Writing My Wrongs

Hold Me Now

" Please come now
I think I'm falling
Holding on to all I think is safe..." - Creed, One Last Breath

I am teetering on the edge. I am not sure what is over the edge, or beyond the horizon but I am dancing with the idea of going that way. Maybe six feet aint so far down.

Stop the blog.
Don't stop the blog.
Pull back.
Push back.
Give back.
Take.
Bother.
Don't bother.
Look.
Don't look.
Cry.
Don't cry.

I have triggers galore this week. This week of all weeks. The week I was beginning in earnest to pull back from my daughter and pretend once again she is not there or it is okay for her to be wherever she is and not with me. The week I tell myself regularly its okay. Its all just fabulous. Let it go. Don't think about it. Move on. Appreciate what you have and ignore what you dont. Love the ones who love you and forget those that don't. Rethink. Reframe. Revise. Get out of your head and heart and into your life. Go. Now.

I am trying.

My niece, the graduate, named the same as my daughter was by her adoptive parents,  has been with me all week. She has been watching my small men as they don't start camp until next week. Its been mighty awkward to have the boys constantly say:

"Where is M?"
"Is M eating with us?"
"Is M sleeping over tonight?"
"We had so much fun with M today."

Something inside me goes haywire each time the boys speak of their cousin who bears that same name as their sister. Something short circuits. My belly flips over. My head darts around looking to see which M they refer to. For a few seconds I am somewhere else while my short circuiting brain adjusts to the reality.

I want to scream irrationally each time they call for their cousin M. I want to suggest they call her Peaches, or Kiki, or BoogaBooga just so I don't have to experience this crazy psychotic mind switching.

M? Which M? Daughter M? Niece M?
Is M (daughter) here? Oh, no, its niece.

I stand in the kitchen and peer through the butlers pantry and watch my small men play with their eighteen year old cousin named the same as their sister, graduating the same year as their sister. They toss pillows and wrestle.  My youngest screeches and body slams his cousin. She giggles and grabs him between the legs and lifts his lean and limber six year old body up over shoulder. He continues to giggle.

"Stop M! Stop!" he screams with a mixture of terror and delight.

My throat constricts and I retreat to the bathroom.

The visions that aren't visions, more like fantasies or flashbacks of things that never were but should have been pummel my psyche.

I have to escape before they see my tears.

Imagine if the M they are wrestling with was indeed their sister?

It is almost too much to bear.

The Replacements

“The divorced person is like a man with a black patch over one eye: He looks rather dashing but the fact is that he has been through a maiming experience.” - Jo Coudert

I spent Memorial day weekend alone. My sons were scheduled to be with their dad. My mother had asked me to come down and visit. Other friends had invited me to picnics. I decided to stay home.

Putting aside the fact that I needed to plan for the viewing and recovering from watching my daughters graduation, I just really wanted to be alone. I spent Monday decorating the built in china cabinet in my dining room. Again, being a rental I am limited in my ability make custom, personalized changes. This includes colorful painting. All of my previous homes were quite colorful. To give my china cabinet a bit of pizazz I created backers for the shelfs. Very easy. Purchased paper, cut to size, mount with poster putty to the back of shelf. See picture.

I picked up the paper at our neighborhood Michaels Crafts. The store is located very near to my ex husbands home.

On my way back, I stopped by, unannounced, to drop off my sons backpacks. Ex was planning on coming to get them in the morning before school. Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought I would do him a favor and just drop them off.

As I exited my car and popped my trunk, I noted my oldest sons backpack was not there. Assuming I had already been seen, I felt odd to just leave without announcing myself. So I took my youngest sons backpack to the house and my ex husband met me at the door. Actually, he met me outside the door.

That was my first sign.

My second was his statement:

"What are you doing here?".

I explain my intent, how I thought I was doing him a favor, as I step over the threshold of his front door and into his living room.

There in the living room I find my two sons and some woman I have never met.

I was a bit surprised. I felt like I had walked in on someone having sex. My oldest son and the woman sitting on the couch were clearly uncomfortable.

I was startled to see this woman but continued chatting, hugged my boys, told them about the backpacks, why I stopped by and exchanged a few short pleasantries about the weather. Husband never introduced her to me. I could have probably introduced myself but it was very clear who I was since the boys screamed "HI MOM!" as I entered. Awkward. Odd.

