Saturday, January 16, 2010

So what's another couple of days, right??

So here I am...Saturday playoff games (Go Colts!!!) yet I have no interest in watching. Can't watch anything, really. Can't read either. Can't really concentrate on anything right now. For almost 27 years I have worried, prayed and thought about this young man (whom I can still clearly envision as I held him in my arms in the hospital) why is it SOOOO difficult to wait a couple more days??

The last four days have been very stressing; both from excitement and disappointment. Excitement to finally KNOW that he's still alive and (hopefully) doing well. Disappointment in all of those adults that were in my life, back then, that lied to me....lied about me. Now, whenever I close my eyes for more than a blink, I'm back in that hospital, with that doctor, in that delivery it was only yesterday. Realizing that no matter how hard we try to forgive, to release, to move forward, it's always 'there' the back of your mind...waiting to JUMP OUT at you when the moment arrives to trigger all those memories that we thought we had 'put away.'

The lovely person that's helping me with this keeps telling me to 'stay calm'. I know it's difficult for anyone that hasn't lost a child to understand (and yes, it's losing a child) but the anticipation is suffocating. Knowing that I'm so close to finding out who my son is could be as close as am I supposed to 'calm down?' If someone will explain it to me, I'd be happy to oblige by, at least, trying. Lest we forget all of the RAW emotion that is brought up by all of it. Yes, I'll do my best to 'calm down'....but try not to patronize me, either. My fuse is very, very short right now; very little sleep, trying to eat, upset tummy..and should I tell you about the nightmares that have come when I finally managed to fall asleep??? Yes, I'll do my best.

I know that his name is William and that he prefers to be called "Will." That's more honest information than I've had in just short of 27 years. I'm praying HARD that he's going to want to know us; me, his half-sisters, his family on our side....they are, after all, part of his heritage, too. I'm trying not to let negative thoughts in while trying to avoid being over-confident.

And talk about feeling alone?!?! My God, this is probably the loneliest I've felt since losing my son. This is the burden that I have to carry. Sometimes I just wish that there was someone to hold the other handle of the (proverbial) baggage because, right now, this is a very lonely, secluded road that I'm on....thank goodness I have a bright, white light leading me on my way! There is finally a light at the end of this tunnel....and I am beside myself with anticipation to reach that place where the light emanates from...ladies and gentlemen this is where one chapter of this life ends and another begins. Perhaps after all of this I will feel 'whole' again...that the part of me that has been missing for all these years will slide in to place....and my life will be complete...and those around me will have yet another family to love. Here's to hope!!!

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

HOLY CRAP is all that I can say...

So by now we all know that I could be within only 72 hours of finding my mind is REELING....does he look like my family? Does he have my personality? Do my girls look like him? Will he want to talk to me? If not, will he want to know his half-sisters? OMG, my mind is a whirlwind. Anticipation is crazy; I've waited almost 27 years for this so why does the prospect of waiting 3 more days make me want to jump right out of my skin?!?!? All the memories...all of them...are rushing back...the few precious moments that I saw him in the hospital and was able to hold him; his (already darkening) eyes, his head full of dark, shiny hair, hearing him cry as the doctor removed him from the hospital as they were putting me in the car..... all those emotions...the hearing where they made me lie to the Judge - my panic at the realization that I couldn't stop them.....'they' were taking my son.

All of the first moms that I know, personally, share one common fantasy...that when we finally found our children that they come running to us with open arms; telling us that they've been waiting for us to find them....the proverbial 'happy ending' (as happy as all of this can be anyway). I am fully aware that not all children welcome their first moms into their existence; which, as an adoptee, I just can not understand. I can only imagine how my life would have been different if either birth parent had told me that I WAS wanted by either one of them. But, that's just me. I know how I felt when, the one time I had spoken to my birth father, he said that he 'wouldn't dispute' that he was the 'donor to the other half of my gene pool'......shocked, saddened...and that little girl that keeps popping her head out for some love was crushed. So the question I pose is "Why?" Why don't they want to know about their conception, birth, genetically-related families? Isn't there some sort of
a natural, intellectual curiosity about where they came from, whom they resembled both physically and intellectually and any pertinent health issues that they may pass on to their own children? Have their adoptive parents told them 'stories' about their birth parents that make them want to shun us? Are they angry at us? If so, why??? Doesn't anyone tell them how difficult it is for us to try and find them?? Do they know that we have NO RIGHTS to them, whatsoever?? That some of us didn't 'give them away'??? Hasn't anyone ever told them that it's hell on us to not have our children? Hasn't anyone told them that we have nightmares about terrible things happening to them BECAUSE they were taken away? Don't they need to know that we are told that it's what's "best for the baby" to let them go to the same people that told us that we should just 'forget about it'??? Do they know that we were lied to and manipulated and that we have to live with all of this for the rest of our lives???? Do they realize that some of us literally destroyed our bodies by carrying them and delivering them?? Stretch marks from neck-to-knees, mis-shapen breasts, scarring 'down there' from either tearing or episiotomy?? Does anyone tell them that (and I think I speak for the majority of us) not a day goes by that we don't think and worry about them? I know that each and every time I saw a baby, heard a baby cry or even laugh it broke my heart all over again. Now, keeping in mind that we're not allowed to ACT as if we're missing part of our, now that's just unacceptable. We have to 'go on with our lives and forget all about it." (Really?? I mean, REALLY???) If some adoptive parents really believe that we are these horrible monster-incubators that randomly conceived, bore then left a child then why do some of them feel so threatened when they discover that these 'monsters' are looking for their children? If they've 'saved' these children then there shouldn't be anything to fear, right? Maybe one should carefully choose the stories they tell to their non-biological children so that the possibility of the bereaved first mother finally finding them won't be so scary, huh? As an adoptee, I can speak for only myself, but believe that adoptive parents rarely think of what's best for the child...but we, as first moms, are told that it's all we're allowed to even consider.

