might feel after having an abortion – studies have found that 95+% of people who’ve ended their pregnancies, have no regrets and felt nothing but relief.

One adoptee says – I’ve had an abortion, I don’t regret it at all. Sure, I sometimes wonder what might have been, but I’m not sad about it at all. At least there’s nobody out there wondering why they weren’t good enough to be anyone’s first choice.

Yet another who aged out of foster care, and was never adopted, says – I’m really really grateful and lucky to have not been aborted. For me, I don’t know if its right to decide for someone without their choice that they’re better off dead than adopted.

Then an all-of-the-above person notes – This is hard… I believe that if someone has never had a child they might regret their abortion. I’m a biological mom and an adoptee … I have my own child I parent, I have a biological child that was given up for adoption, and I had an abortion. By far my abortion was the easiest on me emotionally and mentally. I have been tormented emotionally and mentally by the adoption that turned out a total lie regarding it’s openness. I think about her every single day. I wish I would have aborted her but I was selfish. Of course, I would also rather have kept her, if I had the right mindset then. Hindsight is 20/20. But I also know that if I had never given her up, then I wouldn’t have chosen to have an abortion so easily the next time because giving up another child would have never happened again or I’d be dead. But I know, if I had aborted the child I gave up, I would probably have huge regrets because I wouldn’t know how awful it was to give a child up to adoption.

It always is a matter of perspective and circumstance. This blogger notes – I have a biological, genetic daughter that I surrendered to her father due to my own financial struggles (he refused to pay child support, I went into an employment where I could not take her along with me. I was seeking a financial gain that would support us both – I did not foresee leaving her with her paternal grandmother would become her father’s non-legally mandated permanent custody). Then, I had an unplanned, unexpected pregnancy with no interest expressed by that father-to-be. I did end that one with an abortion. Later on in life, in a better marriage and with good financial circumstances, I gave up my genetics to allow my husband to become a biological, genetic father through assisted reproduction. Many women have multiple varieties of reproductive experiences. I do believe ALL women deserve a legal private choice in all reproductive matters.

Wound In The Soul

An adoptee writes – last month I reached out to my mom (biological) and how hurt I was that it went unanswered. She responded the other day, it looks like we’re going to give it another shot. I’m not really looking for anything, just sharing. I’m hopeful but really nervous. We’ll see. And if nothing else, I will know I tried.

She added, I just saw a screen shot of an adoptive parent talking about the kids being “MINE” – if you’re an adoptive parent you should know you don’t own the kid you adopt, we grow up and and into ourselves, we don’t owe adoptive parents our lives or even a connection.

There is no amount of lying, guilt tripping, manipulating, or being so great and or loving that, for some of us, could ever possibly fill the gaping wound in our souls for our actual biological family.

An adoptee suggested – Hopefully you both will try. No expectations except to be yourselves and get to know the other at this place of your lives. Maybe you can have some unanswered questions answered that will be meaningful for you. Wishing you everything you wish for yourselves.

Yet another sympathized – Wishing you good luck in your reconnection. My messages went unanswered for awhile as well. Just know you’re not alone and there is always hope for a good outcome.

Another adoptee chimed in with this suggestion – Adopters (and foster caregivers): STOP forcing/suggesting the children in your care call you their parent/mom/dad. YOU.ARE.NOT.OUR.PARENT. You are our “caregiver”. Stop pushing your imaginary narrative on Adoptees.

Another adoptee notes – I don’t understand how people genuinely think they own other people. We own ourselves. We share ourselves with those we want to. No one else can claim us, regardless of whether they have paperwork. We aren’t cars that they just get a title to and then own. Some adoptive parents overshare about their adopted kids on public social media, when the children are too young to consent and were adopted at a young age. Their biological parents might have eventually be able to care for them again. If it’s not about ownership, why not enable the parents to keep their kids or be temporary guardians rather than adopting their children ?

