Jul 062011
 

As if I wasn’t irked enough by the not guilty verdict in the Casey Anthony trial, I came across this gem of a tweet.

Perhaps the #caseyanthony trial will shine a light on #adoption as an option for troubled moms.

Oh yeah? Perhaps the Casey Anthony trial will shine some light on, I don’t know, not murdering your child. Or, since she’s “not guilty” of that, perhaps it will shine some light on actually reporting your child as missing sooner than 31 days after the fact. Just sayin’.

Yes, I’m coming off as a bit aggravated. But I am. Most of it is about the stupid verdict. But some of it is about the stupid “cause” that some have taken upon themselves to somehow make Casey Anthony’s now forever alleged murder of her daughter into some crusade for adoption.

I get the sentiment behind the idea. Kind of. I’m sure there are many who would jump on the bandwagon with those who think “if you don’t want to parent, give your child to someone who does.” However, it’s often assumed that I didn’t want to parent. That’s simply not the case. I was physically ill, unable to work and stressed beyond my capacity with regard to those financial issues. Hearing that Casey was having financial woes (more likely due to bad choices than a bum kidney), it makes me stop and pause.

Before you think I’m defending Casey, let me assure you that I am not.

I am simply debunking the myth that all mothers who think the thought — “maybe I don’t want to be a mom anymore” — should not be forced to give their babies to deserving couples. Quite honestly, it is those moms whom we should be helping with mental health care, support as friends and family and generally lifting up — instead of just ripping babies from their arms. It’s true that we cannot help people who do not want to be helped, but when we place such a stigma on mothers reaching out for help, especially mental health help, can we really blame mothers for being gun-shy at seeking it? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I don’t like to play Russian roulette with kids lives either. And that’s the rub.

Children being harmed, in any way, is a sensitive button for me. But the answer is not to rip every child away from every mother who ever doubted herself. So, please stop making broad, extremely insensitive comments about how this is a call to all unexpectedly pregnant women to give up those “unwanted” babies. That is most certainly not what this case and the resulting verdict are about.

Now, back to Casey. Documents released in 2008 show that Casey did consider placing Caylee for adoption, but that her mom told her that she “wasn’t allowed” or something to that effect. I’ve seen some other bloggers take on this topic and, when I can put my venom away for a moment, I realize that I don’t have a lot to say. Or, I do, but it’s not popular. The truth is that I really wouldn’t wish the lifelong grief and loss associated with relinquishment on too many people in the world. I really, really wouldn’t. It sucks. Big time. But do you know what sucks more? Precious babies who are killed.

So, for the sake of argument, let’s say that Casey Anthony really didn’t kill her daughter. And let’s ignore that big span of time where she didn’t report her daughter as missing. Let’s ignore all of this hoopla and pretend there was never a case against Casey. Let’s just say something really awful just happened to her daughter. Really awful things happen. Accidents. Kidnappings. Car accidents. If she was truly innocent and had considered adoption prior to giving birth, would we be arguing that she should have relinquished just so her daughter would still be alive? No. We wouldn’t.

Okay. That’s about as far as I can take my non-defense of Casey. I kind of made myself nauseated taking it that far. But I did it for a reason.

Judge Casey as you will. But please don’t make her case — as messed up as it was — a call for mothers to relinquish babies. Every mother experiencing an unplanned pregnancy brings a unique set of issues to the delivery room. Her story will not be like any other story before her or after her. Just because she’s considering adoption does not mean that she is an unfit mother. Just because she is unsure of herself doesn’t mean that she won’t be a great mom. Please do not let the actions and in-actions of one mom dictate how we treat those young mothers who will consider adoption in the future. They deserve better. Their children deserve better, no matter their decision to parent or place.

Please separate this case from the women out there who need someone to believe in them, someone to support them.

(And if you’re wondering, I believe she is guilty and honestly wish that Casey was busy enduring the lifelong grief and loss associated with relinquishment rather than smirking after a not guilty verdict in her daughter’s murder trial. So put away the pitchforks.)

Jun 082011
 

BigBrother has laid off the constant onslaught of adoption-speak and questions. Apparently he has processed his emotions from our recent visit and has fallen back into his normal processing of all things boy. We’re back to whining about how unfair I am for making him clean his room, wondering how far he can hit the ball at his t-ball game this week and what on Earth we’re having for snack tonight.

It’s not that he’s not mentioning his sister. He is. He occasionally asks when we’re going to visit her again. When pools are mentioned, he informs the pool-mentioner that his sister has a pool and we’re going to swim in it again this summer. He prays for her at night. He told me just yesterday that he misses her.

But the questions have stopped. For now.

They’ll be back. And, just like this time, I’ll suck it up and put my own emotion aside to answer, reassure and generally support his journey through all of this mess. It was hard. I won’t lie. There were times over the pat month and a half, that I really felt down on myself for everything that he was going through. I kicked myself when I was down. But I let him keep talking, let him keep asking, despite how hard it made it for me to find my breath, my peace. I was calm. I was patient. With him. Late at night, after he had been asleep for hours, I would let myself feel, let myself cry. The tears have slowed since the words have slowed.

It’s hard. I accept my responsibility for his questions, his grief. But it’s hard to allow him the grieving room while I still struggle with it myself. I find peace, however, in the fact that he can come to me — to either of his parents — with his questions, his statements. I find peace in the temporary breathing room.