I left.

This is the first time since my divorce I have seen my husband - and my sons - in the company of a woman I don't know.

We had agreed during our divorce that if one of us started dating we would tell the other so that we could be prepared to answer the children's questions and possible confusion. I also feel strongly that I have a right to know who my sons are around. Same is true for my ex. It has always been my plan that if I ever date again, I would not introduce that person to my sons unless it was serious. Children need to know how people fit in their lives. I don't want them to be confused and thinking Mommy is out shopping for a new Daddy every time I get asked out (which btw, has only been once in the past year since my divorce). I have no plans on discussing casual dates, male friends, etc. with my sons. It is just my view. However, again, should I get serious, like ever, I would let my ex know so he could be prepared for any backlash or such from the kids.

Considering our agreement on this topic, I was a bit surprised to see this woman there. In later discussions with my ex, he insisted she was just a friend, they weren't dating and I was over reacting. I really wasn't over reacting. In fact, I felt he was more so. He seemed upset that I was taking to the idea of him dating so easily. My only objection was that I did not know so that I could be prepared for the kids. NOT that it might be happening. I was concerned he wasn't sticking to our agreement and that my children may have been exposed to something or someone I was not aware of. My oldest son is incredibly intuitive, sensitive, etc. I  worry about his feelings - a lot.

Again he insisted not dating, not interested, just a friend. I was fine with that. I don't care if he is.

Really.

In explaining this to another friend she says:

"How can you be fine with that? Why doesn't it bother you that your ex-husband may be on the path of replacing you?"

I smiled. I had already thought about this at length. I also wondered why I was not jealous, envious or insecure. My only concern was  the children.

"I have already been replaced and have managed to accept it. My daughter got a new mommy at three days old. I live with that every day. My ex husband having a new woman in his life pales in comparison.  The author Margaret Atwood says that "divorce is like an amputation: you survive it, but there's less of you" I have found that to be very true.  Losing your child to adoption is even worse. Being replaced, ignored, denied and having your name eradicated from a birth certificate tends to make a dating ex husband mean little to nothing. I have survived worse."

She smirked and shook her head.

"Wow. What do I say to that?" she asked.

"Say you agree and get me another cup of coffee" I said.

Hate from Within

“It is better to be hated for who you are, than to be loved for someone you are not.” - Unknown

In the wake of the Lori Tay viral commenting, I could not help but think of other times I had heard people being incredibly blunt, candid, or outright rude in relation to adoption.  Based on my experience I can assure you that such hurtful comments come to mothers like me from the likes of Lori Tay and our own family and friends.

Consider these true stories.

====

I was talking with another first mom friend the other day. We were discussing childcare. She shared how she despised the idea of nannies and I told her that I hosted au pairs for nearly 8 years. She promptly apologized.

I told her there was no need to apologize. She was entitled to her childcare views for her children just as I was entitled to mine. Truth be told, for me, hosting au pairs was one of the best decisions I ever made. My children benefited greatly and three of our former au pairs (now older woman with children, careers and men of their own) are permanent members of our family. They come back and visit regularly and I would honestly give them keys to my home and they would never have to ask if they could visit. They are always welcome. (Two of them also read here regularly. Hello Germany and Austria!)

In discussing this with my first mom friend, I was reminded of something my former mother in law said to me after she learned of my daughter.  Important to frame this by saying that my mother in law was a stay at home mom. Never had a career and could never have one if she wanted to. She spent nearly sixteen years taking care of her terminally ill daughter.

However, all explanations and excuses aside, she still never liked my career and my childcare choices. When my oldest son was in a daycare she called it the "baby prison". When I removed him from that prison to have in home care (due to his being sick all the time) she brought me news articles of nannies who molested children or left herpes on the bathroom toilet (??). I did my best to ignore it. I understood she came from a different place and time.

However, upon learning of my daughter and having yet another discussion about a pending childcare decision for my sons she said to me:

"Seems to me you like to leave your children to strangers, don't you?"