Yet another notes – Some people just don’t appreciate that adults are entitled to make their own decisions. My biological family spent years guilt tripping me and demanding that I see my biological mom because she was dying from cancer. I remember being told “she gave you life,” as if I’m indebted to her for all of eternity. She wasn’t there when I was sick and scared as a child. She never acted like a mother to me but I was supposed to step up and comfort her when she was sick ? Having and raising children is the reward for parents. There are no additional requirements to apply.

This one further explains – my biological parent gave me away to someone else to raise (I was not adopted). Then, when I was forced at 13 years old to go live with my biological mom. She blamed me for loving the person who raised me, who walked me to school the first day of kindergarten, who stayed up all night with me when sick, who (although she was not able to walk herself on her own) encouraged me to take first steps, who taught me all she knew with only a second grade education, who basically treated me like her child – while my mother lived her life as if I didn’t exist. She also blamed me for having some of the same mannerisms as the person who she had left me with. In other words, my mother blamed me for her bad decision and took her resentment out on me physically.

Which brings this person to this realization – shitty people will do shitty things to the people around them. Yes, it may be easier to forgive a biological parent for their actions, than it is to forgive an adoptive parent, but in my opinion – people are people and some people do things that hurt others. As people, we all are not perfect, and we all make mistakes, and our mistakes affect those around us, kids or adults.

To which one notes that sadly neither were some adoptive parents. So it is a matter of perspective. I was to be the cure for my adoptive mother’s “drinking problem” aka alcoholism. Guess what? It did not work.

Someone said – pretending like having a kid makes you a mother is also a false narrative. A mother is a lot more than just birthing a kid, and it is a lot more than just supporting that kid as they grow. Adoptive parents can be terrible people, because they’re people, not because they happen to have adopted kids, just like some biological parents are terrible people too. There are as many stories of terrible relationships between biological parents and their kids as there are of adoptive parents and their adopted children.

The one who started this goes on to note – I don’t like the assumption that mom and dad can be transferred so easily and based off opinions of people who really have no idea. How adopted people view their biological parents is up to them but from the outside, to claim to know who’s who, if someone is a mom or dad, seems wrong. I know how I view my biological parents and adoptive parents.

I guess the specific question of how a biological mom views herself would be for a first mom to chime in on, they know what they live. Maybe some would agree with you. I honestly don’t know. As far as saying things like “some biological parents are terrible too” and “there are as many stories of terrible relationships between biological parents and their kids, as there are of adoptive parents and their adopted children.” I am going to argue that.

I have not just seen in my own life how differently biological parents are towards their biological child vs an adopted one, even if they are bad parents, the relationship seems to be stronger, there is a natural pull. And of course, no, not always. But I don’t think you can claim those biological vs adoptive relationships are on equal ground, as far too many are not at all.

And, going a step further, I disagree with some adoptive parents not being terrible because they’re adoptive parents. I honestly believe that some could have chosen not to adopt, not to try and fulfill their wants, and avoided the stress the adopted child came with and turned into the person they did.

I think that some adoptive parents are so incredibly naive and by the time they realize the mess they’ve made from getting someone else’s child, it’s too late. They can’t / won’t back out, give the kid back, etc. and they become resentful, they might become abusive and yes, bad people – as an outcome of choosing to be adoptive parents.

Does Anyone Ever Chose Drugs Over Their Kids ?

There is no way I can do justice to such a large and complex topic in a blog. I have experienced the difficulty of dealing with a spouse who has a substance use disorder. In my case, it was both alcohol and heroin that my spouse was using and it did impact our financial situation and our relationship. In fact, he left the region to try and get clean but came back. After that, I left because I lost hope that he could overcome it. Then, I left my daughter with her paternal grandmother, temporarily, only to discover that eventually, the grandmother turned her over to her father. I would NEVER have left her with him. However, he had remarried and her step-mother was very important in her life during those years. I did not know about the challenges that occurred in her household until very recently. I thought for many years that they gave her a family that I could not as a single mother – and I was not entirely wrong about that part – as her step and half siblings are very important to her. However, I also never knew about the domestic violence that she was forced to witness. It did not entirely surprise me when I learned of it. He had once threatened me with a pair of scissors due to a jealous outburst (which I had actually done nothing to cause). I was fortunate that he never hit me. If I had stayed longer, the outcome may have been worse.

