Paradise Preoccupied

From one mother to her child in an attempt to explain, assuage and apologize.

My Darling Child,

You are my most cherished treasure, and the fact that I am better off with you … that the world is better off with you … is a truth beyond measure. No matter that your very existence brings joy to me and hope to a planet that sees every child a possible savior, through no fault of your own your life began under odious circumstances and I feel no little shame for the part I played.

The processes involved in leading to you to becoming who, where and what you are cannot be ignored, and as we now understand it is important there be no secrets, nothing hidden. The era of secrecy is over, and only through total, brutal and complete honesty and full acceptance of parental culpability can we hope to arm you for a lifetime of potential comments that may arise from knowledge of your beginnings. You must know where you came from, and you must start that knowing now.

I have long hinted that something was amiss, and I have seen in your eyes and your behavior that you caught not a little of the guilt that shadowed those hints, so now that you are approaching your fifth birthday the time has come to divulge as fully as possible the roots of your existence; to do less would be an unforgivable omission, prompted by love, of course, but such a negligence of motherly duty that you would eventually blame me for leaving so many gaps in your story. You may not yet be able to understand everything, but at least with most of the information provided you will in future be able to specify questions and ask for details as you need and can process them.

Before there was you, there was the dream of you. Your father and I had longed for a child for a number of years, but had not had any luck. We had even gone as far as to consider adoption, but when the time came to evaluate our suitability we didn’t do well and were turned down.

You have to understand just how desperate I was to have a child to forgive what I next agreed to do, so please … please … consider my longing for you as you strive to understand the lengths I was willing to go to get you.

I do not wish to lay blame, but since it’s the truth I am telling here, I must reveal that it was your father who came up with the plan. I was appalled, and convinced only after a good deal of time. He wore me down with pastel images of all things baby, talk of strollers and cribs and sweet baby smiles. In fact, he even dusted himself with baby powder and plied me with wine in his attempts to get me to go along with his scandalous proposal.

As ashamed as I am, and as repulsive as the facts are, the truth is that your father and I had sex to make you, and more than once.Yes, yes … I know how this must strike you and how your first inclination might be to be so very ashamed of us, but this is the raw truth you must comprehend if your childhood is to be lived healthily.

It is not a pretty truth, but a truth, nonetheless, that time after time I lay on my back with my legs spread apart showing my private parts while your father placed his swollen peepee into my body and grunted and groaned and sweated and cried, soon leaving me in such a state! I was a disgusting, sticky mess, and could do nothing but lie in the filthy residue in hopes that the base biology would do its work.

Over the next months, my body ballooned, taking on repulsive dimensions. My boobies could no longer be contained in my undergarments, and, I am forced to admit, I often thought of having sex again as hormones took over much of my mind.

Then came the birth.

I have never known such pain, and hope never to again. For eighteen hours, my body knew more agony than fire or shattering bones could cause, and with unrelenting regularity. My back felt like it was cracking open every two minutes. I vomited until there was nothing left but the dregs of bile, but that came, too, hour after hour. I screamed and screamed and screamed. I cursed your father, not only for the indignity of his fertilization, but for the resulting torture.

Eventually, but only after almost an entire day of the worst suffering I had ever known, I managed to push you out of by belly through my peepee … I know how horrible that must be for you to know, but it was the only way to get you out of me … while a great amount of poop came out of my butt at the same time.

A sickly gray and lumpy cord ran from your belly button into my peepee, and when the doctor cut it you began to make noise … you mewled like some sort of animal.

You were a wrinkled, bald worm-like thing, with mottled, peeling skin and a head the shape of an onion, and covered in slime and blood. Nurses sucked some repellant gunk out of your nose, put drops in your eyes, poked your heel and drew some blood.

