21 September 2012

A letter for Wes


You seem to be under a colossal miscomprehension that all children lost to adoption were adopted due to mothers who were, in your own crude words, “fuck-ups” (as stated on your blog).

This is simply untrue.  And it remains untrue regardless of what you choose to believe.  Your venomous attacks on me and mothers like me through my blog and now this post is simply unfounded, untrue and ignorant.  You offer no evidence to back up your claims and yet I have a mammoth pile of court papers/documents to prove what I say.

You also like to dictate to mothers their stories.  Pray tell, who are you to know all stories and fabricate lies?  Why do you feel the need to stoop to such a gutter level as to lash out and viciously attack women who are mothers and also other adoptees just because we do not ‘toe your line’?  You claim here that we are not open to discussion or conversation unless we completely agree with you yet that simply is not true and again you base those claims on your own actions.  I did not seek you out, nor did I even know of your existence until you disgraced yourself by attacking other people (who happen to be a mix of mothers, adult adoptees and adoptive parents) on my blog. 

As it says on my own blog, I am happy to enter into civil discussion however when you refer to me and others as a “fuck-up”, then I feel you are incapable of entering any real decent discussion and thus have no time for you and your shallow antics.

Your knowledge of adoption is so very limited and you fight against adoption reform.  That in itself is, quite frankly, the stupidest thing I have ever read.  Why would you be against anything that seeks to improve a dysfunctional system for the sake of children?  To me that immediately proves you do not care about the children involved in adoption but are in this for your own sake.  If you did care at all about the children you claim to love, then you would be their and our, biggest ally – not declaring yourself as “the face of your enemy”.  How do you expect to get anywhere with that sort of language and attack?

If you took the time to read any of the adoptees’ comments on my blog whilst you were busy trying to dictate my and our stories, you may have noticed a comment regarding a movement by adoptive fathers who are seeking to help adopted children – not hinder them.  Perhaps you should go back and read that comment and take the time to read the books mentioned.

If after all this you still want to carry on your merry way attacking people you have never met without any knowledge of what you are talking about, and creating a shallow movement that has no substantiality to it then please do so in your time and in your blog.  I will continue to fight the bigotry and hatred I see spewed forth by persons as yourself regardless and at the end of the day, if you are unable to address me with respect and dignity, then I will simply delete your comments so no one else has to deal with them.

Yours truly,
A mother of adoption loss who was proved fit to raise her child and only lost her through shady and corrupt dealings.

(Actually a comment I left on a blog post dedicated to me and my friends over on Wes' blog.  I posted it here, on my blog, as a way to highlight it as Wes, of course, deleted it every time I posted it - despite accusations I was not open to any discourse on my blog.  Mothers and adoptees are often plagued by imbeciles like Wes who would like to dictate our experiences and gaslight us in order to stop us from speaking up.  Newsflash to all adopters like Wes - we are not going anywhere as long as the likes of you are here to exploit children and use adoption to serve your entitled natures.)

14 September 2012

"Why can't we be happy?"

It has been that sort of week.  One where those less than impressed with mothers and adult adoptees who blog about the negatives in adoption, have come out to let us know how they feel.

Of course, that is okay.  Everyone has a different perspective and will view issues based on their own experiences and we don't all have to agree with each other.

However, there comes a point where I do take offense to those differing views and it is usually when they are reeking of entitlement or outright attacking a group of people for no real reason at all (read my last post for clairification)

A couple of days ago, Cassi (yes I am doing it again) blogged a powerful post regarding the view many PAP's and adopters/adoptive parents have or need to have in order to adopt our children whilst knowing it is causing a loss to the child and their family.  Read her post here

As is always bound to happen, a comment ensued informing Cassi and her readers how sick she was of "the whining of girls who couldn't possibly have raised their children but wnat to make sure no other women gets to celebrate becoming a mother." (direct quote, grammar and typo mistakes included) More on this comment in a minute.

I also read another blog by a mother regarding how she too had been left a comment by someone who was offended by the fact this mother felt loss and openly shared her feeling of loss and pain over her daughter being adopted.  She brutally proceeded to label this mother bitter and angry whilst telling her she created her own unhappiness and had no right to talk about the pain and loss of losing a child to adoption.

These two comments are very typical in adoption as is the thinking behind them. We receive them all the time - sometimes via email when they are too gutless to leave them on our blogs. How dare mothers of loss speak up?  How dare we expose the myths and remind the world we exist and are human?  How dare we assert our motherhoods and claim our children?  How dare we explain how we always wanted to parent and raise our children ourselves but were prevented by a society totally geared towards creating a make believe family?  The audacity of mothers like Cassi, myself, the author of the second blog mentioned and other mothers! 

So we get "Why can't we be happy?"

But that isn't the issue really.  I have no issue with people being happy.  In fact the more happy people, the better.  What I do take issue with is HOW you try and find happiness.  And if your happiness depends on or leads to the trauma, pain and anguish of another human being then I don't believe you do deserve to be happy because real happiness, one that comes from within would never celebrate in the loss of someone else.

True happiness does not come from making or celebrating another's suffering and yet THAT is what adoption is founded on.  Loss.  Pain.  It doesn't matter what sort of adoption it is either because every single adoption features loss somewhere along the line: whether it is the loss of the mother at birth or the normal loving relationship of a mother who becomes abusive.  Loss is there.  Whether it is in losing one's baby at birth because one is too young/unwed/forced/coerced etc or taken from you because of poor choices made.  Loss is prevalent.  And even for those seeking to create this loss, they too have faced loss in that they have never been able to experience pregnancy or a child.  Loss is prevalent in their decision as well.  And so all this loss occurs and people expect it to create happiness somehow.  Sorry but piling loss on top of each other does not create anything except an even greater pile of loss.

What I cannot comprehend in all this loss is how a woman, who is suffering loss of her dreams of being a mother, can then expect another mother to lose her own child.  This for me is baffling.  Because I could never want someone else to experience a loss to fulfill a dream for me.  I couldn't live with myself; its not how I work.  Yet that IS how it works in adoption, with the encouragement of money hungry agencies looking to line their pockets with thousands.

