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I find it so hard to write in a paper journal. Not just physically, but mentally. It is hard to write for “just me.” As a teen, my Mom found one of my (umpteen) journals and used stuff that I had written against me. From that point on, I began censoring what I wrote in my journals. And what’s the point in that? If you can’t be honest in your most personal of spaces, what is the ultimate point? It won’t be a true reflection of what you felt or what you went through so why bother?

And for years, I didn’t bother.

I’ve been writing online for years and years. And years. And some more years. Once truly open with my words, I’ve been censoring more and more. In part because of the unethical actions of my agency, in part because I don’t want the world to see me struggle and in part out of respect for other parties. But censoring gets old. It’s hard to write, even in generalities, when you have to debate every other word, whether it will be used against you in a negative fashion or if you will hurt someone’s feelings. Quite honestly, not many people extend me the same sort of respect for my feelings and it feels cumbersome to always to the same for the world at large and just not those whom are important in my day-to-day life.

But writing in a paper journal again has been a challenge. My voice on the internet, though chronicling my/our journey/journeys, is an outward voice. I often talk to my readers. (HI READERS!) As I said, I do censor myself to some degree online, more and more these days. So when I opened that journal and stared at the blank page, I didn’t know what to write. How honest did I want to be? How deep into the details did I want to get? What if someone read it? Of course, the only persons with actual access to such a thing are my Husband who a) respects my privacy and b ) already knows everything I’ve written (thus far). I mean, my kids could find it but their reading comprehension at this point is rather low unless it’s The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Beyond that, depending on future contents, thus far I would have no problem sharing my struggles with my children. They need to learn what Mommy has been through in order to learn their own stories.

But it’s so hard to be raw sometimes. The words I use are words I don’t want to think about or admit to the general public. No, not foul words. Big words. Like depression. And anger. And hopelessness. Yeah, didn’t know that, now did you? I should be free to write since it’s just me, my own eyes, reading the pages. But what if I don’t want to know for certain how I feel? As long as it isn’t in black and white on a page, it isn’t real, right? As long as I can’t see the words, the problem doesn’t exist, right?

But it was cathartic all the same. I needed to get a lot of stuff out before my therapy appointment this afternoon or I wasn’t going to be able to say any of it out loud. In fact, I’m not quite sure I can say it all out loud even now and so the journal is taking a trip with me to the therapist’s office this afternoon. She can read it while I nurse the little one and gear up for her myriad of questions. So much has changed since my last appointment. My world is crumbling and I’m trying to claw my way out of the rubble.

I see some spots of light but just can’t reach…

I was recently censored by my agency. I’m not going to give more details as I don’t want to involve other parties. But it comes down to the fact that they didn’t like what I wrote and hit me where they knew it would hurt. They chose unique timing as well.

You see, I had recently started working on the anger I still have for them with my therapist. Prior to the past few months, working on that anger wasn’t even a possibility. I wanted that anger. I didn’t want to let go. Letting go of it, in my mind, was excusing their blatant disregard for ethics. But, man, anger can eat away at your soul. I didn’t like who it was making me as a person. And so, I had started working on the process of letting go of the anger.

And then they step all over me again.

So, of course, I got angry again. I was shaking my fist. I was using big, nasty words. I was going to show them what to do with their big, unethical corporation. I figured it was a sign that letting go of my anger was the wrong thing to do.

And then I thought…

Well, maybe this is a test to see if I’m really willing to let go and let God. Ugh. I hate when God tests me. I’d really rather not be tested. And so, I’ve been mulling over my anger the past week. I’ve been trying to decide whether to let it go and let myself continue working towards healing or if I’m not ready to give up that part of my life yet. (Don’t tell me that I’m a bad Christian for having areas of my life that I still want to “control.” Point me out one person who doesn’t have issues like that and they can cast the first stone.)

I’m still at a standstill. I’m really hurt by everything that has happened. All of these years, I have only wanted one thing: an apology. They refused to offer an apology even after I filed a complaint with the Better Business Bureau. I’m not trying to have my daughter returned. I’m not asking for money. I just want someone to say, “I’m sorry. We didn’t act in an appropriate manner. We did wrong by you. We apologize for the grief and loss that our negligence caused you**.” That’s all I’ve wanted. And I’ll never get it.

And I can’t decide if that makes me angry. Or just sad.

** = Their negligence caused additional grief and loss. My own part in the relinquishment of my daughter caused grief and loss as well. I accept my part in the process. I just wish they would admit their part.

In a rare 9-0 decision, the Supreme Court extended the full protection of the First Amendment to the Internet in Reno v. ACLU, a decision which struck down portions of the 1996 Communications Decency Act, a law intended to outlaw so-called “indecent” online communication (that is, nonobscene material protected by the First Amendment.) The court’s decision identified the Internet as a “free speech zone,” and extended the same Constitutional protections given to books, magazines, films, and spoken expression to materials published on the Internet.

I won’t be silenced. Just sayin’.

Now back to my regularly scheduled posting. Oh wait, no, impromptu napping! GO!