======

Several months ago I was engaged in an on-line conversation with a BSE mom. She was talking about justice for BSEs'. When I asked her what that meant, specifically, she went silent. I went on further to ask did justice mean a Presidential apology? Something like slave reparations? A monument in Washington? I was being very respectful and really wanted to know what that particular BSE mom considered justice.

Her response to me?

"It is apparently a good thing you surrendered your daughter. You are clearly an idiot".

======

Almost eleven years ago, I stood in my parents kitchen and planned my delivery (pun intended). I was several weeks pregnant and wanted to tell my mother.

In my mothers kitchen stood my mother and my older sister.

I was being coy and opened with

"Oh, MA!" I screamed. "Guess who is pregnant?"

My mother looked up from the sink with delight and said "Who?"

My sister turned and stared and waited for my answer.

"ME!" I said.

It took my mother a few minutes for it to register and then she started crying and hugged me.

My sister sometime later approached me and said:

"I cannot believe you get pregnant again after what you did with your first"

====

While living in Chicago and working for a producer of software for the database publishing market, I was very friendly with a guy named Jim. We spent alot of time together. While the relationship was completely platonic, we were often asked if we were dating. We were not. He was like my brother and I was like his sister.  He eventually moved east for a job transfer and within a rather short period of time I did as well.

I met him once at his place in Mass and during our dinner out I mentioned my daughter. Our friendship was years in the making and I finally felt safe enough to share my daughter existence with him.

After telling him, he got very quiet and changed the subject. I did not get the reaction I expected. Having known him for so long, knowing how sensitive and caring he was, I expected something different. I assumed (erroneously) that his shutting down of the conversation was a way to make me more comfortable. Before I left him that night I invited him to join me at my parents for Thanksgiving dinner. He did not know anyone on the East Coast and he did not plan on going back to WI for the holiday. Being one of my best friends, I invited him to join me.

He smiled and said that was very sweet and he would be happy to attend.

Weeks went by and as Thanksgiving approach I found him hard to reach. I called him and he never returned my calls.

Finally, on the eve of Thanksgiving, I got him on the phone. I was concerned and a tad bit annoyed. I needed to know when to pick him up at the train station.

He hesitated and and finally said:

"I have decided I won't be coming. And honestly, after what you shared the other night, I prefer you not call me again. You are not the type of woman I want to know"

====

If it isn't painfully obvious, this type of crap is yet another thing they don't tell mothers who surrender their children.

The judgment never ends.  We are branded forever.

 

Threat of Storm

“The flesh endures the storms of the present alone, the mind those of the past and future as well as the present” - Epicurus

As I sipped coffee in the family waiting room at Childrens Medical Center I thought about Dan. Odd how online adoption folks will come to me at the oddest moments.

Dan mentioned some time ago that he felt as if his mother, B, was often orchestrating all his family interactions. I agreed with him that he was probably right. I indicated, as a mother, I would probably do the same thing. If I did not do it, I would feel the need and strongly fight the urge. I have written about this a bit, why I might feel that way, what I would fear, how I feel the need to protect my family from my daughter and my daughter from my family.

Today I realized another fear or anxiety or whatever.

The last time, as in ever, that my family, my daughter and I were together I was pregnant with her. Being with my family and them knowing about her resulted in me being sent away and me losing her.

I feel that in some immature, teenage cell of my body, I am afraid if they were to ever meet I would be taken back to that time. I fear that they would send me away again and she would be lost to me again.

My family, me, my daughter together created some sort of perfect storm that resulted in me losing my first born child. The strong adoption winds blew so harshly she was blown not from the hand of god as her adoptive parents said but from my bloody womb to the hands of strangers.

Of course, intellectually, the 40 year old me knows that is likely not to happen again if they were to all meet but it FEELS that way. I fear that.

If I put her in the same room again with them, I will lose me, I will lose her.

I just cannot risk it.  So, in addition to feeling the need to protect everyone from everyone else, I would have to be present with my daughter and my family to insure that  we were not separated again. I have to keep her near, by my side, in my line of sight.

Now, I understand this is crazy talk and I do intend to work on it.

But for now, add that to your possible list of explanations Dan and others.  Last time mothers were in the same room with their children (even if in utero) and their families, they were sent away and separated.

The memory of those events are imprinted on some cell of my brain and tattooed on my heart.

