Changing Out Our Truths

Everybody has that friend or family member that they dearly love, spend time with, and find satisfaction with having them in their lives.  But this person, for whatever reason, makes other people feel uncomfortable.  Maybe they have a physical or mental impairment.  Maybe they are loud and outspoken.  They could have served time in jail, or are recovering addicts or alcoholics.  Maybe they have a disease that people find uncomfortable to be around.  Whatever the reason, this person is not included with the inner circle of people held near and dear to your life.  Their very presence, whether you wish to acknowledge it or not, makes YOU uncomfortable knowing that your other family and friends will feel they must walk on eggshells to be around them.  Face it - you are a little embarrassed to have them around because you feel the need to explain who they are or what they are, or what the connection is to this person.  People may even ask how or why you hang out with them and you feel the need to explain that, too.  And so, you keep this person for yourself and spend time with them when it is convenient for you, but you rarely, if ever, include them in the mainstream of your life. 

I'm not saying that all people are this shallow.  If we are honest with ourselves, however, I think we all are guilty of this at some point with some person.  I know I am.

Mothers of Loss in reunion often feel like that excluded person.  I still tend to let the "waiting" overcome my feelings of love and joy for all I have to be replaced with confusion, anxiety and sadness. I know and understand that my very presence makes some uncomfortable.  Because I am a "birthmother", I am somehow suspect.  Less than human.  I am to be studied, like a fish in a bowl or a bug under glass, and possibly held with as much disdain. This treatment, to someone introverted and socially awkward (like me), seems to scream YOU AREN'T WANTED HERE.  STAY AWAY.  And so, the invitations stop and you are relegated back to your spot on the shelf, taken out whenever it is convenient.

I have often felt as though I am the neighborhood stray dog waiting for any scrap of food or attention to come my way.  Sometimes, I hate myself for that.  Shamed into silence for so many years and finally coming out of the closet, we crave confirmation that we are valued in the lives of lost sons and daughters.  I hate myself for that, too.  These overwhelming feelings have the capacity to be all encompassing and threaten to take over our very lives.  This is my problem and my problem alone.  Only I have the power to change this.  My thoughts are MY thoughts.  I cannot control the thoughts, feelings and actions of others, however much I wish that were possible.

As I woke up on this Christmas morning, the greatest gift I can give to myself is the gift of letting go.  I simply do not wish to feel this way anymore.  I do not wish for one person to have this much hold over my life or my emotions.  I have given all that I have, all that I am. If I am somehow an object of shame, so be it.  They are the ones missing out, not me.  But, slapping a label on me and declaring me defective is unacceptable.  For many, I am more than enough.  I am the friend, the wife, the mom with no explanations needed or required.   

My new mantra for 2015

I have a family who loves me, friends who care about me and a wonderful husband.  I need not feel inadequate as a person. So, no more expectations.  I accept what may come.  I accept the love of those near and dear to me - the ones who value me in their lives.  The people who care how I feel.  The ones who think enough of me to take the time out of their busy lives to take a step back and sincerely ask "so, what's up with you?" and really want to hear.  My heart and my home will always be open - no doors are closing.  But, I value myself far too much to allow my life to be held hostage by my own thoughts and disappointments.

I am a lucky and very blessed woman.  In the coming year, I will live THAT truth. Ladies, enjoy those around you.  You are wonderful, caring, loving people.  Please - KNOW THAT.  Know it not just in your head, but in your hearts. Work hard to know that.  You deserve it.

OK - I have to go.  This writing stuff is cutting in to my time to play with my doggies and hug my husband. Merry Christmas and happy holidays to all!    

In 2014, it is still just rock and roll?

My son and I have been reunited for almost 3 years.  We have a very close and connected relationship.  Having him back in my life is pure joy and something I dreamed about but never considered to be a possibility in the dark years. 

When I decided to search, I knew that if I opened the door to reunion and he chose to walk through it, he deserved nothing but the truth about his origins - all of it.  The good, the bad, and the ugly.  Truth to tell, I was sick of the lies and the "swept under the rug" attitude I had encountered for 35 years.  Simply put, secrets hurt.  I felt I had hurt my raised daughters by not telling them prior to my search, and I knew I was hurt by no mention of my son over those long and very sad years.  (To be clear, my husband always knew.  His only reaction to my decision to search was "it's about time.")

My son's father was a musician.  I won't name names, but frankly at this point it is unlikely that you would recognize the name if I told you. Sadly, he passed away in 2005 and my son will never have the chance to meet the man who fathered him.  Upon reading about his passing, I was saddened for his wife who lost her husband too soon, and for any living family who may struggle with his passing on a daily basis.  He was in his early 60's when he passed with much life left to live, love to be given, and joy to be discovered. Lost too soon.

