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Losing my Child to the God of my Childhood |
| February 5th, 2007 This post was written by Nicole under General, Families of Origin, Through Our Eyes. [ Comments: none ]
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Jesus wants me for a sunbeam,
To shine for Him each day;
In every way try to please Him,
At home, at school, at play.
Refrain
A sunbeam, a sunbeam,
Jesus wants me for a sunbeam;
A sunbeam, a sunbeam,
I’ll be a sunbeam for Him.
Jesus wants me to be loving,
And kind to all I see;
Showing how pleasant and happy
His little one can be.
Refrain
I will ask Jesus to help me
To keep my heart from sin,
Ever reflecting His goodness,
And always shine for Him.
Refrain
I’ll be a sunbeam for Jesus;
I can if I but try;
Serving Him moment by moment,
Then live with Him on high.
A sunbeam, a sunbeam,
Jesus wants me for a sunbeam;
A sunbeam, a sunbeam,
I’ll be a sunbeam for Him.
I’ll Be a Sunbeam
Nellie Talbot
As a little girl, I had a recording of this song. I remember skipping around the sun-lit living room of our Calfornia stucco rancher, singing it to my stuffed animals.
This week as I was driving down farm-strewn lanes, in the chill December shadows, the song’s melody and lyrics started playing in my memory.
I caught myself humming, then silently forming the words with my lips.
In every way try to please Him/ At home, at school, at play.
In every way try…
In every way try…
(SCREECH! My wandering, auto-pilot thoughts suddenly skidded to a stop.)
What the hell…? I thought. WHAT did I just sing?
And then: I sang this song throughout my childhood? And this was considered appropriate?
The full force of the words “try to please Him” hit me like a sackof bricks.
My entire childhood, I was taught that I had to try to please God, my so-called Heavenly Father. Not that I was inherently pleasing to him, but that I had to make myself pleasing to him. How? …Well, according to the song, by doing the right thing. By “shining.” By “beaming.” By being flicker of light in the darkness of the secular world; by being “pleasant and happy;” by asking him to “keep my heart from sin” and beinga “sunbeam” (which I can achieve if “I just try”–which begs the question, why do I even need to ask Jesus for help in the first place?).
Getting the picture?
In order to be a good Christian, and in order to please (translation in my child’s mind: be loved and accepted by) God, I had to be a happy, pleasant, kind, unselfish, and sparkly little girl. And I had to be kind to other people (with no mention of being kind to myself).
Fast forward 17 years later.
At the age of 22, I lay in a hospital bed–sunbeams streaming through big picture-glass windows, shades half-open. With my head resting on a squishy foam pillow, I closed my eyes while a doctor sewed up the ripped and bleeding wound between my legs. Nearby, the nurses busily weighed, wiped down, and bundled my newborn baby girl. Then, per plan, they handed her to my friend and roommate–the first person, besides the medical staff, to hold my firstborn. I had arranged it this way for symbolic reasons, to help me remember immediately post-birth that this little child would not be mine. That I would not have first rights to her. I had no adoptive parents picked out yet, to hand her to, so my roommate got the job of first staring into my baby’s squinty eyes. She then handed her to me; I took her into my lap; and I saw for the first time the fair pink skin, long fingers, and long lashes of my firstborn daughter.
In that moment, I felt my lineage stretching behind and before me. I felt small. I felt myself a tiny piece of a great puzzle, stretching back in time and forward into the future, a line of mothers and children bonded by love and blood and sweat and tears. I felt my daughter and I as a unified footnote to a great unfolding chapter in the dance of life.
Yet my heart hurt.
For I was planning on erasing that footnote. Planning to disrupt the natural flow of my heritage and lineage. Planning on committing an unspeakable act against nature.
Nature.
Nature had given me this child.
But nature… was corrupt.
So, despite feeling a sense of oneness, of rightness, of endlessness, and of…love… when I held my child, I could not let myself trust those feelings. For nature was corrupt. “My sinful nature.” Nature could not be trusted, for it, like the human spirit, had been blemished when Eve first tricked Adam into eating a pomegranate. I could not believe in this natural feeling of motherly love as a good and guiding principle as I weighed my options.
