Busy Day

Published August 27, 2016 by iwishiwasadopted

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Big day today!

Oldest daughter turns 29 today.  She was born at 2:30 in the morning, after a quick and intense labor, only 20 months after her big brother.  He was the first relative I had ever met, and she was the second, and the first female.  When they laid her in my arms, we looked into each others eyes and I thought, “this one is like me”.  A girl.  She will feel what I feel, think like I think.  And it’s been true.  A link connecting me and my then unknown mother.  A link connecting me to all the women in my family, from the beginning of time.  Women, giving birth, just like me. Happy Birthday, baby girl!

My youngest is going back to college today.  My 4th and last child.  Last night we visited the Birthday girl at work.  She works at an outdoor bar in a fancy hotel.  It just so happens to be the last place Birthday girl saw her grandmother, my mother.

Going there brought up lots of memories of Mom.  Unfortunately, there are not many good ones.  That evening was tense.  Mom was always wired up when we were together.  Her discomfort was obvious.  She tried to hide it, but I could always tell. I’ll never know exactly what she was feeling.  I don’t know if she was framing me at this point.  We had a few drinks and I drove her to the train station.  I gave her money for the train ticket and she sent me $10 in the mail a few days later.  I was mad.  I didn’t want her $10.  She was my mother, and I had no problem paying for her train ticket.  Oh well. Birthday girl never saw her grandmother again.

I was thinking of Moms apartment in the city.  I’d never seen a place quite like it.  It was a studio, a small kitchen and a bed/sitting room.  It was cluttered, but pretty orderly.  Her strange artwork was all over the walls.  I guess you call them collages.  Pictures, or objects pasted onto different things.  She had bloody Kewpie dolls on a full length mirror, with wedding pictures and other things.  This was called, “The Happiest Day of My Life”.  It was about me, and her relationship with my father.  It was disturbing and terrifying.  There was also one with a bunch of rubber dildos, with penis rings in them. I don’t know what that was called.

Her bathroom door was covered with pictures.  I’m not sure what they were.  I did not like her art.  It was too scary, and IMHO, not very good.  I know it was her way of expressing herself, like writing is mine.

My brother has all of her artwork.  I don’t want any.  Anything she gave me, I either gave back, or if it scared me, I burned it.

 

This is something she gave me for my birthday.  Its photos of us, and my father.  It scared the pants off me, but I pretended that I liked it.  I hung it in my bedroom for awhile, but it creeped me out.  I turned it over and saw faint black marker on the back.  I peeled off a sheet of paper that was glued on, and she had written “dead babies in Potter’s field” and, “fucking fairy princess”.  I burned this one after that.  Later I read on her Facebook page that she called this piece, “watch your mouth”.  She never told me that.

When she gave it to me, I was in her apartment.  She pulled it out from under her bed, and spoke in a strange baby voice that she used sometimes.  Maybe it was one of her multiple personalities.  My heart was pounding, and I wanted to run out of there, but I stayed, and acted like this was a normal gift.

Ah, memories!

 

 

 

Summer

Published August 14, 2016 by iwishiwasadopted

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It’s been really hot around here!  I’m lucky though, I have an above ground pool and air conditioning.  I don’t suffer much.

I made my home everything that I wanted as a child.  I grew up in a 1 bedroom apartment, but I knew early on that I wanted to live in a house.  I wanted a yard,a swing-set, and a pool.  I got them all, as an adult. I wanted my children to have the life that I never had.  We take family vacations.  They each have their own bedrooms.  I got it all, for them.  Everything that I wanted.

I never, ever considered giving any of them away, but I did once consider abortion.

I was pregnant with my 4th child.  My husband didn’t make much money, and I had a job as a bank teller.  I couldn’t imagine taking care of another baby.  I went to planned parenthood, because they gave free pregnancy tests.  I knew that I was pregnant, but I wanted official confirmation.  They gave it to me.  I sat in a woman’s office, and she advised abortion.  She said it would be unfair to my other kids to have another.  She said that I should think of myself, and my job.  I felt guilty, because I wanted my baby, even if it was #4.  Even if things would be tight.  If I thought of myself, I wanted this baby very much.