Only another first mom can know how difficult it was for me to tell my children about my son. To explain to them that they have a brother out there, somewhere, that they have never seen nor heard about before that moment. To have to answer the questions that follow....see the tears, feel the anxiety about whether or not they'll ever meet the brother that shares their mom. Some of you women, whenever you go into a doctor's office and fill out the health forms, see the question "How many children do you have?" and never, ever even bat a (proverbial) eye at that question, do you? A first mom does. We KNOW that we should answer the question honestly (in my case, "3") BUT we stop and ponder our answer. Why, you ask? Because JUST BECAUSE our children were taken away from us doesn't discount the fact that we carried those children for 40 weeks, nourished them with our bodies, protected them with our bodies, felt them inside of our bodies and heard their little heart beating inside our bodies. No matter how they try to label us, we're still mothers. Lies, stories and manipulation can never change the fact that WE have a biological connection to our children and that, my friends, always, always, ALWAYS makes us a mom.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Thank you all for your suggestions!

First off, I'd like to thank all of you that have taken the time to read my blog and for the suggestions that followed. All suggestions received thus far have all been identical!! You all have suggested that I write to the "Find My Family" show to inquire about search assistance; however, I was one step ahead of you all...LOL...I had already printed out the app from their web site.

So here's the thing about "Find My Family"...their application is geared mostly towards adoptees. Now, there are other questions about whom you would like them to search for: high school sweethearts, military personnel, long-lost relatives, but this questionnaire is basically geared towards adoptees. The questions are about where you were born, whether or not you have a copy of your original birth certificate, what info you have on your b/parents including any non-identifying information....sadly, not one question about finding a son or daughter lost to adoption.

Now, I am painfully aware that there's another side of the adoption rights nightmare and that is those women that choose to hide from their children but, frankly, I choose not to give them anything other than one small paragraph in which to acknowledge that they do exist. You see, I can not blog about something that I have no personal knowledge of and about something that I could never understand. With everything that I went through to give my son the gift of life (and it is a gift if you consider the alternative) I have never, EVER looked at him as something to be ashamed of. It wasn't HIS fault, now was it? He didn't asked to be conceived, he didn't even ask to be born....he didn't have a voice...I was his voice and I wanted him to live. These women, whom I just can not even begin to understand, act as if these children that they carried and delivered are some type of monster that should be kept in hiding....I find that unconscionable. All the pain (phyiscal, emotional and mental) that I endured to allow my son a chance at life was worth every moment that (I pray) he's been alive. I feel that these children (and again, I remind you that I am one) have a right to know, and have access to, their medical 'blueprint.' I also feel that those that adopted them should have some type of mandated pre-adoption training that they, like all students, should be required to "pass" before being enabled to raise these children.
Again, there has not been a single day in the last 26 + years that I have not thought and wondered about my son. To be so ill at heart as to not wonder about the child that you fed, nourished and carried within you boggles my mind.

And, I ask you to ponder this question...if we, as first moms, are such terrible, evil, unloving creatures on the planet why, then, are adoption records sealed? Why do you want to keep us, as first parents, such a secret from our biological children? If we were these horrible creatures that forced you to 'rescue' our children, why hide? Why lie to them? Why not be open with these children from the beginning, hence lightening the strain of the Primal Wound in all of us??

