It Came From the Cabbage Patch

Bad adopter, BAD!

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 18:05:00 +0000

Question: for those of you who are parents, what do you think one of the most important jobs of parenting are? Would protecting your child(ren) be something that you feel is important for you? Do you think parents have an obligation to do so?

Earlier this year, my family and I took a long weekend and spent a few days in Wisconsin Dells for a sort of last hoorah before school started. It was a lovely weekend - the weather was sunny and warm, the parks weren't terribly crowded, and I got a great deal on lodging and passes to the Mt. Olympus theme park. (I love a good deal). Now I'm not as excited about going on roller coasters as I used to be, but the kids are at an age where they can ride without a parent so I have no problem finding a bench to rest my behind while they are having their fun. On this particular weekend, however, my happiness at sitting on that park bench and soaking up some warm sunshine while watching the ever-interesting parade of people going by was ruined. Absolutely, positively, ruined. And not just those few minutes; no the rest of the day, the rest of the trip, were destroyed by the actions of one person.

Let me explain.

The kids wanted to go on one of the many wooden roller coasters at the park. DH decided to ride with them, and I was more than happy to wait, and maybe enjoy some Dippin' Dots. So I found an empty bench near the exit and proceeded to mind my own business. It wasn't long before a woman sat on the other side of the bench, which of course I didn't care, she was trying to eat something but in my state of being preoccupied with minding my own business, I didn't really get a good look at what it was. So I was just kind of casually looking around, hoping she wouldn't want to drum up a conversation (I am an intensely shy person and HATE trying to hold conversations with complete strangers...HATE IT). But of course she did.

It started out innocently enough, she asked if I was waiting for my kids to which I replied a short yes, hoping she'd get the hint. But of course she went on, telling me how she hates wooden roller coasters and thinks they are SO unsafe and SO stupid when they can be built out of metal and don't they know that wood can rot? All the while I'm not looking at her, not encouraging her, but she persisted. I shrugged my shoulders - they (whoever that mythical "they" are) have been building wooden roller coasters for the last centruy and I'm sure there are safety regulations and inspections that are followed, but I didn't want to get into this discussion with her. I personally see no problem with wooden coasters; after all, doesn't metal rust?

So soon after her diatribe about wooden roller coasters, she waves and calls out to someone who I assume is probably her kid - I don't know, I wasn't really looking. Then she turns to me and says, "That was my son. He's 14. We got him out of a Russian orphanage."

Me - silence. I can feel my face turning red.

She goes on. "Yeah, he used to be SO clingy. When we got him home we would NOT let me out of his sight! I couldn't even go to the bathroom!"

Me - silence.

Lady: "But lately he's been getting better, like now he's actually going on the roller coaster without me. He's becoming more independent which is kind of good, I guess."

Me - crickets.

Lady: "But he used to be so bad. They say the teenage years are hard but I think the preteen years are worse. I mean he was so BAD. We had to call the police on him a few times, he was just awful!"

At this point I was livid, but I was just so shocked and stunned that this woman was TELLING ME THIS. What. the. fuck!!

I mean, first of all, what is the purpose of announcing to a complete stranger that you "got him" from a Russian orphanage? Attention whoring much? And then, THEN, to go on and tell this complete stranger how completely bad and awful this kid is and was? Honestly??

I really wish I had had the wherewithall to respond to this twit. I wish my brain didn't freeze up in these situations rendering me unable to barely breathe, let alone give this woman a piece of my mind. I WISH I could go back and say to her, "What is wrong with you?? You are his MOTHER. You are supposed to PROTECT him, not exploit and use him to - what - try to get a little praise or sympathy from a COMPLETE FUCKING STRANGER!" And I'd go on to tell her that as an adopted person, I found her to be obnoxious, disgusting, rude, and a horrible awful person. I'd then wait until her poor little son got off the roller coaster and gave him my condolences on being stuck with such a monster for a "mother."

But of course, I said nothing, and being that my family got off the coaster before her kid did, I got up and got away from her as fast as I could, without a word.

It still gnaws at me to this day though.

If this woman happens across this blog? I want you to know that you disgust me. I want you do know that not ONLY will I not give you praise for what you seem to perceive in your mind as being some sort of saint, but I think you are the scum of the earth for using that boy and his very personal life circumstances for your own narcissism. And I can't believe this shit is STILL bothering me. I just feel so horrible for that innocent little boy.

And yes, I know, sometimes kids adopted from Russian orphanages suffer from RAD and he probably did exhibit some "bad" behavior and yadda yadda yadda, but that is not the point here. The POINT, my friends, is that she USED this to try to GAIN some paltry adoration from someone who has NO BUSINESS knowing what happened to that child. She EXPLOITED him to her benefit. Her ONLY goal here was to try to get me to respond in a way that would make her feel heroic for having to deal with it THAT is the point. As a mother, it is her JOB to protect him, and not flaunt his pain for personal gain.

On being "chosen"

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 16:41:00 +0000

A lot of people like to adoptees that we're special; that we were "chosen" and should therefore feel really good and blessed and happy. It seems to be a favorite (right after "you could have been aborted," which if you think of it, how does one go from being a worthless and unwanted thing to be gotten rid of to being special and chosen in one breath? Talk about a mind fuck). I know I heard it, I think pretty much all of my adoptee friends have heard it too.

As a young child I really used to buy into it too. I would imagine my parents driving to the adoption agency, their faces lit up with these huge grins of anticipation, their hearts pounding as they arrived at the place where they would CHOOSE THEIR BABY. I pictured a big room filled with other adoptive parents just like mine, and soon a line of ladies would come from an inconspicuous wooden door off in the corner, each one smiling brightly as they each carried a plump and adorable baby dressed in white cotton dresses with eyelet trim. These babies would then be passed around the room, from adoptive parent to adoptive parent, and whoever was holding the baby when she stopped crying would "choose" that baby and they'd adopt her and go live happily ever after.

I had an active imagination as a child.

Chosen...was I chosen?