I didn’t know that I would feel an overwhelming sense of guilt because I denied her what was best (breast milk). I didn’t know that guilt would flow over and into the relationships I would have with future children. I didn’t even know that there would be guilt or any issue! I still have some anger and resentment towards myself here, that I put myself first in this particular situation and not the Munchkin’s best interest. If I had been solely concentrating on what was best for her, as everything else I was doing in the adoption plan was supposed to be geared towards, I would have realized that “hard” or not, breast milk was best. I let that unethical agency cheat me out of giving my daughter what was best. In direct connection, they also cheated my first parented child out of what was best for him by treating it like a non-issue. Had I known it would be an issue, I could have found counseling before hand, not later.

It was actually this particular issue that was a huge catalyst in my seeking out and finding my current therapist. It is only through work with her that I was able to get past some of that guilt and anger. Some! I have more to say on the subject…

but it’s time to feed this guy.

I have an adoptive Mom friend with a blog. She got hit by an anonymous comment on a post in which she talked about guilt for adopting regarding the birth mother’s emotions of grief and loss. The anonymous commenter was an adoptee, telling her she should adopt again. Normally I let adoptees say their piece because they teach me so much about adoption. Today? With this statement? Remember the spitting?

You, the parent adopting, are relieving her of a burden (economic, social, etc.) and keeping the child out of the foster system from an early start.

A) My child was never a burden. I would have and would still lay down my life to that little girl. In fact, the simple act of carrying that outrageously complicated and tumultuous pregnancy to term did put my own life in danger at least twice. By seeking adoptive parents for her while I was pregnant, unable to work because of my kidney disorder that was complicated by the pregnancy and generally down-trodden, I wasn’t sitting in my empty apartment thinking, “Gee, I’d like to relieve myself of this burden.” I was trying to do something right, in my mind at the time, when everything else in the world had gone wrong prior to that point. Burden. None of my children are a burden. They’re noisy to boot but never a burden.

B) Say what? The assumption in the second half of that statement is so painful that I physically felt the sting when I read it. To say that the Munchkin would have ended up in foster care had I parented is the most ludicrous and simultaneously painful thing I have ever heard (regarding our own situation). Why is there this outlandish assumption that parents who place either didn’t want their children (and thus are cold-hearted wenches) or would have made neglectful and abusive parents? Where the heck does this come from? Why is it one extreme or the other? Why are (“voluntarily” relinquishing) birth parents viewed either as saints (oh, so selfless, they made a loving decision, they are to be praised) or sinners (well, they would have ended up dumping the baby in a trash can anyway). Where the heck is the in between?! Why can’t we be viewed for what the majority of us are: mothers and fathers who made a really, really hard decision that changed the course of life for approximately five or more people.

I’m tired of it. The Munchkin would not have ended up in foster care. She would have been loved and well-provided for from birth. Would we have had some struggles financially? Yes, I am sure. Would it have been the end of the world? No. Would I have come up out of the muck and mire and done what was necessary to provide for my child, no matter what? You betcha.

I am not an abusive mother. I never was and I never will be. My children, all of them, are the light of my life. (Okay, TheHusbandMan is cool, too.) I make decisions in my life with all of them in mind. I proceed with caution in certain areas because I want them all to be proud of me. Ya know, someday, when they stop thinking that all parental figures are lame-o. (When does that start? Four? Five? Seven? If it’s seven, we’re good, because BigBrother is still boycotting seven.)

To be honest? Though I’m sure they exist (and now I have a story in mind where I think this is the case so, I’ll say one), I know of only one mother who “voluntarily” relinquished a child for adoption and then had others taken by the state at a later date. (This does not count mothers who voluntarily relinquished to avoid having the state take the baby at birth. That, again, is a different scenario.) The birth mothers and fathers that I know are amazing parents. Sometimes they’re a bit overprotective. I know I am. But abusive? Or neglectful? These parents know about loss, about losing a child that they love so dearly.

Then again, what do I know.

“If you bring things to the surface, they lose their power,” Kaysen told her, but Sara knew that that was what happened in an ideal world, in theory but not in practice, that sometimes bringing things to the surface gave them a wingspan you might never clip. “The way to get free of pain is to dive down into it. To acknowledge it.” [...] “Dive,” Kaysen advised, but Sara knewthat to dive was dangerous until you knew you could swim.

I found myself siding with Sara as I pondered the words her therapist was offering, not even fully aware of the relinquishment of Sara’s daughter. There have been times, in therapy, when my therapist has pushed “that” button or made me look too hard or pushed me out on the ledge just a little too far… and I’ve closed up within myself, letting the rest of the session become a wash. Why? In a safe place, with a therapist that I trust, would I clam up?  It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.

Looking at the fictional character’s response to her therapists advice to “dive in” and allow things to “come to the surface,” I think I might not be alone. As it is, I think I am forced to deal with a lot of emotions that would otherwise be buried deep in the wreckage of my ship-wrecked heart. Since Munchkin is such a constant part of my life, I am forced to look at her and see myself in her eyes. Things like that are always brought to the surface. I can tread water, most of the time!, with such things.

