I approved the following comment on the previous post after a) crying for a bit and b) forwarding it to people who are not just birth mothers and c) warning people that an anti-birth-mother spammer is on the loose. That said, read it for yourself.
Pardon my complete 180* opinion on this topic, but I came across this blog not too long ago and have been reading the historical posts.
Might I ask why you have such a sense of entitlement to see this child? You gave her up for adoption for whatever reason, and her “second mother” as you imply (which I completely disagree with) has raised her to be the child that she is now.
Why do you feel like you have any right at all to see her? It’s not up to you. It’s up to “D” and the child if they want you in the child’s life.
You speak as though it’s terribly wrong that you haven’t seen the child for a year, but in most cases, the mother giving the child up for adoption never sees that child again.
I realize I’m in the vast minority in my opinion here, but to me, this little girl is NOT your daughter anymore. You gave birth to her, yes so “technically she is”, but someone else, her actual mother (“D”), has raised her to be who she is, NOT YOU. You have had the privilege of being in her life at some points, which you should be thankful for. But to be angry that you can’t see her is preposterous.
In my humble opinion, one’s “Mother” is the person that makes them who they are, teaches them their values, shapes their believes and nurtures their interests and dreams – you have had no part in any of that. Why focus on someone elses child when you have your own? My own aunt was adopted at a very young age, and would never dare refer to her “birth mother” as her mother. My grandmother raised her, so SHE is her mother. Her birth mother is simply “Jane Smith” as far as importance in her life.
To sit and be sad and depressed every day for however many years you’ve been doing it.. Why? You need to accept that you have your own family and children to be concerned about. I wonder how your own children and husband feel about you constantly complaining that you’re missing out on this child’s upbringing when it’s not yours to be part of.
I’m done. You ladies may continue your encouragement of this nonsense now. Make sure you give the writer of this blog lots more {{ hugs }} so she can continue to feel justified in this cause.
People like this cruel, anonymous jagoff are why I stated, SPECIFICALLY, in the previous post that I have been silent for so damn long on the topic. Because RANDOM people who are not involved in or touched by this deeply personal issue are free to spout off their anti-birth-mother rhetoric and tell me that I don’t have a right to feel as I do, that I don’t have a right to miss my daughter and that I don’t have a right to verbalize those emotions.
I’m tired of this negativity. I’m tired of this stupidity. I’m tired of this bull. I’m tired.
The “sense of entitlement” I “feel for this child” does not exist. I am fully and most definitely aware that I have absolutely no right. I am also fully and most definitely aware that I became accustom to a lifestyle that involved my daughter at her parents choosing. I am fully and most definitely aware that despite recent changes to that lifestyle, we will all survive. Voicing my experience and sharing my feelings are 100% my right. I will continue to do so. I will not censor myself because some random Schmoe thinks that birth mothers are useless, worthless creatures. I will not censor myself because some random Schmoe knew people who were adopted and thus has written the book on open adoption etiquette. I’m sorry, but unless you’re actively participating in an open adoption, I don’t give two rips what your aunt’s grandma did or did not do as it was not in this era and your second hand information is bound to be missing some pertinent details.
As for my husband? What do you know, commenter? My Husband is the most supportive, loving and compassionate man I have been blessed to know. Coming closely behind are my own father and grandfather. If you want his opinion on things, he’d tell you, and quickly, that his heart is broken at the lack of the Munchkin in our lives as of late. He misses her for himself and he misses her for his sons. His heart is also broken because he sees my sadness. It does not negatively affect our marriage, quite possibly because I am in therapy to appropriately deal with my emotions, and the rest in part because we are great at communicating with one another. If he thought, for a second, that all of “this” was interfering with our marriage or my parenting, trust me, he’d let me know. He doesn’t beat around the bush. I’d be the first to know. As of our talk a few days ago, he’s just in the same boat that I am sitting: sad.
As for my boys? Again, what do you know? You know nothing of my daily parenting. If you did, you would be visiting my other blog and seeing how my daily devotion to them has not wavered because of outside issues. What parent doesn’t have stress in their lives? What happens if you don’t deal with stress? It bottles up and explodes. The fact that I am here, writing about my issues and dealing with them in various manners shows, tenfold, that I am doing right by my children. I am doing what I need to do to take care of myself in order to best take care of them. Did you also miss the part where I am actively fighting postpartum depression? Did you think that your comment would foster positive change in that area? Are you just a moron?
Let me do you a favor, random Canadian commenter, since you claim to have been visiting for awhile and have been browsing through my history and have just now decided to comment: hit the back button. If someone you don’t know experiencing something you don’t understand causes you to leave such a nasty comment, you’ve got your own demons to deal with and you don’t need to be pestering me as I search for my own healing. Move along, little Troll. You’re a dime a dozen on the internet. (Also: Ball up. Anonymous commenters with fake e-mails and all are so 2005.)
PS: Back so soon? Wow. True troll like fashion. Get a new schtick. Really. The back button. Press it. Since you’ve come back again in the past minute.
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