My son was conceived as a result of a one night stand after a concert when I was 16. I was just a wide-eyed, stupid teenage girl who got lost in the moment.  His natural father was 31 at the time.  While I told him everything I knew about his father, understandably it wasn't much.  Most of what I know I found online.  I had contacted him when I found out I was pregnant, spoke with him a couple of times, but obviously nothing ever came from it.  

Upon discovery, my son has ached for someone - anyone - with whom he could speak about his natural father.  He wanted to know the type of man he was, what he was like, what he liked.  Did he think about his son?  Did he care?  We tried to find family members he might connect with, but they were all dead or unresponsive.  The last person we felt was an option was his father's widow. He was with this woman when I became pregnant so there was a 50/50 chance that she knew about this - maybe so, maybe not.  Turns out, when my son contacted her, it was maybe not - or so she said.  (When my son was trying to explain the nature of the call, she blurted out "your XXXXXX's son, aren't you?  But supposedly she didn't know.  Sorry, nobody is that cosmic.)  That was one year ago.  She spoke with him, was generally pleasant, and told him a bit about his father.  She never contacted him again, as she said she might, and he never attempted to contact her again. 

He made an attempt to contact one of his natural father's so-called best friends but was met with a somewhat frosty reply.  Clearly, he knew about this, but was more concerned about the widow.  I can't really blame him for that, of course, but still.  Throw my son a bone or something.  Just a little info.  To my knowledge, that was the only contact he ever had with that man.  He did attempt to contact him prior to speaking with the widow, but honestly forgot he sent the message.  He and I both had tried so many people, and really you don't keep written lists of who you contacted and when.

Yesterday, after much soul searching, discussion and thought, my son went public.  He was sick of still feeling like he was a dirty secret, still in hiding.  And, for what?  This is his truth, his story.  He has the right to share that with anyone he chooses.  Being a grown man of almost 40, he can make those decisions about his life for himself.  I gave him my blessing, which seemed to be important to him, but really, it wasn't up to me.  It was up to him.  He owed me no explanation for his actions.  I actually encouraged him to do what he felt was right for him. The truth can be freeing.

Within an hour, he received a angry phone call from the widow.  She accused him of being a black- hearted liar, among other things. She also had many choice terms and phrases to throw out about me.  I have no ill will towards this woman, I don't know her, and she doesn't know me.  But, still, as we all know in adoptionland, people feel they have the right to downgrade the "birthmother" because we are, well, "birthmothers".  That automatically puts us in a box in a most unfavorable and unsavory light. You know what I'm talking about, right?

Seems she is incredibly angry.  At my son and I.  I guess it was ok for her husband to do what he did, but it was not ok what I did and it certainly wasn't ok what my son did.  So let me just apologize to her for a few things here.

I'm sorry that your friends knew about this and didn't think enough of you to tell you.  Closed, secret adoptions are the absolute worst kinds (assuming that any of them are good at all).  Secrets destroy lives and typically cannot be kept indefinitely.  Somebody always knows something or somebody needs to know something and asks questions.  People will always talk eventually even if it is to clear their conscience.  Just so you know, I found my son through the perfectly legal intermediary system, played by the rules, wrote the letter, and was reunited.  My first letter to him named the father - I would not have considered concealing that information.   What he chose to do with that information is not my business, nor is it yours.  But, we are both connected to this, aren't we?  Me - I'm the mother.  You - you are the woman whose husband, for whatever reason, cheated on her and a child was the result.  Suppose for one minute that you had known of his existence.  You could have just as easily been thrilled to finally find him.  But no, he was that dirty secret swept under the rug so that some cash cow golden boy could continue to make money for those around him.  Lady, not my fault.  And certainly not my son's.  Deal with it.

I'm sorry that you are mad that even though your husband signed his legal rights away, he is still connected to my son through blood.  I don't care if 52 people witnessed his signing the papers, it doesn't alter what happened.  Contrary to what you might believe, adoption is only a legal piece of paper, an ownership of sorts, like buying a car.  It doesn't alter DNA.  It doesn't change the beginning of the story.  A falsified record is issued stating that the baby is "as if born to", when in fact, that wasn't the case at all.  I can tell you who he was born to - me.  And your husband was the father - or the "sperm donor" as you put it.  You can put whatever spin on that you wish; the fact remains he was the father and obviously believed it or he wouldn't have gone to such lengths to sign away his rights - a move that really wasn't even necessary.  So, deal with that, too.

