21 October 2016

Lessons from the lap of Adoption

2016 has not been a year I will recall with fondness.  If anything, it will go down as one of the worst years of my life.  I have learned a lot about people, who I can trust and mostly, who I cannot.  
What I have learned this year, adds to the many other lessons I have learned over the years, about life through (infant) adoption/baby buying and so I am sharing those lessons here as a warning for any other expectant mothers who might be forced to face the monster of adoption.
  1. Adoption has taught me that words are empty.  Love has no value.  Those pushing adoption on terrified/unsupported women who need support and compassion, will tell a mother if she loves her child she will give/abandon/tear her bond apart with her child – all for the sake of strangers.  They will lead her to believe she is doing the right, loving thing.  That she is a hero and will be gaining a family.  But these words are empty.  They are lies. What no one bothers to tell her, is that she does not matter.  The agency and couple DO NOT care about her.  She is disposable.  If it were legal to cut her baby out of her womb and leave her for dead, they would.  This is apparent in the vitriol adopters spew across the internet through various blogs, forums and Facebook pages if a mother dares take control and does the unthinkable: take responsibility and KEEP her baby.  Even my first-born’s adopters would tell me they cared about me while taking me to court to outright steal the child from me.  Vultures.  Evil.  Predators.  Liars – they are all the same.
  2. Integrity is a joke.  People with integrity lose in the long run.  Morality, ethics – adoption has no room for these qualities I was raised to believe in.
  3. Compassion is to be mocked.  There are amazing women out there putting actions behind their words and doing everything they can to prevent unnecessary adoptions taking place.  Yet, I have also seen those who dare to stand up and do the right thing, mocked.  Ridiculed.  I have seen adopters openly brag about swooping on vulnerable women to take their children.  I am sure hell is filled with many people just like them. Or perhaps I am already in hell? 
  4. Empathy is unacceptable.  One must not empathise or one might do the right thing.
  5. Love is conditional.  As in restrictive and depends on how you behave. 
  6. That sacred bond spoken about in scientific research magically disappears and does not exist when adoption comes onto the scene.  Mothers become expendable and children are suddenly mindless, blank slates that are waiting to be saved and grafted into another family.
  7. Evil is real.  Oh so real.  In fact, it is common and if anything, prevalent.  It is harder to find the good and genuine people today.
  8. Religion, particularly Christianity, is used to condone the evil of adoption.  Apparently, it is okay to pray for a mother to relinquish her baby.  Wait, what??  Who prays for a child to be PURPOSEFULLY separated from their mother unnecessarily?  Seriously, WHO DOES THAT??  Oh yes, those who feel they have a right to another mother’s child.  If you cannot see the perverseness of this, then your moral compass needs replacing asap!  There are a number of other things I have seen and heard from those would profess to be Christian that is just vomit inducing. 
  9. Entitlement wins.  Adoption has introduced me to the most entitled humans I have ever had the unpleasant experience of coming into contact with.  It oozes out of their every pore and every word they speak.  I have read many messages, posts and comments in shock that there are even people who exist in our world like that.  Right up there are the people who stole my child – no one without entitlement would dream of taking a mother back to court to take her child away from her despite a report by a leading international adoption specialist finding her child’s best interests and welfare would be best promoted by me, her mother.  Yes, I still have that report.
  10. Human rights abuses are allowed as long as those with money get what they want.  To be honest, I have been privy to other experiences that have violated my basic human rights and witnessed enough without adoption needing to reinforce this.  But, in adoption, these human rights abuses are denied and invalidated for the sake of the customer.  Cannot have those poor adopters feeling bad for breaking up families now, can we?!
  11. Mothers are the bashing post.  From adopters, pro-adoptionists/anti-abortionists, adoptees and mothers sucking down the Kool Aid or intent on staying down in the gutter, mothers of loss are bashed, kicked and betrayed by those she thought she could trust – usually right at her most vulnerable point. 
  12. Exploiting the vulnerable and needy is just fine.  Hey, that’s their choice, right?  To be poor?  To be raped?  To be left and abandoned by their partner/family/support network?  To be frightened and alone?  To be in a situation where they just need a hand?  Because adopters are simply perfect?  Yeah, what a joke.  I cannot keep a track now of the number of condemnations and comments made about mothers who have lost a child to adoption.  It goes back to the entitled nature of the West.   As long as you have the money, you can do what you want and get away with it.  Who cares about those you destroy in your wake.  Who cares about the lives you destroy – as long as YOU get what you want, right?  RIGHT??  No wonder this world is in the way it is. 
Of course, you can write these off and me, the writer, as x, y, z but do so at your own peril.  Adoption is a permanent fixture.  The pain never goes away and the impact carries on waves through generations.  Just look at the television shows that focus on those who hope to reunite with those usually lost through adoption.  And not just children and parents but grandchildren, siblings, and so on.  Adoption as it is currently practiced right now, is not right.  The damage and trauma it causes has been shown through the thousands of mothers the world over dating from the 1950’s until today, sharing their horrific stories.  From the countless adoptees who are speaking up and exposing the reality, that, despite the fact some of them had happy, fantastic lives with their adoptive families, they still felt the trauma of losing their mothers, fathers and families and  the trauma effects them for a lifetime.  Meanwhile, others speak of a horrific life, abused and discarded - the promise of adoption proving oh so false.   Adoption is not the answer. It never has been and it never will be - especially while it is all about the entitled exploiting those in a moment of powerlessness and vulnerability.  These moments are chances for humanity to shine, to show kindness, to embrace vulnerability and honour it with compassion - but these chances are abandoned in favour of looking out for selfish and lustful desires, disregarding the abject misery and a lifetime of pain left in their wake. 