I cannot tell you how sorry I am that your beginnings are as horrid as they are, nor hope to absolve myself for the part I played. I only hope that you can forgive your father and me, and understand that this is often the way things happen. Also, I hope by laying this all out for you now in graphic, yet somewhat age-appropriate detail I will avoid any and all fallout that might occur over the course of your life. No matter what, you know Mama has been honest with you.

Ashamed and guilty as sin, but loving you more than anything and praying you can forgive,

Mother

Although I have no doubt this will go completely over the heads of many who have taken to reading me regularly with no intention or capability of comprehension, those who do get it will understand this post an allegory. The intention is to address the wearing of hair shirts by adoptive parents.

Definition links provided in hopes of helping more challenged readers grasp concepts beyond their usual reach.

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I started this as a reply to another nasty birth mother commenting on yesterday’s blog, but it got too long. I did explain there, however, why I use the term “birth mother”.

So … moving right along …

“but the thing is, that your attitude towards natural mothers varies somewhere between frequently criticizing us and showing constant disrepect for us.”

My attitude? What does this person know of my attitude? Obviously, nothing at all.

Although I do criticize certain birth mothers … some are nasty, crazy bitches … I have never criticized birth mothers in general, nor have I shown disrespect. In fact, I have done exactly the opposite over and over again.

And, not believing coercion exists? You’re most certainly not talking about me. Check your facts.

The bottom line on ethics in US domestic infant adoption is written under one word: coercion.

Coercion of potential birth mothers comes in different forms, but all serve to undermine a expecting mom’s right to make the correct choice for her and her child, and blur the line between what is right and what is wrong about adoption.

Pressure tactics are probably the most obvious and insidious methods used to convince a pregnant woman that relinquishing her child at birth is the way to go.

Family members, sometimes well meaning but taking the short view, can be the first to start piling on weight after heavy weight of guilt, fear and diminishing expectations, as they postulate a doom and gloom scenario of the future.

It’s not unusual for parents to arrange everything from abortions to homes for unwed mothers to adoption by friends or relatives, without even consulting the expectant mother. By the time she’s informed, other parties can consider whatever action has been thought best a fait accompli.

If a situation is presented as hopeless, often hope isn’t looked for, and if the embers of fear are fanned into full-blown flames at the same time, even relatively simple options can disappear – go up in smoke.

You know who wrote that?

I did.

It’s part of a book on domestic adoption I was hired to write for Adoption.com, a book I was determined to have address the hard issues regarding adoption, and I refused to gloss over anything in favor of helping adoptive parents get the idea that it’s all about warm fuzzies. Jan Baker knows the book because I went to her repeatedly with questions while seeking real information I could pass on to potential adoptive parents. I ran almost everything to do with the triad by her for a valued opinion.

I also talked with Jenna Hatfield and quoted her on her experience with an unethical agency.

Here’s something else:

If an expectant mother can’t come up with very good reasons not to parent, everyone involved has an obligation to question why the child is being relinquished.

Has she been pressured into making this choice? Has she been encouraged to let someone else decide for her? Have there been lies involved, or strong efforts to diminish the experience and convince her that, “time heals all wounds,” and that she’ll soon get over any suffering she may feel from the loss of her child?

For the long-term happiness of all members of the triad, for the successful blending of birth parents/child/adoptive family that allows a child to grow in a safe climate of warmth and love, the foundations of the adoption must be solid and rooted in integrity.

Now, I know that many of the more rabid birth mothers will take issue, insisting that there is NO WAY IN HELL there can be any happiness or success or safe climates or warmth or love or integrity, but they are too far up their own butts to ever see the light so there’s not much point in trying to light a candle.

And here’s something I wrote just yesterday for Adoptive Parent’s Network, once again as advice to potential adoptive parents early in the process:

As hard as it may be when your longing for a child is great, it must always be remembered that what you are hoping so hard to end up with is someone else’s child right up until the point that child becomes yours, so respect, honor and ethics are paramount.

Once a match is made, there’s a face attached to the respect, honor and ethics mentioned in step eight … the face of the woman planning to place her child permanently and irrevocably with you.

