adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, family, father, grandfather, grandmother, hospital, mother, orphan, parenting, pregnancy, reunion, senior, shunning, Uncategorized

So much big stuff

 

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So much big stuff has happened. It took me awhile to sort it all out.

First, the pandemic. Everyone is all scared and upset, but for me, it’s been like a little slice of heaven. Best of all, I didn’t have to go to work, for 73 days. I got my full pay for all of them. I work for the state. My husband worked from home for much of that time. I deep cleaned the entire house. I planted a garden. I loved being home so much. I’ve had the deep blues since I’ve had to go back.

My adult daughters, who live at home have been getting unemployment. It’s more than they’ve ever made in their lives.

I had a granddaughter. My first. It’s so powerful to see my line carrying on. This little girl will be alive long after I’m gone. It’s a very comforting thing for me to know this.

The bad part of the pandemic, for me, was not being able to be with my daughter during her labor and delivery, and not being allowed to visit my granddaughter in the hospital at all. My DD suffered a great deal. She had a long and hard labor, and maybe I could have made it a bit easier for her. My knowledge could have helped her.

But, mother and baby are home, and doing well. I haven’t told anyone in my father’s family, because, why should I? They never share anything with me. It’s pretty clear to me they do not care at all about me, or my children, or grandchildren. I’m tired of trying to matter. It’s never going to work. Dad’s going to be 80 this month. Maybe he’ll have a party. Who knows?

A-mom fell. She lives with us, and we heard a crash. We went in and Hubby found her lying on the floor. She had been walking around holding onto the furniture for awhile. We told her, over and over again that it wasn’t safe. We begged her to use her walker, but she wouldn’t listen. She tried to get up from the sofa using a rickety folding table, and it toppled over. SHe was dazed and bleeding on her arm. Hubby got her up, and gave her her walker and she toddled off to the bathroom.

She didn’t come out for awhile, and I finally went in and saw she had soiled herself, and the whole room. It was very bad. I cleaned her, and we let her lie down for awhile, hoping she was just in shock, and would feel better with some rest.

She woke up a few hours later, and couldn’t get out of bed, so we called the ambulance. She didn’t want to go with them, but the EMT talked her into it. As they were wheeling her away she said, “I guess you want to get rid of me”, and “I guess I won’t be seeing any of you again”.

It’s all true. I’m very happy that she’s gone. I haven’t seen her again. There is no visiting in the hospital, or the nursing home where she’s gone to recover from her fractured shoulder. When she fell, her walker and other assistive devices were only a few feet away, but she choose not to use them.

We cleaned her whole apartment, and it was very dirty. I’m so happy that she’s not here, and dread the day she comes back. I even think of moving away, and not telling the home. I feel guilty for these thoughts.

I was adopted to do a job. I am supposed to be a loving daughter. If I’m not, there is something wrong with me. It is not supposed to matter that she’s not really my mother. I’m not supposed to even notice that.

I hope she never comes back, but I don’t think I’m strong enough to keep her away. I know I’ll cave in and take her back, and I’ll hate every minute of it. Non adopted people don’t understand. They tell me she’s my mother, but I know she’s not. I’ve been trying to escape for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never been able to.

adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, brainwashing, brother, father, hospital, mother, pain, rejection, reunion, shunning, Uncategorized

I’m 55 now

 

father

 

I can hardly believe how old I am.  I was young yesterday, now I’m middle aged.  Oh well, what choice do we have?  I still feel good.  My kids are grown, and life is a bit easier.  I’m enjoying this time of life, but still fearing the end.

My father did not wish me Happy Birthday.  He sent me a card once, and a check for $100.  This was when I turned 49.  Since then, nothing at all.  So, in total, he gave me $100, and bought me 2 glasses of wine, and a BLT sandwich.  And he gave me a ride to the adoption agency in his car.  That is all I got from my father.

Can I really have done something so bad to deserve this treatment?  I don’t think it’s possible.  I’m sure Dad would not shun his kept children.  But I was not kept, so I am not his child?  I guess that’s how it’s supposed to go.

The only problem is, I am his child.  He is my father.  His siblings are my aunts and uncles, their children my cousins.  His parents my grandparents, and so on.  Everyone can agree that this is not the case, but I cannot be convinced.  I have DNA proof.

Another birthday goes by.  A very hard day for some of us adoptees.  I felt, and still feel that my birthday is something to be ashamed of.  I should not have been born.  It was a mistake.  My adoptive mother was not there.  My birthday reminds her that she could never give birth.  My birthday ties me to another woman, and that’s painful for A-mom.  So, my birthday is bad.

It’s also the day my sorrow began.  The day I met my mother.  We were together for 5 days in the hospital.  Then we were discharged, and Dear old Dad picked us up and drove us to Spence-Chapin adoption agency, where they left me forever.