My amom told me a story one time that before they adopted me, they had received a call from the adoption agency, telling them that a baby girl was available for adoption. She was everything that they had hoped for...except for one dark stain on her record, her mother had been on drugs. (Insert audible gasping in of breath). So my parents in all their parental wisdom decided NOT to take that particular baby. Which leads me to wonder; what if they had? What if they DID adopt this little girl? Then there'd be somebody ELSE sitting here in my chair, with my name and all my memories and living MY life. Who, then, would I have become? Where would I be? What would my name be? What kind of life would I be living?

For I sure as heck wouldn't be who I am today.

My parents waited until the NEXT little girl was available for adoption - mois - and the rest is history. But I don't think of it as being so much chosen as just being the next available baby for the people at the top of the list. They didn't come into a room and select me from a group of other babies. They didn't pass me around and keep me because I stopped crying for them. No, I am who I am because of simple logistics.

I wonder about that little baby that was passed up. Where is she now? WHO is she now? Did she get as good of parents as I did, or was she abused and mistreated? Does she know she came *this close* to being ME? If she went to the people who were next on the list after my parents, would I have went to them if she had been chosen by mine?

God it is such a mind fuck.

Hi.

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 13:20:00 +0000

So I have been pulled back into the blogging world. I really haven't had a lot to say for the last year or so, I guess life and work and everything with it has consumed my time and my thoughts, but all the fuss that has arisen over a little letter I wrote has got me to thinking and spurred me to action. I figured since a lot of other people are posting it, I might as well too, and try to address the comments on my own blog instead of everbody elses. (Sorry, iadoptee!)

So I will post my letter on a separate page here at the Cabbage Patch. And, hopefully, I will find the time and inspiration to blog again. I've kind of missed it anyway!

Holiday Time

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Fri, 10 Dec 2010 18:06:00 +0000

I love this time of year. I really, really do. A lot of people, and I mean a LOT of people, grumble and groan and complain about the holidays but to me it has always been an exciting time, a time I look forward to. Of course I have people I miss this time of year and most of the time my holiday gatherings don't measure up to the Hollywood standard of what a real family Christmas should be, but nevertheless, I just can't help myself. Something about the snow, the twinkly lights, and yes, even shopping for those crappy toys for the kids just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

I always had a blast helping my mom set up the fake tree and putting out the chintzy old decorations. Some of these things were ancient...and a few have survived still, to this day, like the sweet little Christmas angel (with almost no hair left on her head) who still graces the top of the tree, instead of some flashing tinselly star.

I remember my brothers carefully peeling the tape on their presents to take a peek, and me getting all scared that we would ALL get in trouble for it. They did a lot of things to get in trouble for, fortunately I was not typically included in the punishment.

I remember one year my mom getting my dad a pair of swimming trunks for Christmas, and upon making him try them on, she laughed and laughed so hard she literally peed. My dad was so stoic and Norwegian, but he endured the humiliation for the woman he loved. (and the amusement of the kids, who didn't know which was funnier...dad in the swimsuit or mom pissing herself?)

And now I am making new memories, that hopefully my kids will carry with them into their adult years. I want this time of year to hold the same magic for them as it does for me. So far, I think I've done a pretty ok job. This year they wanted to strap the christmas tree to the roof of the car (ala Lampoon's Christmas Vacation) because they think that's about the funniest thing in the world, so we did, although it wasn't a station wagon but DH's "Barbie Jeep" Kia, affectionately named the Family Truckster.

And yes I miss my mom and dad this time of year. Yes, I miss what I could have had with my original family. But at least for the next few weeks, it's not going to bring me down. Because for all that I have lost, I have so much more in the faces of two little bratlings and a man who has stuck with me through all my bullshit.

So, if you celebrate it, Merry Christmas. If you don't, then happy-whatever-you-do-celebrate or just wishing you happiness if you don't celebrate anything. All in all, I hope everyone is safe, loved, and at peace.

The Christmas Song

Why do I do this?

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 14:18:00 +0000

I've had an ex boyfriend on my mind for a long, long time now. Well, not just an ex but my first ex, he was my first everything. But he's not on my mind in a way that most people would think; I've been thinking of his lost sister.

Every time a new female member, around the age of 43-46, joins the forum I get a little twinge of excitement. Is this her? Is this the girl his parents gave up before they were married? I have this dream of finding her and reuniting her with the family. A great family, and one that misses her very much.

But why? Why do I care so much? It's been over 20 years since I dated D, and I left him pretty devastated when I broke it off. His parents were, no are, awesome. I miss his mom even to this day, she was just the coolest person I ever met. And she misses her daughter soooooo much. I bring it up to her from time to time, when we happen to bump into one another; I ask if she's started looking yet, offer to help with all my adoptee stalker super powers, and every time the tears start welling up in her eyes. She feels like it's not her place.

So I dream of finding this woman. Hell I wish I WAS her (although, that would be kinda gross because then I would have lost my virginity to my brother) but that is one family that I know would not get all weird on her if they ever do find one another. D would not flake out on her like my nmom did to me; her little brothers would not get all jealous or toddlerish or freakish. They all know she's out there and would love to have her back in the family someday.

So, any adopted women out there, in their early to mid 40's, born in South (or was it North??) Dakota, make yourselves known. Your nparents got married, had 3 more children (all boys, your brothers!), and are still together to this day. Your brothers all have this fantastic wit and sense of humor (the one thing I miss most about D, the humor he found in such random things), they are down to earth and normal, and miss you very much.

Even if I play no part in it, I would love to see this happen. I know it's not even remotely my place, but I feel I at least owe it to D for breaking his heart, and to his mom for just being the mom I always wished I could have.

Family Envy

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 17:41:00 +0000

We took the kids to Chuck E. Cheese this weekend. No particular reason, we just haven't been there in ages and the kids love it. And it's nice to just be able to sit back while the kids can run wild, and just be kids for a while.

