Monday, October 31, 2011

Bringing out the Snarky in Me

I saw this link on the Adoption News and Events page that I follow on Facebook.  What is it they say about not learning from the past and having history repeat itself?  Here are a few "facts" from their Info page:

Advantages to Closed Adoption:
-sense of closure and privacy for birth parents: Wow, not knowing where my child was, what his name was, how he was, etc. created a real sense of closure for me over the last 32 years.  And I'm oh so happy that he couldn't find me EVER, not to mention medical facts about himself because of those privacy protecting closed records.
-reduced fear of having to explain reasons and prevent confrontation: God forbid anyone should have to explain adoption to their adopted child and even scarier, to have to confront, I don't know, anger? confusion? fear? from their adopted child.
-protection and less threat to adoptive parents: That's right, better protect yourselves from those hatchet waving, crazed, grief stricken birth parents who I'm sure are going to call you every chance they get and threaten you.

Why Keep Record Closed:
-opening records causes more birth parents to debate if adoption is the right decision.  Well, that is definitely a no, no.  Wouldn't want birth parents thinking too hard about this.  They might actually *gasp* decide that raising their babies is the best thing.
-invades personal privacy that birth parents were promised:  Hellooo???  How many times do we have to say this?  We were never promised privacy!!  This is a myth of, oh, I don't know, mythical proportions? Not only were we not promised it, most of us don't want it.  Personally, nothing pisses me off more than someone using me as a poster child for something I DON'T WANT!

There are more beautiful tidbits on their page, but nausea has taken over, and I feel a threatening rant coming on that I might have to explain to someone.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

What a Difference a Day Makes

Well, I meant to post this the day after my last post, which was a bit of a much needed pity party for myself.  When I was dancing professionally, I had a rule for myself.  I gave myself one day of pity partying after an audition if I didn't get the role I wanted.  I would skip ballet class, eat mac and cheese and ice cream, cry, watch stupid tv, sleep and basically give myself permission to mope.  Usually, towards the end of the day, I would start to ponder what went wrong at the audition, things I did well, things I could've done better, why they may not have cast me, etc.  Next morning I was (usually) ready to hit it again and was regrouped.

Same thing happened here.  I was really low the other day, not sure exactly why it came on when it did.  Towards the end of the day I started taking advice that I'd heard on here (thank you!) and started configuring a plan of sorts.  I'm a planner.  I can go with the flow as long as there is a general plan in place to keep me focused.  (Actually, now that I think about it, maybe that's why I got so blue.  My original plan wasn't working anymore, time to come up with a new one!)

So, I'm going back to the private blog for him and I to share.  I'm going to create pages for photos and info on family members, a page for medical info, and a page for my thoughts.  I mentioned doing this before, but was really having a hard time coming up with the "right" opening post.  I've finally realized that there are no "right" things to say if they don't include my truths around this.  Dancing around issues and trying to phrase them in a way that's pc is not my style, so what I was writing just felt contrived and fake.

I've finally come up with a letter that I'm happy with.  It speaks to my hopes for him that he's had a great life, but it also addresses my feelings around not having raised him.  I addressed the fact that not having raised him made our lives different than what they would've been.  No way to know now if it was better or worse, just different than they would have been together.  It made me feel good to say that to him.  It's my truth around this.  I've come to accept that I can only control what I do, not how he reacts.  If I have any hope of a relationship with him, acting and speaking in an honest manner has to be where it starts.  It's better for him to understand that about me from the beginning.  Maybe it'll help him be honest with me as well, even if it's what I consider to be "bad news."

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Feeling like nothing

I've been absent from blogging for about a month.  Part of it was that I was just really busy with life.  The other part is that I'm just depressed and distressed over the lack of communication from my son.  The complete lack of response from him in more than nine months is leaving me feeling like a big fat nothing.  Non existent in his life, which is the reality he seems to want to stick to.  I've seen pictures of him on the internet.  He looks happy and healthy.  That's what he's supposed to be, right?  I gave up my rights to enjoy that with him, right?  From everyone else's perspective this has all worked out as planned, right?

Thirty two years later and I'm still shedding tears over this.  Is there going to be a time that I will feel like I'm not going to be punished for this decision forever?  Is there going to be a time when my friends and family will truly understand what this feels like?  When my husband doesn't look at me like I'm turning into a scary stalker instead of a mother desperate for information about her son?  Will I ever get to see my two children meet and maybe share a laugh together?

I know in the past I've said we could take it on his terms.  It would be helpful if he would tell me what they are.  As you might be able to tell from this post, I vacillate between being sad and weepy over this and actually becoming quite a bit pissed off about it as well.  This leaving me hanging thing has gotten really old.  If you don't want me around, tell me to fuck off.  Trust me, there are days (many of them lately) that feeling shattered would feel better than feeling this vulnerable.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that he's healthy and happy.  I'm just ready to stop feeling so insignificant.  I mean really, I even enclosed a SASE for him to send back the letter if it wasn't him, or if he didn't want contact.  He doesn't even have to walk to the mailbox!  He can hand it to the doorman on his way to work and it'll get mailed.

Some people may think I deserve this because of the decision I made not to raise him.  I don't.  I deserve at least an answer, even if it's "i'm not sure" or "you're the last person I want to know."  Being rejected at this point would be easier.  At least I'd be worthy of something.  At this point, I'm just a big fat nothing, not even worthy of rejection.  Sucks.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Ah, adoption life!

I've been absent from here for a while.  I'll get to that soon.  Just wanted to share an experience that happened last week.

I was standing in my store, my daughter and her best friend had just arrived from school.  An older woman (I'm guessing mid-sixties) came in asking me if I sold postcards.  I have a boutique for women, clothing, accessories and shoes, not a postcard in sight.  We live in a lovely small town outside San Francisco, on the water.  Should be a big tourist town, but it's the best kept secret in the Bay Area.  You would think there would be postcards all over the place, but there aren't.

Sometimes I feel a little like a bartender.  People come in my store and and out of the blue start to tell me details of their lives.  This woman tells me that she was really sick last year and that her brother is waiting in the car for her.  This is significant because it's only the second time she's ever met her brother.  You see, her mother had given her brother up for adoption when he was born.  Really?!  I look at my daughter and just smile.  I tell the woman that I hope she enjoys her visit with her brother and hope that she finds those postcards she's looking for.

When she leaves I look at my daughter and say "I really hope you're not that old when you get to meet your brother."  "Mom, when I'm that old he's going to be like 80."  "Yep", I answer, "and I'm going to be long gone."  Really hope she gets to meet him before I'm 80.