I have 4 weeks off, due to the corona virus. My adoptive Mom said, “I’d like to be able to use you”. I don’t want to be used, by her, or anyone. Just because I’m home, it does not mean I’m now an inanimate object, to be used by anyone.
I will help her, but I’d like to be asked. Maybe this has always been the dynamic between us, and the reason we’ve always been at odds. She thinks I’m a thing, to be used, and I think I’m an autonomous person, with free will, and needs and desires of my own, apart from her.
Stay safe, everyone. Draw close to the ones you love.
I finally got my original birth certifate. This is a BIG DEAL to adopted people. I truly thought I would not live to see this day. I was taught that who I was, and who I was born to was none of my business. I was taught wrong.
There were no big surprises. I know who my parents are, I know how old they were, I know where I was born. The surprises were small, little jolts that hit like soft punches to the gut.
The certificates are so similar, but so different. On the amended, false one there is no mention of the ages of the “parents” at the time of my birth. The OBC has 15 fields, but the false one only has 11. So many details were omitted, I suppose to make the new “parents” forget that I was born to another woman. It’s labeled a Certificate of Birth, but there is little mention of birth on the certificate.
One big surprise was the OBC was mailed to my mother’s address at the time of my birth. I never knew where she lived when I was born. My mother’s sister was 4 when I was born, and she remembers the apartment. She said it was a basement apartment, very dark. My parents were hiding out, growing a baby they were planning to get rid of. They were hiding the pregnancy, even though they were married, so they didn’t have to explain to anyone why they didn’t have a baby.
My oldest daughter is due to have a baby girl in 2 months. I’m very, very happy. I love babies, and can’t wait to meet my little granddaughter.
Of course, this wonderful news brings up feelings about my birth, and adoption. I’m estranged from my father’s family. I don’t think they know anything about my daughter’s pregnancy, unless they somehow heard through social media, or from someone in the neighborhood. My half brother, Mom’s son lives in the same area as many of my father’s relatives. He owns a house with his half brother (same dad, different mom). My cousin E rents an apartment in that house. E is my late mother’s half sisters son. I invited E’s preteen daughter to my daughter K’s baby shower, and she said she will attend. She will be the only blood relative of mine that will be there, aside from my 3 daughters. The only member of my adoptive family that will be there is my adoptive mother.
Luckily, my husband has a big family, so my daughter will have blood cousins and aunts there. Only my side will be lacking. I have a sister, sister in law and many female cousins and aunts, but they are not part of my life, and I don’t think they ever will be. My father will be a great grandfather, but I have no idea if he would care about that. My mother did not live to see her great granddaughter. My half brother will be a great uncle. My Dad’s kids, will also be a great aunt and uncle. They are 31 and 24 years old.
I don’t know if my cousin, who lives in the house my brother owns told my brother about the baby.
I want to tell everyone, so much. I want them to all come to the shower. I want my granddaughter to be marveled over. I want my family to say who she looks like. I want us all to be part of their lives. I don’t want to be treated like a monster. I don’t want to be hated and feared.
But, what I want doesn’t matter. I’ll love my granddaughter. I love my children.
I still wish we could be part of my family, though.
Everyone has an origin story. All the superheros do. Even supervillans do. I have a few.
According to Mom (I consider my mother to be my natural mother)
Mom was a tortured soul. She was sexually abused from before she could speak. Her first memory was of her mother, holding a shotgun on her grandfather, after catching him molesting Mom while he held Mom on his lap. Later on, when she was 5, Grandma sent Mom to live with her father. He put her in informal foster care, with a pedophile who molested her for the 6 years Mom lived with him.
Mom returned home to her mother. Grandma had had a bunch of other kids while Mom was away, and their care often fell to Mom. Mom was poor and ragged. She was ashamed to go to school. Dad was a rich guy from the neighborhood. Grandma told Mom to “go for him”. Grandma thought he would be a good catch. She didn’t sleep with him right away, and this kept him interested. Eventually she did, and she became pregnant.
Dad arranged for an abortion, using the same abortionist Grandma used. Mom was 16, and abortion was still illegal. It was another traumatizing experience for Mom. Mom and Dad continued to bang. Mom got pregnant again. This time, Dad offered to marry her. They got married, and were going to live in an apartment off his parents big house, when something happened.
Mom saw a sign outside a church, offering help with unexpected pregnancies. She went in and asked about it, and was introduced to the idea of adoption. She went home and told Dad, thinking he would reject the idea, but instead he embraced it. They moved a few towns away, and Mom waited out her pregnancy away from the family. Dad worked on her every day as her belly grew, telling her I would have a terrible life if they kept me. A life even worse than hers. She didn’t want to give me up, but she began to believe him, and agreed to the adoption.
