Writing My Wrongs

Forcing Truth

An error does not become truth by reason of multiplied propagation, nor does truth become error because nobody sees it.  ~Mahatma Gandhi

"Your daughter may need you to come forward with the details of the coercion before she believes that you love her and wanted her -- otherwise her feelings of rejection and anger may be a permanent rift between you." wrote Cedar in an earlier comment.

The comment made me ponder something I have often thought about. That is, should you share something with a person that has given clear indications they don’t want to know it.

If a mother is presented with an adoptee who clearly, firmly, repeatedly says "I don’t want to know the details of what happened to you. I don’t want to know why I was abandoned. I DON’T WANT TO KNOW" should you tell them anyway?

My personal belief is that you should not. It is tantamount to telling someone something you know will hurt them only to make yourself feel better.

I realize this gets grey and fuzzy and confusing and is entirely dependent upon the individuals involved. I further realize that many adoptees feel they have the right to push their mothers into telling their story no matter what it does to the mothers psyche and where it might send her emotionally - even a full psychotic breakdown.

For me, for my daughter, for anyone struggling with trauma, I feel I must respect their position whether or not I agree with it. Even if I know they are wrong. I choose to believe that others might hang onto certain positions as a way to protect themselves. I can influence them gently with my own behaviors and perspectives on things but I will not demand they listen to me or think like I do.

A parallel story is from my own therapy. A few months ago I revealed something to my therapist that I had been intentionally holding back. It was the elephant in the room. I felt it every session and I worked around it and did my best to avoid any reference to it. There is no doubt in my mind that my therapist knew, suspected, or felt that this issue was there but he did not push me. He built our relationship and let me go at my own pace. When I felt safe enough to share that item with him, I did. It was critical to my own psyche and our relationship that I come to that place on my own. He stood there, week by week, consistent, assuring me, talking with me, building a trust that eventually lead me to sharing and for us, an improved therapeutic relationship. I can now explore other dark hallways with him. I know he won’t push me. I know he won’t judge me.

I could be completely off base. I could be channeling too much of my own experience. For me, I felt tremendously pressured to surrender my child. I did what others wanted me to do for their comfort and to meet their own needs. I sold my own soul. I lost my voice. It was terribly damaging to my emotional makeup to be forcibly pushed to do something agaisnt my better judgement. I really don’t want to ever do that to my own child.

In summary, I agree with Cedars point but feel I must do this at my and my daughters pace – most importantly – hers. I have offered the details, been willing to share them.  She doesn't want to know.

What can I do? My only thought is that I must continue to reassure her I am here, stay steady and on course and be open. I can only pray with time she will appreciate that, respect it, and eventually feel comfortable enough to talk openly with me.

In Support of Truth

Falsehood is easy, truth so difficult. - George Eliot

What could one possibly say to this?

"You should never tell your daughter that you tried to keep her. She should never know that you wanted her. The story of her birth and how she came available for adoption should be kept to yourself. It would be too painful for her to hear. She would feel like she is living the wrong life. She will feel as though the life she has had is not valid."

This statement or suggestion came to me from another adoptee. This adoptee is aware of the key points of my story (maternity home, promissory notes, threats of lawsuit) and feels, apparently, that discussing that with my daughter would be a bad thing.

I admit this boggles my mind. I realize this is one adoptees opinion and maybe they would never want to know this information but to advise the same for another?

I am a realist. Some might consider me a bit hard core in the truth department, but that is who I am. I have learned through the years to be a little less blunt and consider the feelings of others but I have a really hard time embellishing, omitting, denying or avoiding.

I am not wired that way.

Furthermore, I am paid a good living to counsel others, executives, to tell the truth, to be transparent and admit mistakes. I would not be the least bit credible in my opinion if I was selective about my own truth.

My truth is that I did not want to surrender my daughter. She was not meant to be adopted. I tried to keep her. I failed. I was too weak. I caved to the threats of lawsuits against me and my parents. I had no legal counsel. No place to live. No one to help me and support me. The truth of adoption trauma and how it affects mothers and children was withheld from me by the caseworkers. They lied to me so they could get her and sell her to any one of their wealthy clients. It was to their benefit to get my child at any cost. They were suppliers to the intense demand that is created by the prospective adoptive parents.