Flashbacks reign supreme.

Therapeutic Concern

“Words of comfort, skillfully administered, are the oldest therapy known to man.” - Louis Nizer

My therapist was a little surprised that I intend to  watch my daughters graduation via webcast.

Why surprise?

What is so inherently wrong with that?

Now, before anyone goes all wacko on my therapist, please note he is excellent and is very much pro family.  He believes adoption is wrong and does permanent life long damage to mother and child (and I am proof of that). He understands the need for children to sometimes be raised by others but believes, like me, that that should be done with the best interest of the mother AND child in mind. Meaning, open records, no changed names, not fractured identities, kinship adoption and most of all, again, for the sake of the children and not to make some infertile family feel whole. He believes adoption should be about finding homes for babies and not babies for homes. He is a fan of Bert Hellinger and family constellation therapy and believes that adoption damages one family for generations in the attempt to build another. He agrees with me that all members of my family (parents, siblings, spouses, subsequent children) are affected (to varying degrees) by the loss of my daughter from our family tree.

He has told me in the three years I have seen him he has learned a great deal from me and that he has shared that with other colleagues. He often tells me of social events or professional networking events where the topic of adoption and first moms will come up and he will always think of me and share knowledge he acquired from me with his professional friends.  I have encouraged him to feel free to do that and even gone so far as to offer to speak to any professional that wants to know the truth of what adoption does to mothers and natural families (since all the media likes to paint is the picture of the uber awesome adoptive family saving this poor pathetic child from her natural family). I have shared my blog with him, my ehbabes.com site and even gave him "The Girls Who Went Away" by Anne Fessler as a gift.

He gets it and continues to get it by treating me.

And yet, he was startled at my statement that I would watch my daughters graduation live via webcast. Oh, he wasn't disapproving. He was more concerned. Kinda like one might be if you watched an alcoholic friend walk into a bar. Or if you saw a friend that was a known cutter with a cutting instrument in her hand.

Concerned.

I found this simultaneously sweet (the concern) and yet also annoying.

To have your own therapist express concern about something you will do tends to give one pause.

We talked about it a bit. I sensed he was worried about a PTSD related incident. Would I watch it alone? Would I be okay? What time was it happen? What was my plan?
Would I be able to phone a friend? Did I know my limits?

I left the session thinking once again how tragic adoption is.

A mother wanting to watch her child's graduation leads others to speculate if she might need to be put on suicide watch.

Ah, the beauty of adoption!

Happy Birthday to My Darling Daughter

"Fly free and happy beyond birthdays and across forever, and we'll meet now and then when we wish, in the midst of the one celebration that never can end.” - Richard Bach

Today is my first born, only daughters birthday.

Please wish her a happy day.

I had a bunch  of thoughts, a good post and I am not in a position to write. I am weepy. I am ticked off that I am weepy.  I wanted to try hard to pretend things are okay. I was hoping I had grown and matured and gotten past these awful slaying birthdays.

Apparently not.

Of course it could be the weather, it could be PMS, it could be my sons pending surgery or my moms  surgery of this week.

Or it could be that somewhere, an hour from here, in upstate NY, my daughter will celebrate her birthday with someone, somehow, and it won't be me. She will get a card or a call from her replacement mom. She will blow out candles with someone else.

Will she think of me like I think of her?

One would think after twenty two years of missed birthdays I would be desensitized.

I am not.

Twenty two years ago I held her beautiful face in my hands. I counted fingers and toes and gently ran my fingers through a lock of very dark black hair. I kissed her cheeks and tickled her belly. I listened
to her coo as she snuggled in the crook of my right arm/elbow. I  marveled over how much she looked (then) like her father. I imagined how she would look in the future. I took her to the window of St. Joseph's Hospital and showed her Lake Michigan. I sang to her. I talked to her. I told her stories.

I gave birth to her and began a three day vigil. Three days from today, will be the anniversary of handing my daughter over to strangers.

May 16 she was born.

May 19 she was abandoned and it was blessed by society and I was told it was a good thing and I would get over it and she would be better off without me.

I find these days  hard to celebrate.  I want to. I do. For an angel blessed the earth on this day in 1986 but a devil stood by all to eager to take her from her mothers milky breast and give her to strangers.