I had to look elsewhere for guidance on how to proceed, on what life to give my daughter. I could not look to nature, not even this natural, maternal rush of feelings inside my heart.
And so I looked to the principles of my youth. I was no longer an active Christian, but the after-effects were still raging, and I had not wholly abandoned the struggle to make myself believe in God. Besides… had I adhered to the principles of my childhood to begin with, I would not even be lying in a hospital bed as an unwed mother. Maybe my childhood Christianity had it right all along–I needed to be a sunbeam. I needed to be sparkly and shiny and happy and try to please God and be utterly, completely kind and unselfish to others.
How could I do that? How could I make sure my own desires–tainted, always, by a sinful “nature”–wouldn’t be the primary motivation in whatever choice I made?
I knew this answer: I had to take my strongest emotions out of the equation. I had to ignore my feelings of awe, wonder, love, timelessness, and protective instincts. I had to pretend it all didn’t exist; wipe the slate clean; and look at my–and my daughter’s–situation with unbiased, logical, unselfish eyes.
Over the next two days, I agonized. My heart beat faster every time I held my tiny daughter. She was beautiful. She knew me. We fit together. Her tiny fingers would wrap around mine in complete and utter trust.
It broke my heart to think about leaving her.
But even as my heart broke, I pushed my mind to work logically, to “solve” the entire dilemma, as if it were a mathematical equation. I compared my resources to those of an adoptive family. I considered what two parents could bring to the parenting table vs. just one (me). I thought about the effects of fulltime daycare on children, of not having a full-time daddy, of growing up with a bipolar mommy, of living paycheck to paycheck. And… and… the part of me that still felt I should believe in God, the part of me that was still struggling to be Christian, thought secretly, darkly, “I screwed up my own chance at being with God. I can’t make myself be Christian. I might be spending an eternity in torment. But maybe, just maybe, if I place my child in a good Christian home, she will have a chance. Maybe I’ll be saving her soul by placing her. Maybe relinquishing is my way of sanctifying her, and pleasing God.”
In the end, the equation worked over and over numerous times, I couldn’t escape the conviction that God–if he existed–wanted me to relinquish my baby.
And so, with a tearful heart, I stood over a paper one hot July day and committed an unthinkable act against nature: I gave away my child. After the relinquishment, I imagined God quietly nodding his head in approval.
Now, five and half years and a second child later, much further on the path of recovery from Calvinism, I know how wrong I was.
Now, I look back on that day, and I know… if there is a God… he did not nod in quiet approval as I signed that paper. No.
He lay, face down, prostrate with grief. Tears streamed down his cheeks. And he cried, heartbroken, while he watched his creation–his own child, one he intrinsically loved just for being, in the same way I loved my daughter–sunder two souls.
Copyright belongs to the author. Originally published on http://paragraphein.wordpress.com.
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“Your mother loved you enough to give you up…” |
| February 1st, 2007 This post was written by Admin under General, Adoptees & Fostered Adults, Search & Reunion, Through Our Eyes. [ Comments: 1 ]
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I’ve heard this (or some variation) throughout my life, more times than I could ever count. I remember specific instances when this was said to me as a child. It was the standard response any time I mentioned anything about my adoption - to anyone.
This sentiment is supposed to be reassuring. It is supposed to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It does neither. If you are not an adoptee, think about how it would feel for someone to say that to you as a child about YOUR mother. Would you feel loved if your mother “gave you up”?
Here, let’s try something - get up from your computer, walk to wherever your child is right this minute, lean over them and say, “I can’t take care of you, but I love you so much, I’m going to give you away to someone who can.”
Did you do it? Did your child burst into tears? Did they look at you with horror? You know you didn’t get up and say that to your child and so do I. Why? Because you know damn well that saying such a thing to your child would hurt them, and it would hurt you to say it.
Go ahead, admit it, you’ll feel better.