Had things been ethical, she would not have been adopted. Had someone supported me, she would not have been abandoned to strangers.

Does this mean the life my daughter lead is not valid?

No.

Her life is very real. She has very real parents and a very real family. However, that very real family does not negate the fact that she also has a first family. Nor does the love she receives from her adoptive parents zero out the love I have always felt for her. I understand she cannot recognize me or her first family. That does not mean I cannot recognize her. She is, was, and always will be a part of my family and a part of my life.

As I have said many times, motherhood, for me, does not come with an off switch. It doesn’t even come with a dimmer switch.

All that being said, I have shared very little with my daughter regarding her adoption story. My approach, erroneous as it may be to others, is the same I have taken with her brothers at any given age. I answer only what is asked. I assume when she wants to know something, or is mature or emotionally ready to know something, she will ask. I have not and will not vomit my emotions all over her and expect her to find her way through the smelly wreckage. I have told her she can ask anything. I have assured her that her feelings matter and she should never feel the need to protect my feelings in spite of her own. I am a big girl. It has taken me a long time to acknowledge and own my feelings. I am responsible for them. Not her.

Her story is her story and it is available at the asking. But I will not embellish it to make it sound like something it is not.

It is my truth.

It is her truth.

How we handle that is up to us as individuals and as mother and daughter.

Sorry to my friend the adoptee who offered that advice I refer to at the beginning of this post. I have to politely refuse to accept it.

Australia at My Door

"It must be understood that the concept of mothers' exercising a "choice" cannot be taken in isolation or viewed simplistically. It must be examined in tandem with the other parts of a system that was designed to facilitate the adoption process." - Releasing the past: Mothers' storis of their stolen babies, p 27, Editor: Christine A. Cole

As I left my home yesterday to visit a friend at his place of employment, I noticed a package at my front door. The package was obviously from overseas based on the stamps and packaging material. I wondered if my friend in Austria who is known to send me little gifts now and then had sent me something from her recent trip to Corfu.

I bent to pick up the package and noticed the from address as one in Australia. The packaging label said "books". I knew instantly what it was without opening it.

I carried the package to my car with my heart beating a bit faster. I placed the package on the passenger seat of my red Honda Accord and started the car. I was not sure I wanted to open it. I was headed out for a nice light adventure with a new friend. Did I want adoption aches to invade that day? Did I want to open that package sent from so far away and release tiny demons that could surely send me spiraling into the dark abyss I visit too often?

With the car running, I adjusted the air conditioning, switched the radio to my favorite station and reached for the package. I had to open it. The sender was kind enough to take the time and money to send this to me all the way from Australia.

I ripped off the end of the white bubble envelope and as I did my hands felt not one but two books. I took the smallest one from the envelope. The brown and gold cover bears the title of "Women's Adoption Stories - Australia - 1960 - 1995". The author is listed as Jan Kashin.

I crack the spine and quickly flip through the small book. On the left side of each page there are paintings by the author. On the right side of the page there are short vignettes that explain the painting.

My book falls open to

"The Birth of David Brundson"

Hornsby Maternity Hospital,

NSW - 1963

Acrylic on Canvas

After 24 hours of labour, the mother was handcuffed to labour ward bed by her right wrist.

The handcuff was shaped like a figure 8, and made of leather and two buckles.

When both buckles were done up, the whole had an "8" shape.

This picture capture the moment when the wrist was secured, just before the nurse took hold of the woman's hand.

I start to cry. The birth of David Brundson happened in Australia in 1963. I don't know David or his mother. I do know my friend M who was strapped to her bed in 1984 in southern Illinois so her child could be taken away from her by Kurtz.

I cry for David Brundsons mother and I cry for my friend M. I cry for their sons who were taken from mothers who wanted them. One boy was born in 1963 in Australia and the other twenty years later in the United States.

I flip through more of the book and am reminded of the artwork of Julie Rist. Something in the paintings touches me like Julie's work has touched me.

Page 30 of the book has a painting of a nun between the legs of a women. The words on the painting say "This'll teach you, the nun said, "We'll stitch you up a little tighter. You wont be using this for a while".

My throat constricts, my eyes swell with tears.

I put the books back in their envelopes. I continue on with my day.