Look at the language they use!  If a mother chooses to parent as opposed to following through with an "adoption plan", instead of celebrating a mother and child staying together, we see the terminology of "a failed placement". FAILED.  WTF??  I am sorry but there is NOTHING failed in a mother deciding to step up to the plate and parenting HER child.  This is a celebration.  This is motherhood at its most natural and to use the word failed is testament to how low the adoption industry and society has fallen.  It is despicable.  And not only that, we have to put up with the bemoaning of these said failed placements.  THEY are allowed to let the world know how they feel.  THEY get to grieve and lash out and say terrible things and allowances made for them... and yet we mothers who lose our children to the likes of these women for doing NOTHING but being young, or raped or poor or simply coerced to believe we are not good enough, have to shut up and deal with it.  If we don't, we are boxed and categorised; labelled and hated.  Hypocritical much??!

So to answer the question that started off this post. NO, you can't be happy when your happiness rests on the loss of another human being.  Mothers who are young and unwed are people.  They feel just like you do, they get hurt the same as you do.  Where was their protection?  Where is their support?  Why is it only women with a gold band get that recognition as being a human?  And what about the child you so desperately want? THEY want their mothers - the ones they have spent 40 weeks getting to know; her voice, her heartbeat, her dna, her very core.  It doesn't seem very loving at all to want to rip all that away from a child in a desperate bid to be happy.

Bad things happen to good people - infertility being one of those bad things.  However bad things happening do not entitle ANYONE on this earth to go and cause another bad thing to another person to make yourself feel better.  Didn't anyone tell you two wrongs do not make a right?  That's a life lesson 101 right there.

To be honest, I am sick of hearing the "poor me" songs from those who are not getting a newborn baby fast enough.  I am over hearing the "me, me, me, me, me" sentiments from those who feel they deserve another mother's child for whatever reason they have told themselves.  I am over women, gross, horrible women who are so wrapped up in their own pain they are more than happy to lash out and seek to hurt another human being so they can get what they want.  I am over it.  I have no empathy for the likes of these women because they used it up when they made the choice to hurt someone for their selfish gain.  I and many other mothers and our children have suffered because of the likes of these women.  Because they were unable to get passed their grief and so put it onto us.  I am a compassionate and empathetic person (it is what got me into this mess in the beginning) but I am clean out for those who care so little about others.

If you can only be happy by taking another woman's baby and then by lashing out at mothers of adoption loss, then you can never be happy.  That baby will not fill the hole regardless of what you think.  Happiness comes from within - it is fought for, it is strived for.  It is in the caring for others, in the giving and not the receiving.  Happiness is not in adoption, for nothing of joy can grow in a cold, hard and ugly place which seeks to destroy for one's personal gain.

12 September 2012

There's an adoptive 'father' movement?

Recently my attention was drawn to the supposed adoptive 'father' movement.  Um, what?  Usually when one hears of a movement, it is already trending through other blogs and forums across the net and yet the comment that first told me of it is the first time I have heard of it.

And apparently the person who speaks about it thinks all mothers of adoption loss are "fuck-ups" (his words not mine) who realise the fun  in being said "fuck-up" is over and so we have cast ourselves as victims.  Because adoption only happens to children who are taken from abusive mothers or families.  Yeah, right.

For some reason this person believes he knows everything and all things about adoption and that his word and his alone is truth.  Given the very small part of adoption his involvment is in, I find it rather hilarious that his ego has over taken him to put him in the numero uno place in adoption.

So to all you mothers out there of adoption loss, according to this ignoramous, your baby was not coerced from your arms, there is no such thing as coercion, you are drug taking, child abusing women who deserved what she got.  Nevermind you might never have taken an illegal substance in your life or nevermind you do not drink or have even had a child to abuse - you are all these things anyway.  It doesn't matter that some of us were raped and our children taken from us through illegal and corrupt measures, oh no, because according to this particular adopter, he knows EVERYTHING about us that we apparently do not even know.

It doesn't matter that we come from good homes and have educations - our families are automatically no good and have the same issue with drug taking and alcohol abuse - even if they have never touched either before.

Because of what he thinks he knows about what happened through his adopted childrens' experience, then suddenly he is an expert on all aspects of adoption.  Again, yeah, right.

And this is why our stories need to be out there.  Because people like this who are so caught up in their own heads and mess, they are unable to see reality.  They are the types that hold victims of crimes accountable, that will make abused people pay for what happened to them.  They cannot hear or see the truth as they are blind and deaf to any other voice and then they transfer their own blindess and deafness to those of us dispelling the myths and bringing to light the real issues.

I have met several adopters like this.  And it is thanks to the likes of them the adoption world is the mess that it is.  People who like to see beauty as ugly and ugly as beauty.  People who have no qualm in ripping to shreds the lives of others and then say they have no apologies to make because they are just speaking the "truth".  These people are what is wrong with our society and why adoption continues to destroy and maim the lives it does.  These are the types that believe they are entitled to do whatever they please to another human being just because they breathe.  They have no logical explanations for what they say and they know nothing - absolutely nothing about the complexities in adoption and yet they present themselves as being specialists in it because they adopt.

At this point I want to thank those adoptive parents who are NOT like this person.  You know who you are and you are a balm to the wounds these people inflict.  I would say you truly care about the children you have brought into your family and I wish, so very much, more would be like you and give a damn about the realities of adoption.  There are enough issues and there is enough conflict out there without misinformed persons creating more!

I know my story and I know what happened to me is wrong.  If I don't fit into your little box of being a drug taking, child abusing 'bio mom' that is your issue, I didn't create those boxes.  My story is not for you or anyone to judge, it happened.  If you don't like that or you choose to disbelieve it, that is up to you - doesn't change the facts of what happened and says more about you than anything else.  Judge me all you like, again that falls on you at the end of the day.  What happened to me and my child was wrong.  And so are many adoptions that have taken place and still take place based on the very real coercion that exists in adoption today.  I have never abused a child in my life - rather I have been a child carer since I was 13 so that puts to bed the lie that so many mothers only lose their children because we are abusive, drug-taking, alcoholic women.  But then that is a stereotype created to help adopters feel good about what they have done.  Doesn't make it true or the adopters rescuers.  It just makes them part of the adoption machine that makes its billions by separating families and hurting lives.

10 July 2012


Life for me has been fairly good of late... okay, I have fought to make it good of late.  We are currently in the throes of sorting through our shoebox (what we all call our home) for the move across the ditch.... or New Zealand for those who don't know our slang terms!

Keeping busy has been good, most of the time.  I am getting more done now than I ever thought and I am hoping this move will truly be a great step forward for me personally as well as for our whole family.  I make plans more now, I laugh a lot, I see glimpses of my old self in the mirror.  We were sorting through photographs the other day and I came across a photograph of myself from only 4 years ago and I literally gasped as I saw eyes which held so much pain and so little life.  I am so very happy with how much my life has progressed of late and I don't miss the person I was from that time.