As an adoptee, I have heard a laundry list of platitudes, cliches and one-liners which are designed to dictate how I am supposed to feel about my own adoption. I have been told, in no particular order:
- You’re so lucky.
- I wish I was adopted, my parents suck.
- You should be grateful, at least you’re not in an orphanage.
- How can you feel that way? Look at all the things your parents gave you!
- That’s so cool!
- Why would you want to search? They didn’t want you.
- You weren’t born, you were chosen. That makes you special.
- You should be happy someone wanted you.
- Why aren’t you more grateful?
- Tell your parents they can adopt me. I’d be grateful for all the cool stuff they have.
- Why do you care about her? She gave you away.
- Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Be grateful for what you’ve got.
- She didn’t want you then, why would she want you now?
- What’s wrong with you? You should just be thankful. There’s a lot of kids who don’t have a family.
Think I’m kidding? I’m not. Sadly enough.
I am 35 years old. I am a wife, a mother, a successful webmaster. I own and operate one of the largest cross-triad adoption support sites on the internet. You’re looking at it right now, reading this. I have a perfect marriage, a beautiful home, food in my pantry and a full tank of gas in my car. I am thankful for these things.
I am also adopted. I can never not BE adopted. Aside from being born, it is the event that most shaped how the rest of my life would unfold. I was born on one path, the path that involved my mom, then suddenly thrust down a new path - a path on which I would never see her again. For this, I am to be grateful, supposedly - and comforted by the idea that she “loved me enough” to - what? To never see me again? To never let me see her again? This is supposed to be a GOOD thing?
Tell me - would your son or daughter consider it a good thing if you sent them down a new path, one which did not include you?
So why should I consider it a good thing?
I have found my family. For that, I am thankful. Unfortunately, I must continue to mourn the loss of my mom - because she died 8 years before I found her. I have pictures of her. I have the memories of her my siblings share with me. I have touched things she touched. I have hugged people she hugged. I have been in homes she has been in. Walked the same path, spent time with the same people, held the same things.
But I cannot see her. I do not have memories of her. I cannot touch her. I cannot hug her. I cannot be in the same home with her. I cannot walk with her, spend time with her, hold her.
Did she love me enough to deprive me of those things? Do you really think that’s what went through her mind when she relinquished me? Was this truly what was best for me?
And for all this. For all this loss. For all this grief.
I should be thankful?
Would you be?
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The Real Deal |
| January 28th, 2007 This post was written by Mia under General, Adoption Reform, Adoption Legislation, Adoptees & Fostered Adults, Families of Origin, Search & Reunion, Open Records, Adoption Ethics, Through Our Eyes. [ Comments: none ]
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From Mia’s Blog -
This post is important to me because I think EVERYONE should be aware of the results of the laws as they stand for adoptees from closed record states. Is your son or daughter one of them? Is your niece or nephew? Your husband or wife? Chances are you know someone affected. If nothing else please read it to become socially aware.
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Contact Denial. It seems to be a recurring theme for me these days. Have you ever noticed that the issues you need to work on (issues you may be ignoring) seem to visit you over and over in different ways until you have no choice but to pay attention? Tap tap tap….like being pecked to death by a duck.
OK, OK, I give. Contact denial. Here goes. But I have to do this a little differently. This has to be about searching to truly grasp how contact denial grips an adoptee.
When you decide to search you think of little else. Often times it becomes a full blown obsession. I am talking about active searching, not passive searching. There are plenty of people (myself included) who started out as passive searchers just wanting to “get some medical info.”, to say “thank you for giving me life”. ….blah blah blah…..these are key phrases to spot a passive searcher a mile away. It’s when you come to peace with the decision to search, and decide to actively pursue it that you dare to allow the possibility of more to enter your thoughts. This takes the ability to let go of the guilt for searching which is really hard to do. Only other adoptees can truly grasp how deeply this guilt for searching thing can affect you. The reasons for the misplaced guilt are too numerous to mention here but I will say it is mostly a condition which has been embedded deeply into the fiber of our society by the false beliefs about what adoption is and what it is not.