In my all things adoption community today I read this discussion topic – Substance Use Disorder Views.

“Drugs are more important than their kids”

“The parents chose drugs over their kid”

“If they loved their children, they would get it together so they could get them back”

“She was given all the resources she would need, but it didn’t matter, she chose drugs over her kids”

All of the above can be read in any Foster/Adoptive Parent forum on any given day. Usually shared with clear disgust.

1) Are these statements accurate? Be prepared to back up why you say yes or no

2) Does removing children act as a wake up call or an avalanche effect?

NOTE: when discussing, please do not use the term addict, drug addict or any other derogatory term to identify someone dealing with SUD. Addiction is termed here as substance use disorder or SUD. We do this because we have members in recovery and we respect that language matters.

While there is not time to seriously address this, I did find something that is worth some time to consider, if you or someone you love is dealing with this issue. I will note that children are often removed from their parents for SUD. Some of will spend their entire childhood in foster care. The younger ones (typically they are more desirable) sometimes end up being adopted.

From Rutgers University – LINK>How much of addiction is genetic?
More than half of the differences in how likely people are to develop substance use problems stem from DNA differences, though it varies a little bit by substance. Research suggests alcohol addiction is about 50 percent heritable, while addiction to other drugs is as much as 70 percent heritable.

How many genetic risk factors have we discovered?
Hundreds, but there are hundreds more to be discovered. We just did a study where we measured how well the best current polygenic scores, combined with environmental risk factors, predicted substance use disorders in 15,000 people who participated in long-term studies, and we found that they only predicted about 10 percent of the outcome variations we saw. That said, people with the highest levels of risk were four times more likely to develop a substance use disorder than people with the lowest levels of risk, so we can already help people understand their risk level and optimize their health choices.

Being Fatherless

From Huffington Post LINK>I Was Told My Father Was A ‘Deadbeat.’ After He Died, I Found Out Everything I Knew About Him Was Wrong. “In the foster care system, being a fatherless daughter was the status quo.” by TJ Butler.

Growing up, all I knew about my father was that he was a “deadbeat.” My parents divorced when I was 4. He was a musician, playing bass in rock and country bands ― the only job he’d ever had ― and child support payments were always contentious. I remember Mom complaining that Dad would show up to the court hearings wearing torn jeans and T-shirts. In one hearing in the ’80s, she was awarded less than $70 for two children, based on his income. (blogger’s note – I remember being awarded $25/mo, when I didn’t ask for child support at my divorce because I knew he would never pay it and I wasn’t going to spend my life in court fighting for it.)

When I was a few years older, my younger sister and I spent an occasional weekend with him. I have little recollection of the infrequent visits, but I have colorful memories of his apartment. Framed Beatles albums covered the walls, sharing space with antique Civil War memorabilia and his many bass guitars. My stepmother, who I thought of only as “my father’s new wife,” was beautiful; the coolest adult I’d ever met. When I got my first period at 10, she was the one who explained how to use tampons.

Like my father, my mother entered a new relationship shortly after my parents divorced. But her boyfriend was an alcoholic, prone to verbal abuse and physical violence. At 13, I ended up in foster care, living in group homes and residential children’s centers. There was little talk of family reunification during those years; the night I left my mother’s house at 13 turned out to be the last time I ever slept there.

The group homes and children’s residential centers where I lived during my teens focused on independent living. As I neared 18, I learned about adulting: grocery lists, budgeting money for rent and utilities, and how to write a resume. In the system, communication with family members is regulated. Since I didn’t grow up with him and he didn’t seem interested, none of my counselors or my social worker encouraged me to have a relationship with my father. Being fatherless was just another box to check when I filled out questionnaires for therapy.