While we were sitting there, among the hundreds of other parents & families and kids running wild, a family was seated next to us. They were celebrating a birthday for one of the kids, and I found myself completely and totally crushing on this group of people.

I mean, they could have stepped right out of some feel-good family oriented television show, maybe even a sit-com, they were just that perfect. Now I can't be sure of how they were all related but it looked like Grandma was there, three women who were probably her daughters, and a plethora of kids. And the adults were all totally into the kids, everyone was holding the littlest ones, everyone was completely involved in these children, and you couldn't even tell whose kids were whose because everyone expended the same amount of love and attention to them. And there were probably about 10 of them, from the ages of about 1 to probably early teens.

And I just couldn't take my eyes off them. I found myself wishing I could be in that family, that these women could be my sister or aunt, that I could love and be loved the way all those kids were.

It made me sad for what I have lost - my n-family, who are exactly like this, I could have and SHOULD have been raised in this type of close family; and for the adoptive family I was raised in who never gave a hug, never cared about family, who only saw each other at weddings or funerals and even then it was strained, you could tell nobody gave a crap about anybody else.

I'm glad there are families like this out there. I wish more families WERE like this. And I bet, that if one of those ladies had gotten pregnant at 15 or 18 or under any less than favorable circumstance, that that particular family would never, ever let that baby go. Adoption would NEVER be an option.

I guess that's where my n-family got it wrong.

Family? What family?

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 15:09:00 +0000

Have you ever looked at pictures of your family and had the painful realization that you will never BE a part of that family?

Sometimes I just want to un-friend all my n-family members from facebook. They are such a close, happy family who truly enjoy each others company and are always getting together. They are involved in each others lives. And they like to post pictures, which I love to see, but at the same time, it's like a huge kick in the gut.

I never had that with my adoptive family. They all pretty much hated each other, and the ones who didn't hate one another, well, just had a sort of mild tolerance for each other. So needless to say, I saw my 1st cousins about 6 times in my life, usually at a funeral or a wedding. There are countless 2nd- and beyond type cousins and extended family that I have NEVER met. And never will. Well, not that they even consider me a part of this family either, because being adopted I am not blood and therefore subject to suspicion.

I should have been raised with the people who are like me. I needed that. Still do! All I have now are my kids, my in-laws, and two a-brothers who could care less if I was alive. Well okay to be fair, I suppose they'd care if I died, but the simple fact that I am living is enough for them.

And I am really giving up on all my grand illusions about my mother. Perhaps the last of the fog is slipping away, or perhaps I'm moving through the next "stage" so to speak. The ONE person who should care about me and my well-being, the ONE person who is supposed to love you, obviously could care less. She has been abandoning me over and over, and I have let her. Why do I keep setting myself up for this pain and frustration?

I could never do that to my kids. But then again I would never abandon my children to adoption in the first place. No way, no how, you'd have to pry them from my stiff dead arms. And then I'd come back and haunt the adopters.

I guess I'll leave my mother to her beloved anal jerk of a husband, that is where her happiness truly lies, and try to find some sort of contentment. But I really just wish adoption had never happened to me. Oh what it would be like to be normal.

Coercion, or not?

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 14:07:00 +0000

My mother gave me away. She chose to do it.

There are many people out there who would say it was cercion, she was brainwashed, she didn't *really* have a choice. Even me, I thought that once, and not so very long ago. But I am really beginning to wonder now. Just where does blaming coercion end and facing responsibility for your own actions begin?

Yes, adoption agencies and "counselors" all have a very powerful and effective marketing strategy. It's business, and if you're to succeed in sales, you must be able to pitch your product and sway the public.

I was unable to sleep one night, a while ago, and well when you are awake at 3-4 a.m. there really isn't much on the television worth watching. I found myself glued to an infomercial, Chalene Johnson was telling us about her amazing Turbo Jam workout, and you know everyone who bought it has lost soooooo much weight it's unbelievable. And I have to admit it was not my finest moment, but I was sucked in to this, swayed by the emotional aspect of hating all this baby weight and feeling like such a loser for having it, and she what she was offering really did seem like the answer to my prayers, the one and only thing that would help me.

I ordered it.

And when it arrived, and I stood looking at these 4 DVD's and an overgrown green rubber band, I thought, what the hell was I thinking? How could I have gotten sucked in and led to think that I needed this?

At the end of the day, I did not place all the blame squarely on the shoulders of Chalene. I was not coerced into buying this. This was purely my fault for allowing myself to believe that what she was pitching was some magical cure to all my ills.

I should have stepped back, and used my brain instead of my emotions, and really thought this through and weighed the pros vs. the cons, the "is this really what I need?" and "is there any other way I can succeed without resorting to spending my hard earned money?"

And I'm just talking about 30 bucks for some unwatched DVD's. This isn't even nearly as monumental as giving away your own freaking child.

So - how is an adoption worker pitching adoption any different? They know how to play on our emotions, they know how to hook you and pull you in. But what you DO with this is up to you. It was up to my mother. SHE, like me and Chalene, allowed her heart to rule her mind.

So when does it stop being coercion and start being a choice, albeit a bad one, that ultimately is her own fault? She could have sought out other opions, she SHOULD have stepped back and thought logically about it. Just as we all do when we are faced with any type of decision in our lives...but I don't think it does anyone any good to cry victim and claim coercion.

Because at the end of the day, Chalene didn't call the number and order the DVD's for me, I did it myself. And the adoption agency didn't give birth to me and sign away their rights, my mother did.

Nmom's letter and WTF

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 15:01:00 +0000

This has been a strange weekend. Bot the kids were sick, I mean really really puking in a bucket all night and day sick, and it ended up being strep. WTF?

But anyway. I stayed home with them on Monday and while they were watching Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs over and over and over, I got myself down and busy cleaning. Cleaning out the mud room, cleaning out the desk, going through piles of old papers and letters and finally pitching some shit that needed to go. Ahhhh that feels so good, now I have room to stash more shit.

