Guilt tells us that we have done something wrong, but shame tells us that we are something wrong.

-Sheila Walsh, The Heartache No One Sees

Emphasis hers. But it would be mine as well.

I have had the guilt/shame argument with those who simply refused to grasp anything outside of their experience. They’re different feelings. They exist for different reasons. They may be tied to the same core concepts but there are differences through and through.

I have guilt, like any mother, over the decisions I have made for the Munchkin and my parented boys. The book Mommy Guilt didn’t touch my adoption-related-mothering guilt. Not with a ten foot pole. I feel guilty that I wasn’t more knowledgeable about laws, ethics and adoptee issues prior to placement. I feel guilty that I have made some mistakes in my relationship with her and with her parents. I feel guilty that… wait for it… I feel guilty. That’s right. Oh, sweet cycle of guilt! But, honestly, sometimes my guilt has made it impossible for me to move forward with something that I knew needed to be done. And, hence, the guilt about the guilt.

But shame is a different level.

I don’t feel guilty about my role of birth mother. I feel shame. The words of others, some said with ignorance and some said with malice, have made me doubt my self-worth and the worth I have to my daughter’s life. When I am asked how many children I have and I respond, “Two,” shame is what keeps me from telling the truth. Because the general public seems unable to separate the action of placing (the “done”) and the person doing the placing (the “are”). As no one wants to slip on my shoes for even the briefest of occasions, they can’t seem to grasp how someone could place a child for adoption and, as such, I am immediately labeled along the lines of heartless, careless and generally distasteful. Their disapproving glances are not seen, by me, as a judgment of the action but a judgment of my person.

It’s probably not en vogue to admit that you have shame. But, alas, I do. I’m working on it. If only the general public would either step to the plate and work on compassionate responses or shut their mouths all together. Then maybe I could make some progress.

I trudge on.

Jamie Lynn Spears had her baby. Old news, I know. But I’ve been sitting over here, feeling jealous and salty about it for a few days now. That’s right. Jealous.

Granted, I didn’t have millions of dollars at the ready. I also didn’t have the support of my family (due to communication problems amongst us all). But dang it, I was older. Why her? Why not me? Or, why me? And why not her? Or… why any of us?

I know she has her dissenters, of course. I’ve seen people blame the Pregnancy Pact on her. I’ve seen people blame her for being a bad influence. I’ve heard the nasty things people have to say. My heart breaks for her because of all of that crap. I want to smack people around and say, “You were a decision or two away, at some point in your life, from something similar.” Of course, these arguments are usually had with those who waited until they got married to have sex and therefore feel they can pass judgment on young, unwed parents. I haven’t quite found the appropriate respectful argument to let them know that they’re still not all that different from those of us who were young and pregnant. I’m working on it.

All the same, I hope the younger Spears sister is able to rise to the occasion. Not for the sake of the media. Not for the sake of her naysayers. And not for the sake of the tweens that apparently idolize her. (Hi? Solution to the problem? Teach your children either that all people are human or that celebrities, in general, don’t make the best role models. Cite examples.) I have these hopes for her new baby girl. Period. I hope that they are able to enjoy the life that they both deserve together: one with love, learning and laughter mixed together. That learning part? That’s the hard stuff. Trust me. You want to learn from the hard stuff. And you want to learn from the good stuff.

Just writing this out, I feel a bit less jealous. That is, until the next unwed and/or young celebrity gets pregnant. Because they will always exist. Just like in the everyday population.