Yes, you guessed it. I also believe that we, as first moms, should have some rights, too (of course I do, you say, because I am searching for my son).....but had anyone considered the circumstances of my son's being placed up for adoption? Did the judge that heard me sobbing on the witness stand say to himself, "hey, this young girl seems to be really upset about a decision that she's supposedly made, Perhaps I should ask her some more questions, perhaps I should ask her parents, both of whom are staring at hers with daggers coming out of their eyes, to leave the room and speak with this girl privately", NO. Did the attorney (whom should be dis-barred if he's still alive for being part of something so terribly illegal) say to himself, or anyone else for that matter "this girl doesn't want her son taken away from her, this is morally wrong", NO. But, in the eyes of most of the adoptive parents that have crossed my path on this search for my son, I am a cold, unfit woman that didn't 'want' my child and have no business even looking for a child that 'they' raised, that 'they' loved.....after all, if I had been a 'good mother' to my son then I wouldn't be looking for him, right? So, so, SO wrong. Our love for these children are the very reason they even exist for these people to raise. Had we made another decision after finding out we were pregnant would they have that child to raise?? Some have argued that what I have done (as a first mom) was not a gift. Not a gift?? Really??? Without my gift you'd have no child. But, I digress. Besides, my gift was for my son...not for anyone else. It was for him to have a chance....a chance at a better life than I had...unfortunately his chance just wasn't allowed to be with me.

Over the last eight years since I began my search I have heard from both sides of the adoption issue....some of these children weren't even told they had been adopted and found out by accident while others were told that they had been 'rescued' from mothers that didn't 'want' them. Some were actually lucky enough to have kind, understanding a/parents that told them that they were given up out of love. These adopted children (and I am one of them) and their birth mothers have that gaping, Primal Wound....which appears never to get addressed. As a first mom, I feel it. As an adoptee, I feel it. For those of you unfamiliar, the Primal Wound refers to the fact that we are carried by our first moms; being an actual part of her physical anatomy, as she was ours....her blood flowing through my veins and mine flowing back through hers, sharing her nourishment, her emotions and all the while hearing her voice and feeling her movement...for approximately 40 weeks. She's all that we know. She's as much a part of our biological make-up as we are hers while inside the womb. Then we're born....out into the bright, cold world. Most of us (like me AND my son) were taken from our first moms at birth...never to be reunited in intimacy as mother and child. So, here we are...tiny, helpless infants...the only voice we've known, the woman with whom we shared our biological selves with, the heart beat that we knew and shared for all those weeks...but she's gone. She's left with a sudden removal of someone that was an actual part of her....gone. Connection still present but physically removed. That, my friends, in a nut-shell, is the Primal Wound. This, my friends, should be a subject that anyone looking to adopt and anyone thinking of surrendering their child should have to be counseled in...MANDATORY. To me, it's like a giant hole in my heart that never heals...not even after I had my two AMAZING daughters.

Now, I'd give just about anything I have to be able to switch places with my son's adoptive parents...hell, anyone's adoptive that they can spend even 10 minutes with the pain and anguish that comes with losing that child...with wondering if they're ok...with wondering if their lives WERE better for the sacrifices we've made. It was for the children, after all, that we're told all this was all for....and that's why the majority of the first moms I know did it...because 'they' told us it was what was 'best' for our babies. So you spend the next decades wondering and worrying about whether what 'they' told us was true....all the while we still have to go on with life...finish school (like I was DETERMINED to do even AFTER the school tried to throw me out for being a 'poor example of moral fiber'), marry (or not), still moves forward whether we hurt for our children or not. This is my life. These were my choices. My choices created a life. A life that was allowed to begin...that, my friends, is something that I shall never, ever regret.


Saturday, January 9, 2010

Where do I begin???

OK, so I'm an 'adult adoptee' AND a first I have a familiarity and a definite opinion about BOTH sides of this double-edged sword.

As an adoptee that was lucky enough to know my birth mother, whom was kind enough to share the name of my birth father, I still struggle with the 'Primal Wound'...and as a first mom whom had her son taken away from her at birth by the very people that had insisted that I abort him, only to have him placed into a private adoption, I feel the 'other side' of that 'Wound.'

For the last 6 years or so I have been catching on to the wave of New Science and Biology; I am the proverbial positive thinker. Every thing happens for a reason. Everything is working for my greater good. What we think about, we bring about. I have worked really, really hard to turn my life around. Having come from an adoptive family in which my a/parents told me every day of my life that I was ugly, worthless and so unwanted that even my 'real' parents didn't want me, one can only imagine what kinds of emotional and self-esteem problems I suffered while growing up. I have fought to overcome the darkness of those days and have, thus far, succeeded into the light. However, this little girl still lies inside me that has all this anger and sadness....when she shows herself I will give her a little hug and send her on her way...until she shows herself yet again. I am proud of the battles won and lost in this lifetime...but I am missing something. My daughters and I are all missing son; their brother.