And, that’s why he’s not my father anymore.  Get it?  Well, I never will……

 

adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, brainwashing, brother, cocaine, death, family, father, hospital, mental illness, mother, pain, rejection, reunion, Uncategorized

Another Dead Mother

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAMy co worker’s mother died a few days ago.  Some of us from work went to the wake.  Jill’s mother looked beautiful, laid out in the casket, in a smart red suit.  Her beloved Jelly beans and a deck of cards were tucked in beside her.

Jill’s mother was 95 when she died, in Jill’s house, where they had been living together for years.  Jill was by her side when she passed.  Jill’s daughter was there too.  It was a “good death”, if such a thing can be good.

Of course, seeing Jill and her mother brought back a lot of feelings about my own mother’s death.

I was there near the end, with Mom, but not at the end.  Mom was in hospice.  I was not really a welcome visitor in my mother’s room.  I did not go to Mom’s memorial service.  I did not view her body.  She was cremated immediately.  I longed for one last look, but it was not to be.

I had no choices regarding Mom’s care, her service or her remains.  I am her firstborn, and natural next of kin, but adoption erased all that.  I was merely an unwelcome stranger.

Someday I may bury my adoptive mother.  I’ll be the next of kin.  As an only child, I’ll make all the decisions.  But, she is not my mother.  My mother is dead.

adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, brother, death, family, hospital, mother, pain, rejection, reunion, Uncategorized

Summer

summer-beach-high-definition

 

It’s been really hot around here!  I’m lucky though, I have an above ground pool and air conditioning.  I don’t suffer much.

I made my home everything that I wanted as a child.  I grew up in a 1 bedroom apartment, but I knew early on that I wanted to live in a house.  I wanted a yard,a swing-set, and a pool.  I got them all, as an adult. I wanted my children to have the life that I never had.  We take family vacations.  They each have their own bedrooms.  I got it all, for them.  Everything that I wanted.

I never, ever considered giving any of them away, but I did once consider abortion.

I was pregnant with my 4th child.  My husband didn’t make much money, and I had a job as a bank teller.  I couldn’t imagine taking care of another baby.  I went to planned parenthood, because they gave free pregnancy tests.  I knew that I was pregnant, but I wanted official confirmation.  They gave it to me.  I sat in a woman’s office, and she advised abortion.  She said it would be unfair to my other kids to have another.  She said that I should think of myself, and my job.  I felt guilty, because I wanted my baby, even if it was #4.  Even if things would be tight.  If I thought of myself, I wanted this baby very much.

I was torn.

Then I imagined meeting this unborn baby someday, and explaining why I did it.  What would I say?  I didn’t want to quit my bank teller job?  I didn’t have enough money?  None of the reasons seemed good enough for me to end my baby’s life.

None of those reasons were good enough, and I have 4 children.  I had my tubes tied after she was born, so I would never have to face that tough decision again.  I’m so glad that shes here!  She’s 19 now, and we did have enough money after all.  I got another job.  We all survived.

I am not anti abortion.  I think it’s a better choice than ISA, Infant Stranger Adoption.  It just wasn’t the right choice for me, at that time.  She will be starting her second year of college in a  few weeks, my last baby.

How did my mother give me away?  How could she tell people that I died?  Did she ever imagine that I would come back and ask why?  I did, and she did not have a good enough answer.  What reason is good enough to explain why you gave your newborn away?

There is so much I needed to learn from her, and shes’ gone forever.  The summer heat will always remind me of her last days, visiting her in the hospital as she lay dying.  Gone!  It still takes me by  surprise sometimes.

She has not been buried.  I don’t know where her ashes are.  Nowhere to visit, nowhere to mourn.

My adoptive mother, Ramona is losing her hearing.  She’s going to the ear doctor Monday, my eldest daughter will be taking her.  Her conversations are filled with her fears about the procedure the doctor may do, something to drain the fluid from her ears.  I feel sorry for her, but my mother is dead, and I don’t really love Ramona.

I was on vacation, with my family for 5 days, and had no internet or phone signal, and didn’t have any contact with Ramona.  It was heaven, but now I’m back.

 

 

 

adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, brainwashing, brother, death, family, hospital, mother, pain, rejection, reunion, Uncategorized

Happy Birthday, Bro!

Today is my half brother’s 49th birthday.  This is the only place where I’ll wish him happy birthday.

Last year we were in the hospital, visiting Mom.She told me it was his birthday, which I forgot.  I said “Happy Birthday”, but I didn’t mean it.  I don’t care about him,and I think he feels the same about me, so, Happy Birthday little brother, and go fuck yourself.  happy_birthday

adoptee, adoption, anger, death, family, hospital, pain, rejection, reunion

The worst thing, so far

My mother is in Hospice care.  Her days are numbered.

All I want to do is be near her, for this last time in her life.  I got cheated out of so much, but I am not even allowed this last bit.