In the midst of my cleaning and pitching, I cam across a letter that I thought had been lost. It was the letter my mother wrote to me right after the social wrecker contacted her to let her know I was searching for her.

I haven't opened it up until this morning.

One thing really stands out to me, in the very first paragraph...

...All of the mixed emotions that I had made the decision of adopting you out very difficult. I had to think beyond the love I had for you and concentrate on your future life. The adoption agency counseled me as I had many questions regarding adoption. I and your father then made our decision that this was the right thing to do....

The Agency counseled her, all right. For almost 4 months, while I was hidden away in some foster home, probably being ignored and drugged up on phenobarbitol, the agency "counseled" her. And of course, with me being out of sight, out of mind and the undoubtedly constant pressure on her to "do the right thing" I became another statistic. Another boost to their profit margin.

I feel like swearing.

And to this day she holds on to the belief that she did the right thing, even in not naming me because she "felt that she would be giving my aparents a great gift by letting them be the ones to name me." Guess she wasn't told about sealed records and amended birth certificates, because they would have just renamed me anyway.

And I wonder what my foster carers called me for almost 4 months. I mean, jesus, the had to call me something.

This is all just completely fucked up. My foundations are of abandonment, isolation, neglect. No wonder I have felt like such an outcast all my life.

But on a happier note, my nbro has joined FB, I am so happy. Now maybe we can finally "talk" more and start a decent, real relationship. We have missed out on so much of each others lives, I don't want to waste any more time.

Relating to the APs

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 13:50:00 +0000

I have been doing it again. Reading the blogs of APs and PAPs and finding myself getting all annoyed and wondering, just what the hell is this world coming to?

Anyway.

I was reading one particular blog post by a woman who is adamant that her infertility pain entitles her to adopt a child, and to hell with the "haters" (as she calls us, lol) because HER adoption will be open and wonderful and everyone will feast on jellybeans for breakfast under their bright red with white polkadotted toadstools. Because adoption is a fairytale wonderland like that, dontcha know.

And it got me to thinking, wow, this woman is going to be in for a very rude awakening someday. Maybe not until her adopted child hits puberty, or turns 18, or is 34 and giving birth to her third child...but it will hit home eventually.

I can't think of a single adopted person, that I know personally, who hasn't thought (if not said) to their ap's, "You're not my REAL mother." I never said it, but boy did I think it. Lots.

And nobody can say I didn't love my amom. She was the best, the best of the best, but there was always that part of me that kept that distance real. I don't know how else to describe it...I mean my amom and I were close and I loved her soooo much, but deep inside, I always had that....knowledge? Understanding? that she wasn't my REAL mother.

I remember getting my first period. I didn't know wtf was going on; I mean I knew what periods were and all that, but you know, it was kind of a surprise and I was a little bit scared. I went to my amom of course, and she was all understanding and told me what to do, but all I kept thinking was, "I want my mother. I want my REAL mother." As great as my amom was, I was just convinced that she had absolutely NO understanding of this sort of thing. I mean, she adopted me, right? So that probably meant she didn't even HAVE periods.

Yeah yeah corny I know. But it just goes to show that even in the best of adoption relationships, there will be that tension...that separation...that, shit, I don't know how to describe it. But it's there.

"Find my Family" on ABC

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 18:31:00 +0000

Haven't seen the show yet, but I hear it's already making quite a buzz. And has a few APes twisting their panties.

I had to check out their message board after I heard from a friend of mine that a particluar adopter sent ABC a scathing letter, bemoaning the havoc and destruction that this show will cause on innocent adoptive families everywhere. Ohhh, the horror, what if some young, impressionable adoptee sees this show and gets a wild idea in their head that biology matters??? The horror.

Here is the letter that this APe posted:

Shame on you ABC! Shame on you for your latest quest for ratings at any cost: Find My Family. The show’s claim to be “bringing families back together” undermines the essence of what a family is. For an adoptive family, this assumption shreds away at our children’s security; a security we have carefully nurtured all of their lives...

Ummm...really, the children's security or your own?

It is a dangerous despicable concept that benefits a few at the risk of traumatizing the many.

Traumatizing the many entitled APes, you mean...

Adoptive families are not temporary custodians of a child until they are “found” by their “family”. The host actually said, “I believe that every adopted person’s dream is to be found”. That is pretty presumptuous and insulting.

Actually, it is pretty accurate and dead-on. How many adoptees has this nitwit actually talked to in her life, I wonder?

Are you suggesting that they are lost?

Does one really have to state the obvious?

Adult adoptees and biological relatives can find each other, if they so choose, through confidential and private means. This should certainly be supported if initiated and requested by both adults parties. If the makers of this show truly had that as the intention, then start a web site and/or organization to assist them if need be.

Um, hello dingbat, there ARE multitudes of reunion registries, message boards, seach angels, private investigators, etc. etc. that do just this. The problem is, it DOES NOT WORK. Ever hear of sealed records? What if one or the other is deceased; can they give their consent from the grave? What if one or the other doesn't know about reunion registries or use the internet or has the funds to pay an expensive search just to let a 3rd-party (with no real desire to see two people reunite) handle all of this oh-so-personal communication?

Adoption is a very difficult personal and private mutual decision made by the biological and adoptive parents in the best interest of a human being; a child.

But we don't stay children forever. Eventually we DO grow up and we DO have a right to our opinion on this "mutual decision" in which we had NO SAY.

Adoption is forever.

Unfortunately you're right. An adopted person has no recourse whatsoever if they should, upon adulthood (or even before) decide that they want no part of their adoptive family. We are forced into this familial relationship, a contract is signed FOR us when we are minors, and there is no opt-out clause.

There are laws wisely ensuring confidentiality to protect the children and their families.

The ONLY reason these confidentiality laws came into place was to "protect" the APes from the shame of infertility. And supposedly to "protect" the adoptee from the "stain of illegitimacy." It's the 21st century, we don't really care who's a bastard any more. Methinks you just want "protection" from losing money on your investment.