But still... in amongst all that joy I am holding so desperately to, there is the anguish, the pain.  The neverending saga of what adoption does in a person's life no matter how much we fight to live and look at the positives.

I miss A.  I miss her a lot. And the latest events which led to my earlier post 'Betrayal' have done much damage.  I cannot disclose what happened so openly here however suffice to say things have been harder.  Mainly because I felt I had been travelling so well and this event came and knocked me right out of the water.  Worse, this person cannot and refuses to accept what they have done is betrayal - neither do they wish to take accountability for their actions and expect others to wear the responsibility for it.  I have withdrawn from this person almost entirely, although right now I have left a partially open door so we can try and talk soon.

I just want a break.  Away from adoption, away from the anguish and the heaviness of it all.  Even with all the great things and the working on looking at all the positives, it remains

14 years and 5 months into my life sentence... and I just want it to be lifted.  I want to be a normal person who deals with normal things.  Anyone who says dealing with adoption loss (whether it is as an adoptee or a mother) is normal obviously has no idea what it is like.  It is not normal and it should not happen.  It isn't an unpreventable event; it is wholly preventable and mostly unnecessary... and in my case, outright criminal and abusive. Ugh.  Just so over it and exhausted by it's mere presence in our lives.

30 June 2012



I'd love to look at you. In your eyes. Just once. Once
To see how our eyes are the same. I have have your eyes.
Your hair, your lips, your hopes, your self, your everything.
What force pushed us away? What will bring us back? Anything?
I'll know someday. Is what you carried in your womb still in your heart?
Grwoing. Kicking.
We are connected by more than just blood. Our feelings, our dreams, our souls.
Our connection.
Somewhere. Deep inside, I can feel you. I hear your voice calling me.
Young and breathless.
We are. I dream. Of your face. Laughing. Crying.
Embracing what is so far away.
What I long for. Bringing me salvation in my time of need. A bond.
Never shattered, never replaced.
Only put on hold. To be discovered. I love what you represent.
My being, myself.
I have no photos, no misrepresented images of a mystery.
Why can't I look in the mirror and see.
You. Behind my smile, my hands, my eyes. There you are.
Waiting. To be discovered.
Or are you hiding from the inevitable thing we call lonelines?
Sing to me. I want to hear your voice.
Talk to me. I want to feel your pain.
Listen to me. I am your own.
Hear me. I need. See me. I want to be educated.
Be me. I am you. Dreams of embraces are lost in glass pillows.
Reality. I am not yours to have and hold.
Iron walls. Close in.
You are somewhere, anywhere, nowhere.
I can't see you.
Are you running? Do you dream of me?
Darkness. My, your, our mind.
Plays with my eyes and teaches my heart to fly from pain.
Did you whisper to me at night? Inside you.
Did you rationalise leaving me?
Did you cry on me, in you, when everyone else was asleep?
Did you look at me? Did you see me?
What were you thinking as they tore me from you? How do you sleep?
Do you sleep?
I don't.
Dreaming of the day your heart.
Your door, your mind, your pain, your eyes, your ears, your arms.
Will open to me and I can call.
Scream. Cry.
Your name.


Written by Anonymous - found online 1999

I discovered this poem in 1999 when I first made it online after losing A.  The pain in the words - the wondering - it spoke volumes to my heart as it felt like the questions to the answers I had.  I wish I could find who wrote it and if they ever pass by my blog, thank you for articulating the other side so eloquently.


20 June 2012


I saw this picture on my wall on Facebook the other day... how apt and perfectly it describes the living with adoption loss... whether for the mother or the adoptee...

I will live my life, hold my head high, and do what I can but the pain and grief of losing my child unnecessarily and by force to adoption will never ease until the day I die.

27 April 2012

The "Guillotine" effect of Adoption

Often, I have read the various search phrases that bring people to my blog and think about posts I could do regarding those search terms and then I just don't get around to writing them.  Tonight, I saw this search term: "how does the 1955 adoption act have the effect of a statutory guillotine" and felt it was a good question and relevant to my blog because I do use the word guillotine often when I post/speak about adoption law.
The word "guillotine" is quite graphic and conjures images of gruesome decapitations.  The guillotine offered a swift execution, a clean decapitation if you will - more pleasant than previous methods of decapitations with axes, swords and the like which would take at least two blows or more depending on the prisoner.  The guillotine was quick and efficient, and ensured there was no suffocation.

Yes, gruesome but the crucial part to me here is the effect of the guillotine - and how it relates to adoption.

 When a person is adopted, they are completely cut out of their family's life - the law makes its as if they were never related. This severing is the same as what happens with a guillotine.  Swift, brutal, final.

When a mother places or loses her child to adoption, she becomes a complete stranger to that child.  As if they were never connected.  As if those months of nurturing, of loving, of worrying never happened.  This is reflected in the falsified birth certificate which replaces the mother's name with that of the adoptive mother's - and it is made out, in the law, as if this stranger was the one who gave birth.  Mother and child, one of the most sacred relationships of all time, recognised as such outside adoption, is made out to be non-existent with a rubber stamp and a few signatures.  Adoption, like a blade, cuts that most precious relationship away from both.  Thus, the Guillotine.

The child experiences this (besides other experiences) by way of his or her family tree being brutally cut off and all those who went before her or him, all those who existed in her/his family for generations stretching back in time, wiped away.  By law, adopted persons are magically grafted into their adoptive families' heritage... negating the fact they have another family, another heritage - one that flows through their veins, shows in their personalities, in their being.  The guillotine of adoption law wipes it all out. 

The so called ruse of Open Adoption does not change this.  Given open adoption does not actually exist legally, there is no recognition of a mother who wants to see her child and be part of her child's life.  Because in the eyes of the law, she is no one.  She is nothing.  She is merely a stranger - to the law, she may as well be someone walking down the street.  The fact the connection she shares with her child is more than anyone will ever experience with her child ever, vanishes, poof!  Because the law of adoption dictates this.