These are some of the lessons adoption has imprinted on me.  I would not wish this journey, these lessons, on anyone.  There is no good that comes out of it.  In fact, it is impossible for good to flourish in an institution that is founded on dishonesty and misery.  It does not matter that there are some that say adoption was good for them.  They are incredibly fortunate if that is the case (and they are being honest with themselves), but that does not make adoption good.  For example, there were slave owners that were not as bad as others and Nazis that helped Jews escape the massacre during World War 2 but that does not mean slavery or Nazism was inherently good.   All it means is there were some who defied the norm and chose to do what was right.   The same with adoption.  There are a handful of adoptive families who get it and some whose adoption experiences were positive all around BUT that does not excuse the evil and the rotten core of adoption.  It does not mean adoption as a system, as an institution is good.  And it isn't. It can't be.  It won't ever be.

11 October 2016

Who taught you to be small?

How is one taught to be small?  Have you felt yourself become smaller?  I know this is not only relegated to adoption but I can tell you from experience, adoption teaches you to be small.  It takes away your voice, your integrity, your dignity.  It strips you down to your marrow and breaks you into more shards than you ever thought possible. 

All of us experience the feeling of being small at one point or another.  Even before I was ushered into the world of adoption, I had experienced the feeling of being made small.  It happens through bullying, through invalidation of our experiences, when we are dictated to and made to feel we cannot be ourselves.  It happens within our families, our social groups, school, employment – basically wherever we have interpersonal relationships.  Over time, we build resiliency and some can rise above these experiences.  But there are those experiences where one can never escape – no matter how hard they try to grow above and drown out the toxicity from others. 

Our world of social media lends us to being made small and making others small very easily.  Some of the things I have seen over social media sites, blogs and forums is enough to want to close my door and never venture outside because the venom and putridity is just so immense.  Luckily, I know this is not how all people are but it is sickening to know people have ended their lives as a result of cruel and unnecessary toxic words from strangers.