Happy Birthday to my Angel.

Triggers

"Worry is a thin stream of fear trickling through the mind. If encouraged, it cuts a channel into which all other thoughts are drained.” - Arthur Somers Roche

One of the many plusses of my new neighborhood is the abundunce of children on the street. In my old hood (located out in horse country of the CT hills) there were children but they were acre lots or more apart from each other. Siblings tended to play with siblings and rarely did the children venture out of their wooded lots to find more children. Those with bikes and mothers bold enough to let them go, could travel to and fro those large lots for playtime.

On the new street, you can walk to many children. You hear them in the street laughing. You see them cut through your yard as they run towards the path that cuts over to the local playground.

My sons have been in heaven and they have only spent one day there. The day we moved in, there was a knocking from the second floor of the home next door. I looked up and saw a young boy furiously waving with glee. My youngest son waved back. We later learned the boys name is Alex.

Yesterday afternoon, five children appeared on our front porch simply to introduce themselves. I thought my oldest sons head might explode with glee. Both boys ran to find their sneakers and hopped up and down asking me if they could go outside and play.

I agreed but told them they could only go as far up the street (its a long block) as Tylers house and if they went anywhere else they had to come back and tell me.

I busied myself in the living room as they left. I watched them walk up the street. Within a few minutes, my youngest son appears on the porch and tells me that he raced his brother back. I look out the window and see my oldest a few yards from the house.

I continue unpacking, expecting my oldest son to walk in the door.

He didn't.

I continued doing what I was doing until my youngest says "Where is Nik?".

Again I look towards the sidewalk and this time I don't see my son.

I scan the porch.

He is not there.

I look to the driveway, the backyard, the back porch.

He is not there.

I walk out onto the sidewalk and look up, then down, the block.

He is not there.

I become worried.

I grab the coat of my youngest child and he and I set off to find his brother. We walk to Tylers house.

He is not there.

I walk to the school yard.

He is not there.

I am calling his name and he is not answering.

My youngest continues to babble "Where is Nik?". He is sighing loudly with six year old exasperation at his missing brother.

I want to tell him to shut up. I want to tell him to be quiet, hold my hand and be a good boy, Mommy is scared.

I dont.

I just keep walking and pulling him along behind me.

I am looking in yards of people I dont even know.

My mind begins to run away with me.

Is he hurt?

Did he get lost? It is a new neighborhood. Maybe he took a wrong turn?

Did he get hit by a car?

Did someone...take him? Kidnap him? My mother-in-law always said he was too handsome and too friendly. "Pedophile fodder" she used to call him.

I return back to the house and check all the rooms a second time.

He is not there.

He has now been gone for 45 minutes.

I lose it.

I call my ex-husband in tears. He leaves his office immediately and tells me to keep looking.

I ponder calling the police.

I call my landlord (mother of Tyler that lives up the street) and leave a frantic message.

My youngest continues to babble.

I am hyperventilating. I want to scream and collapse. I cannot see straight. I dont know where to look. Where to turn? Up the street? Down the street? To the playground? I am trying to keep my wits about me but I am having a hard time. I can barely stand.

I cannot lose another child. I have barely survived the loss of my first.

Please, Gods I dont believe in, dont do this to me.

I decide to walk further up the block. Dragging my youngest behind me (still babbling but now growing a bit more concerned), I march with sunglasses on. Even though the sun has nearly set, I dont want my son to see the tears that stream from my face.

I hear the voices of children.

I cross the street.

I walk down a long driveway and see my oldest son playing ball with three children.

He sees me.

"Oh, yeah, I was just about to come home. I figured it was about time" he says meekly.

"Yeah, you had better get home NOW" I demand.

He realizes by the tone of my voice something is very wrong. So do the other children.

"Nik, are you in trouble?" one of them asks

"Yeah, I think so" he responds "See you guys later"

I pull him towards me as we walk down the street and I start to cry. I tell him he scared me. I tell him its a new neighborhood. I remind him of the rules. I tell him I called his father. I tell him I nearly called the police.

He starts to cry.

"I am sorry Mom. I did not mean to upset you" he says.

I cannot stop crying. With my oldest son on my left and my youngest on my right, I wander back to our new home. I send my youngest into watch television and I collapse on the porch with my oldest. He is sobbing.