The first episode assisted a couple in locating their biological daughter. What would you have done if that woman’s parents hadn’t told her she was adopted?

And what kind of heartless, irresponsible, greedy people would not give a child..."their" child...her truth? Would YOU want to have a life-altering secret kept from you all our life?

She had not sought to find her birthparents. What if she wasn’t ready, or interested, or was upset by your intrusive behavior?

Or what if she was wanting to be found by her n-parents instead? What if she was afraid to search? What if she had greedy, needy, entitled APes such as yourself who would slap her down at the mere mention of curiosity about her biology?

If someone asks you to locate their birth parents, what would you do if you discovered painful facts regarding a person’s birth? Like incest? Or rape? Or drug use? What if the biological parent were a mass murderer? Would you tell them? Would you put that on the air? Do you play God and decide who/what you reveal to whom?

Whatever the "truth" is, it is that adopted person's truth. Period. And they are entitled to it, to know the truth of their origins, just like every other non-adopted person. We adoptees are not fragile little pieces of glass, we are actually quite sturdy, and allowing us to know and work through OUR truth is only going to make us stronger and healthier in the end.

I can deal with and process what I KNOW much better than what I DON'T know.

What if the person you find did not want to be found?

They have every right to not have any contact with each other. That's the beauty of this country, we are free to associate with whomever we choose. They can always just say no.

What gives you the right to surprise someone and omnisciently call it your “mission” to bring “families” back together?

What gives YOU the right to speak for adoptees or n-parents?

Maybe some stones are better left unturned.

And maybe you should dig a little deeper and figure out just WHY you are having such a strong reaction to something that is quite obviously highly important to millions of family members separated by adoption.

The manipulation and abuse of these people continue...

I think separating babies from their mothers is manipulation and abuse, personally.

In the show, they need to “reunite” and they hug under a proverbial “family tree”. In the first episode the young woman’s biological parents were currently an intact family unit; along with the look-alike biological siblings (Was this a set up? They had the same haircut and exactly the same highlights?). In reality this fairytale story is far from typical.

And again, how would you know? That's my "truth"...married n-parents, full sibling, the whole shebang. In fact I know of a few other adoptees who discovered their "truth" and found the exact same thing. The hypothetical "drug abusing birth mother" is actually what is far from typical. MOST n-moms (and dads) are decent, upright, successful human beings who just found themselves without the support and encouragement to raise their much-loved baby.

This is just another exploitive ploy in the hopes of increasing ratings and sponsorship. I suggest that American’s are savvier than that.. I look forward to ABC doing the responsible thing and taking Finding My Family off the air.

Sorry to burst your bubble, but this is just the beginning. I hope Americans will finally come to realize just how much damage adoption and it's secrecy and lies does to adoptees and their n-families. And I hope you do us a favor and take yourself and your hideous comments off the internet.

So this is kind of cool

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 18:10:00 +0000

On a completely non-adoption related note...

I have been wearing a ring for the last few days that I found among my grandma's stuff. It looks like a silver wedding band - so, of course, I assumed that it was hers or someone else's from the family. It just fits my pinkie.

I took it off yesterday and was looking inside the band and noticed some writing. Thinking, how cool, an inscription for the wedding, but I was a bit surprised and perplexed to read the words "Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite" and "Francaise Republique."

I mean I know that none of my a-family came from France, so this was a little puzzling.

Ah but good ol' google, I come to find that it is actually WWI trench art. Some soldier fighting in the war made this out of a French coin - a method in which the writing on the outer edge of the coin is retained inside the ring. Pretty cool piece of history.

A little recap

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 22:22:00 +0000

So, I met up with nmom a few days ago.

All I can say is...wow. It went SO well, we were both SO at ease, and we did a lot of talking. A LOT. I can feel myself being more and more able to open up to her, and vice versa. I don't think we have ever actually been truly just one on one before, so that probably plays a huge role, but...

I was a little newborn infant once. Did you know that? I didn't, well ok I did but I never really felt it or could identify with the newborn me, until after Wednesday night. She told me about the day I was born, how they had to interrupt a parade (yes I am a real show stopper!) and then they took her to the wrong hospital, so she made them take me to the one she wanted to deliver me at.

She told me she never forgot my first cry and how she breathed a huge sigh of relief. And I was such a small baby, and so beautiful, and my dad's father came down there the very next day to see me.

I was NOT unwanted. I WAS loved.

This alone is enough to really help me connect to my birth. I feel so much more real now, so much more, I don't know, valid? More than I ever have in my life.

Another thing that really struck me is the importance that she is putting on me getting my OBC. She had NO idea that it was sealed and unavailable to me, none whatsoever. I even alluded to the forum and the Adoptee Rights work that so many of my fellow adoptees are doing to unseal our records, and she seemed genuinely on board with that. So in a couple weeks I am going to meet her, she is going to accompany me to the courthouse and sign whatever document she needs to sign, and then she is going to let me take her to Ikea. :) She wants to spend the whole day together, just the two of us, doing the things that real moms and daughters do. I can't wait.

There is more, but I need to process a little further.

Seeing mom

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 18:17:00 +0000

I am excited, I will be seeing my mother in two days. Nothing spectacular, just meeting up for dinner, but it's something.

Usually our emails are sporadic...well, I will email her pretty consistently and jump to reply to anything she sends to me, but coming from her, it takes days and days to reply if I get one at all. So when I asked her if she was busy on this particular night, I was quite shocked to get an instant reply. And not one but many as we planned the evening.

I had been trying to get in touch with my brother too, and she gave me his phone number. I hope he can make it, I haven't seen him in so long.

I've been debating back and forth with myself if I should share my blog or even possibly the forum with him. A big part of me thinks that he would be very receptive to this, that he would in some way understand, and that it would help solidify our relationship and bring us closer. We don't talk directly all that often but, I don't know, maybe by just being able to read what I say at his convenience, it would help. But then again there's that small adopted side of me that says "Don't do it!! He'll reject you for sure!!" I hate that part of me.