Wherever and however your relationship begins, the fact is that she will always be your child’s first mother, and the sooner you understand that to the middle of your bones, the better. For the rest of your child’s life, this woman is half his or her eyes and hair and heart and kidneys, and all the nurture you so lovingly provide will not make her contributions any less integral a part of your child.

She will be the only mother for a very short time … a time that will be treasured and pondered and recalled a million times … and doing what you can to make this time as gentle, loving and without pressure as possible will benefit not only her, but the child, as well.

You will not be asked or able to assume the mother’s pain or fully comprehend her loss, but you must acknowledge it and allow her to deal with it in whatever way is best for her. This may mean more contact for a while, or no contact at all for a period of time. Do not judge.

It will be no simple thing to hold her sadness and your joy in your heart at the same time, but the reality of adoption requires that you try your hardest to do exactly that.

At the same time I was writing that, birth mothers were shoving each other out of the way to rip me to bits because I’m so ‘disrespectful’ … and not pretty enough.

What’s next, Ladies? Is there more unsubstantiated crap you’d like to pull from your collective ass and throw in my direction? It won’t stick, but you’re welcome to unburden if it makes you feel better.

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Every so often I need to blow off some steam, to vent, to let myself step away from controlled reason and take a swipe at some of those who’ve made a quest out of trying to slap me down and shut me up.

Today seems like a good day for it.

Anyone who has been reading here for a while has seen posts from Kim, kimkim, reunionwritings … whatever she choses to call herself on any given comment … and may have noticed that she and I don’t agree on much.

She’s a birth mother, I’m an adoptive mom, so different perspectives are to be expected. I have been under the impression that coming to my blog indicated that Kim is at least somewhat interested in what I have to say, but it seems that is not the case.

Apparently convinced that she is not only smarter than I am, but prettier, too, taking issue with my writing had become a bit of a mission, but setting me straight, or her version of straight, rather fell apart at the seams.

In a fashion I’ve seen before, Kim’s comments degenerated quickly, falling from the lofty “Nice to ‘dialougue’ with you” (sic) posted here, to drive-by slappings dished out on other peoples’ blogs.

The straw that did in my make nice camel today … being the second slap from Kim in one morning … appeared on Nicole’s blog, Paragraphein.

Nicole had written a lovely post to a fifteen-year-old pregnant girl, April, detailing the process and pain of her own relinquishment, her regrets, and her conviction that parenting is the right choice for most.

Much in the post resonated with me, since I, too, had an unplanned pregnancy. I was 17 at the time, and although younger and with different issues, went through very much the same mental and emotional processes. Also like Nicole, I have a long-term brain chemistry issue that I have lived with for years … hers is bi-polar, mine clinical depression … and there was a time when my illness was not controlled as it now is, so I understand what it is like to suffer in some of the same ways.

So … what did I do? I posted this comment:

We walked such similar paths. I’ve offered to share mine with April, too.

Kim responded with this:

I want to poke fun at Sandra’s outrageous comment but will refrain since it’s your blog.

It seems no matter how respectful I am, how hard I try to bridge these gaps, these Grand Canyons, between my note on the triad chord and others, how much effort I put into educating those new to adoption on the vital necessity of building and maintaining respect, honor, ethics … blah, blah, blah, because that seems all it is when it hits deaf ears … some bloody birth mother will try to knock me back, invalidate my POV, erase my contribution and dismiss my experience.

I’ve written before about how reticent I am to pin “Birth Mother” on attacks, but it’s getting very hard not to call a spade a spade.

I am very sorry that people have pain and for those who never manage to crawl out of their hole of suffering, but I’ve not yet seen it dictated that relinquishing a child for adoption relieves one of the social responsibility of respect for others. And as for carte blanche for nastiness, well, that’s only good on your own turf. The rest of the world expects better manners.

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