When I aged out of foster care, I was angry, but it was directed inward. Rather than hurting others, I hurt myself. There were drugs and alcohol, body piercings and tattoos, and years of nude modeling. A decade later, I had an epiphany that I couldn’t continue the way I was living and quit the adult business. I took out my piercings and had my most visible tattoos removed. I finished a BA in management, secured a corporate job with good benefits, and married my wonderfully supportive husband.

When my father died in 2011 of Parkinson’s with Lewy body dementia, I didn’t go to his funeral. My feelings were confusing. Why was I sad that a man I hardly knew passed away? It took some time to realize that I wasn’t crying over the loss of a father. Instead, it was the realization that now he’d never be able to change his mind and become my dad.

Moving forward, she decided she wanted to meet her half-brother. Rather than admit that she planned to drive 700 miles to see him out of the blue, she told him she had “a writing thing” near him and asked if he wanted to meet for coffee while she was in town. He agreed. She was excited and nervous, and eager to learn about what life was like growing up with their father. He began to fill in the blanks about their father. The person she’d known little about transformed from a deadbeat into a man. She learned how good-natured he was before he got sick and about how their house had been the magnet for kids in the neighborhood to hang out. He told her that he could see a lot of their father in her face. Since she felt she didn’t resemble the people on her mother’s side, she was thrilled to finally look like someone she was related to. (blogger’s note – this is a common experience among adoptees in reunion as well – having a genetic mirror.)

She goes on to share – I began seeing a therapist to work out some issues with my mother. Although it wasn’t family therapy and we didn’t connect, my perspective changed dramatically. I saw her as a flawed human, rather than simply a bad mother. This new way of thinking answered many questions about why I ended up in foster care and why she chose not to let me come home. This clarity has brought me some closure. She ends with how meeting her half-siblings was “about connecting with a family who welcomed me with open arms. Spending time with them gave me something that wasn’t even on my radar to wish for. For the first time in my life, it felt like I belonged somewhere.”

A Tough Way To Go

From direct experience (not my own) –

He was in the foster care system from age 3-18, with a failed adoption from the ages of 4-8. This is how broken the foster care system is and how adoption is not always rainbows and butterflies. Excerpts from his story – For a portion of my life my identity was ripped from me, changed, and those who were looking for me could not find me. I was in plain sight living under a different name. After 20 years of silence, I am finally ready to tell my story.

Trigger Warning – What you’re about to read is graphic, disturbing and may be triggering.

I was adopted – Twice. In my personal opinion, I lived a better life with my second adoptive parents than I would have ever lived without them. Yes, I am thankful for the opportunities I do have because of my adoptive parents. Yes, I have chosen to see the good in my life and be grateful for everything I do have. But this is the mature, 27 year old man speaking, not the boy who endured so much trauma that causes the 27 year old man to still go to therapy on a weekly basis. Today, I am what most would consider a successful man.

I was adopted the first time at the age of 4 to what the world thought was a loving home. From the ages of 4-8, behind closed doors I was brutally beaten daily. Some nights I would be locked outside at night in the cold rainy Washington state weather nights in nothing except my underwear. I would be stabbed by forks at the dinner table to the point I was bleeding because I would gag on and throw up my food, then be forced to eat my throw up. I would be told to stick out my tongue, just for her fist to slam up under my jaw, forcing my teeth to slam together and viciously bite my tongue. I would be tucked in at night not with a warm hug or a loving kiss, but rather a hand over my face suffocating me until I stopped moving. Her eyes turned into a cold, chilling midnight black, and she would grit her teeth together and say “I will not stop until your body is done moving. Once you stop moving, I will stop.” I would be grabbed by my neck and choked and slammed to the wall with my feet dangling, my entire 30lb body off the ground and glued to the wall from my neck. She has this super strength, black eyes, and could hold me off the ground by my neck, not letting go until she was satisfied knowing she held the life of the little boy between her palms, against the wall.