I was torn.

Then I imagined meeting this unborn baby someday, and explaining why I did it.  What would I say?  I didn’t want to quit my bank teller job?  I didn’t have enough money?  None of the reasons seemed good enough for me to end my baby’s life.

None of those reasons were good enough, and I have 4 children.  I had my tubes tied after she was born, so I would never have to face that tough decision again.  I’m so glad that shes here!  She’s 19 now, and we did have enough money after all.  I got another job.  We all survived.

I am not anti abortion.  I think it’s a better choice than ISA, Infant Stranger Adoption.  It just wasn’t the right choice for me, at that time.  She will be starting her second year of college in a  few weeks, my last baby.

How did my mother give me away?  How could she tell people that I died?  Did she ever imagine that I would come back and ask why?  I did, and she did not have a good enough answer.  What reason is good enough to explain why you gave your newborn away?

There is so much I needed to learn from her, and shes’ gone forever.  The summer heat will always remind me of her last days, visiting her in the hospital as she lay dying.  Gone!  It still takes me by  surprise sometimes.

She has not been buried.  I don’t know where her ashes are.  Nowhere to visit, nowhere to mourn.

My adoptive mother, Ramona is losing her hearing.  She’s going to the ear doctor Monday, my eldest daughter will be taking her.  Her conversations are filled with her fears about the procedure the doctor may do, something to drain the fluid from her ears.  I feel sorry for her, but my mother is dead, and I don’t really love Ramona.

I was on vacation, with my family for 5 days, and had no internet or phone signal, and didn’t have any contact with Ramona.  It was heaven, but now I’m back.

 

 

 

Happy Birthday, Bro!

Published August 3, 2016 by iwishiwasadopted

Today is my half brother’s 49th birthday.  This is the only place where I’ll wish him happy birthday.

Last year we were in the hospital, visiting Mom.She told me it was his birthday, which I forgot.  I said “Happy Birthday”, but I didn’t mean it.  I don’t care about him,and I think he feels the same about me, so, Happy Birthday little brother, and go fuck yourself.  happy_birthday

Some Time Alone?

Published July 13, 2016 by iwishiwasadopted

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This evening, I’m almost alone in my house. It’s rare, and I’ve missed it. I used to be alone all day,while the kids were in school, and hubby and Ramona out at work.

Now, I work all day, Ramona is retired, the youngest is home from college,not working.  The middle sister is working part time, waiting to hear from grad school, and sleeping her days away.  The eldest girl is attending trade school, and working part time.That’s 6 of us,here at home. A crowd.

I long for time alone, with hubby.

But I’m here now.  Romona is in her apartment, but she comes out once in awhile.  Last time i was upstairs, thankfully. I was lying on  my bed, thinking and relaxing. i heard her apartment door open, instant tension.I hear her shuffle around.  After all,she’s 86.

I feel terrible about the way that I feel about Ramona. I’m supposed to love her, but no one else really does. She adopted me,but i never, ever felt that she was my mother. It was always an uneasy relationship, on both sides.  Last summer my mother was dying. She went into the emergency room in late June, and never left a medical facility.  She died Sept Sept 1, so the memories of last summer and hitting me pretty hard.

Ramona has not mentioned this. I have no idea if it’s even crossed her mind.   Ramona is very concerned with her health problems.  She shares a lot, and my daughters take her to her doctors.  She pays them.  Ramona’s body repulses me.  It always has.  When my mother was in the hospital, she asked to be changed, and middle sister and I helped Mom’s sister roll her over. Sometimes I think Mom planned it.  She was very cagey. All three of us women had our hands on  my mother, the matriarch.  i felt the ancient call of women caring for other family members.  It was a precious and sacred moment, for all of us.Middle sister said, , “Mom,you’ve got her ass!”.  We laughed, in the midst of all the pain.

