I'd like to write some happy news about adoption...
But if I did that, not only would I be remiss in my responsibility to do whatever I can to ensure that the tragedy that has befallen me not befall someone else in the future, but I would also be adding another layer to the already polluted mountain of deceit in the broader base of information that's out there regarding adoption and how "wonderful" it is.
Broken Promises or Lies?
This truly, will never be over.
I found a comment today that just drove home the feelings that are always just below the surface of every waking moment. It said,
‘Everything broke that day, the sky and the earth and all the hearts in the world, nothing can ever mend it. It’s never over and it’s never done with. It is never over……
How come none of these types of things were never brought up when I was interacting with the adoption agency or the one visit I had with the counselor I was referred to by the adoption agency???? Oh that’s right, it wasn’t the priority. What WAS the priority was the ‘exchange’ (MONEY and baby).
Here is what the agency never wanted me to hear……..
REJECTION IS PROBABLE
YOUR SON WILL HAVE A WOUNDED SOUL
YOUR SON MAY NOT ACCEPT YOUR TRUTH
REUNION BRINGS GRIEF
HERE…..IS what I needed to hear:
http://familypreservation.blogspot.ca/2013/03/reunification-of-adoption-separated.html
W,
I just awoke from a dream where your dad and I were in a room together and I heard the sound that I had programmed for your APs text notifications on my phone. I looked at your dad with a look of confusion saying was that your phone or mine? It was his. He had the same notification setting. He then came walking over to me with his big grin, all excited and happy and said, “They responded to my text that I was thinking about them, and hoped they had a good day. They told me to have a good day too.”. He was so excited and happy. At that moment,
I woke from that and instantly had a heavy heart, because I knew that this will never happen.
Me speaking the truths of losing you to the industry, your APs cannot handle no matter how true they are, they cannot think about them, because then their consciences would be ridden with guilt. (I know mine would.)
Being in this position is a difficult one. Be quiet, or lose you all over again, which is what has happened. The power shift I felt in the hospital after signing those damn papers and then watching the ‘fist pump celebration’ of D (your Amom) through the cracked bathroom door that seemed to make me begin bleeding profusely, was once again very very real.
But you see, I cannot stop speaking of the truths. No matter how painful it is. It is the truth. I know we cannot get you back and for that I am so so sorry. Your dad knows just how sorry I am. Your sister knows that I cry for you daily still. But being able to help other women and babies and families realize all the truths of adoption will help them to be spared this pain. The silence would allow the industry to keep thriving on unsuspecting women who need help. Yes, we would be able to see you, but that cost for that is so great for so many others that need to be told the truths. It is not that I don’t love you. I would sacrifice anything other than your dad or your sister to have you back. But that is not ever going to happen. So, to be able to see you twice/year in person, a dozen times a year on Skype is not a relationship with you. It is not that I don’t love you, or want these things, it’s just that the price of silence (which means to me acceptance of the things that happened to me), is too much of a price to pay for being allowed minimal contact with you.
To spare others the pain, just by telling the truths of our story is such a big deal to me, it is helping me heal as I watch others make the decisions to keep their children with them. To not allow another baby to go through the trauma of losing his or her mother. To know they won’t suffer like we all are.
I hope one day you understand.
I can not be quiet and accept what happened. I will forever speak the truths until they are no longer able to happen to any other families.
And one day, we will see you and be able to touch you again.
We love and miss you so very very much.
Love, Mom
“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” Margaret Mead.
It’s been 2 months now since we’ve seen W for our 2nd visit. I have some great pictures from that visit thanks to my friend (an adoptee who cannot get her OBC because the state she was born in has 3 years still sealed and hers of course is one of them). She was all set up to take pictures for us last Christmas before they cancelled the visit 4 days before they were supposed to be here. I had a few ideas all ready for K & W, I had pajamas for them to wear in the pictures – kind of a Christmas morning type shoot. Anyway….we all know that didn’t happen. But when I asked her to come with just a couple days notice after they had already been here for few days (didn’t want to have to have anyone deal with another let down), she did not hesitate.
I have one of my favorite pictures from this latest visit as my wallpaper on my laptop. So people at work are seeing it occasionally. I don’t work with many in the location that I am in, most of them are scattered around the world. So, I only have a few that I have to field questions from. Of course, they don’t know the ‘real’ story, (don’t worry insecure APs – I’m not acting as if I am parenting him – I know how you hate it when natural mothers do that), but they know he does not live with us, and I do get visibly emotional when speaking of him. This makes them uncomfortable of course, and then they quickly end our interaction and I’m able to pull it back together again.
It seems I’m always trying to pull myself together. It’s a constant – and something that I never had to ever do before in my life. Try to just keep myself together. I had not a care in the world – other than being a good mom to K. She was my focus, well that, and making sure I could provide for the two of us. There is no one else to do that, which was my choice over being controlled by her biological father. My point is, life was pretty ‘together’.
Now, I feel like it could fall apart at any given moment. Standing in the shower is the worst. Probably because it was the place I would stand and cry every day while pregnant as I showered rubbing my belly. Standing in the mirror doing my hair. Holding K while she has big alligator tears streaming down her face because she misses W. In the car when I hear a song that reminds me of him, or of times when this ache didn’t exist. Watching TV and seeing a baby commercial. At work where the word ‘adoption’ is used at least every &*^$%^ hour, of course in a completely different context, but nonetheless, I have to say it constantly. When I see a pregnant woman, or a family with a child about W’s age. Or just hearing a random comment from a complete stranger sitting on a plane say ‘You can’t change your roots’. While trying to hold it together thinking, no, you can’t change them. But adoption will ensure you are disconnected from them.
Anyway, I’m going to tie in the title of this post now.
I don’t wear a lot of perfume. In fact, about 12 years ago or so, I started wearing just one. I got so many compliments on it, and when I told everyone the name they consistently commented ‘It fits you!’ It really did fit who I was, my personality, my demeanor, and after all how I truly felt inside and projected about life. I had it ‘going on’ as they say, my daughter, my career, my home, my friends and I had goals that I was accomplishing. This perfume never gave me a headache, never was too strong and it had a great name – ‘Happy’.
I ran out of it about a year ago, and I haven’t bought myself anything in the past year or so. Not one piece of clothing, not a pair of shoes, and I think I’m going on about 5 months without even a trim on my hair. I’m numb and none of that ‘stuff’ really matters to me – as I’m just trying to keep myself together on the daily. I think I do a pretty good job of it – at least people who don’t live with me don’t know. K sees that I truly struggle with keeping myself together. Keeping the house together. Keeping it together at my job – which is easier than any of the other places – my mind is kept busy and distracted there.
Anyway, a while ago was my birthday, and H2 got me my favorite perfume. Yep, Happy.
But now, I’m not the same. Putting on the perfume isn’t the same. I’m not ‘transformed’ by the scent as I used to be.
I’ve always noticed that certain perfumes were better on certain people. Red Door for example, doesn’t smell good on everyone. Perfume has to be a good combination with a person’s pH. I’m wondering if this is all in my head, or if my pH has changed, just as my mind, heart and soul have been changed by losing W.
Oh how I wish I could just pick up that bottle of Happy and it would magically make me and life how they used to be…….Happy.
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