Adoption law is not a loving law.  There is no love, no compassion in this brutal hacking of a family.  Adoption law is anti-family in a way.  It does not care for the best interests and welfare of a child, it only serves the best interests and welfare of adults.  Regardless of the intentions of those who seek to adopt, the law of adoption is not child centric.  It is actually cruel.  It is barbaric in many places.  And it supports dishonesty in the way it is set up.  Love is not cutting a child out of her/his family.  Love is not re-writing a factual document to reflect a mis-truth.  Love is not pretending one gave birth to another mother's baby (my daughter's adoptress created a labour and birth story.  Truly.  And then denied it when I confronted them.).  Love is not applying a guillotine to a child's life and severing centuries of family history.  Love is none of those things and adopters who fool themselves into thinking that adoption is loving and compassionate are not seeing the full picture and are only seeing what they want to see.

When I lost Amber, I wrote endless journal posts about how I felt my head had been cut off and my heart had been torn out.  Again, the guillotine.  

Amber is lost to me.  Legally, it is as if she never existed.  Regardless of what ethics and morality say, regardless of what my hospital records show, the truth is, by law, my daughter, whom I carried inside me, in my heart, in my spirit, in my soul, is a stranger to me.  That is the law.  That is the reality.  That is Adoption.  And that is the guillotine effect I speak of so often.

Reunion will not change this for us.  She will still be seen as the child of those who brutally took her from me, by law.  As their daughter.  I will be the stranger.  Not them as they should be.  I have been severed from her life, and she from mine.  And just like a decapitation, there is no way to put us back together again.

26 April 2012

Never let me go...

Missing you so much tonight...
My love, forever, for you my beloved girl xxx
"Never let me go" - lyrics/music by Florence + The machine

Looking out from underneath,
Fractured moonlight on the sea
Reflections still look the same to me,
As before I went under.

And it's peaceful in the deep,

Cathedral where you cannot breathe,
No need to pray, no need to speak
Now I am under.

And it's breaking over me,

A thousand miles onto the sea bed,
Found the place to rest my head.

Never let me go, never let me go.

Never let me go, never let me go.

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me,

And all this devotion was rushing out of me,
And the crashes are heaven, for a sinner like me,
The arms of the ocean deliver me.

Though the pressure's hard to take,

It's the only way I can escape,
It seems a heavy choice to make,
Now I am under.

And it's breaking over me,

A thousand miles down to the sea bed,
Found the place to rest my head.

Never let me go, never let me go.

Never let me go, never let me go.

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me,
And all this devotion was rushing out of me,
And the crashes are heaven, for a sinner like me,
The arms of the ocean deliver me.

And it's over,

And I'm going under,
But I'm not giving up!
I'm just giving in.

Oh, slipping underneath.

Oh, so cold, but so sweet.

In the arms of the ocean, so sweet and so cold,

And all this devotion I never knew at all,
And the crashes are Heaven, for a sinner released,
And the arms of the ocean,
Deliver me.

Oh, slipping underneath.

Oh, so cold, but so sweet

18 April 2012

The "Anti-adoption" label

A while ago now I blogged this post, What does it mean to you?  regarding what anti-adoption means to me and asking what it means to others. What came out of it was rather surprising (and encouraging) as it showed there is common ground out there between the various parties in adoption and also what damage labelling does.

Recently, with all the furore over the Circle of Moms fiasco, this term has again reared its ugly head.

Before writing this post, I did some Internet research on 'anti-adoption' and what it says to the majority of people out there.

It comes as a  shock to many that there is any such thing as "anti" adoption.  My reading led me to trawl through comment after comment regarding the so called "anti-adoptionists" and what they believe, what it makes them as people, how crazy they are etc.

Reading through pages of articles, comments, blogs etc has led me to realise it really is a matter of perspective.  My own perspective has changed a lot over the years of my life.

I was not raised in a home that was "anti-adoption".  In fact, at one point my mum and dad talked about adopting a baby boy from the Philippines whilst we were living there.  I am not sure why it never came about but it didn't happen.  I recall at the time (aged 10) being rather excited about it - that was until some family friends adopted a little girl and the first lot of questions about natural mothers started rearing their head.  What happened to the mothers? Where did these children really come from?

Fast forward several years and by now I was talking about adopting when I was married.  Watching story after story on orphanages, I wanted to go and adopt as many children as I could.  It was something my best friend and I, at age 15, had spoken about several  times as we walked along dusty roads in Cairo, Egypt.  Adoption.  We were going to save the world's orphans.

Again, fast forward further and I was introduced to the realities of adoption.  How adoption has become about finding a child for couples rather than finding a home for a needy child.  I discovered what happened to many mothers - the fact we just did not matter.  We were disposable.   How far this image of adoption was to the one I had learned growing up!  Indeed, it completely changed my perspective and challenged every view I had ever held about adoption.

Not only did I learn about the way mothers were and are treated, I also learned about adoption from the perspective of those who were supposed to be at the heart of the matter: the adopted children, now adults.  To be honest, in my previously held image, it was never something that crossed my mind.  It was all about the good I could be doing for these children; I never stopped to think of the possible damage that could be done and how it might affect those children I was hoping to 'save'. 

Through the years following my daughter's loss, I have learned much from the many adoptees who have had the courage and strength to speak out.  What it means to be adopted, the fact adoptive parents are not saviours and are just the same as any other human.  That adoption does not guarantee the perfect life, that adoption is not necessarily in the child's best interests and welfare.  And I have also learned that there is so much more to my adoption experience than my own story.  That my story is not necessarily my daughter's story.

So, back to the anti adoption label.  Yes, I have used this label to describe myself.  It was used in a forum once to attack me and I thought at the time, "if the shoe fits..." and yes, I have to say given my stance on adoption, I thought it apt.

However, what I have come to understand, is that labels are unhelpful.  They are used as divisive means and are black and white in their sentiments.  People use the term "anti-adoption" to label and box anyone who does not see adoption as a positive.  Today I have read post after post and comment after comment that not only speaks about anyone anti-adoption but goes further than that to attack lifestyle, personalities, mental health etc of anyone they term as "anti-adoption".  I don't see how this helps anyone.  A person may feel one way about a particular issue but then can agree with you on many other issues.  Boxing someone and labelling them as a whole means you can miss out on connecting with someone who can actually be quite awesome.  I have learned this over the last few years and it is a lesson I treasure.

Although I don't find it easy, I spend alot of my 'blog viewing' time reading the blogs authored by those who have very contrasting views to mine - trying to understand the way they view adoption from their perspective.  Although I don't agree with a lot of what I read, I can understand, at times where some are coming from.  Because for a fleeting moment, I was there, hoping to rescue children I deemed in need of my defintion of rescue and loving them in what I deemed as the way to love them.