I try to comfort him. I try to explain what I felt and how scared I was. He leans into me and crys on my thigh.

"I am sorry Mom. I am just so sorry. I was just playing with new friends. I really am sorry." he says again through a veil of tears.

"I am too." I say to him.

What I dont tell him is that I am sorry because I am sure I overreacted. I am sure I went from mildly worried to a messy lunatic wreck much quicker than other moms would have. But you see, when you have lost one child to adoption, the mere hint of another loss is far too much to bear. I cannot think straight. I cannot process. I lose it. Utterly, completely, totally lose it.

The thought of losing another child triggers a reaction so severe I cannot function.

Other moms would get the fear and anxiety. I get the fear and anxiety AND the knowledge of what it will feel like if my children is indeed lost.

Sometimes knowledge is not a good thing.

Leading the Witness

"Deception is a cruel act... It often has many players on different stages that corrode the soul.” - Donna Favors

In the course of cleaning out and repacking my home for my big move, I stumbled across several emotionally triggering items from years past.

One of them was a folder that was dated 2000. It contained all my pre-search information. It also had a letter from the Illinois Department of Public Health stating they had no record of my daughter’s birth. This was no surprise. It was a long shot. I had attempted to get a copy of her OBC by requesting it (sometimes people at those offices make mistakes or send stuff they aren’t supposed to). It was interesting to muse over the letter and reflect back on the person I was eight years ago when I read it.

Also contained in the folder were certified mail return receipts that indicate I had mailed information, updates, to the agency. They were signed for by a "Lisa Steiner". I know they were received. Will they ever make it to my daughter? No. But I can confidently state I tried to do everything possible for her to find me.

The final and most disturbing item in the folder was about five pages of hand written notes. The notes were written on yellow lined paper. They were written by my caseworker at the time, Colleen Rogers. It is the profile of my daughter’s adoptive parents.

In May of 1986, these documents, along with several others, were shoved in front of me while I sat on my hospital bed and I was told to "pick" one. This is a common agency tactic. Presenting mothers with profiles and leading us to believe we are empowered and are choosing our children’s families. In reality, with this network of agencies, no such things occurred. It was a tactic. While many of our children did go to those yellow paper thin profiled families, many did not. Classic bait and switch. Many mothers discovered upon reunion that the families they had chosen for their children were not the families they were placed with. Many mothers were devout Catholics and begged, pleaded that their children were placed with Catholics. They were presented Catholic profiles and they picked them. They found upon reunion their children were raised Jewish. Other mothers were told their children would remain in IL. They were raised in NJ (where an surprising number of Easter House adoptees were placed).

Coercion, plain and simple. I am quite confident if a mother told the agency she wanted her child raised with wolves, the agency would have promised it just to get her to sign.

Not only did the agency coerce mothers with false empowerment, but many of the profiles were doctored and modified to stack the deck in the favor of the family they wanted us to pick. My daughters family profile clearly states there is NO history of substance abuse in either side of the adoptive family. This was planted there for me. I had spent months with my caseworker telling her how much I feared my daughter would be raised as I was – within an alcoholic family system.

I learned from my daughter early in reunion there is alcoholism in her adoptive family system and there always was. If the agency had told me the truth would I have "picked" this family? I would guess not. Did I pick that family or was I lead down the only path they wanted me to follow?

I don’t have the words to express how violated and used and manipulated I felt (and still feel). I don’t know how much more of that profile is false. I have told my daughter she is welcome to review it (and keep a copy) but to date she has not asked to even read it. I have also told her that I would like her to someday separate the truth from the lies for me.

I deserve that.

I always did.

I did not spend much time re-reading the profile yesterday. I couldn’t. I was surrounded by my sons, my ex-husband, a family member visiting from Germany and another friend (a first mom). When I found the document, I felt like I had been hit with a cannon ball. I had to stop for a moment and compose myself for I was about to burst into tears.

Reviewing the document always sends me back to two days post partum with my baby girl in my arms. It is an emotionally crippling memory.

I put the document back in its folder and immediately took it into the house.

Someday, I hope my daughter does read it.

Someday, I hope I learn the truth.

