"Negativity is going to . . . deter possible adoptive parents from going forward.”
Ah, the comments that always come flying from others. Aren’t they fun? Sometimes I just let them pass. Sometimes I allow them to affect me more than I should. And this time . . . I have decided to pick it up and add it here on my blog.
Yesterday was . . . plain and simply . . . one of those “hell” days. A day when I so desperately wished I could just pretend that I knew nothing about adoption and it’s “other” side. A day when I simply wanted to be “normal” like all those other moms I see at the school, on my block, everywhere I seem to look.
I wanted to be one of them. Someone who could look into the faces of ALL her children and never have to know what it felt like deep down inside to know there was always one missing. Always a gash in the heart for the son that was yours but you couldn’t claim as your own. I didn’t want my arms to ache anymore to hold him. I didn’t want that “knowledge” in my heart of what it felt like to lose such a vital part of myself.
It was a pity party in every way. One I toasted with a couple glasses of wine (Okay, it was more like three or four but I have strong Italian blood running through these veins, so I’m going to hold that as my justification.) I forgot for a while the adoption debate existed. I gave myself permission to just “BE” without all the extra tags that come along with it.
And today dawned a new day. With renewed determination and a banishment of all self pity. And as the sun rose in the east, so did my realization of what I’m fighting for and why I can’t ever quit. Why I have to remain strong in the face of comments meant to push me back, shut me up.
Like the one above.
The tears have cleared now, giving me the clarity to approach such an accusation with rational thought and understanding.
It’s called fear. Not mine, but that of the one who posted the comment. What she calls negativity is actually truth – my truth. The one I lived. The experience that was mine.
And because I’m here. Because I actually exist to stand up and speak out about what happened to myself and my son all those years ago, she is terrified of what it might do to the “fairy-tale” image of adoption.
Deterring adoptive parents away from the current trend of adoption is exactly what I hope for. I want them to think, to rethink, and then to rethink again before they sign that check, write the disgusting, “Dear Birthmother” letter and hold their arms out to take a baby from his or her mother.
I want them to wonder with every step they take if their adoption is indeed ethical. I want them to question the affects it might have on the first/natural mother and on the tiny, innocent baby they so desperately want to call their own.
THAT’S why I’m here. THAT’S why I find myself spending so much time speaking out about adoption, learning the stories of others. Researching always every side, every angle I can find.
I don’t do it because I have nothing better to do. I don’t do it because it’s fun or easy or gains me any kind of compensation. I do it because I want my voice to be heard. I want to somehow make a difference and help another in ways I wish I would have been helped.
The accusations and arguments can come from all sides. It will never change what is the basic fact . . .
In adoption, I lost, my oldest son lost, my husband – his father – lost, and my three other children lost. We can never know a day that was not shadowed in some way or another by our truths of adoption. Everything we are, everything we’ve been, has been guided in some way or another by adoption. It has always been the heavy fact hanging over us. The dark cloud that never truly disappears.
At times . . . yes . . . there will be those who can push me hard enough to get me to sit down and shut up. But it’s a temporary setback. One I know will never be permanent because I have too much to fight for, speak up against.
Those who want me silenced because I put a glitch in their goal to gain more will simply have to live with the fact that I cannot be silenced forever.
Never again will I allow someone else’s ugly ways deter me from what I know to be true in my heart. They can fight me all they want. They can tell me what I’m doing is wrong, proclaim the worst of all dooms because I am daring to be heard. It WILL NOT affect me this time. I will never again doubt what I feel simply because another tells me I’m wrong.
So for those who believe like the comment above, you are wasting your time if you hope I will sit down and shut up for good. I did that once. I fell into the trap. And for it, I, my son, my husband, and my other children, have suffered a loss greater than you can ever imagine.
And see, where you might think your arguments and insults carry weight, you have no clue to the truth of what I face.
In my world what carries weight is the suffering of my son. A suffering that fills my heart and weighs on my thoughts every minute of every day. You can go on believing the “fairy-tale” of adoption but, for me, my truth lies in the eyes . . . the eyes of my oldest son. Eyes that are mine and reflect the same pain and loss caused by that one moment in time when I actually let the selfish, greedy voices around me control the lives they never had any right to.
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