I would cry when it was time to line up for the bus at the end of the day in kindergarten while all the other kids would be jumping with joy to be picked up by their parents. I would cry because of the home I knew I was going to. Kids would ask me why I was crying. It’s the end of school and I should be excited. But I wasn’t excited, I was jealous because I knew the first graders got to stay the whole day, but I only stayed half the day, and I was going back to a place worse than hell. I would be asked by not only teachers, but doctors as to why I had bruises all over my body, just to tell them they were from my siblings to avoid my abusive adopted mom from ever finding out I told anyone because I knew if I told anyone I would be brutally beaten. I can go on and on, but I’ll end it here for now because as I type this I am getting dizzy, sick and shaking.

I also had to hear the muffled cries of my brother as he would be choked, beaten and abused while fear and adrenaline would shoot through my veins as I listened to the muffled cries of my twin as I watched his body stop squirming, and almost peacefully slowly stop moving knowing I was next. I quickly learned that once the hand covered my mouth and nose, the quicker I would lay limp, the quicker she would be satisfied and leave the room. I would run away at the sound of punches, slaps, screams and terrifying, gasping cries of my sister knowing my 30lb self had no ability to protect her.

My biological mother gave me up to this family because she trusted them. At first she didn’t give me up. At the age of 3 we were taken from her because she was an alcoholic. We were placed in this home but still visited our mother often. My mother would end up signing away her rights so the family could adopt us. My mother died never knowing the truth about what she signed her rights away for and where she sent her three young children. My mother thought I was going to a home that could provide more love than she could, even though she was an Angel and nothing but comfort to me. I didn’t know what money was, nor did I care she didn’t have any. I didn’t know what drugs or alcohol was, nor did I care that she used/drank them. All I knew was what the warm motherly feeling of love, compassion and dedication was, and that is what I felt in my mothers arms, and only in my mothers arms.

I have struggled with abandonment issues and identity issues my entire life. As a young man I cheated on the mother of my daughter because if I got a glimpse of love or attention from a woman, I did not know how to turn it down. I yearned for love and affection. I dealt with losing my sister. No, she didn’t die, I was ripped away from her after the first adoption failed because the next home simply didn’t want 3 children. I would live in the same town as my sister, the only piece of my mother I had left, just to be denied the ability to see her for years at a time. I have matured immensely and have learned from my mistakes, but the trauma is still rooted deep within. I have used my childhood as motivation to stay strong and push foward to obtain a simple, successful, happy life. That’s all I’ve wanted and that’s all I work towards every day, and to make sure my children have the most loving, stable home I can possibly provide for them.

Even when the hardest part of my childhood was over and I was adopted for a second time, this time to the most amazing, most loving family I could dream of who did everything to love and protect me, I had identity issues. Not with sexual orientation, but with who I was genetically. Where I came from ancestrally. I knew nothing about ME but I lived inside me every day. I never understood why I wasn’t enough for my biological mother and father to change so they could take me back. Why was I never good enough? That’s what I asked myself every day. I asked myself this every time I was told to pack my bags and given a trash bag. I would be moving to yet another foster home. I was told I had no biological family, but I did. Dozens of biological family members existed in the very state and county I lived in, and they were looking for me. I love my second adoptive parents very much, and I am the man I am today because of them. My parents mean absolutely everything to me.

A song I associated myself with, and feel with every fiber in my body is “Concrete Angel” by Martina McBride. As a young boy, I would listen to it and it would resonate with me as if the song was specifically written about me, and just for me. There’s no reason why an 8 year old boy should hear that song and feel such a strong connection to it and understand it so perfectly, but I did. No one knew what was happening, and if I told people who knew the family, they wouldn’t believe me. Even one of my adoptive sisters who lived in the home during the abuse denies it and claims it never happened, despite it being my whole world every day living in abuse, because only my brother, sister and I were abused. But it was hidden so well, that some of my abuser’s own biological children weren’t aware – although I know one was, and unfortunately, she inherited the abuse after the adoption failed.

Childhood Disrupted

Short on time with a crazy week but I saw this book recommended in an all things adoption group thread and so I went looking. LINK> Aces Too High is a website related to Adverse Childhood Experiences often abbreviated simply to ACE. There is a review there which I am using to quickly dash out today’s blog.