Today, I read more, I flip open the second book titled "Releasing the past: Mothers ' stories of their stolen babies". The book is signed by the editor Christine A. Cole. She has a written a nice note to me inside the front cover. I smile. I have made so many good friends, so many women that I deeply respect and admire through all of this horror.  Even still, I rather wish I hadn't. For having not met them might  mean I would have never lost my daughter.

I open the second book and notice more paintings by Jan Kashin. Again, the book opens to "The Birth of David".

I cry again. I cry for us all.

When will it stop?

The Student is Ready

Things are not what they appear to be: nor are they otherwise.  - Surangama Sutra

My friend answered me.

It was sweet. It made me cry. Out of respect for him I wont share his words but trust me, I would love to. He did also comment on the last posting after he found this blog.

(Thank you again, A).

It occurred to me, as it has so many times in my life, that much (too much) of my present day interactions are very jaded by past. I suppose this is true with everyone. We all see the present day through the lens of the past. We are conditioned to a certain set of beliefs, expectations, and interactions with the world around us. Those beliefs could be completely inaccurate. It takes a great deal of work to rewire ourselves to not react to present day situations with reactions from the past. It takes a tremendous amount of fortitude to take the chance on trusting anyone when all the important people in your life have failed you.

My experience, to date, in relation to how men view what happened to me has not been positive. My father forbade me to discuss it. He called me names - bad names. He told me no man would ever want me. I was dirty. Tarnished. Damaged goods. My daughters father was not around and even when he was, we did not discuss what happened to us or to our child. My ex husband preferred not to discuss it. To most of the men in my life my experience was either "no big deal" or something that should not be discussed or shared with strangers.

Both of these approaches were incredibly damaging to me. First it IS a big deal. In fact, it is a mongo huge ginormous mother effin big deal. Do not dismiss me and minimize my experience. More painful than dismissal was the casting of shame. Being told not to discuss something that is a major part of my life is akin to telling me I don't matter, that I don't exist, that the person I am in totality is not welcome or acceptable.

Having spent so many years either being dismissed or denied, I easily came to the conclusion that ALL men felt the way my dad did, my daughters father did, and my ex husband did. It wasn't until I met my friend Joe that I realized, holy crow, some men can have compassion. Some men can be emotionally intelligent. Some men can see that the situation was awful but that does not translate to me being awful.

I wonder if this realization was my own doing or was it the doing of the men I met? Was it a maturation on my own part or did they show up and give me the gift of sight? Said differently, if you believe the Buddhist proverb "when the student is ready the teacher will appear" it might be true that I am finally meeting men that have compassion because I am personally finally ready to believe they exist.

Dating Adoption Trauma

Hope is nature's veil for hiding truth's nakedness” - Alfred Bernhard Noble

I want to hide.

I want to delete this blog, change my name, color my hair blue and hide.

I wont of course. It goes against all I believe in for mothers like me. Society wanted us to hide. To shun us, to put us away and pretend what we did, what they did, what happened to us did not occur.

I dont hide.

But tonight I wanted to. I wanted to so bad it made me cry.

I "met" a guy online. We were chatting. There seemed to be chemistry. I was giggly and excited and hopeful and waiting anxiously for every email. He needed to signoff to go do work and tend to his real life and we exchanged emails and instant messaging handles. I teased him and told him he would get extra points if he could figure out the meaning behind my email handle (bluestokking).

Well, duh, I was so taken by him it did not occur to me that he would google the words and be lead to my adoption related material. He sent me a link to my shelfari and there it is in black and white my status as a mother who surrendered her child to adoption.

I wanted to vomit. I still want to. My stomach is upset and there is a lump in my throat.

I am not ashamed. I am not. But that kind of information is something I like to control the delivery of. I realize its dumb. There is no way I can do what I do and be this transparent and still control the delivery.

But you know, for once, for tonight, for a moment, I wanted there to be a space and time where adoption was not permeating every cell of my being. I wanted to be me without adoption trauma, without the judgement of others, without the pain, without my big ol'  scarlett letter.

Just once.

And the old anxieties creep up.

What does he think? What will he say? Am I not good enough to consider dating? Will he read all about me and think "rut-roh, nutter on aisle five"? Will I hear screeching noises from the emotional skid marks his judgement tires will make as he speeds in the other direction?