And there it is.  Words.  The way we communicate with others is so important.  The words we use, the way we use them can have such a damaging impact on another’s life.  Adoption is no exception.  Look at the industry speak towards (usually young and single) women who are expecting a baby.  It is engineered in order to make a woman feel a certain way until she believes their message – that she is not enough for her child.  This is done in such a covert way that whilst pregnant, a woman will believe she is loved and cared for by her agency and prospective adopters waiting to get her child.  It is only when it is too late that she realises their words and their real impact.  And then she is not only made small, but is destroyed.  Adoption is all about making someone who is vulnerable, feel so small they will be easily manipulated and brainwashed into doing the most unnatural thing in the world for a mother to do: part with her child. 

Even through the journey one is forced on once they have lost their child to adoption does not enlighten, encourage or lift.  The adoption community will turn on their own if one dares to speak out of turn – mothers are often condemned regardless of how they come to lose their children.  This in turn reinforces the lesson they have learned – that they are small, nothing, nobody.  Who teaches these lessons?  Obviously, society and its lust for adoption and the false image projected making adoption out to be all rainbows and butterflies.  Obviously the adopters on forums, blogs and social media who pray for mothers to give away their babies or pray a newly widowed father will give up his daughter or condemn adoptees and mothers for speaking out about unethical adoption practises and experiences.  These are the obvious ones.  But I have also learned this through other mothers who have criticised me for not wanting to stay down in the gutter, for rejecting the notion of having a debt to pay.  How dare a mother feel she can be a person that needs to be respected as a human?  How dare she be anything other than on her knees being belted with shame?  How dare she turn the truth back on other mothers, adopters and adoptees?  Seriously, how dare she?  It is at this moment where she is betrayed by her fellow so-called “sisters” and adoptee supporters that the mother realises how very alone and diminished she is.  This hell is not only a place where the lesson is reiterated time and time again, but is expected.  Growing, trying to maintain balance in life and find happiness is not allowed here.  Doing so means betraying some sort of sick code that all mothers need to be punished. 

Being taught to be small is the backbone of adoption.   If mothers can feel enough, know they are enough and can shut out the agency lies, adoption, particularly infant adoption, could start to decline.  The role of mother is supposed to be sacred, however this most sacred, precious role is diminished into nothing through the act of adoption.  It takes what is natural and turns that into something to be reviled in order to fill a lusty desire of strangers.  Adoption agencies, some PAP’s and the majority of adopters I have met and encountered over time, are the masters of teaching the “small” lesson.  If taught successfully, they will walk away with what they want and so they have perfected it over time and the effects have been catastrophic in terms of how many families have been destroyed.

This world needs less masters of teaching small and more uplifters and encouragers.  We need more who will look at the bigger picture and not just at what they feel entitled to.  We need more art and those who appreciate the art of others, in our world.  

"Be an encourager.  The world has plenty of critics already" - Dave Willis

03 May 2016


Recently, I have developed an obsession for the television series, Outlander.  Based on a series of books I read almost 20 years ago, it tells the story of Claire Randall and her experiences of traveling back to the 1700’s in the Highlands of Scotland.  I will not precis the books here – that will take too much time, however, what recently caught my attention was the way in which Jamie, Claire’s 18th century husband, speaks about his experience of being broken through an incredibly traumatic event (which the series shows vividly and is traumatic to watch!).

Whilst I found it difficult and barely watched the trauma in its entirety – opting to use the skip forward function as much as possible – I have appreciated the fact the show has not glossed over this event and Jamie has not simply recovered in an unrealistic manner.  The last episode reveals a vulnerability and honesty that took my breath away and resulted in shivers up my spine.  Jamie opens up about the impact of being broken – how what was done to him exposed him to the core and blew his “fortress” apart.  My breath literally caught as he spoke.  

I have written about being broken before.  However, what I am coming to understand thanks to the ongoing nature of adoption, is that the breaking isn’t a one time event.  It occurs repeatedly – in ways and at times you least expect it and however much you have told yourself you are doing better and have become stronger, the blows that rain down reveal how very broken you really are and how further broken you are yet to become.  So many times I have said “I am done!” only for another blow to take me down even lower.  Even the broken pieces of our souls can be destroyed further.