So you work through all of that (which can take years) and you begin to actively pursue your identity. The prospect of finally being able to recognize the face in the mirror becomes exciting! You are a flower watered, fed and nurtured by your adoptive parents (if you’re lucky) but you can only grow so much because you have no roots tethering you to the Earth. You’re just sort of stuck in the ground feeling like the slightest breeze could knock you clean over. You need your roots to grow properly. Period.
You eat, breathe, sleep searching. You try every avenue you can find and if they fail you try them again. I searched passively for several years, actively for several more and finally used the Colorado Confidential Intermediary Service because I got nowhere on my own.
Everyone not in our position should know what we are up against instead of being one of those “what problem, being adopted makes you special” kind of people. Oh, we’re special alright. This is how it goes down if you are an adoptee from a closed record state. A closed state, like most are, will “allow” you to pay them hundreds of dollars for the honor of having a complete stranger open YOUR file with YOUR name on it and view YOUR identity. If that isn’t humiliating enough you THEN get the distinct honor of asking PERMISSION from the judge (like a criminal….or a child) if this STRANGER can contact your MOTHER. You have no idea how degrading and humiliating and entirely frustrating this is. NO idea.
Regardless of whether you have to go through the state or through an agency the fate of your identity remains in the hands of someone who’s life will not be affected one way or the other by the outcome. Someone who can walk right down to that courthouse and get a copy of THEIR identity for a mere 15.00. You may luck out and get appointed a case worker who is good at what they do, sympathetic to your cause. OR you may get someone who is wet behind the ears or power tripping, rude or diplomatically challenged (meaning an assh#%*). Either way….you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit. Right? Right. Because we are CHILDREN and children are to be seen and not heard.
You are still obsessing and completely excited by the way but unlike searching on your own now you are without ANY control. There is no word invented to describe this cluster—- of emotions so I am not even going to try.
If you are lucky enough to have a competent person holding your file they may actually find your mother. (Please note: I say mother because most people search for mother first and then if they still have any sanity left they search for their father. Not always, but it has been my experience that this is most often the case.) Once your mother has been located they either call her or send her a letter. When they do this, the method they use and what they say is entirely left to their discretion. You have absolutely no say in the matter. So, if you have a “diplomatically challenged” case worker you are out of luck if they decide to make a brash call out of the blue to an unsuspecting first mother. If your mother is completely FREAKED OUT by this call and hangs up…..guess what? Too bad for you. Case closed. Sorry about your luck, mom doesn’t want to meet you. They may or may not leave your file on their desk for a time. They may or may not try again. They are fully under the guidelines of the law if they decide to stick your file back in what I like to call the Vault of Shame and call it a day. Leaving you scratching your head saying “what just happened here?!”. That’s IT? That can’t be it I still don’t know who the hell I am!
Guess what? My intermediary was outstanding. I mention the above because for countless adoptees this is exactly how it goes down. MY intermediary was the best, the cream of the crop, they broke the mold good. She was compassionate, completely knowledgeable and as fair and just as she could be without breaking the rules. The day she retired adoptees everywhere lost a true friend. Still, the method in which contact had to be made remains the same. The emotions involved remain the same. The lack of control over one’s own identity remain the same whether you have a good case worker or a bad one.
And this is just the formal search process. This doesn’t even touch upon the countless hours of futile searching one may do on their own. It’s exhausting and it is beyond frustrating to know that it is only necessary because of the completely UNNECESSARY restrictions placed upon our person as adoptees. Every single adoptive parent, every single birthparent out there should be banned together in a unified front to fight the injustice served upon your children. A lot of time is spent disagreeing and in the meantime adoptees are DYING because they don’t have the right to know who they are. Medically speaking it is a no brainer but don’t kid yourself, we are emotionally dying inside too by being outcasts in a world which vastly believes we are unworthy of knowing our own identity, of knowing ourselves. Instead we are forced to use strangers to handle something we would probably handle FAR better on our own.