So wish us luck, I hope the evening goes well. I doubt any serious, deep discussion will happen, but it's a tiny step forward in this all but stalled relationship.

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 01:01:00 +0000

Sometimes I wonder, if I died today, would anybody attend my funeral?

If I somehow disappeared, how long would it take for anyone to notice? Or would anyone notice at all?

I keep myself at a distance from others because it's easier than dealing with the eventual loss. Because it will happen, sooner or later.

But I wonder what it's like to be loved, to be truly wanted and needed. It must be a beautiful thing, but I'll never know it. My phone never rings, my mail box is always empty. My heart is full, but nobody cares. Nobody sees the me that is craving to be cared for.

I'll never "fit in." I'll never be that person that gets thought of, that is remembered, that others want to hang around. I've accepted that, but sometimes the realization still hurts.

New Friends

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 19:07:00 +0000

So, my DS seems to have made himself a new little friend recently. I can't begin to explain how happy and relieved that makes me feel.

DS has always been the shy one - not your typical rough-and-tumble 9 year old boy, but very reserved, gentle, kind. A lot like me when I was little, we both tend to retreat into our shells and observe rather than participate. So over the years I have worried about him, because he never came home from school telling me about this friend or that. I was worried he'd never find that one best friend that I think everyone needs to have in their life.

And of course, my old "adoptee issues" rear their ugly head, as I am constantly reminded of my own feelings and abandonment fears and inability to fit in, and I worry. Worry, worry, worry.

I was teased constantly as a child. All through school, I was the one everybody picked on, I was the nerd, the wierdo, the outcast. I have flashbacks to the many times that a person in my grade would basically turn EVERYONE against me. Not just my grade, but the whole school (I went to a very small rural school). I had to go and face all those people, none of whom would speak to me, would be decent to me, would only tease and belittle. It was painful and only drove home more the abandonment and feelings of inadequacy. My own mother didn't want me, so why should any of these people, right? I was worthless.

And while I know that my DS doesn't have that in his life to draw upon, I still worry about him. What if the kids do it to him? He is such a tender soul, I don't know if he could take it. But if he even had one really good, tight friend to stick by him, he'll be all right.

I know I was, thank goodness for S, she was the only person who I could turn to, and got me through some very tough years.

And so I am excited, glad, happy, relieved...so many emotions come flooding in now that DS has finally seemed to find a friend. Someone he "clicks" with. I hope this is the beginning of a lifelong friendship for him, those are so precious and rare.

And I need to stop projecting my adoptedness onto my kids.

Now I need to go clean the house in case his little buddy does come over after school. I think we'll order pizza tonight....

Call me sometime

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 20:16:00 +0000

I tried to call my n-brother today. Not sure if he's still at the number that I have, but it sure would be nice to catch up with him. Of course, the entire time I was dialing, my stomach was in knots and I was scared shitless, I don't get that. Why do I get so damn worked up over calling my family? It's screwed up.

No word from mother in quite a while, I need to send our new family portraits up to her, maybe that will spark her into some sort of action. Well probably not, but I am perpetually trying. Such is the life the adopted, it's up to us to do the work if we want the contact, but it sucks. I just wish someone would want to make an effort for ME once in a while. Is that too much to ask?

Shouting it from the rooftops

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 13:51:00 +0000

I think I need to get more asters. Yes, in fact I know I do. My Purple Domes are all in full glorious blooming splendor right now, but I need more. LOTS more. So my yard becomes that place that everyone has to drive past in the fall and see the display.

Anyone got any you'd like to divide? I'll swap you some Purple Dome asters.

I was painting DS's room last weekend, the room that used to be mine here in this old house in the country. Of all the things I don't remember about my childhood, there are a few that I do, and one thing that stands out in my mind are times when I just hid out in my room, all alone, where nobody could hurt me. I was safe there.

My old room is upstairs, and the north window overlooks the part of the kitchen that was added on below. I could take the screen out of my window and crawl out onto the roof, and that's exactly what I did, ALL the time. Usually at night though, when my parents were asleep, because my dad wouldn't be too thrilled with me crawling out onto the roof in the dead of night. I wonder why.

But it was there that I would sit on the sharp scratchy singles and gaze northward, in the direction of the city of my birth, and think about her. Where was my mother...100 miles away through the dark sky and silent landscape, I knew she was out there, and I waited for her.

I waited for my "real" mother to come and get me, all alone on that rooftop, and holding my breath ever time a pair of headlights loomed on the horizon. I would hope - no, pray - that those headlights would slow down and pull into my driveway, and that mysterious brown haired, brown eyed woman would get out of the car and sweep me into her arms. I would finally see her face, finally hear her voice, I would finally be where I belonged.

But then how could she, right? She didn't know where I was any more than I knew where she was, but in my little girl's brain, she had to have some sort of mystical power to just know. Our connection was spritual, and I knew I could "beam" my thoughts into her brain.

i tried to every night, especially those nights when I waited for her to come.

I think back on those days and feel so sad for that little girl. Ironically enough, the adult me is still stuck on that roof, waiting and waiting, for a mother who is just not going to come. This time she knows where I am, she knows how to reach me, but she either can't or simply won't - and that realization has been getting pretty obvious. Perhaps I need to beam more thoughts her way.

Thing is, it used to just kill me, it hurt so bad that I would stuff it and deny it and, well, go searching for some low-lying fog where I could sip my kool-aid. But as time goes by, it doesn't hurt as much. Maybe I am just numb, or maybe I am just tired of being hurt. But I still think about climbing onto that roof sometimes, just in case.

Fall

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 19:25:00 +0000

I love fall. Back to school, dry air, cool nights, falling leaves...ahhh. My favorite favorite time of year. I met my mother for the 2nd time in my life in the fall.

The kids had their meet-the-teacher conferences today, and will start school tomorrow. It's so weird going into that Elementary school where I used to go, some of the same teachers are still there even! Wild.

