Sunday, July 17, 2011

FOUND!

   This five letter word was used when I called back my contact an adoptee who knew how to enter the data bases that are accessed for many on or off internet. I have not heard this word in my own reunion since 1992 but get a special feeling whenever I hear it used by others especially those that have been involved in searches.
   Something so profound yet so longed for by many the word found. Little did I know my own search would end when I went to a meeting where an adoptee was being escorted out of the meeting you had been in charge of that evening. She had the presence of mind to pass out phone numbers and tell us she was meeting at local pizza parlor if we wanted to join her. I instead stayed and listened to meeting, took, notes and then called the number on the piece of paper the next day. Within a week or so I heard my
found on the other end of the telephone. Relieved and scared I made my call a call I had waited 26 years for a mere drop in the bucket for some. A lifetime of loss, a lifetime of missing and wondering if my son had survived. When I called he was celebrating his birthday although not his birthday it was a weekend and convenient to celebrate on that day. How ironic I would call and see him that night. As the doorbell rang I walked over and looked through small glass pane to see my baby a grown mad looking back at me for our first face to face. A face that had his papas look yet the handsome face of a face I had seen while growing up my brothers faces. He is a cross between his families like we all are a mix of blondness with blue eyes with a strong jaw and handsomely shaped face of my family combined with his papas. I was given some beautiful yellow roses, and held my arms out to embrace my baby for the first time. FOUND!

 


 

Saturday, July 2, 2011

My Truth/Lies in Adoption and Why I Will SPEAK

In 1966, my son was taken for adoption. I was 17 years old and still in high school. I was a perfectly normal young woman. No drugs, no alcohol in my life. In fact, I was already a mother to my daughter who was 2 1/2 years old when I had her full brother. Their father was a young man who had enlisted in the service. He had just finished basic and advanced training when I had our son. I really don't know why I was forced to give up my son. I do think my mom felt he wasn't going to marry me. Well not at that moment for sure. The Army was busy training him for other things. Families in those days were a burden to a man according to the Army. Nowadays, the Army sees it as something important a support. Not in the 60's. 
By the time he got home I had already gave birth, our son was in foster care although I was not told this fact. I did find this out that this was the normal process. Little did I know and of course they were not about to let me care for him as I would have bonded and the powers that be had another woman waiting to take him. While my son was taken from the hospital, to a strangers home who they paid to care for him. In those days it was all about saving a buck but were they saving money? Foster care from the day he was born, and then the wait to see if I dared try to contest the adoption. If I even had an inkling to do so I know from other moms they made sure they had an airtight custody of the baby. After, all I guess I was a potential welfare candidate although I knew nothing about what was available to keep my baby. The worker was doing a job and she sure wasn't going to help me. She was a social worker who is supposed to help people in a time of need but I guess my need wasn't important or good enough. The only person she helped was the person that acquired my baby. I never saw a lawyer, court or even a legal paper after the adoption took place. Legal proceedings require papers but not with adoption mothers had no rights to them and the
people who were involved in adoption made sure we mothers were given nothing.  
    I am no longer remaining silent and tell my truth whenever I can. Usually, there are those who question how was he taken for adoption. Not many understand the times then mothers that were single and unmarried especially white women were used for purposes of acquiring a baby for women who couldn't have them. For all the women who were used in this atrocious manner I applaud you for your survival. I also would like to add that hopefully you have reunited and have found some type of peace inside yourself. My peace has been joining others who have gone through the same experience. Attending functions, marches and talking about this horrendous and vicious act.
If you doubt that the act of taking a baby from its mothers is horrendous or vicious I recommend you giving up a baby of your own. Try it and although that sounds absurd I ask you to think before you speak as you know nothing about living this painful and devastating life. Never knowing if your baby survived or was being abused. It is an inhumane way to survive for anyone. I have even had those who adopted
suggest it was for the best or I deserved to lose my baby. To you I say there is nothing better about being adopted. My baby would have been so much better off with me his mom. He would have grown up with a loving family. His family he would have known the truth from the start instead of learning the truth 26 years into his life. As far as me deserving losing I didn't deserve that and it was used as a punishment as it had been in the past. Punished for creating a life, punished for being unmarried and pregnant. 
Even criminals get their day in court and get some type of justice before a judge and jury. I never got either judge nor jury just tried in the court of society, along with my parents who for whatever in the hell they thought was best for me and my little family it wasn't and it has forever changed me and my family. EVEN them but of course thats another story for they would have to admit some complicity in my loss. Admitting and taking some responsibility is very hard for anyone but not impossible. I am still waiting for acknowledgement to their parts. I am sure it will be a cold day in hell when and if my mother will ever take a bit of responsibility. 
Instead of shaming me and not being there she could step up now and be present. Maybe, on her deathbed I will hear her say "I was wrong" but I will not hold my breathe. I have openly told her that all parents make mistakes hoping she could acknowledge that fact and go on to talk. As a parent I have made plenty and will acknowledge that and tried to rectify them in the best way for my family. I have taken some steps that I took to make it easier but obviously she feels nothing or will go to her grave without acknowledgement of her part in my son's adoption.


My truth makes others uncomfortable. When I speak my truth others try to silence me. They give me condescending remarks. Such as it happened for a reason. Or it was meant to be which is an absurdity in itself. Why would a person think separating a mother from its baby
be ok?