Now please, really try to put yourself in our shoes for a moment while I sum this up. We fight with ourselves to even get to a place emotionally where we CAN search. We face frustration after frustration in the process of searching. We are humiliated, discriminated against and chastised. We are often left to our own defenses by those we love most simply because they can’t deal with their own issues of self-worth. We face ignorant opinions like “why would you want to do that to your parents?” forced upon us by complete strangers or worse…..by friends. We forge ahead because we must. For many of us it is at the expense of the love of our own parents whom we thought would love us unconditionally. We realize that at a time when we can use comfort the most we have been emotionally abandoned by the people we count on for that kind of support. It seems at times that everyone is against us, leaving us to question our decision. Perhaps our real identity should remain a dirty secret. Perhaps it is (I am) ugly and should remain locked away in the bell tower, because nobody really wants to look at it’s ugly face…..because it scares them. No, no. It is WORTH FIGHTING FOR! I am worth fighting for. All of that sadness and frustration of searching for this CRUCIAL missing piece of our identity. Multiply it by months or in my case years of futile searching. Combine all of that with the belief, hope and promise that one MUST hold on to while searching. Grasp the perfect comparison in the widely used term; rollercoaster ride.
Feel my excitement. Feel my joy. Feel my frustration. Feel my pain. Feel my desire. Feel my longing. Feel my emptiness. Feel my hope.
Then, slam the door in my face and LOCK IT and you might begin to understand what contact denial feels like.
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Adoptive Parents and Reform |
| January 25th, 2007 This post was written by Teresa under General, Adoptive & Foster Parenting, From Guatemala, Other IA, Adoptees & Fostered Adults, Through Our Eyes. [ Comments: 2 ]
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When we first decided to adopt, I was blind to what really happens in adoption. Your focus is so much on the dream of becoming a parent that you do not see things that might otherwise be red flags into what is good or what is right or what is fair.
First and foremost, I want to say that I am an adoptive mother to two absolutely precious little girls from Guatemala. I would not trade my little girls for anything and I have made it a point to love them and to put myself in their shoes with regard to how they may see their lives as adoptees.
To me, as an adoptive mother, I cannot be blind to the fact that my children are adopted. I think, so many times, adoptive parents get caught up so much in the fact that they will become a parent, they deny or push aside the fact that their child will be different. Very quickly after my girls came home, I began to research and I am so thrilled that I learned stories from adoptees and mothers who relinguished their child. We are all a part of adoption and the more I educate myself and the more I learn about the feelings my children may experience, the better mother I will be in helping them reconcile who they are.
In learning about adoption, I have found there are so many holes in the system and all of us are getting hurt by it. You may be an adoptive parent and you may think that your child is “yours” and you do not have to think about their adoption journey. But, our world is changing and as long as adoption is in the limelight with celebrity trends and as long as adoption is the most unregulated highest profit industry in the U.S., we are all going to be hurt by it. Mothers have attorneys standing at the foot of their beds to pressure them into signing their child away. Attorneys and agencies send brochures to high schools preying upon young girls who fear telling their parents they are pregnant. Do we really want to take babies or do we want to become mothers through ethical, happy means? How would I explain to my children that I knew their first mother was coerced? That was not the case, as far as I know with my children, but I’ve met countless incredibly wonderful women who did go through that. Think of how much you love your child and think of how hard it would be if they were taken from you. That is how many mothers who have lost their child to adoption feel.
As adoptive parents, how many hoops did we jump through and how much money did we pay out? Who did it go to? How much profit was made at the cost of our deepest desire? What does the industry do to make sure there is a supply of babies combined with nickle and diming potential adoptive parents to death? How many facilitators have any interaction with parents and children after an adoption is complete?