Adoptive parents and adopters (yes there is a difference) are not always my favourite people - I don't deny that.  But I don't see them automatically as 'evil' or 'bad'.  People are just people at the end of the day.  What defines them is their actions and their words and even then, 'good' people can do some really terrible things.

Throughout this week, during the Circle of Mom's fiasco, a lot of walls came down and there has been healthy discussion between those who are 'positive' about adoption and those who see adoption a little (well a lot really) less positive.  But then there have been those who are still sitting there throwing out the labels and boxing those who speak out against the adoption industry.  Those who do not want to hear the views or thoughts from those who have been affected by adoption in a completely negative way.  Instead, like the blog I read today and the ensuing comments, they allow themselves to be horrified at the fact there are people against adoption but they refuse to learn and be open to the why.  Indeed many of the comments on this particular blog read today were some of the most closed minded I had read yet!

Speaking out against a system does not make a person anti adoption.  Although not wishing to speak for others, my own take is those who do speak out are actually pro-reform of the current adoption system, pro family preservation where possible, against unethical and immoral adoption practises and pro putting children first.  It is how I see myself.  Yes, I am pretty much against adoption in most forms but until there is something in its stead, it is something I am willing to accept where it is necessary albeit grudgingly. 

Labels do not help anyone.  They only put up more walls.  Create situations where hurtful statements are made which in turn creates more division and mistruths.  One of adoptions biggest problems is with how people treat each other.  In fact it is the root of the issue because adoption is all about people!  The more we open ourselves up to others, regardless of our own views, and learn to listen without boxing each other, the more we can work towards a healthier system where children will hopefully be placed back in the centre.

Not saying we will all agree with each other because in adoption, there is always going to be pain, controversy and anger because, regardless of anyone's view, the fact of the matter is, adoption is about loss.  But at the very least, we can learn to respect each other and quit the labels.  Especially the anti-adoption label as it appears to be the most used and most divisive one in adoption.

04 April 2012

I am a Survivor

"I will survive
Oh as long as I know how to love I know I'll stay alive;
I've got all my life to live,
I've got all my love to give and I'll survive,
I will survive. Hey hey."

"I will Survive" - Gloria Gaynor

Since my last entry I have been pondering the content of my blog - especially the posts regarding where I am at; my head space.  Some of my posts make me cringe. I haven't survived all I've had in my life to be a weak, blubbering mess on a blog.

And so with this post, I aim to offer the other side of Myst - the every day side of me IRL.

I don't cry all the time.  In fact I smile.  And laugh.  Alot. I work from home these days which enables me to both work and care for my son who is four and be here when both of them are sick or during school holidays.

My parents and one sister live within 10 minutes drive.  The other lives in London which is hard for all of us because we miss her so much.  However, we get to cherish our time together more when she is here because it is special now.

I have an awesome husband who has been through his own crap in life as a child.  He is a survivor of childhood neglect.  Parenting has been difficult for him at times because he never had a platform from which to grow.  But you wouldn't know this to see him with our kids.  He is a fabulous father - he does so much for them and our kids love their Daddy.

Although our kids know about Amber, we don't talk about it every day.  My other daughter Noodle is 8 and goes to a great little school.  She loves snakes, lizards, crocodiles - basically anything reptilian in nature.  Australian much?!  Noodle is very passionate about animals, the environment and children who don't have as much as she does.  She also loves technology and currently loves playing her DS or on Daddy's computer when allowed.

Dude is four and is gorgeous (well they both are).  His nature has the girls (some as old as 60 odd) swooning for him already.  A gentle soul, he loves his sister's dresses and currently swaps between being super-man, Prince Phillip from Sleeping Beauty and a fairy in a pink dress.  He is very much a Mama's boy at the moment and I love every second of it.

We are in the middle of organising ourselves for our big move across the ditch - meaning from Australia to New Zealand.  As with most things in my life, I am defying the trend and moving against the flow.  This is my husband's choice as much as mine.  There is so much to do; so much to organise - like what to do with our car, when to get the removalists in, what to take, what to get rid of and whether or not we can sell anything.  This is at times, a rather large headache!

Weekends see us enjoying a quiet sojourn at home recovering from the week or at the beach or one of several favourite parks.  It is all fairly normal stuff.  And the house (rather, I should say, the shoe box) is often filled with laughter amongst the squabbling and noise of children.  Again, normal.

When I look at my every day life, it shows I have survived.  It hasn't been easy, and I don't do well some days - in fact some days, things get damn right ugly.  But those days are not my life.  They don't define me.  I am not a crazy, wrist - cutting, unstable freak.  But I am a mother whose child was taken and there is nothing in this world that can take that pain away.  So we do what we can.  We survive the best we can.

Lately, I would say, I have done more than survive, I am living again... albeit with difficulty at times.  I am enjoying craft again - when we were in Belgium last year, I purchased a very difficult cross-stitch kit for expert/advanced stitchers - I am only intermediate.  But I am enjoying the challenge.  I also just finished creating the photo books of our trip.

For the first time ever, I am also making plans for my future and for the kids.  Up until last year, I could barely see beyond the next week and thinking more than 6 months ahead was exhausting and painful.  Because always, in the back of my mind, was the question of how Amber would fit into my life and the possibility she wouldn't.  Now I know I cannot change that and I am living anyway.

So, there you have it.  This week is not a good week for me as there are things going on I cannot blog about here.  But it is making life really miserable.  Despite this, I am hanging onto the blessings I do have and sharing them here to take the focus off the pain and anguish I always blog about.  Part of the reason I don't like to blog about the good side of my life is I feel I am sending out the wrong message - as in, if I look okay then what happened was okay and it is okay to inflict this on another mother.  I also feel guilty about being happy sometimes, as if it is somehow betraying Amber - because how can a mother 'give away her baby' and then carry on with her life?

Of course that isn't what happened... but it is how I have sometimes felt in the past.  I am trying to change that now - to show that depsite the evil that happened, I am a survivor.  What happened was wrong and it will never be okay or right.  But I am holding my head high anyway.

I am a survivor.  And I will survive this.  But I will do it the way I need to and sometimes that may appear as if I am not coping.  But I am.