From the time my son was stolen from me in the hospital...and I use the term stolen because I wasn't given a choice. I was 16 years old and had no rights. My a/parents had thrown me out when they found out that I was pregnant and refused to concede to an abortion. Having no place to go, my best friend (whom was the ONLY person that stood by me when it became known that I was pregnant) found a complete stranger to take me in. Without proper nourishment and care and without any doctor's care I ended up in the hospital. Taken to a large city to a bigger hospital, I was taken in by a family friend. He contacted an OB/GYN that my a/mom had worked for and had a close, personal relationship with. This doctor promised to care for me, deliver my baby and arrange for a private adoption. While in his care, this man promised that he would be sure that my son had a wonderful home and that, if I continued to travel to his office each year for my annual exams, he would give me information about my son. My son was due on Valentine's Day, 1983; however, he didn't feel like entering this world until March 1. He was taken from me immediately upon delivery. The bracelet given to me in the delivery room was switched in the recovery room so that, if I managed to get into the nursery, my bracelet wouldn't match his; therefore, not allowing me to see nor hold my own child. The delivering physician physically removed my son from the hospital. I was told by my a/parents that it was NEVER to be spoken of again. It was over. I returned back to their home and was told to rest after a very difficult pregnancy and delivery. The very day I arrived my brother (also adopted, the first after thier b/son had been killed in an accident) and his girlfriend (both seniors in high school) announced that 'they' were pregnant...were keeping the baby and were going to stay there at the house. My a/parents LITERALLY jumped up and down with excitement...."We're going to have a grandbaby, we're going to have a wonderful, we're so happy" (really. That's what they did) so I asked "What about my son??? You just gave him away?!?!" to which they replied "that kid was a bastard. We don't care what happens to it." The adoption hearing was held a few months later, in a county that was different from the county I resided and also different from the county in which he'd been born. My a/parents and the 'wonderful man' doctor had concocted a story that I was to tell the judge so that my son's father's signature and permission were not needed to finalize the adoption. I was told that if I did not tell this LIE on the stand, to the Judge, that I would be left there, alone, and that they'd never look back. I told this lie; sobbing the entire time. Thus the story of my son's birth. So fast forward 12 months...I return to this 'wonderful man' doctor, whom tells me that they named my son "Colin John" (my Uncle remembers it as Colin James) and that he looks JUST like me and is already a 'spitfire' (as most that know me would describe me...even to this day). This man promises me that, once my son turns 18 and I have a family of my own, that he will 'bring us together'. Each visit over the next 12 years, as I traveled back to his office (even after moving to another state over 1,500 miles away) this man continues to feed me info on my son...he has freckles, just like me, he has brown hair, just like me, brown eyes, just like me....I became pregnant with my eldest daughter in 1995 so I had to find a local OB/GYN. I kept in phone contact with the 'wonderful man' doctor via phone at least once every 12 months. My a/father passed away only a few months before my son's 18th birthday. While in my hometown for the funeral, the 'wonderful man' doctor phoned my family's home to offer his condolences to my family; I took the opportunity to remind him that a few short months later my son would turn 18 and that I couldn't wait to see/meet him. That's when the 'wonderful man' doctor told me that I needed to just 'let it go' had all been a lie. Call it karma, as I do, to say that this doctor died only a few months later from complications of me NO INFORMATION about my son. All those years. All of those lies. So, I ask my a/mom...just not believing that she could have left my son 'go' without knowing 'something' about him...I mean, who could be that cold-hearted, right? Her response to me was "he was a bastard. I didn't care where he went or what happened to him. I never did. I don't know where he is and I don't care to. You need to let this go."

So here I am...8 years after his 18th birthday, searching for a young man that was born from me and is a part of me. Not a day has gone by in his 26 years (almost 27 now) that I did not think about him. I look at my daughters and they look like him??? Does he act like them? Did he have the same misfortune I did in getting adopted by parents that didn't really 'want' him? I've contacted the doctor's family...his widow (whom refused to even speak with me), his ex-wife (who is an absolute dream but was divorced from him when I was only a baby), his one seems to know anything about my son; where he is, whom adopted him. The only thing that I know for sure is that there's a court house in Beaver, PA, that knows where my son is and whom adopted him...but I have no rights to that information. No one cares what my situation was. No one cares that he was stolen from me...clouded by lie after lie after lie. Adopted illegally due to all of the lies surrounding his adoption. So where do I go from here? I keep searching. I emailed Kinsolving...they can find my son for me....for a rather large sum of money, which I do not have. Another heartbreak. I will promise, as I did to him when the nurse at that big hospital snuck me into the nursery and let me hold my son for 3 minutes against EVERYONE'S orders, I will not stop looking until I've found him. He may not want to have anything to do with me....God only knows what he's been told of the 'woman that gave him away'....if he only knew.