18 years into a life sentence.  I had hoped my jail would be ended after 18 but low and behold, my jailer is now the very person who was taken from me.  Like her adopters, I am now having to play her game – play her rules.  I understand entirely she never asked for any of this to happen – I appreciate that.  But neither did I.  Neither did my other children who have also suffered.  I am so tired of always having to balance everyone else’s experiences.  I am sick of having my voice stifled, time and time again.  This blog is my one and only place I can go where I can share what is left of my broken heart and soul.  Being a mother of loss is a lonely journey and I find myself at my loneliest.  So many people around me but no one I can talk to.  No one who wants to hear because they feel they have heard it all before – because this is a wound that never stops bleeding.  

And so I become yet another statistic of failed reunions – before it even began.  How can someone be angry with a mother they have never even given a chance?  I believe the reason so many reunions fail is because our children have grown up with people who are so different to us – who only know how to take and never have empathy – that when it comes to finding us broken, they are angry with us for being broken.  Afterall, this is meant to be all about them.  We don’t matter, we are just trash as we have been told over and over and over again.  As her adoptress said to me at the end of a visit one day, I was meant to be raped, just so she could have a child.  With people like this “caring” for our children, mothers of loss have no chance.  The lies have become so entrenched – they were started so long ago.  

I no longer hold hope.  Hope is a word used to torment those who long for peace.  For so many years, people told me to hold on until she knew the truth but the truth means nothing to her because it conflicts with what she has been told.  I am nothing to her – as so many adopters have pointed out – we just give birth, we are merely vessels who can be discarded.  Our pain is nothing to our children.  Nothing.  They have their adopters and their lies – what do they need us for?  Me, I prefer the truth – however cold it might be, but at least I can know it is real.  

The one thing I can hold onto is that I have always been authentic.  Vulnerable. True.  My conscience is clear – I have never had to steal a child and then play pretend for 18 years, filling that child’s head with rubbish.  

But, my fortress has been exploded.  There is nothing left of the rubble to even attempt a rebuild – or a shed.  It has all turned to dust.  Like my heart.  And my soul.

25 April 2016

Post order

A while ago, I reverted to draft many posts I have written over the years.  I had been meaning to sort through which ones I wanted to re-post for a while but due to a busy work life, have not had the time. Today I have re-published many however, they have posted with today's time stamp and are thus, sadly out of original order, grrr.

Being Stuck

(Original publish date: January 2009)

A short while ago, I blogged about beng stuck. Little did I realise this went deeper than just my posting.

It has dawned on me that I have been stuck for a very long time. Frozen in my trauma while life has continued around me. Its like I have been sitting in the middle of a whirlpool, watching life go on around me, while I have stayed on the fringe. Yes, I have taken part in this whirlpool ocassionally; I have married and had two more children, but then my soul, my spirit has stayed where it has felt safe and remained stuck.

Now, I have this urge to re-enter the whirlpool, to be part of the dizzying act of living, of loving, of enjoying LIFE. I have missed the thrill of knowing what it is to live, I have hovered between wanting to die or being afraid to die while denying myself the joy of just experiencing LIFE in all her splendour.

Now, it is time to live again. Now, it is time to rediscover myself and tell myself I am okay, that I am allowed to exist as me. I can take time to find the joy in the simplest of pleasures, to dance in the rain if the fancy takes me. It is time. Time to LIVE again...

Taking Back My Power

(Originally published: July 2009)

When I began this blog, I viewed it as a way to give myself a voice; a voice which has been up until recently, stifled, ignored, shut down at all cost. I have always loved journaling and writing; using words to convey how I feel. For a long time, after losing Amber and after a previous trauma in my younger life, this part of me shut down. I had a block, words just wouldn’t string themselves together the way they used to. When I did start to write again, I cared to much about what people thought about my words, how I conveyed the deepest parts of me. In sharing myself this way, I felt I was giving others the power to hurt me. Until now.