I. Am. A. Survivor.

03 April 2012


"I want to write a poem, a poem with a twist,
with a razor as my fountain pen,
I'll write it on my wrist.
If I do it right, a fountain should appear,
smearing all my problems and the burdens that I bear"

I found this poem around the time I lost Amber and currently it is circling in my head ALL. THE. TIME.  Before everyone gets worried, please don't worry.  I just need to get this out.  Its not about sympathy either.  But I can't hold this in anymore.

With all the crap going down right now, I feel like cutting in a big way.  Not my normal way. Not the easy cuts that heal in a couple of weeks.  I have been dreaming about pools of blood - cutting too deep, getting back into bed and never waking up.  Not particularly pleasant.

But I don't actually want to die.  I am not suicidal.  Its just that this pain is so real, so vivid like a freaking gaping wound and yet to the world it is invisible.  It is nothing.  And the knife handle sticking out is being twisted in a very painful way.

And so I find myself asking, what if I showed everyone this wound by putting myself in hospital?  Would they get it then?  Probably not because instead of compassion, I get people missing the point.

When I cut, it does actually help.  I find it calming - more than meds, more than anything else other than the beach and nature.  Cutting and seeing real blood reminds me I am alive and I am real.  This pain, this anguish when it is at its worst, is so consuming it feels I am losing my mind and ceasing to exist, that I am invisible.  When I see my own blood, I feel more visible, even if it is just to myself.

And to be honest, I don't think of cutting that much anymore - the last time I did it before this weekend was last year when I heard about Kristy and all that her death brought up.  Before then it had been over 10 years.

I don't expect others to understand.  Its not something everyone gets.  And its not about how bad my life is because it isn't.  I like living - outside of my hell in adoption, I love my life.  My kids, my husband, my family and friends.  I enjoy seeking new experiences and the warmth of sunshine on my face.  I have a lot of good in my life and I treasure it more than anything.

But when the knife handle is twisted, particularly by a family member, it causes more hurt than one could ever possibly imagine.  Like a shock, as if you know what is coming only to find the pain is worse than you ever imagined possible.

Recent events have set me back.  I am sure I will come out of it again as I always do however, I didn't expect to be back here ever and it frustrates me when I have been doing so well of late.

But I guess I keep forgetting that with adoption, it is neverending.  There is no such thing as a fullstop.  No such thing as closure.  Just when you think things are going okay, something will come along and pull the rug from beneath your feet when you least expect it.  And in a way you least expect it.

"Your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase"

- from the song "My Immortal" by Evanescense

29 March 2012

Abortion Survivors?

"Our world is full of abortion survivors, whether the procedure was attempted on them or not; thanks to OCTOBER BABY, we can begin to understand and minister to this massive wound among our youth. OCTOBER BABY is a major blessing to our movement!"
Father Frank Pavone, National Director, Priests for Life

A fellow blogger (thanks M!) recently drew my attention to this quote and I have had it on my mind so much the past few days I am blogging about it.

My issue is not (yet) about the movie which I have not seen and therefore cannot judge, although I am concerned about the content given the reviews I have read.

My issue is about how this movie is being used and of course with the statements by persons like this Father Frank Pavone.  The emphasis used in the first part of the quote, I added because this is what upsets me the most.

My question is how can this world be full of abortion survivors if termination WAS NEVER thought of, let alone attempted? Answer is simple, if there was no thought of abortion, then that child was never at risk and therefore not an abortion survivor.

Given the movie is about an adopted adult who is seeking for her identity and the truth of her origins, I can only guess the “abortion survivors” Father Frank is referring to is adopted persons.  Had he left the quote at “our world is full of abortion survivors” I don’t think I could argue that because I do not know what the statistics are however given the context of the movie and the rest of that quote, it leads me to think he is referring to adopted persons because it is assumed out there in general society that we natural mothers “chose life” and gave our babies away for adoption so we didn’t have to terminate them.

This is a HUGE misconception.  MASSIVE.  For myself, abortion was not even remote thought.  I rejected it as quickly as I rejected adoption (actually, as abortion was the first option offered to me, I rejected it swiftly followed by adoption).

There was never a question in my mind about what I felt was best for this child I was carrying.  Amongst the fear I felt about being pregnant and knowing the judgements that would come, I was also excited about being a mother.  I had dreamed about this since I was 4 years old although getting raped and falling pregnant unmarried had never quite featured in that dream, funnily enough.  So there was no way I was entertaining any thoughts about termination or abandonment for this baby.

I asked some other natural mother friends of mine on facebook if they had considered abortion… and the resounding answer was no.  And I would bet there are many, many adopted persons with mothers who also felt the same way.  The mothers I asked wanted to keep their children – adoption never featured on their radar either.  

Promoting adoption as a savior for children who might have been or might not have been terminated pregnancies is, very, very dangerous.  Adoption has nothing to do with a woman’s choice to end a pregnancy.  It really doesn’t.  Abortion refers to ending a pregnancy and the decision not to proceed with being pregnant.  Adoption is the decision not to proceed with parenting the child for whatever reason.   Yet time and time again, the pro lifers/anti-choice persons pit these two together and use guilt to force someone to do something they might not otherwise have done.

These same parties also like to bandy around another term (in league with adoption agencies) and that is “coerced parenting”.  COERCED PARENTING!!!  First time I read  this, I was in disbelief.  Because now they are turning something natural into something to be wary of.  They are making our natural instincts, that is, to birth and parent our own children, into something ghastly.  And that is mind-boggling and disturbing.

Many pro-lifers are also adoption agencies in disguise.  Their aim is to prevent abortions in the hope of getting those mothers to place.  It is a well greased scam.  The thing is, these pro lifers, despite their propaganda, do not care about mother or baby.  They only care about the bottom dollar.  Given adoption is a mutli billion dollar industry, it is only wise to see the connection between these two issues in the terms of money.    Thanks to Facebook, I have seen pages and groups rise and fall that have been operating under cover as “support groups” for young pregnant mothers and they talk about “choosing life”.  They then suggest adoption… it is all part of the same wheel that turns to create more profit, more customers.  Those that are caught in the tangled webs they weave are the losers – the mothers, the babies and in some cases the more naive PAP’s.

Earlier in the post I raised the point our children were wanted and we planned to keep our babies.  How do mothers end up going from adamantly wanting their baby to placing them?  Although I have previously linked this post, Coercion not choice, it is the answer to this question and anyone considering adoption (ie adopting) should read it so you do not become part of this cruel and barbaric practise which is tearing families apart.   