The youngest said, ‘Mom, it’s almost like you lying there”.  My mother and i shared an uncanny resemblance.  The kind that makes you do a double take, and smile at how clever nature is.  Oh mother, why did you leave me so soon!  I truly barely knew you!

 

And Ramona is still here.  I wish we had never crossed paths.

 

 

One Year Ago

Published July 8, 2016 by iwishiwasadopted

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One year ago I found out that my mother was dying.  I can’t sleep, and I’m filled with anger and thoughts of my family again.  I checked them out on facebook, again.  I found out that my Aunt Susan has retired after 41 years of teaching art in the public schools.  I found out that my half brother is becoming an uncle, again. I see their lives, 5 years after I  found them.  I see my father, wishing everyone a Happy 4th of July, adding that he’s feeling “happy”.

4th

He told me he was ill and miserable, and not up to contacting anyone. This was a few years ago.  I guess he’s recovered,while my healthy mother has died. I smell a rat.

Will I ever be able to accept that I will never be part of their lives?  I don’t see how.  Every thing I see reminds me of my loss, and how much I long for a connection that I am forever denied.

At times like these, nothing seems to help. I hope this passes soon.

Father’s Day

Published June 25, 2016 by iwishiwasadopted

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Many adoptees write about father’s day.  Mother’s day too.  They are hard days for many of us.

I dreamt of my father the other day.  We were on vacation sleeping in an RV, on the beach when a seagull woke us.  He was on the roof,and we could hear his claws scratching. He tried to get in through the skylight!  It was kinda funny,and it woke me out of a sound sleep, in the middle of a dream.

In the dream, I complained that my father never gave me a birthday gift, or any gift at all.  The person I was complaining to said she never got gifts either, and I said, “but it was the same for all your brothers and sisters too. My father gives gifts to his other children,just not to me”.

In the early days of reunion, I sent my father father’s day cards, and had my children sign cards for their only grandfather. I stopped after 2 years, because i realized that my father does not consider me to be his child,and doesn’t consider my 4 children his grandchildren.He’s content with the ones he kept.They were born from the right woman,at the right  time,unlike me.

My father has the legal right to disown me, completely and totally. He signed his rights away,and I’m not his daughter.  Not next of kin, not anything at all, even though I am his first born.  Even though his parents are my grandparents.  Even though every relative he has, I have too.

None of that matters. He didn’t want me, so he’s not my father.  Simple as that.

I hate my father.

Adoption

Published June 8, 2016 by iwishiwasadopted

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This is how I feel about adoption, and loyalty. In my case, it was not necessary. If my parents could manage to parent other kids,they could have parented me too. It might not have been heaven,but neither is being given up for adoption. It’s harsh, people. It’s the ultimate disrespect and rejection. your own mother, for goodness sakes. Maternal abandonment, the stuff of nightmares and madness.

And you’re supposed to like it. No matter how open,and whatever words are sid, you are supposed to love your adoptive parents. It’s practically an order. They took you in, orphan waif that your mother made you, and housed you, and brought you up to be proper, a step above your humble beginnings. A little leg up in the world, for lucky you.

I didn’t like it. It seemed like a raw deal. I’d rather live in squalor,with my own dear mother,then live in a palace with strangers, having to pretend to be their kid. Yuck. No thanks, but i have no choice, do i, because I am an orphan waif, thanks again Mom, and I have to take whatever you’re dishing out in order to stay alive.

I guess that seems harsh but I just don’t see how people can adopt. once they do that,they seem bad and kinda evil to me. how can you take the child of a living woman, and make it call you mother? What gives you the right?

So,my adoptive mother is evil. My natural mother is bad too,she gives away her babies.

It’s very splitting.

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