My rational self believes wholelheartedly that if it is meant to be anything, if he is any kind of man I would be intereted in, he will take it in, discuss with me, accept it, question, treat it with respect. I know that. And frankly, based on our coversations, he seemed very compassionate. But THIS?

There is part of me that still fears that judgement. Still hears that you are not good enough, we are ashamed of you soundtrack in my head.

If its not in my head, its surely in my stomach.

I told him to google me completely (first and last name) and if after reading all about my sordid past, he still wants to chat I would welcome it.

I hope he does.

Kurtz in Europe

"Baby Brokers come in all sorts and shapes - some call themselves lawyers, others private practitioners and others just plain social workers. The facts about them are quite simply that they sell children to strangers for a living." - Anne Patterson

Yesterday I noticed someone from Switzerland had spent hours digesting my blog. They had found my blog by googling the terms "Milajlovic Adoption World". MaryAnn Milajlovic is a known associate in the Kurtz agency operations.  Its been rumored she is Seymour Kurtz sister in law (unconfirmed)

My curiosity was piqued. This morning I get this in my email.

Niels, Kali, please note this. Marley, Sabine, and anyone else who tracks brokers, see this as well. This is VERY interesting. I have forwarded to babybrokerwatch.com for their info as well.

From: texissgirl
Date: July 24, 2008 7:13:49 AM EDT
To: info@ehbabes.com
Subject:prospective adoptive parents and one of Seymour Kurtz victims

Hello,

I found your site by chance and am horrified by what I have read so far. I feel compelled to write to offer any information I can. My husband and I are American citizens living in Switzerland. We began our journey to adopt in May of 2006. We contacted American Adoption Professionals Abroad, Inc. they do home studies and are based in Heidelberg Germany. Randy Barlow is the director and has had this established business as a social worker for over 20 years. They are highly recognised and referred to in the expat adoption community. We had Randy do our home study and discussed with him our options in agencies. He and associates Elizabeth Leuenberger and Jane Santos had experience placing 8 babies with expat families through Adoption World, Inc based in Chicago Ill and an agency of Seymour Katz. We had researched the internet and saw one web site with complaints against Mr. Kurtz. We expressed our concerns to Randy Barlow but because of his positive experience and the fact that social worker and associate Elizabeth Leuenberger personally adopted through them we felt good about our decision to sign with them. In December 2006 we engaged the services of Adoption World and paid them $5,000.00 between this time and August 2007. We also paid $7,000.00 to their partner company American Institiute for Family Services, Inc, also in Chicago, at the same address, to complete our dossier. Just yesterday, July 23,2008 we received registered mail packet with our file and a letter stating that Adoption World could no longer provide service to us and they will be giving up their license in the state of Illinois. No money has been returned. The telephone number no longer works, neither does the number for Easter House or Birth Hope in Arizona. I am filing a complaint with the Attorney Generals office in Illinois consumer fraud bureau. I have also emailed the Illinois department of Children and Family Services.

Our story is only one of loss of time and money and of course hope and faith in an adoption system which seems fraught with corruption. After reading your web site I am thankful that our story didn't involved hurting others. I hope this information will somehow help someone. I truly believe the social workers with American Adoption Professionals Abroad act with good intentions but have to wonder if they truly could be ignorant of the acts of and or the accusations against Seymour Kurtz and all of his associates. Believe me I have written to them as well and have posted my story on the adoption chat groups with which I have been associated.

I wish all of you only the best,

Evening Reading

The "care" they received from the medical and legal communities, from the adoption agencies, and from counselors were generally described in terms of lack of awareness of or concern for their needs, an attitude of coldness and scorn, being deceived about the placement of their children, and the insensitivity with which they were treated. "....And I remember going up to the nurse's station and saying 'I've changed my mind. I want to go see my child'....well, they could tell me no, and I was dirty. That's the word they used. You're off the OB floor so you're contaminated and you can't get back in. So that kind of reinforced the idea that I was dirty--unclean." - Davidson, Michelene K. Healing the Birthmother's Silent Sorrow. Progress: Family Systems Resarch and Therapy, 1994, Volume 3, (pp. 69-89). Encino, CA : Phillips Graduate Institute.

It is astounding to me that with the wealth of research available that supports how damaging surrendering your child to adoption is to a woman, society still supports and encourages this painful practice.