White Flag Realities

"We cannot, we will not, choose the path of surrender” - Woodrow Wilson

“Hello, Janie, come in.  Sit down. You and that baby should be comfortable.  Do you want to put your feet up?”

Janie  smiles a weak smile, hiding it behind long bangs. She takes the seat offered but declines the need to put her feet up.

“I understand you are considering surrendering your child to adoption? Is that correct?”

Janie nods.

“Alright then. Why don’t we get started?  There are a few things I would like you to consider before you surrender your child.

1. Your child’s adoptive parents may divorce. Divorce rates in the United States indicate that a marriage today has a 50/50 chance of ending in divorce.  Marriages that have been strained by infertility sometimes have a greater chance of divorce IF the couple has not worked through the infertility issues and of course, if infertility was even a reason for their adoption.  Not all couples adopt due to infertility. Just keep in mind that if you are surrendering your child due to your single motherhood status, there is NO guarantee your child wont end up being raised by a single mother.  Additionally, more and more agencies are placing children with single adoptive mothers. Unless you meet your child’s adoptive parents, you have no way of knowing.
2. Adoptive parents are permitted by law, to give back, abandon your child for any reason. They can state the child was not a good fit, did not eat the foods they wanted the child to eat, whatever they desire. This can be done immediately (often called a disrupted adoption) or many years after your child has been with the adoptive family.  Important to note the child will NOT be given back to you. No matter your child’s age, if the adoptive parent changes their mind about the quality of your child, the state, the agency, or other will take your child. You will never be told.
3. Now, this might make you think you can change your mind.  While many states offer revocation periods, few truly honor it. If you surrender your child and within a month or sooner decide you made a mistake, you should be prepared for a possible long legal battle. Legal battles are often drawn out for years so that the agencies and adoptive parents can then claim the child is better off staying with the adoptive parents. Do you understand that? Adoptive parents can change their mind but you cannot – at least not without a good arsenal of attorneys, money, time and the reality that in the end your child may still stay with those that adopted him or her.
4. If your child dies, of natural or unnatural causes, you will never be told. You may spend your entire life waiting for reunion but will have no way of knowing your child died years prior. Passive adoption registries will offer no hope to you as your child must be alive to register. Yes, I know that is a horrible thought, that your child may die but it does happen. No only do they die of natural causes like disease but are often killed in accidents or even murdered by their adoptive parents. 
5. On the subject of diseases, keep in mind that due to closed records, if health problems occur for you or your child, there will be no way for you to notify each other. If your child needs an organ, and you are able to provide it, chances are they would never contact you.  Medical history is terribly important and it changes daily. The history you provide to the agency today may be very different in ten years. Can you trust your agency to provide those updates to your child’s family? Will the family even want to receive them?
6. Adoptive parents, just like biological parents, also abuse and molest children. If you are surrendering your child due to abuse in your family or your life, you should know that surrendering them to adoption does not prevent that from happening to them. Adoptive parents abuse and molest just like natural families do.
7. Your child may not behave (due to being genetically different) as adoptive parents want them too. They may have different temperaments, tolerances, talents, thresholds for pain.  Your child, when misbehaving, may be told by the adoptive parents that they will be given back.  We are not exactly sure where adoptive parents who threaten this believe they are going to give them back to but as you saw above, this is allowable.  This is important for you to note as many adopted children suffer with serious abandonment issues due to being placed for adoption.  Being later threatened by their adoptive parents to be abandoned again reopens a primal wound that began bleeding usually three days after they were born.
8. Your child may never understand how you could given them away. No matter what financial, legal, emotional challenges you are under today, it may never negate your child’s feeling that their mother abandoned them and threw them away like yesterdays newspaper.  They may demonize you, even hate you. If they were indeed abused by their adoptive parents, they may find that to be your fault as you put them there (or so they think). Many adopted adults have no conscious desire to know their mothers. Most children that feel this way believe their was something wrong with them versus something being wrong with the world they were born into. I note this because if you choose to search for your child, your child may not want to be found. Alternatively, they may be so blinded by the pain and trauma of losing you, they are not strong enough to let you into their life.
9. On the topic of emotional strength, it is very important for you to know that many adoptees suffer from serious emotional disturbances as a result of being separated from their mother.  These disturbances are often labeled bipolar, borderline personality disorder, manic depression and other.  Sometimes those labels can be true but in many cases they are not. Many times a child is suffering from the unrecognized or incorrectly treated trauma of losing their mother.  Many adoptees are put on strong, mind altering drugs that permanently damage their organs. 
10. The family that is adopting your child may be extremely wealthy. Their family values may be vastly different from yours. You may want your child to grow up with a mother who bakes cookies and tends flower gardens around the white picket fence. However, it is possible he will be adopted by incredibly wealthy individuals who believe in sending children off to boarding school and retrieving them once a year around the holidays for the yearly photo op.  They may also feel they are being treated like an nice accessory, similar to a Luis Vuitton bag.
11. Conversely, it is also possible; the family that adopts your child will be poor. Maybe even less well off than you.  There are families who live in two room apartments in major cities that adopt.  My point is, be very careful what you fantasize about.  That may not be what your child ends up with.  The only way to truly know who is parenting your child and under what conditions is for you to do it yourself.
12. If you are surrendering your child with the expectation that it will be confidential and no one will ever know, you should know that there is no such legislation that guarantees you confidentiality. Additionally, open records movements are making great strides in insuring all adopted children and adults have access to their information. I encourage you to review the open records movement data and understand why it is so vitally important to adopted adults to have access to their information.
13. Of course, open records assumes your child knows they are adopted.  Many children are not told. Still others are told very late in life and it is very disturbing to them. Again, keep in mind the power over your child’s mind rests with the adoptive parents. If they want the child to know they are adopted, they will tell them. If they don’t want to, they won’t. You have no control over that.

