birthmother

All posts tagged birthmother

Surrogacy

Published October 12, 2018 by maryleesdream

rent

 

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.

 

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Positive Adoption Language

Published September 3, 2018 by maryleesdream
POSITIVE LANGUAGE NEGATIVE LANGUAGE
Birth parent Real parent
Biological parent Natural parent
Birth child Own child
My child Adopted child
Born to unmarried parents Illegitimate
Terminate parental rights Give up
Make an adoption plan Give away
To parent To keep
Waiting child Adoptable child
Making contact with Reunion
Parent Adoptive parent
Search Track down parents
Child placed for adoption Unwanted child
Court termination Child taken away
Child with special needs Handicapped child
Was adopted Is adopted
Two years behind in development Retarded (or other descriptive language)
Spinabifida, cleft lip, or other specific condition Deformed
Has disability or is physically challenged Handicapped
Describe specifics–intelligence Normal or grade level
Divorced Broken marriage
Separated from parents or rejected Deserted or abandoned
Is taking Ritalin Hyperactive
Neurological impairment Brain damaged

I can’t stand positive adoption language, or PAL.

It is a tool used by the adoption industry to normalize the act of giving you child away to strangers.  That sounds horrible, because it is!

How much nicer to think a loving mother made an adoption plan, and lovingly placed her newborn in another’s arms, then went on to live a happy, carefree life, sans baby.  What could be better?

Who want to hear of a desperate woman, convinced she will never be good enough for her own child.  Who wants to hear her cries as she walks away from her newborn, breasts still leaking milk, body still battered by childbirth?  The months and years of grief, for both mother and baby?

Much better to use PAL.  No pain in that story!  Whitewashed by new, better language.

How about changing murder to involuntary termination of respiration? Rape:  Unplanned sexual intercourse.  We can make anything palatable, if the language is right.

I was given away, surrendered, relinquished.  It was cruel, brutal and very ugly.  My language reflects that.  Real adoption language reflects the truth.  The horror.

The Past

Published August 5, 2018 by maryleesdream

lonely

 

Last night, I woke in the middle of the night, and I felt such fear and dread.  I sought the root of the feeling, and could not find it.  I remembered that I have always felt this, and that the feeling has no name.  I also remembered that it will pass.  It will return, and it will go away again.  I think we all have these feelings.  It’s the human condition.

When I think back on my childhood, I cannot find any happy memories.  None.  The whole thing is colored a dark grey, by my adoption.  Losing my mother, and never being allowed to even speak of it, colored my life.

No family. No one. Nothing. Every day, all day.

I could not wait to escape from my adoptive parents house.  I met my husband when I was 16.  Someone who could save me, and make me whole.

“But, your adoptive parents loved you.  They did not abuse you! They raised you!”.

I know. I was there.  They tried, but I was so hurt.  I could not feel their love.  Their love was spoiled for me, because it came at the expense of my real family.  I should not have been put in such an impossible position.  I could not accept the love of the ones who I felt were responsible for my loss.

Did they really love me?  I suppose so.  I was a good enough child.  But, I was not, and could never be their child.  They had to maintain the illusion that I was.  They did not tell anyone that I was adopted.  It was a hidden family secret, one that I dared not speak of.

How I hated the phrase, “when we got you”.  Got me? I wanted “when you were born”.  I wanted my mother to tell the story, of my birth, not the story of these  strangers who somehow, “got me”.

Even as a young child, I felt this way.

It was a lost cause, from the start.  I was broken, unable to be fixed.  On my own, from the start.  I had to turn my heart to stone.

I remember, being at my Auntie Irene’s house, during the long hot summers when I was 6 & 7.  There were 4 older kids there, my adoptive cousins.  They did not like me much.  The feeling was mutual, but I was at a disadvantage.  I was all alone, and they had each other, as well as their real parents, and I was an unwelcome guest in their home.  My adoptive parents sent me there so they could both work full time during the summer.