I was going through pictures the other day and came across some old ones of me & my dad picking apples from the trees in the yard. I loved that. Although picking up the fallen, rotting apples before mowing was not one of my most favorite activities. But I miss apple picking, and I miss my dad. A lot. I feel so cheated. About everything.

The family I was born to gave me away and the family I was adopted by are all dead.

I feel a little like I have been washed overboard of a ship in the ocean; my little life raft is keeping me afloat but for how long? And who will come to rescue me? Nobody, the ship has sailed, they are going on to bigger and better things.

It's amazing to me how many times different family members cross my mind every day. If I spent as much time in the real world as I do with my thoughts, hell I just might get something accomplished. But as it is, I like my little internal world. It's a place where mothers don't give their babies away, where heart disease and cancer don't exist, and where weeds never invade the flower beds. That are full of bright and colorful asters and mums this time of year.

Girl's Night Out

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 15:07:00 +0000

So, I had a rare "girl's night" last night, one of those things that are so hard to do nowadays. It was nice - I like catching up with my girls and dishing about ex's and gossiping about this or that person. It's a nice break from everyday ho-hummery.

Besides the fact that on the way home I hit and killed a cat (which was very traumatic, I love cats), the friend who rode with me to the other friend's house was just triggering me up and down. This is the friend who I have known since high school; we have been through thick and thin, know each other VERY well, but she has always had a problem with my reunion and has been simply unwilling to support me in any way.

So as we made the 30 mile ride home, talking about our kids and the past and all that stuff, she started talking about her mom and dad and told me a story of how her son was absolutely devastated that grandpa couldn't come to his birthday party. And how her kids are staying at grandma's and how much they all love and adore their grandparents.

Nice stories - but it just drove home all that I've lost. My kids will never know their grandparents. I never got to give my mom the good news, "I'm having a baby!" which I know she would have been over the moon about. No dad to walk me down the aisle or dance the father-daughter dance. No nights at grandma's, no grandpa teaching them to ride a bike or take them fishing. It has been 13 years since my dad died, and 12 since my mom. I still feel it as sharply and painfully as I did so many years ago.

And then she goes on to talk about missing her grandpa who died 10 years ago, and I totally understand, but through all this not once, not ONCE, did she even bother to acknowledge what I may be feeling. I even mentioned that, yeah, I know, I miss my parents and think of them every day. Her reaction? One of surprise, like oh yeah, I suppose you might just miss them a little.

It was all just so hard to listen to.

And I don't want to be that person who nobody can talk to because I'll get all triggered. I'm not, and I am always there for my friends, but this time it was just so....I don't know. Difficult. Perhaps if she had even made one teeny tiny acknowledgment that she understands or empathizes with me, but no. It's all about her, all the time.

Then she went on to tell me about her older brother who she misses, he moved away when she was 6. She told me how they were SO MUCH alike and how it's amazing that they can be so similar, how cool it is to have that biological connection to someone.

No kidding.

I ended the evening by saying, "Yeah, I've never had that in my life, nobody around me is even related to me."

She just kind of changed the subject quick and we said our goodbyes.

GOD WHY IS IT SO HARD. I want to support her, I want to be there for her, but why can't se fucking acknowledge me at all? I sometimes wonder if this friendship is even worth it. I feel like I am doing all the giving and she is doing all the taking. But I can't just walk away from someone, I've had that done to me and it sucks, I can't do that to another human being. Not unless they reslly, really deserved it.

I don't know. So today of course I'm stuck with all the memories of my childhood, of my mom and dad and how much I miss them, and playing the "what if" game - what if they hadn't died, how would they be around my kids, how much would my kids adore them. It's so unfair, and I have nobody to really talk about it to, because nobody I know has lost both their parents (well, all 4 actually) by the time they were 23 years old. Nobody understands, and nobody wants to even try.

It would be nice if my n-mom could grow the fuck up and be a mother, but I've learned long ago not to count on her.

So I'll just turn to the only comfort I have - spending the day listening to sad sappy crap music and disappearing into the bathroom now and then for a fit of crying. I've never felt as alone as I do right now.

And Another Thing...

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 14:36:00 +0000

My heart hurts.

Stories in the news lately about adoptive mothers killing their little adopted babies, about returned adoptees (that was my biggest fear when I was a kid, that my ap's would return me if I wasn't good enough), reunions gone wrong, contact refusal, and my dear friend Heather who, although she KNOWS her nparents and is in reunion with her mom, still cannot get her birth documents from the state of New York because they feel she is trying to sneakily obtain the names of her nparents (ummm....did we already clarify that she's in reunion?) and has been utterly treated like second-class garbabe.

All this and more, just makes my heart ache. When do adoptees go from cute, lovable little creatures that are sooooo desired and wanted, to these dispicable, deplorable wastes of oxygen that we must be either murdered or stepped all over as if we are some sort of criminal? Our voices are systematically shut down when we try to speak up..."Be Grateful, You Just Had a Bad Experience, Your Adoptive Parents Are Your REAL Parents," bla bla bla bla bla ad nauseum.

It's funny in a way. But not really. I mean who would know more about adoption than the person who has lived it their entire lives?

I'm Bloggin' Again

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 13:06:00 +0000

After a long hiatus, I decided I might start blogging again. So much is going on right now in adoptionland that I just can't keep my mouth shut.

First on my mind is the recent article:

Now, I won't begin by commenting on how utterly selfish and disgusting this woman is for her buyer's remorse. Oh wait, I guess I just did. Oops.

No, what really gets me are the heaps and heaps of praise that people are piling on this piece of trash of a "parent" for having the "courage" to dump her adopted child.

Yep, she couldn't bond with him properly (might that have had something to do with her 50 blogs and 12 self-promoting websites she spends all her time on? Or the other 5 children she already birthed?)

But regardless of Ms. Tedaldi's reasons for not spending enough time and effort on the child she wilfully and consciously snatched from another country and brought into her home, is it really a noble and honorable thing to basically terminate that child's Forever Family simply because he wasn't what she had envisioned a good, grateful little adoptee should be?