Source of the following excerpts: http://www.txcare.org/surveyab/stats/phillips/davidson.html

"I would say that I didn't learn very much about myself as a result of the relinquishment until I found her; and then I learned a lot, and I am continuing to learn. I found a voice that I didn't know I had. I found myself. I learned about love. I learned about the prices we pay for allegiance to our secrets, the prices other people ask you to pay for their comfort."

===============

The birthmother's primary source of pain has been in the area of loss. She has not only suffered the loss of her child/ren, but the loss of her sense of wholeness, her sense of control over her life, and loss of self-esteem. In some cases she has lost a home or has lost or suffered damaged relationships with members of her family. Often she has lost identification with her mother as a role model. She has suffered loss of being accepted by society and loss of her adolescence, as well as loss of her sense of trust and self-worth.

This magnitude of loss is, to say the least, difficult for her to overcome. Sometimes the best a birthmother can do is to remain in denial and numbness for the rest of her adult life, unconsciously encumbered by her silent sorrow. For those who seek help, it is up to the mental health community to give them the permission and tools for grieving that they have long been denied.

Defending Offensiveness

"The First Amendment was designed to protect offensive speech, because nobody ever tries to ban the other kind” - Mike Goodwin

A few adoptive parents found the recent posts and comments here upsetting. They chose to point out in comments or in emails to me that not all adoptive parents are mean, psycho, selfish, insertyourownwordhere, adoptive parents.

I agree and any number of adoptive parents friends of mine can echo my sentiment and confirm that I don't personally believe adoptive parents are some sort of anti-christ. As stated to my friend Mo, adoptive parents are human. As such they can be good parents and they can be equally awful parents. They kill children, abuse them, molest them, treat them as property, neglect them, just like natural parents do.

What many seem to miss is that the fable read to expectant mothers is that adoptive parents are BETTER than the real thing. Uber-cool and skippidity do dah, they are the bomb. They are infallible. They are seated at the right hand of someones god. They will be better parents than we could EVVAH be and our children will much prefer to be with strangers than with their own kin.

There is no guarantee that adoption gives a child a better life. They are given a different life. Different does not equal better.

Imagine the mother who believed, erroneously, that her child would be loved for ever. Her child would have ponies and pools and a college education. Mothers survive on that dream. We coddle it and stroke it and it helps us get through the agonizing nights when we cannot bear to live anymore. Many of us tell ourselves over and over "they are better off, they are happy, they are better off".

Can you imagine the horrible shock to find yourself n reunion and find out it was a big lie? Imagine the guilt you endure when you see that you had a better life than your child? Imagine the pain of seeing your child has been thrown out? Molested? Emotionally abused or even murdered by their adoptive parents?

Imagine dealing with that reality and then being told by your child you are responsible for it all?

To the adoptive parents who get defensive, I beg of you to try and see the other point of view. Get out of your own perfect adoption world and see that adoption is not all wine and roses.  Lies are told. Young girls are coerced and manipulated so their child can be sold to the highest bidder - you. While one family is made, another is destroyed. While your dreams come true, someone else's are shattered. 

Negative statements about adoptive parents are not about YOU personally anymore than the statement "alll first mothers are slut crackwhore scumbags who never deserved their children" is about me. Get out of the stereotypes. Take off the rose colored glasses. See what has been happening for years to mothers and their children. See how you too were used as a pawn in a broken system. See how your lust for a child you could not conceive on your own contributed to the adoption mess we have today. See how damaged some of our children are by this.

Don't get defensive. Get outside yourself and realize, as an adoptee recently told me, it is not all about you. One happy adoptee family in Somewhere, USA does not negate the legions of unhappy ones throughout the world.

Dare I disagree with Dr. Spock and suggest the needs of the many do NOT outweigh the needs of the few?

Do not shut people down. For when you do, you give them license to to shut you down. If you want to be heard and recognized, be open to hearing and recognizing others, no matter how painful it may be.

When attempting to highlight flaws in adoption for the purpose of reform and activism, it is not common to write about all that is GOOD in the system.

We are not going to change all that is wrong in adoption by sitting around spouting all that is wonderful about it.