My mother kept her last child, a son, born 4 years after me.  She had one abortion, one adoption and finally she got it right, she kept him.  She appealed to his father’s family, and they helped her.  She told me she has never gone more than 4 days without speaking to him.  He is 48.

I was going to work today, woke up early and got dressed, but I hadn’t slept much the night before, and I really wanted to see my mother.  She was moved to the hospice floor last night, after I left the hospital.  I left when kept son came.  I don’t like to be around him.  I do not like him at all.  Part is jealousy, and part is the way he treats me.

My sweet husband drove me to the hospital, about 1 hour, by car from where I live.  I got there at 9 am, and found my dear Auntie lying in the empty bed in the peaceful, orderly room.  Mom was in the other bed.  She is emaciated, her bones sharp in her still beautiful face.  Her nose is mine, her chin and face, all so strange, yet so like my own!

I sat in the comfortable chair, and looked at my mother, marveling at this stranger who brought me into this world, and was so soon going to leave me again.  I sat with Mom while Auntie got a cup of coffee and smoked a cigarette.  I was glad to be with her, even though mom is not conscious.  She seems to be sleeping, snoring with a slight gasping sound.  It’s heartbreaking, but since it’s all I have left, I cherish it.

Then Auntie got a text, kept son was on his way!  Soon his face was at the door.  He began crying loudly.  We went out to get some air, and leave them alone for awhile.   Auntie wanted to get mom something pretty to wear.  Mom was very fashionable, and made a lot of her own outfits.  She studied fashion, and was an accomplished seamstress.  We went to the gift shop and picked up a pretty bed jacket.  Mom was wearing the fuzzy socks I had given her yesterday.

We went back into the room, and Auntie asked kept son to leave, so she could put the bed jacket on Mom.  He disappeared.  He then texted Auntie, asking when he could have time alone with his mother.

So we waited for him to come back, and we left.  Auntie had been at the hospital for 2 days, and had not showered or changed her clothes.  She headed back to her place and I headed back to mine. We rode the bus together for awhile, then she got off.  I stayed on until I reached the train station, where i caught a train home.  I had been planning to stay all day, and my husband was going to pick me up after work.

That’s not how it works when you’re given up for adoption.  He is her son, I am nobody and nothing. He kicks me out, and I get on the bus.  He is the alpha and the omega.

This was my parents choice.  they did this to me.  There is nothing for me to do but accept it.  Kept son can kick me out of my mother’s last days at any time.

I am nobody and nothing

I am nobody and nothing

Wasn’t a lifetime with her enough?  Why can’t I have this, too?

adoptee, adoption, hospital, rejection, reunion

My Mother is Gravely Ill

My mother, the one who gave me life is in the hospital, fighting for her life.

She had a large part of her liver removed.  I didn’t find out until 3 weeks later.  My half brother, the one she kept didn’t Tell me, because my mother said not to tell anyone.  This is another reason she should have kept me.  I am smart.  Smarter than my brother.  I would never not tell someone that their mother is having life threatening surgery!!!  There is NO excuse for that.  I am her child.

As soon as I found out, i went to the hospital.  Took off from work, got my ass on a train and a crosstown bus and went to see my mother. I haven’t seen her in over a year.  We have issues. She’s so happy to see me, and tells me I’m an angel who appeared out of nowhere.   She’s a mess.  Still bedridden, not really eating.

I called the hospital a few days later, and they tell me she was released!  I have no idea where she is.  I beg the one she kept, and he tells me shes in a nursing home, near his home.

I drive 2 hours with my 18 year old daughter, and go to the city where i was born.  The one who she kept’s wife is there.  She wisely hightails it out of there when she sees me.  If looks could kill.  There she is sitting with MY MOTHER and this woman didn’t even have the common decency to tell me she was ill, or that she was moved?  I feel the trauma of loss all over again.

We have a nice visit, but Mom still doesn’t look good.  A few days later, I wake up early, with a bad feeling in my heart.  I go downstairs and wait until 7am to call the nursing home.  They tell me she was released!!  There was no way this woman was going home.  She is bedridden.  They tell me she went back to the hospital.  I have no idea what has happened, but assume the worst.

The nursing home won’t tell me where she went, but the do tell me she went back to the hospital.  They transfer me to the head nurse, who asks me who I am.  I say her daughter, and they tell me I’m not the informant.  I have to ask the one who she kept if i want any info.  My husband calls him,  I wake him up, screaming, “my mother’s dying, and they won’t tell me where she is!’.  The poor man.  The one she kept didn’t answer his phone.  I beg the nursing home to tell me what city my mother’s in.  The head nurse finally blurts out the name of the hospital.

Mom had an infection and is back in ICU.  I go visit.

I realize the one she kept is not going to share information about my mother with me.  I call the hospital everyday, to check on her condition.