In relation to the abortion survivor issue, please do not assume our children were ever saved from abortion because they were not.  Our children are not abortion survivors.  They are our much loved, much wanted children and they were taken by a system who didn’t care for us and who failed us and our children as a whole.   Adoption is not the alternative to abortion.  It is a painful road with no end in sight.  Adoption is a permanent state whereas the issue of becoming pregnant early is not permanent, not really.  It is daunting, sure.  But adoption is forever and that means the pain it causes. 
Although not a personal fan of abortion, I would never ever judge a woman for choosing that route and I have even suggested it to women as a choice which is something I would never have done prior to losing my daughter. You know what changed that for me?  Adoption.  So to all you pro lifers out there who are promoting the lifelong pain of adoption: you are also creating more fans of abortion because there is nothing in this life that could ever make up for the pain of losing a child to adoption.  Nothing. 

12 March 2012

Forced Adoption

I have tried to type this post several times over the past couple of weeks since the report from the Inquiry into past adoption practises was handed down.  Following the media content, there have been many comments regarding this issue.  And, to my horror, there have been many who feel it is an okay practise to take a mother’s child based on her age or marital status and some have even said they wish it was still happening.

Deep down, I understand this comes from ignorance and a choice to stick their head in the sand.  However it is alarming and hurtful to know the attitudes that caused almost complete destruction to so many lives, is still around.  But I also then questioned what people think about when they hear about apologies and holding governments ‘responsible’.

As humans, we all crave, at some point, acknowledgement for wrongs and injustices.  It is in our nature.  We want those who have perpetuated whatever wrongdoing to somehow accept their part and say sorry.  It is in this we are able to find what we need to move on in whatever way that is for each one of us.  When we are denied and invalidated by them and anyone else, the power of that injustice will hold something over us – whether large or small is to do with the individual.

Forced adoption is basically a form of kidnap.  When a mother is subjected to any sort of bullying, coercion or threats which have the effect of separating her from her child against her will, it is more or less the same as if someone walked in and took her child. 

For those out there who like to judge a woman who is pregnant without a band on her finger or appears young, there are a few things you should know.

First, and most importantly, it really is none of your business what is going on in her life.  Her body, her decisions are hers and hers alone.  You do not have the right to judge her, it really is that simple.

Secondly, no mother deserves to have her child taken from her just because she is young, unmarried or both.  No one can predict how a person will parent.  Being a good mother is not reliant on how old you are, where you come from, how much money you have in the bank, what car you drive, where you went to school, who you married, who you know, the college/university you went to, what house you own etc.  There is plenty of abuse in homes with parents who look good on paper.  And a gold band does not a good mother make.  Abuse has also occurred in adoptive homes.  Being adopted incidentally, does not guarantee a person a better life.  It just offers a different life.  I read stories where adopted adults talk about being grateful for being adopted because they find their natural families and don’t like them for whatever reason… how do they know though what their experience would have been?  Because of adoption, they missed out on what that was.  This is not meaning adopted persons shouldn’t love their adoptive families –just pointing out no one can ever know what their life might have been and therefore cannot dismiss it as being any good because in order to do that, they would have first had to live that life.

Thirdly, just because a mother may need to be on welfare for a certain period does not mean she will be there forever.  And regardless, again it is not your business.  There have been plenty of teen mothers who have made use of the welfare system and used that time to study, gain qualifications to start a career. I should also mention there are plenty of mothers out there who are on welfare because their marriages have broken up and they have had no choice.  Because men do walk out on their families and marriages break up.

Finally, who died and made you judge, jury and executioner?  Women do not become pregnant on their own.  It takes two and sometimes, a woman becomes pregnant through rape or incest.  Where is the heat on those males who have played a part?  And where is the justice for those fathers who actually wanted to parent and were denied by the same government policies?

Forced adoption is wrong.  And in many cases it was/is illegal.

So why do those who were/are victims of forced adoption want the government to apologise? It really isn’t rocket science.  Anyone with a conscience and a heart could figure it out in under a second.  Acknowledgement.  Acceptance.  To tell the world these women didn’t abandon their babies like many think and state – that they never “gave them up” as the saying so wrongly goes. 

Why the government?  Because despite many who like to blame “the mores of the time”, parents, society etc, there was only one department who could sign off on the adoptions and that was the government in the form of social workers.  Not to mention the state run hospitals who were party to this.  They knew it was wrong.  Forcing separation of mother and baby has always been known as wrong.  Just because something was practised on a large scale does not mean it was “just the times”.  Wrong is always wrong.

Obviously I am aware this will not cover many criticisms people have of what mothers like me are asking for.  And there will be those who choose to ignore the truth because it doesn’t suit them or, they don’t want to believe it.  That’s okay though because we know what happened to us.  And we know it was wrong. Those people choosing to ignore it or shut us down are telling us more about them and what they are like as a human being.  

We live in a world where people are cruel and so women like me suffered.  They were not just “trying to do what was best”.  They were systematically destroying young women and treating them shamefully and outright, cruelly.  They were punishing us and telling us we needed to suffer.  There is no excuse for what was done then or since.

29 February 2012

BREAKING NEWS: Senate has handed down the report of the Inquiry into Forced Adoption in Australia

Still trying to digest the enormity of this.  For those not in Australia (or who want a copy of it) and who are interested in finding out more, you can find the link here

This has been a rather long week.  I hope this means helpful things to come and I want to call upon those in the government in New Zealand to follow suit.  This practise was not confined to Australia however Australia has been the only one to show any humanity and dignity by listening and acknowledging they were WRONG.

Going to read more in bits now... not an easy document to read!

25 February 2012

A mere reed, ripe for breaking...

 Warning:  This post contains sensitive content (rape).

Over the last few nights as I have laid in bed trying to convince my body to sleep, there has been a scene which constantly plays itself out in my mind.  Actually, there have been several scenes in fact... two which stand out in particular.

My daughter was conceived in a rape situation.  When it happened, I was in the middle of therapy for sexual abuse which occurred when I was 6 years old.  In retrospect, I feel I was in a vulnerable state and thus it was easy for men to abuse that vulnerability.

This rape was actually the second, or third time I had been raped in a matter of three months (lost count).  The first rapes occurred during a relationship which was toxic.  I literally became another person during the three months we were together - looking back it was only a prelude to what was to come later that year when I found myself pregnant.  When I met M, I thought he was the most beautiful person alive and I thought we were "in love".  I was 19 years old and totally naive about the way the world worked.