This book explains how the problems that you’ve been grappling with in your adult life have their roots in childhood events that you probably didn’t even consider had any bearing on what you’re dealing with now. Childhood trauma is very common — two-thirds of us have experienced at least one type — and how that can lead to adult onset of chronic disease, mental illness, violence and being a victim of violence. It also showed that the more types of trauma you experience, the greater the risk of alcoholism, heart disease, cancer, suicide, etc.

Donna Jackson Nakazawa is a science journalist specializing in the intersection of neurobiology, immunology and the inner workings of the human heart. She says, “If you put enough stress on the immune system, there can be that last drop of water that it can’t hold, causing the barrel to spill over, and havoc ensues. What causes the immune system to be overwhelmed is different for every person – including infections, stress, toxins, a poor diet.”

She goes on to note – People who have experienced childhood adversity undergo an epigenetic shift in childhood, meaning that their stress-response genes are altered by those experiences, and that results in a high stress level for life. Stress promotes inflammation. These experiences are tied to depression, autoimmune disease, heart disease, and cancer during adulthood. She says, “. . . no other area of medicine would we ignore such a strong genetic link to disease.”

She has much more to say and I do encourage you to read her interview at the link. My apologies for not having more time today.

Hanger Baby

My sister is a hanger baby. My mother was terrified of giving birth after then seven children. When she was pregnant for my sister, she tried to abort her using a hanger. It was one of those secrets of the family.

My sister was born normal but as she grew, she was more street smart than book smart. My mother favored her terribly because of the guilt in what she had attempted to do. She thought she made her stupid.

My mother had three nervous breakdowns, suffered with debilitating alcoholism, and we lived in incredible poverty our whole lives. The only pride we were afforded was knowing we our father was a good catholic who used that at every turn to borrow money using his ten children as collateral.

There were little joyful experiences in my childhood. One friend asked me once to think of my happiest moment when I was a child. I have a photographic memory but could not think of one happy experience. I am sure there were some, but they were usually times that were devoid of trauma, so they were happy in comparison.

I was cursed on my birth by my mother. She delivered me in a drunken stupor.. She hung on to the doorway frame of the wall when they tried to take her to deliver me. She just screamed how much she hated me. I lived my life in galvanized numbness. I don’t think I have been able to fully shake it. I was well in my twenties before I realized that some parents love their children.

People always say they are speaking for the unborn. But they are not. They are speaking for their religious bias. They are speaking for a conditioning to bring babies into the world for some kind of political numbers game. The unborn would be better off if they landed in a place of love for them. It worked out well for my sister being born because of my mother’s guilt, she had an advantage in life.. I was not so lucky.

Every child has the right to be loved. I did not have to endure such a loveless existence. As I grew, I have had many memories bleed through about my past lives. It was not a thing that was in my belief system and yet the memories bled through.

If I had past lives, then I know I have future lives. I have the knowing that all of who I am doesn’t depend on this one lifetime. Nor does it with any fetus. I have had sessions with clients who brushed people’s lives by being their miscarried baby. It was all the interaction they needed to complete the transaction between parent and child.

What I have endured, I would not inflict on an innocent baby. There is the starving, being poor, being unloved and trying to thrive through incredible dysfunction. It is not something I think of everyday but the trauma of being a “have not” in a world of “haves” is the most cruel fate you can thrust on a baby. It would be different if it was merely a material thing. A mother’s love can help a child through any disadvantage. But without the love between a mother and child, the fate of both seems an unnecessary fate.

I know everyone who says they are pro life think they have the most scrupulous vantage point. But if they lived the life of a loveless baby, they may be much more agreeable to allowing there to be a choice. Perhaps they can trust Love to make the best choice for each soul and take their discretion out of the equation.

~ this personal experience was shared my Facebook friend – Jen Ward. Her website is – Jenuinehealing.com

https://youtu.be/IWKaegv1Bxc