Janie, are you okay? You look a little confused.  Should we take a break? Do you need some water?  We still have material to cover... specifically what might happen to you after you experience the loss of your child to adoption. Yes? Okay. Why don’t we break for now...”

This is Awful and This is Crap

“Develop a built-in bullshit detector.” - Ernest Hemingway

Have you seen this story? It is awful on so many levels.

But from my perspective two things really upset me (almost as much as the terrible loss of life itself)

Consider this paragraph:

""The children's birth mothers will not be notified unless they ask. They were all young, single mothers at the time of the children's births, the agency said.

After their children are adopted, they usually make a fresh start and our agency doesn't reach out first. Only if they contact us, we will inform them what happened," Hong said, adding that no phone calls were received so far.

The children -- Ethan, 10, Seth, 7, Mira, 5, and Eleanor, 3 -- were adopted by the Sueppels in 1998, 1999, 2002 and 2005, respectively, Holt officials said. After adopting Ethan, the couple decided to adopt his siblings from Korea, rather than other countries, they said."

So, get this, mothers in Korea surrender  their children to adoption and they are given to an American couple. Those children are murdered by the adoptive father and the mothers will NEVER be told. Instead they  get to live out their  fresh starts with the life long agony of wondering where their  children are and how they are doing.  They might ponder reunion. They will always wonder what their children look like. Maybe they will get savvy and someday search on their own. Unless they do, they  will never be told THEIR CHILDREN ARE DEAD and THEY WERE MURDERED.

The Holt reps states that they will not notify the mothers due to the "fresh starts" and so far no phone calls have been received.

Guess what, asswipe, there is no such thing as a fresh start. That is adoption koolaid pumping through your veins and corporate doublespeak intended to protect your culpability. Get real.

Women who lose children to adoption get on  with their lives but they are never "fresh". They are always, permanently wounded, always scarred. Never, ever the same. I know, I am one of those "fresh starters".  Losing my child to adoption was and remains the greatest trauma of my life time.  Where exactly is that fresh start? When does it begin? I got big boobs at an early age but perhaps my fresh start is a late blooming activity?

And that phone call?  More things the agency never told me. Perhaps they did and I disregarded it, or maybe it was in fine print...

"Please be sure to contact the agency regularly, once a year is good,  to see if your child has been murdered. If you don't call to ask about their death, we will never contact you. Instead, we will let you live out that fresh start you have gotten. Thank you very much. "

Perhaps the agencies should hand out phone calling cards after we sign TPRs just to insure the crackhead birthmothers have enough money to make those dead pool calls?