In the three months we were together, he gained absolute control of me; he decided what clothes I wore, what I ate, what I would do in my spare time etc.  If I did not want sex, that didn't matter.  I was his for the taking.  The day I fought back he dumped me.  I was a mess... started cutting my wrists, my depression which had at that point been dormant for several months, returned with a vengeance and I wanted to end my life.  I can still recall sitting on my bed in the house I was living, with the bottles of pills around me and in my hand, crying as I rang the emergency psych line.  Deep down, something inside did not want to die and so I reached out for help.  I went back into counselling with the psych team while continuing the therapy for my sexual abuse.  Life started to look up; I visited my grandparents up North and besides the dirty feeling I couldn't shake, everything else was well.

Returning to Christchurch, I joined a group at my church for survivors of sexual abuse.  I wanted to hear how others survived with a view to moving forward.  Perspective is a wonderful thing.  Something my very young 20-year-old self lacked back then.  In hindsight, I don't believe this group helped much.  It fed on the pain and did not do much for me to help me move forward.  On the last night of that group, we decided to go out to celebrate the fact we had come to the end of our 'journey'.  We hit the clubs and had a fabulous time dancing and singing to all the songs we loved.  At the last club we were at, I bumped into A, someone I went to school with and had at one point, had a crush on.  We had seen each other a few times in the previous weeks at the same club and had had a couple of drinks together, chatted and generally just been friends catching up.

On this night, as I was leaving, he asked if I wanted a lift home.  Sure I replied.  No alarm bells went off in my head.  This was a friend offering me a lift home - he even offered to drop my friend home.  She was dubious and I wish I had taken her advice.  I trusted A, he had looked after me at school - there was nothing I felt I needed to be wary of.  The car was full.  We dropped my friend home first and then proceeded to his house as he was getting things ready for a day of skiing.  When we arrived everyone dispersed to their homes (they lived in the same street apparently) and one of the guys went upstairs to get some sleep as it was still only early in the morning.  A suggested we do the same and he invited me to his room.  Again, my gullible 20 year old self didn't feel there was anything to worry about.  It wasn't the first time I had crashed at a male friend's home and nothing had happened on the other occasions.

When he first made the moves, I was flattered and then, realising what was going to happen, scared.  I said 'no' but to no avail.  When my 'no' was ignored (and I was held down - this guy was huge compared to me!) I literally froze and tried to think of anything but what was happening.

When it was over, he offered to take me home.  I sat in the car staring out the window in disbelief this had happened again.  Arriving at the place I lived, he gave me his number and said he wanted to catch up again.  Robotic, I bid farewell and walked inside as quickly as I could.  Being early still, I went into my room and stared at the wall.  The dirty feeling was back with a vengeance and as there was no one home, I sat on the floor of the shower after scrubbing myself raw for 40 minutes.  Gathering myself up out of the shower, I fell into bed and slept.

That night I went to a birthday party and tried to forget the events of that morning.  I didn't think there would ever be reason for me to remember them.  The morning-after-pill crossed my mind but I thought I wouldn't need it.  Oh how young and naive I was!

Two weeks went by and my monthly which was an exact and accurate calendar of its own, did not show up.  Since they had first forced their welcome, they had been every 28 days - not one day more.  I was now at day 30 and I felt a slight panic sneak in.  Although I knew this was preposterous and unlikely, my mind dramatically wandered to something more serious.  Something was wrong with me.

A few days later saw me going to the toilet to check every hour.  The dramatic thoughts were pretty much gone and I knew, in the pit of my stomach, I was pregnant.

I didn't want to think about that.  What it would mean.  How everyone would react.  My best friend and I visited the family planning office so I could get a pregnancy test taken.  I watched the door intently as the seconds ticked by and when the nurse walked in she looked and me and just nodded.  I felt nauseous.  And the feelings of fear had nothing to do with the fact I was growing a miracle inside me.  It was all to do with what I knew was coming - I may as well have been branded with a scarlet letter that day.

Returning home in a state of shock and fear, it was then I remembered there was someone else in this with me.  The mirror in the bedroom I had was a semi full length.  I stood looking at myself for a few minutes before lifting my top to stare at my back-then beautifully flat and slim belly.  I stared in wonder at it, before running my hands over it.  This was the day I started my conversations with my baby.  I told her (although I didn't know it was a her at that point) I would always love her, it wasn't her fault for what happened and I didn't care anyway.

From there, the rest is well known.  My choice, my decision to raise her became null and void.  My body became public property with everyone and anyone feeling they had a right to dictate to me what I should do.  At first, I was fairly resistant - but as the days wore on and the relentless lectures continued, I fell into a heap of severe morning sickness.  I discovered there were people praying this would go away, that I would miscarry.  It was a living nightmare which has never really ended.

Now I find myself wondering how I can ever tell A her story.  Because this is not just my story; we share it together.  She was there right from the start - she had no choice and neither did I.  I believe this was why our bond was so strong.  Isolated and alone, I turned to my belly to talk to.  To tell her I wanted to raise her, to tell her all the amazing things we would do together.

I know this is her story and she has every right to know it and of course I am not someone to hide the truth from someone.  My concern is HOW to tell her when the time comes.  That is one of the scenes which plays out in my head night after night, preventing sleep and haunting me with the knowledge that this will hurt her.  How does a mother tell her child such a story?  I do not have any intention of keeping it from her... but this is a question that has plagued me for many years and is only becoming more persistent.  How?  How do I hurt her to tell her the truth?  Will she think this is the reason for her adoption?  Will she understand how much I wanted her regardless - hence the lengthy court battle for her?  So many questions.

This is just some of the reason why mothers cannot ever get over losing their children to adoption.  The law may take from us, strip us of our legal responsibilities however there is a much stronger force than man's law and that is morality and ethics.  The law has never been known to uphold ethics or morals - you only have to read the news and see murderers and rapists walk free to see that.  And yet, while it strips away any legal tie we have to our children, it does not take away our natural motherhood from us in which we have moral responsibilities.  So whilst our children grow up away from us, not knowing who we are, we do not forget them and many of us are aware one day, we will be called to account for those moral responsibilities.  So how can any of us just 'get over it' when 'it' is never over and could come up and knock us over at any moment?  There is no finality, no end.  Even this rape - I thought it would be over but because of Amber's removal from my life, the pain of that event has stayed forever.  The other events I have been able to move past.  They happened and they are gone.  But this one, it is never over because one day I will have to relive it all again as I find the way to word what happened so Amber can know how she came to be.