I'm sorry that you feel like you know me well enough to think that I went around having sex with "rock stars" as you put it.  That's quite an accusation seeing how you know nothing about me, my family, my life, or what I suffered from the loss of my first child to a forced adoption.  In fact, at this point due to your online presence, I know far more about you than you ever will me.  And from what I've seen, it looks like you firmly attached yourself to the teat of a "rock star" and gleaned your identity from that.  You are like 30 minutes older than I am so just admit it - your husband had a thing for young girls.  And, if as you say "it's just rock and roll," you'd think he would have had enough sense to carry condoms if he was going to go around having sex with underage girls.  But, I guess he was perfect.  As apparently you are.  Your hands are completely clean, aren't they?  Uh-huh.  We have all done things in our life of which we aren't particularly proud, but you didn't have to broadcast yours, did you?  Lucky you.  Birthmothers are the only people in the world expected to discuss their sex lives upon demand.  You could lie your way out of it if you wanted; I don't have that luxury since the result of my one night stand comes over and lays on my couch, pets my dogs and watches football.  If having him in my life means I tell the whole world how he came to be, trust me - it's worth it.  I've never hidden this.  Nor would I.

I'm sorry he ruined your holidays.  Lucky you, though.  You were able to go on for 37 years and never know about it.  You didn't have to wonder whether the child you gave birth to was dead or alive.  You didn't have to look around at your beautiful family and feel hurt that your daughters were missing out on a brother and you were missing your son.  You didn't have to stare at an empty chair and hurt from wishing that it was filled with the child you lost.  You didn't have to shop for gifts and think that if only he was here, I would buy this or that toy, sweater, guitar, etc. You didn't go into a deep depression every year on his birthday wondering if he was ok, did he need you, did he miss you, did he even know you existed.  You didn't sit at your nephew's graduation and become completely overwhelmed with the realization that your son, if he was fortunate enough to still be alive, had graduated the year before and you missed not only that, but every childhood thing he was involved with prior to that time.  And it was over.  And you lost out.  So, having a little prob with your Christmas this year?  Deal with it.  I will happily welcome my illegitimate, beautiful bastard son, fathered by your husband, and give him - whoops- can't say.  I know him now and I don't want to spoil the surprise.

Worst to me of all is that you never considered that had my son never known the truth, the likelihood that he would have met the same fate as your husband is a sad reality.  Knowing this, my son can take preventive measures so that he might enjoy good health and live to a ripe old age.  But, because of your feelings, you would rather see him meet the same ending.  This is what happens in the closed records adoption system.  People needlessly suffer disease that could be prevented because the adult adoptee isn't allowed to know anything about their medical history.  Can you see how messed up that is?  Do you not get that?  Are your feelings more important than his very life?  Can you at least be happy that someone might not suffer as your husband did?  I understand pride, but geez lady, have a heart.

And by the way, if you are going to talk bad about his family, please at least use the correct terminology.  My son has two half sisters, and one step sister - not 3 step sisters.  That may seem inconsequential to you, but it means the world to him.  So when you speak disrespectfully about us, please use the correct labels. And I'm not a "birthmother", I'm just a mother.  Taking my child away from me does not mean I am not a mother.  And my husband is his step-dad.  There.  Now you know.

I truly am sorry for the losses you have endured during your life.  But yours doesn't trump mine or his.  You need to understand that all of us suffered loss from one angle or another.  You don't get the corner on the market.  It's now 2014.  Nobody cares about any of that anymore.  Nobody cares who your husband was.  Nobody gives a flip what my family consists of or what your family doesn't consist of.  If you don't want us to know information about you, take all your crap off the internet.  My son didn't want a thing from you except information.  He is curious.  Wouldn't you be if you had never met your father?  This isn't about you.  This isn't about me.  This is about him.  But, you blew it.  Thanks a lot.  Enjoy your life you absolute horror of a human being.   

Thankful? No? You Aren't Alone

It's Thanksgiving!  A time for families to come together, celebrate their multitude of blessings, laugh when Aunt Sara drinks too much wine, and maybe plan that Black Friday shopping trip.  It's a time to play games, eat too much and watch football.  Loosen the top button on your pants.  Make yourself aware of all that you have and just how fortunate you are for having it.