What stands out most to me is this line:

"I wasn’t connecting with him on the visceral level I experienced with my biological daughters."

Um, no shit.

But what if, say, an adoptee had uttered those words in an article, basically stating that he or she wanted to dissolve their adoption because they "weren't connecting with my adoptive parents on the visceral level I experienced with my real, biological parents."

Would that adoptee be called brave? Would that adoptee get heaps and heaps of praised shoveled upon them? I can most definitely tell you that, no, there would be no praise. It would rather be a public flogging of biblical proportions.

I kind of feel sorry for Ms. Tedaldi in a way. And glad this little boy won't have to suffer a life of being ignored and babysat by Spongebob. I pray for the little guy, and hope he finds himself in a home truly worthy of him with parents who are actually capable of doing what's best for him, and not use him for more self-promotion.

Sorry, fans

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 17:53:00 +0000

I have not been updating this blog...wow, bad, bad blogger! Get out your rulers and rap me on the knuckles, I know, I deserve it.

Things have been pretty busy lately. I am starting up the Master Gardener core course and spending a lot of time studying and working on my modules. This is one of my dreams I have had for many years and it is finally becoming a reality. Yay!

I have also been working a lot on the house, finishing that bathroom remodel, going through the kids' toys and clothes and purging a LOT of stuff they don't wear or play with or use any more. What a task, UGH. But it's a fight to get them to give up their toys, even if they haven't touched them in years. They are so like me, attached to everything, I couldn't give up my stuff for anything when I was little. Thinking back, my mom must have had purging days when i was at school, because a lot of my things seem to have mysteriously disappeared, although I can't remember exactly when. Hmmmm.

And on the adoption front. Well, you'll be happy to hear that things between me and my mother are slowly improving. We have had pretty regular, if sometimes sproradic, email communication, but just the fact that we are communicating at all is huge. She is making great strides in opening herself to me, and has even invited me to come up and stay with her. Now THAT is REALLY huge. We haven't made any solid plans yet, because I, being the indecisive procrastinator that I am, have not been able to bring myself to commiting to anything yet. Can we say, like mother like daughter? lol. I think I am like her in more ways than I have thought.

Oh and I am going to meet one of the n-mom members of AFC, hopefully soon, Dbannie! She is so sweet and has always been so supportive. I can't wait until we get together, I hope the weather straightens out here.

Sigh

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 22:40:00 +0000

The collagen in my face is breaking down.

Another wrinkle has appeared, on my cheek, every time I smile it gets deeper and deeper. Good thing I don't have much to smile about these days, or I'd look like I was 80. Perhaps this is the tradeoff for not having any gray hairs yet...although I think I'd rather take the grays, at least you can color those.

I feel so stuck and I hate my life.

And when I am angry, when I am dissatisfied, I lash out at others. The thing is, I wasn't raised that way, so where does this come from? I have a huge tendency to avoid the things I don't want to deal with, the things that hurt me, the things that trouble me.

I haven't visited my parents' graves in over a year.

I KNOW where that comes from.

The same woman who avoids me, who avoids this adoption shit. And in a way, I notice that I avoid her too. Because when she says "Let's make plans" I shut down a little, and don't want to. I suddenly want to back away from it. Like, what the hell? Where is THAT coming from? When all I want in the world is to have her in my life yet when I finally get it, I drop it like a hot potato?

That's just fucked up.

So I have to try to figure this out...why do I react this way? Is it because I am afraid of a second (third) rejection? Is it a subconscious way of hurting her the way she hurt me? Am I just apathetic about the whole thing?

God all this self-analyzing is exhausting. I wonder if non-adopted people do even half the self-analysis of every waking moment as adopted people do. Why did I do that? Why did I think that? What did that mean? AAARRRRGGGGGGHHH!!!

It's time for the padded cell.

And I still can't get to that cemetery, every time I drive past it I look over at it, feeling oh so guilty, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but I just haven't felt like I've had much to say. Hi mom and dad, I've been out bitching and moaning about you adopting me, how's the afterlife treatin' ya?

Yeah. Not so much to say these days. Guilt guilt guilt.

Naughty naughty.

Wait...what's that...another wrinkle? Shit. Time to grow up and act my age.

Improving

noreply@blogger.com (Lillie) — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 17:16:00 +0000

I haven't really had much to talk about lately in adopto-land, I guess I've been either taking a break or avoiding it all together, I don't know but I just haven't had a lot of inspiration as of late.

Instead, I've been focusing on me. Becoming better, becoming healthier, improving my life and my outlook. It's a long slow process and one that I don't know if I'll ever complete, but the journey is an interesting one, with some days more fruitful than others.

I think a lot of it just has to do with the time of year. I always feel refreshed and renewed in the fall, it's my time to start over, my time for second chances. I've taken up running down the gravel road and in one short month I have worked my way up to being able to hoof an entire two miles now without needing to stop and walk (well, okay, I do have to take a little break at the mile-mark but I can do one mile up the road and one mile back, running, nonstop. I am proud of this 35 year old body.)

I don't know where things are with my mom right now. I think they are good, when she does reply it is positive, but I am getting apathetic about our relationship and beginning to ask myself exactly what it is I even want. I think that the constant let-downs are beginning to wear on me and my defenses are in permanent up-mode. As much as I want her in my life, as much as I would love a close and warm relationship, I just don't see it happening. I don't know if I could ever trust her enough, if I could ever endure a long silence without that nagging fear in the back of my mind, telling me she's doing it again, she's pulling away, she's abandoning me all over again.

And I DO NOT want to subject my children to that, because as much as they deserve to have their grandmother, they do not deserve to be abandoned by her too.

But all I really know for sure is, I like to run. But it's getting cold, soon the snow will fly and I will no longer be able to hoof that gravel road. But for now I will continue to look into myself and improve, and enjoy this beautiful fall season, because no matter what happens in my reunion, I still have to be strong for myself.