Letters from the Edge of Loss

"Letters are above all useful as a means of expressing the ideal self; and no other method of communication is quite so good for this purpose.  In letters we can reform without practice, beg without humiliation, snip and shape embarrassing experiences to the measure of our own desires... " ~Elizabeth Hardwick

I dislike the idea of Dear Birthmother letters. Putting aside the fact the verbiage is all wrong (Shouldnt it be Dear Expectant Mother Letters? Calling a woman a birthmom before she has surrendered is a tad bit coercive in my opinion), I dislike advertising for babies, trolling for children, marketing of babies available for adoption, prospective adoptive parents painting themselves as so fabu but so terribly sad they cannot have children, babies for sale on ebay, adoptive parents so happy to take the child of another, etc. It just feels very icky to me.

What I do want to question is the idea of "Dear Adoptive Parent Letters".

Do they exist?

I am going to guess they do. I dont know.

In my era (mid 80s) adoption wasn't so commercialized and contact between expectant mothers and prospective adopters was non-existent. I base my assumptions on my own experience. I lived in a home with many expectant moms. I dont recall anyone writing Dear Adoptive Parent letters or having any contact in advance. I received nothing from my daughters adoptive parents prior to abandoning her. I got one silly card six months later that I am not confident was even written by them. (The card said "Babies were blown from the hand of God". You can imagine how well THAT went over with me.  Can we dehumanize me any more?  Now God birthed my baby via his hand? Maybe his vagina, but I am not so sure about the hand part)

I find myself wondering if expectant mothers were encouraged to write letters, what would they write?

I am thinking of what I would have written (I realize its my 40 year old self looking back with the knowledge so my guess on what I would have written may be slightly skewed).

Would I have been honest and told them the following:

Dear Adoptive Parent:

My name is Suz. I am 17 yo and living in a maternity home. I love my boyfriend and want very much to be with him. I miss him. My parents are embarassed by my pregancy and sent me here to have my baby alone. I havent spoken to my boyfriend or my parents in some time. I am very lonely. My baby kicks every day and I love her. She has hiccups and they told me that means she is ingesting fluid. I also have lots of heartburn and the nurse told me that means she will have hair. I am going to name her Amber. Amber, the stone, represents ever lasting love and eternal bond. I like that. Even if I cannot raise her, I will forever love her. I want to keep her but the agency tells me I cannot. My mother signed a document that the agency said can be used to sue me if I dont give them my baby. I told Colleen, my caseworker, I was thinking about keeping her and she told me I would be sued and my parents would be too. My parents dont have alot of money. I have already caused them enough trouble. I dont have a lawyer. I dont know what to do so I guess I will give my baby to you. I hope you love her as much as I do.

Or would I have given the party line? I was pretty good at pretending back then. Pretending I was okay, fine, cool, managing, mature and really, super, OK. My writings from that period of time are very split and clearly show a young, lost girl, wanting someone to help her keep her baby and a shamed, embarrased girl worried that she has caused all the evil in the world and she must save her child from her own mother and make things okay with her family. She cannot have her family be sued.

If you are a mother who surrendered her chid to adoption, what would you have written? Post your letter here if you are comfortable.

L.I.G.

"There are as many nights as days, and the one is just as long as the other in the year's course. Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word 'happy' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness." - Carl Jung

I am almost done editing the audio that I have been consumed with. Thank goodness the consultant that recorded the audio has a pleasant voice. An unexpected benefit of listening to this CMMI material for hours is that I can likely teach the class now if they wanted me to.

Sigh.

I am now importing the .wav files into a Flash template and saving as .swf files. Then I have to synch up each .swf file with the appropriate CBT slide.

Sound fantastically boring?

It is.

However, I am receiving accolades from all levels of management for this project. Sad to me in a way. It is easy no brainer stuff. Yet when you are dealing with an organization that has never used this technology they act as if you just discovered the wheel. Admittedly, I find it hard to be proud of something that comes so easily to me.

A new task assigned to me at work is to design a concert tee shirt. Seriously. I am not joking. We are having a Battle of The Bands and I am the promoter for our division band. I need to develop some flyers, some cd art, tee shirts, etc. All developed material will be sold to benefit United Way. Kinda cool, huh? Oh, and yes, I work in a stuffy, conservative, insurance and financial services company.

I have a cool job.

It is perfectly suited for me. It is the perfect combination of hands on creative writing, design and development work and strategic management work.

Life is good.