Now, I realise, the only power they have is what I allow them to think they have. And that is zilch.

I realise it has been some time since I posted anything here. I have had a rough month, in fact, I have been down to my lowest points again, to the point where I experienced the longing to cut again, to see the beads of blood along my arm to prove I was still alive, still breathing. I managed to resist this urge and came out of my ravine. What plunged me there? How did it come to be that I sunk so low, so very, very low that it was scary low?

About six weeks ago, I took a deep breath and decided to share my blog with my non-adoption world; that is to paste links to my story on my normal Facebook page. My reasons for doing this were to share with friends whom I haven’t been in touch with for a long time and wanted to know what my life has been like in the last 10 odd years, an explanation without needing to find the mental energy to do it several times. I also wanted to be brave; to show my other side to those I see almost daily.

In doing this, I totally forgot, that out of several thousand words, a couple of lines briefly mentioned one person, NOT by name, who had been very pushy with the adoption, although in her eyes, she sees her actions as supporting a decision I apparently had already made. This person was also connected to me via Facebook. Given her views on my situation and the case, I didn't think she would ever bother reading the link... not that I even had her in mind when I posted on Facebook! But read it, she did.

Without compassion or asking how she had been so hurtful, she sent me an email defending herself, telling me to change my story. Not only that, she went through my mother first which really angered me.

I did not respond to the email she sent me, I was in shock and the further I tried to sit on it and do nothing, the angrier I became. Then I asked myself why was I so angry? How did this have such a devastating effect on me to the point it hindered EVERYTHING I did? I mean, yes, she did have a minor point in her email but why were her words so harmful? Then I realised. It clicked. What she was doing now, pushing HER feelings on me, telling me how to feel, what my experience had been and omitting her very real part in my ACTUAL story was doing the same thing she did to me all those years ago when I was vulnerable and pregnant and alone.

SHE WAS TAKING AWAY MY VOICE, MY POWER and that is what angered me more than anything else. Infuriated me and yes, I am still angry for she represents all who do this and refuse to see their part and take responsibility for their actions in other’s lives. While I don’t question her intentions were not malicious because I don’t think they were; (many did not have nasty intentions, they were mistakenly doing what they felt was right) I am enraged after reading the full account of what happened to me, she could not take herself out of the situation for one moment and see someone else’s pain, see the experience of another human being who has suffered. Instead, all she cared about was herself. Her name was never mentioned, no one would have known it was her yet still all she could think about was two lines out of hundreds... all it does is confirm how correct I was in my original estimation of what really went down.

People have to come to terms with the fact there are consequences to their actions, their words. They have to see that sometimes, “The greatest Harm can result from the best Intentions”. This well meaning person forgets that she played more than one part in my story and I do not have the energy to argue with her about the part she played in MY experience. Because at the end of the day, it is MY story, MY journey. MY daughter that is lost and not hers. This is why I am taking back my power. I am sharing this with everyone because it happens to all of us at some point when those who do not want to accept responsibility try to shut us down or make us change the facts. We can’t change what happened to please others, to make THEM feel better. We shouldn’t have to either.

So, in closing this post, I want to offer a word of advice for ALL who read my posts. This is MY VOICE and I will post what is pertinent to MY journey. If you don’t like it, tough, I don’t make you read here, that was your choice. If you have appeared in my account and can recognise yourself and don’t like that representation, again, TOUGH. Karma is a bitch they say...

I don’t do this to be unkind but I have had enough of being told what to do by those who think that just because they are older than me they feel they have the right to dictate to me. I lived that my whole life in the church. “Respect thy elders”... what a lot of good that did for me...NOT.

So I am taking back my power and I don’t care who likes it or not.