But when you make me look at the things that have been lost to memory, possibly for good reason, I forget to tread. I forget to move arms and legs. As those things rise to the surface, I feel myself drowning. My certain triggers, the ones that make me flail my arms like an inexperienced swimmer, include addressing my anger, the agency, fears about the future and how it all comes together in our family and the vivid memories that I don’t really bring to recollection on my own. Sometimes I try to hit on them in blogs but… even still… when I know that anger is not necessarily an “always negative” emotion, anger is sitll a very scary thing for me. When you combine it with the agency, well, I’ll just sink right to the bottom of my own soul.

Perhaps I should be working on some of this more diligently with my therapist lady. Perhaps recognizing that I am purposefully clamming up and/or avoiding such subjectry will help make new headway. Perhaps I’ll learn something really life-affirming in the process.

Perhaps I’ll just freaking drown in my own emotion.

quite frankly…

I don’t know if my own answer applies to the majority of birth parents who took issue with their parents. For me, it took becoming a daily, everyday parent (to BigBrother) for me to realize that I wanted a bond with my Mom and Dad, past issues be darned, and that I was going to just go ahead and let my own walls drop. Of course, in letting those walls drop, my Mom and I had some great discussions about why things happened the way they did (thus leading me to find out about the severe miscommunication) and, in that, I was further healed. Again, I don’t know or think that this is how all birth parents come to forgiveness and I know a few who have felt even MORE angry with their parents upon becoming everyday parents. So, obviously, going off of my own experience here doesn’t fully answer the question.

Help me out with a comment, e-mail or post on your own blog. (Also, any links to sites about forgiveness and/or quotes about forgiveness will be appreciated and welcomed. I have one already but I think that I may need one or two more!)

I’m tired of agencies. In general. It’s this kind of junk that they’re pulling, under the guise of “networking” that really yanks my chain. You don’t blindly contact a newly pregnant woman for “networking.” You contact her because you want her child; plain and simple. You don’t contact her because you think maybe she has other knocked up friends who you can steal children from; you’re honestly banking on the hopes that maybe this was some accidental pregnancy and maybe you can get your claws in before she realizes that motherhood is awesome… or before she contacts another agency.

My head is throbbing.

When I went back to investigate their MySpace page further, I really did the whole mini-vomit in my mouth experience. In their “networking” section, they list “exotic dancing.” BECAUSE ONLY STRIPPERS EXPERIENCE UNPLANNED PREGNANCIES?! My brain just exploded a little more. Not that there’s one thing wrong with strippers, but, uhm, excuse me? I just can’t even fathom that line of thought.

Of course, I can’t fathom the entire propositioning a pregnant woman on MySpace in the first place. I’m just not getting the thought process behind such an absolutely grotesque move. If you contact someone who is only 6weeks4days pregnant with your agency’s info, is that like calling “DIBS?!” Or shotgun for the front seat of the car? Are we now in a race to see who can talk a mother out of parenting her child first?

Because, you know what line I always get when I talk about the coercion that ANLC brought into our “relationship?” I get this: “Well, you contacted them. You should have thoroughly researched everything there was to know about adoption before contacting them. You should have known what you were getting into. It’s your fault.”  Again, this always comes from people who don’t understand that adoption agencies are trained to make expectant mothers doubt themselves (or, to be less broad, ANLC).

So how does this scenario factor in?

I didn’t contact this agency. They contacted ME. If I was a mother, unsure of what to do with my child and our future (which I’m not so buzz off), would their message have been the unstoppable snowball of self-doubt? I didn’t reach out to them; they sought out me. Or, more specifically, they sought out the unborn child growing within my womb. And, catching me so early, before I have a chance to bond with this child, would it be beneficial to their cause? I think so. Catch a mother before she identifies herself as such, before she bonds with the child she has conceived. Catch a mother before she starts researching resources. Catch a mother and make her feel indebted to you, for your emotional support during such a hard time in her life. Make her feel as if she has no other option. Heck, tell her that she has no other option.

How far would these people have gone?

Still, sitting here, half-a-day later, I am angry, upset, confused, worried and frustrated. Are we making any difference? In speaking out about the unethical agencies? The injustices caused by coercive tactics to get mothers to place? The hurt and pain? The grief? Is anyone listening? Can we ever possibly be louder than the agencies with all of the glitz and glam and promises that someday the pain will just magically disappear? (Because what do you want to hear? That it will last forever or that it will go away someday? I know what I believed.) Can we ever be in enough places to outnumber and outspeak these liars? Can we ever step out from under the “Angry Birth Mother” umbrella and have people ACTUALLY listen to us and believe what we’re saying?

Or will newly expectant mothers continue to be harassed by agencies on MySpace? On their blogs? In malls? In doctor’s offices? Where does it stop? When will it end? What can be done?

And, for the record, keep your paws, your thoughts and any other unethical crud off of this baby. If you thought I was overprotective Mamma-bear type with BigBrother and that pregnancy, well, NO ONE PROPOSITIONED ME FOR MY BABY. *cries*