If you are a Mother of Loss, you feel the void in your life deeply during holidays.  Maybe you were promised an open adoption that has since closed.  Maybe you had a closed adoption and still don't even know if your child-now-adult is even alive.  Maybe you have met your child or adult child, but they have chosen to continue their lives without you in it, for whatever reason.  Maybe, just maybe, you are in a "good" reunion, but still feel the burden of all the lost and unknown years when you left an imaginary place at the table for your MIA child. 


The only words of comfort I can give to you today is be kind to YOU.  It doesn't matter what others think or feel about your situation - the only person that matters is YOU.  You need not rewrite you story to make it more palatable for others to accept.  You know what happened to you and regardless of how vile and unbelievable the circumstances surrounding the loss seems to others, it is, as they say, what it is.  Your feelings are your feelings.  Know that there is solidarity with thousands of other women who sit at a table today with an empty place who feel the way you do.

I offer my sympathy for your loss.  I recognize your grief for your loss and your absolute right to feel that grief.  As a fellow Mother of Loss, I empathize with the never-ending, grating deep soul pain you experience.  Feel your feelings.  It's ok.  Reach out to your supportive people today just to let them know they are important (and often, this is NOT your family). You are a survivor.  Remember - Mothers of Loss are some of the strongest women in the world.  We have to be. 

Peace, light and blessings to you all.  I for one am thankful that you are with me on this journey.  Without the ability to share with fellow Mothers of Loss, I would still sit at that Thanksgiving table in total darkness.  While still difficult, my light now shines because of support from women like you.

Have a peaceful day.

National Adoption Month - Kiss My Arse

Even though I swore to myself I wouldn't put myself through this, I've been spending this, the first day of National Adoption Month looking at posts from various agencies, individuals and organizations.  I looked at the page from the adoption agency that stole placed my son for adoption, and surprisingly, nothing was on it about NAM.  Back in 1976, they ran the lovely "Home of Redeeming Love" where I was incarcerated stayed until my son was stolen  placed for adoption.  The home is gone, but the agency is still alive and well and boasts of stealing babies "helping women for 100 years".  You can find their website here if you have a strong enough stomach.  Be sure to read their history.  And the director likes to show up to protest open records in Oklahoma so I'm told - but that's another story. 

OK, enough about me.

I noticed that as usual, adoptees are making a strong presence on Facebook, Twitter and the internet with their views on adoption.  I'm glad they have the fortitude to speak out with their feelings of being adopted and their adverse views on adoption as a whole.  Their stories need to be told, need to be heard and need to be recognized as the "adoption professionals" as only one can be if one has lived it.  To them, I say Bravo! and applaud loudly.  Standing.  With conviction and a couple of tears.   

Strangely absent, however, are remarks from mothers of loss or first families. You can't discuss "national adoption month" without some thought or at least a nod to us moms who have not just been "touched" by adoption - we have been thrown completely under the bus of adoption, saw the bus back up, and watched it run over us again.  For where would NAM be if not for those of us who selflessly gifted our children to those who desired them (or were drug addicts and prostitutes - depends on who is talking). I searched and searched and ran across a post that does not specifically mention NAM, but I was completely floored nonetheless. 