I was born. No one was told. Mom took care of me in the hospital and held me on the ride to the agency. I stared at her the whole way. She cried at the agency. She cried for days afterward. She cried everyday for 10 years. It would overtake her suddenly. While on line at the bank, when buying groceries. Then she stopped crying. She waited for me to find her. She didn’t want to look for me, because she thought my adoption might be a secret to me, and she didn’t want to be the one to tell me.
According to Dad
Mom got pregnant. They had relationship problems. They liked group sex and drugs, and Mom wouldn’t give those things up, so Dad decided the only solution was to give me away, so I could have a better life.
According to A-Mom
My parents were too poor to keep me. Mom had to raise her younger siblings and didn’t want to raise any more kids. My parents told their parents that I died at birth. My parents were married, and A-mom could not understand how a married woman could give her baby away. No one held a gun to her head. She was a cold heartless woman who did not want me. A-mom knew my name at birth, but would only tell me the first name. A-mom lived in terror that I would be taken away.
The holidays are upon us again. It’s a time of joy, but also a time for sadness for many. All of the positive images of family and love can make people long for what they don’t have. I’m one of those people.
I have a wonderful family. Husband and 4 grown children. My eldest daughter is expecting a daughter in April. This makes me so happy! I cannot wait to meet the little one. K, my daughter is 32, and not married to the father. In fact, she only knew him for 4 moths before she fell pregnant. In the old days, she’d be a great candidate for adoption. Not in my house though. Never, never ever. We will love that baby, and my daughter and do everything we can to help and support them. Granddaughter! What a beautiful word.
I was born November 13, and relinquished on November 18. This is always a trying time of year for me. I was in a foster home, somewhere for my first Thanksgiving. I don’t know who I was with, or what name they called me. Was I Marylee, what my mother named me, or did they just call me another name they made up?
I arrived at my adoptive parents house on December 13. Just in time for my first, terrifying Christmas. Why terrifying? I didn’t know these people, and my A-mom was always rather terrifying to me.
I have no idea what my natural family does for the holidays. Do they still gather as a large group, or do my aunts and uncles celebrate with their own growing families of children and grandchildren? I will never know, because I will never be allowed into that family. They say it’s because of the way I behave, but I think it’s because I was relinquished. I think they can forgive one of their own, if they behave badly, but I must be shunned if I do. And, the extent of my bad behavior has been my anguish over my adoption.
Every holiday, I still foolishly hope I’ll get something from my family. I never do. I never will.
Nate Berkus and his partner have commissioned another child. They paid another woman, or women, if a separate egg donor was used, to sell her body in order for them to raise another child. They purposefully, and willfully separated a human being from their mother, and half of their natural family, simply to satisfy their own desires.
And the world loves it! So progressive! How brave, you deserve it. Don’t the children these men are raising deserve to know their own mother? How can anyone deny a child that, and then say they love that child? Are these men so blinded by their wants that they cannot see what they have done?
I guess the answer is yes. And most of society seems to agree. “Biology means nothing”, they cry. “Love makes a family”. But not their family. They want their own children, and their own parents, thank you very much. Biology matters to them, it just isn’t supposed to matter to those created to fulfill desire. Or those bought to create a family. We are the exceptions to the rule.
If biology really didn’t matter, why do they bother to identify babies born in the hospital? Why not just mix em up, and hand them out to parents randomly. It really shouldn’t matter, right?
I’ll bet it would matter a lot. As it should. Buying or selling human beings, or the materials used to create human beings is wrong. It is wrong because it dishonors the child. It takes something from the child that should never be taken. It takes the child’s parent and heritage, and the child is powerless to stop it.
Say anything against this and you’ll be called old fashioned, misogynistic and anti LGBT. How else can these people raise a family? Maybe, sometimes, they can’t. Or, they have to find a way that honors the child’s heritage, and includes all of their biological family in the child’s life. It’s the least you can do, for a child you love so much.
Lately, I’ve been comparing being adopted to being kidnapped. I read a book, “The Real Lolita, The Kidnapping of Sally Horner and the Novel That Scandalized the World”. It was a good book.
The girl who was kidnapped was abused by the kidnapper, and I was not abused by my adoptive parents, but the same sense of being taken against my will has been with me all of my life. I have always felt like I was not where I was supposed to be.
I was the 6th generation born in my little corner of NYC, but I have no ties to the place where my ancestors lived. Their bones are buried there, but I’m a stranger to that place.
Like the young girl in the book, I had to comply with my kidnappers , in order to survive. Unlike Sally, my family was not looking for me. There was no joyful reunion, when I finally was reunited with them. Their lives were fine without me in them.
I am the only one who felt I was kidnapped. The rest of the world thinks everything is fine.