We must realize that our children are the adoptees of tomorrow and how adoption is perceived in our community is how our children will perceive a part of who they are. In my opinion, there is no threat for adoptive parents to become involved in reform. I think the majority of us wanted to be parents, but I hardly think many would adopt when they knew there was unethical practices involved. As I continue to post on this blog, I welcome questions, feedback and your thoughts with regard to adoptive parents supporting reform. I adore my two little girls and I also adore the mothers and adoptees that I have met through my education. I know I will be a better mother because I’ve taken the time to educate myself on what my children may experience.
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“My sister is having a baby…” |
| January 24th, 2007 This post was written by Admin under General, Adoptees & Fostered Adults, Families of Origin, Through Our Eyes. [ Comments: none ]
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New babies are always a significant event in any family, but forgive me for a moment while I assert that this time is even more special. This time, it is MY sister having the baby. This time, it is MY nephew who is about to make his entrance into the world (any time now!). And, for the first time in my life, I will get to greet a new life who is related to me at the most basic, biological level who is not “of my body.” This is not my sister’s first baby. It is not, in fact, the first child born to my rather large herd of siblings. My very large family has given birth to what nearly equals the number of people who make up the population of a small country! We are rather prolific breeders. LOL
But this is the first one born since I was reunited with my family after 35 long years.
I talked on the phone with my sister just a few minutes ago. She is waiting for the goahead to drive to the hospital, be admitted, and probably induced in the morning if she does not go into labor before then. When I hung up with her, I burst into tears - tears I barely choked back as I told her I would be thinking of her constantly and that I love her. Never has the distance between Michigan and Virginia seemed so great, yet at the same time, I can feel her - right beside me - right next to me. I can see her oh-so-familiar face if I just look in the mirror. I can imagine her beautiful belly carrying my incredibly handsome nephew - I only have to remember what my belly looked like as recently as 12 years back.
Today is my youngest’s birthday. Today or tomorrow will be the birthday of what will now be my youngest, and almost certainly last, nephew. These cousins share more than close birthdays, they share a first name. And with the Universe willing, they’ll always understand that they share a biological link, a genealogy, a history, a family.
I’m crying as I write this. Tears of joy for my sister, who has wanted this baby for so long. Tears of sadness for my sister’s lost child, a life known only for a moment. Tears of excitement for my niece and brother-in-law, who wait eagerly for their brother and son. And so many tears of thankfulness that I am here to witness this incredible event.
Because of the era in which I was adopted, I grew up with no expectation of ever knowing my first family. It “simply wasn’t done” back then. No one could have predicted the advent of the internet and what that would mean to millions of adoptees hoping to find that connection. Science Fiction was a nice fantasy, the idea of a world wide web where every bit of information was at your fingertips - but even that fantasy had an element of reality, the knowledge that even there, information would be restricted. Our identities would be denied to us, even as we could find the gross national product of a country which has not existed for 1,000 years.
There is a very special woman in the world whose identity will remain a secret everywhere but in my heart. Without her loving friendship, I would not have just got off the phone with my sister to talk about the impending birth of her child. Her willingness to let her heart guide her is what made it possible for me to find my sister, my family, my history. Thank you, my friend - I love you, and I will NEVER forget the great gift you gave to me.
So tonight, I will sit by my phone and wait. I will do this tomorrow and the day after if needed. I will wait for my beautiful niece to call and tell me that she has a new cousin, that I have a new nephew, that my sister has her son.
It is going to be a rough wait - but so worth it. C’mon out Superman - we’re waiting for you. It’s safe. We love you. And we will never let you feel alone.
All my love,
Your aunt
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The Phrase: “I do not want adoption to define my kids…” |
| January 24th, 2007 This post was written by Cheryl under General, Adoptive & Foster Parenting, Adoptees & Fostered Adults, Through Our Eyes. [ Comments: none ]
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Taken from a discussion on our forums:
Often on adoption forums, I read an aparent say “I just don’t want adoption to define my kids”. Or, in a more hostile tone, sometimes I see “Why do you let adoption define you?”.
I want to talk about this, and see if I can explain my thinking about adoption better, but also how my adoptee ears hear that statement or question. First how I hear it, because that’s easier, lol…
When someone asks why I “let” adoption defi | | |