"THIS IS MY STORY & THE PAIN I'VE BEAR'D FOR MANY YEARS. I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU SON , I WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER YOUR CRY. I WISH I COULD OF SEEN YOU'RE EYES & THE TINY LITTLE SOUL GOD GAVE YOU. I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER
A Mothers Heart cries in the darkness of her soul for the child she so longs for. No one can hear her or see her it’s a secret place that no one must know she hides her fears in this darkness with the pain each day as if a wrench was being taken upon her soul and crushing it tight that she would hold her chest in fear that she would die with this pain and never get to meet her child one day.
As the years wonder by the fear is still among her darkness crushing her soul like the waves that smash among the rocks on the ocean’s edge and then wash away and slowly disappear and she becomes sadder once again knowing it’s another day wondering where her child might be is he ok what is he doing is he happy is he thinking of her too? Does he wonder what she Looks like or how she smelt next to him as she held him in her arms when he was born, her "child oh how she longs to hold him" his tiny hands and look into your eyes !
She never got to hold her baby or look at him and hold his little hands and count his little toes and kiss him on his cheek and tell him that she was in love with him her child the child she might never meet or ever see. He was taken away from her as if she had no soul as if she didn't matter as if her tears didn't have any meaning as if she didn't have a voice a voice to name her baby, her baby who would grow to know another women as his mother
This was not fair she didn't know her child was within her own soul, growing, getting to know his mommies voice, her laughter, her cry’s her joys all that he heard while developing the bond within her as she became in her final hour of birthing, she cried with joy and she cried with fear she knew that her child would be taken never to return again.
Her spirit weaken with the fear of darkness as if the tide ripping thru the cliffs had taken her breath away her tears had fallen she knew the fear, the fear she couldn't fight back in a strange town with no one around to help her fight and run with her child, SHE was alone her child taken, stolen, never to be seen. Never to be spoken of among her relatives she had visited that summer in 1973
5,10,15,20,30,now forty years has passed her by things haven’t changed within her heart she’s cried, prayed that somay she will know her son and he will hear her story and know that she always thought of him and loved him with all her heart and soul. Never did she want to let him go he was her little angel & she is still waiting for you ,so if you’re out there please contact you're Mother me Theresa Lujan (Surname) Segues-Free
I love you I call YOU Angel
Born in: Del Rio Texas
between June 16 to 24th 1973 Born in a Home
: 604 Cuellar St. They had me drugged while in labor with you. Born:
Right on the same property as the Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe
Delivered by a family Doctor Calderon , taken away by a priest of that church Father Diaz. Not. By choice you were abducted by them.
I am sure you were taken to another state and given a different birthday and a false certificate? Why else would they have done this to me ? To us.
Your Mom & Dad both 15 at the time of your birth, both from So. Calif you are Latino /Filipino. You're Father was the love of my life, my First love both so young and broken by being apart from our love for one another, had we know i was carrying you my son we would of Been together.
One day we will be united one day , i hold on to hope & faith that I will finally get to hold you in my arms & look into your eyes & know it is you. One day my son
.Dad: Richard R. Hudgis Sr. from Wilmington, Calif
Mom from Santa Ana, Cal
Both born in 1957"

This, my friends who know nothing of adoption and those who, unfortunately, know everything about adoption,  is your NAM for us Mothers of Loss.  This woman that I do not know, and have never seen or spoken to, just poured her heart out for the world to see.  Here are all of our feelings in this woman's words.  Whether reunited with our lost sons and daughters or not, whether hiding in the darkness of fear and shame or out every weekend waving the "adoption sucks" banner, this is what we have all felt day after long day, year after year.  My heart breaks for this woman.  I want her to know her son.  I want her to know we, the Mothers of Loss, welcome her into our fold with open arms, open hearts and listening and caring ears.  Mostly, I want her to know that she is not alone in her pain.  She has sisters out here.  Sadly, too many sisters.

So, Kiss my Arse, NAM.  I could write for a decade and not be able to capture the emotion this woman placed in one post. 

And, should anyone have any information for this woman, the original Facebook post appears here.

So glad you're here!!

If you stumbled onto this page, you must have some connection with adoption.  If you got past the "Mothers in Recovery" - then I would guess you are a mother of adoption loss.  Welcome. 

We belong to a club.  A group of women who prefer to have never been inducted.  Sadly, there's no way out of this club.  Once in, you are a lifetime member.  It can be lonely.  It can be devastating.  It can crush you with raw longing and emotions.  It can make you physically sick.  We do, however, go on to live productive lives.  It might not be easy, but we are survivors.  But it hurts.

 

 No doubt, it's tough to discuss your thoughts, feelings and emotions with those around you.  I couldn't do it for 35 years which constitutes the bulk of my adult life.  Actually, I was told not to discuss it - in fact, I was told at 17 never to speak of it again.  Once I took the tape off my mouth, you couldn't shut me up.  I have shared my story, and subsequently heard other women's stories for almost 3 years and it never fails to strike me how awful we were treated for the sake of - what?  Society?  Our parents?  Our significant others? 

I truly feel that if I could have kept myself in the dark for so long, never speaking, how many other mothers are still out there living in an emotional closet?  Are there others like me who still think they are the only ones this ever happened to?  Are there women who are so guilt-ridden they can't even begin to consider that another human might welcome their story, and listen to their pain?  I would like to think I was just really dumb and backward and am the only one that felt this way.  But I fear that's not the case.

If you have never told your story, here is your outlet.  If you have always wanted to ask if your feelings are real or imagined, here is your place.  If you have wanted to compare you story, complain about adoptive parents, have a reunion question - again, here is your place.  I cannot promise you that there won't be controversy or snarky comments from those outside the club; I can promise you validation for YOUR story, YOUR truth from the people who have lived it.  Everybody else doesn't matter.  In this place, you are the most important person.  Ask, tell, rant, cuss - I don't care.  Join in.  You are loved, and not just by me, but many others.  If you are a seasoned truth teller - welcome.  If you have never uttered even a whisper of your story before - welcome.  We are birth/first/natural mothers of loss.  We get it.