I used to lie awake in my borrowed bed, listening to my adoptive uncle’s snores and will my heart to be hard, like a stone so I would not feel the pain of being left alone, again.  I locked my self in the bathroom, and said every curse word I knew.

I went home on weekends, and never told my adoptive mother any of it.  I never told her the sex games my cousins would play either.  I finally told her when I was an adult, and she said, “why didn’t you tell me”.  Sigh.

Would I have sadness if I hadn’t been adopted?  I’m sure.  My real mother had issues.  I still loved and needed her.

DNA

Published April 17, 2018 by maryleesdream

dna

 

 

My father’s sister did 23 and me, and guess who popped up on her DNA family page, little ole me!

She was listed as my half sister, which would either mean her father,  is my father too, or my father, her brother is her father too.  I don’t think either is the case, with DNA relatives, they come close, but the exact relationship isn’t always certain.  But I kinda liked the idea that my dad slept with his mother.  Then finally his family would see he wasn’t a great guy.  I thought it was kinda funny.

So, I contacted her, on the 23 and me website.  We shared our DNA profiles.  It was nice.  Then we started emailing.  I shared my huge Ancestry.com tree with her.  She asked if I wanted to meet for dinner sometime, me and hubby with her and her hubby.

I did not want to do that.  I told her about the shunning, and she said my cousin, the one who told me about the shunning had it wrong.  There was no decision to shun me.  I guess it was not official, but everyone did it anyway?

Strangely, I have no desire to see my Aunt.  She does not mean much to me.  She told me that she loves my father, “warts and all” and cannot speak about his decisions.  Fair enough.  I can, and his decisions hurt a lot of people.  He’s a scumbag.  As long as I feel this way, I don’t think I can ever get along well with my aunt.  We can’t have a casual going out to dinner kind of relationship.  Especially after all those years of silence.

And…still no word about my mother.  No acknowledgement of her death.  No I’m sorry, nothing.  why would I want to be near this woman?  Well, I don’t.

Auntie said she’d be there if I ever wanted to get to know her.  Does that sound like a loving invitation?  It does not to me.  I know enough to stay away from this one…

 

 

Maybe I’ve Got it All Wrong

Published January 14, 2018 by maryleesdream

 

Family-gallery-for-clip-art-pictures-of-families-clipartcow

 

I think my birth parents are my parents, not my adoptive parents.

I do not think I’m related to my adoptive parents at all.  I can’t understand how I can be expected to believe unrelated strangers are my family.  I was raised by, and around my adoptive family, but I never,ever thought, or wished that I was related to any of them.

They’re OK people.  Not too bright, actually.  My mother was much smarter.  More damaged, for sure, but quick, in a way the adopters are not.  Mom & I both have large vocabularies.  A-mom, not so much.

It’s not a popular point of view, but it’s one I just cannot shake.

No one likes it.  My adoptive family think it’s wrong, because my A-parents raised me, and I should see them as my parents.  My birth family doesn’t like it.  I’m not sure how they feel about it, but it seems they don’t consider me a relative, and wish I would just vanish.  Which I have.  I have little contact with my natural family, 7 years after reunion.

We may have no contact, but they are still my relatives.  No matter what everyone else believes.

Are there any others out there like me, who do not understand how we’re supposed to believe strangers are our families?  Please let me know how it is for you.

She Should Have Been Proud

Published November 16, 2017 by maryleesdream

Mothers_and_children_II

 

My dear departed mother should have been proud of me.

I’m getting ready to go to work this morning.  I’m a supervisor in a busy government office.  I’ve raised 4 wonderful people into adulthood.  I own my own home and have been married to my sweetie for 34 years.

But she hated me.  My family shuns me.  It breaks my heart.  No matter what I do, it is never good enough.  I am tainted.  I am tainted by their rejection.

I’m 55 now

Published November 14, 2017 by maryleesdream

 

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……