Picking Up The Pieces

I know it has been a while since I have written...sorry.

Since I have received the email from Ashley I have been trying to pick up the pieces of my broken shattered heart.  For so many years I held hope in my heart that one day we will be reunited.  Not only did I hold hope, but also love... unconditional love.  Love for her and love for the people she holds dear.

But last November all that came crashing down around me when I read her email...and re-read it...and ended up over analyzing it.

So I tried my best to crawl under a rock...and stay there!!

Unfortunately, it was too uncomfortable under that rock.

I tried to remain angry, but that didn't hang around long.  I wanted to be mad as hell, I wanted to lash out and I tried, but somewhere inside me came that annoying "forgiving and loving" reasonable voice.  I couldn't stay angry.  She was taught to not listen to heart, not pay attention to her gut feeling.

I wanted to take my size 5 shoe and smack everyone upside the head that had a part in keeping my First Daughter away from me, but I knew that wouldn't do any good.  It would ruin my shoe and cause more heart break.

I have tried to hardened my heart.  I keep telling myself that if she ever reached out I would just slam that door shut.  But, I know if she stood before me I would end up embracing her...

Right now I am just trying to figure out how to pick up the pieces once again, but it is hard.  They told me 24 years ago I wasn't good enough to raise my baby and now it has been thrown back in my face...now I'm not good enough to get to know.

If only she would listen to her heart, then she would know I really was good enough and I still am worthy of getting to know...

Thanksgiving Lost

Turkey Whisperer - 2009

Now that Thanksgiving is over I can breath...for a moment before I dive into the Christmas holiday madness.

This was the first Thanksgiving since my Step Daddy passed away, his presence was certainly missed.  His spot was set at the table...empty.  I took my usual seat, next to his.  I never thought I would say this, but I really missed him stealing food off of my plate and I missed stealing the black olives off of his.  We survived the day, we still managed to laugh and carry on, my husband continued Step Daddy's tradition of frying the turkey.  To our surprise Step Daddy's oldest son and daughter in law came over...for the first time EVER!  It was wonderful having them there.  In time Thanksgiving will get easier with Step Daddy gone...

but....

there's that one thing....

that one little thing that rips me apart...

tears my heart to pieces...

and it doesn't get easier with each Thanksgiving...

With each Thanksgiving I am reminded of the Thankgivings Ashley has missed.  23 years my heart breaks, a painful empty void takes over.  No matter how much I hide it from my family it still hurts.  Ashley has missed out on traditions and crazy ass antics and she has missed out on the love from the people she shares DNA with.

She will never experience her Gran'pa's fried turkey and telling her Gran'ma that her turkey is better and then whispering in Gran'pa's ear that his turkey is freaking awesome.  She has missed out on watching my sister, cousins and I fight over the black olives with a disgusted look on her face.  (I guess the black olive thing skipped a generation).  She has missed the table set with too much food and her Aunt and I explaining to her Gran'ma that we prefer our cranberries with ridges...you know the kind...slides out of can and jiggles.

Ashley doesn't know that it is okay to save room for desert, because the desert table is filled with yummy goodness.  We have an incredible sweet tooth and the desert table shows it.  Mom has to make two pumpkin pies every year because my sister claims one and refuses to share it...she will share it with her son and my kept daughter and chances are she would share with Ashley too.  She has missed out on my sweet potato pie and my to die for triple chocolate cake.  

No matter how wonderful the food is, or how full we are, or how much laughter we shared, I am still reminded that my First Daughter was lost to adoption and this is just another Thanksgiving lost.

Horrified

My boyfriend and I were together since September 1985.  I adored him, I thought he hung the moon.  After we started dating he brought me around to meet his family.  His Mom, "Joyce", was wonderful to me, I thought of her as a Mom since mine was too busy with her own life to pay any attention to me.  "Joyce" was good to me, we were close.

In April 1988 I told "Joyce" I was pregnant.  She cried then she started making plans for where the baby and I would live since we both knew my Mom would kick me out if I kept the baby.  She was going on about how I could live in the seedy government housing and how I would have to apply for government assistance and she and her Mother would help me support the baby.  I couldn't believe what I was hearing...I wasn't raised to accept "hand-outs" and she looked down on people who were on welfare.  I couldn't get past living in the apartments she was expecting me to go to...those apartments terrified me!!  Someone was getting shot, raped, and/or murdered over there...I didn't want my baby and I to live in fear.

It was June 1988.  "Joyce" wanted to go with me to the "Agency", she wanted to see for herself what they were saying to me so she could try to undo the damage they were doing.  I knew this was her intention from the beginning, I wanted her to help me figure out a way to keep my baby without having to move into that awful apartment complex.  I saw a side of "Joyce" that day I never knew existed....

This meeting started out as normal.  The Counselor and "Joyce" talked, the Counselor got some basic background info from her and "Joyce" asked questions and got the same answers I got, I sat in a chair next to "Joyce".  The Counselor explained it was a closed adoption because open adoptions were too confusing and just didn't work.  She talked about the parents who were "next in line" for a baby.  "Joyce" asked about the religious upbringing, the Counselor looked a little confused, I was a little confused.  Didn't she notice the huge sign on the building saying Jewish Family Services?  Granted, I was young and naive, but even I knew my baby was going to a Jewish Family.

I was Methodist, my best friend in elementary school who lived across the street from me was Jewish.  There wasn't a thing wrong with them.  My friend's Mother always had warm hugs for me, she treated me like I was one of her kids, every morning when I walked over there before school to get my friend she would always tell me I was too skinny and I needed to get inside and eat.  I use to go to Temple with them until my Adoptive Father put a stop to it.  So I never saw a problem with my baby being raised in a Jewish Family, as long as the family was warm and loving like my friend's family.  (It was years later when I realized that when my First Daughter came around we would always have Christmas)

When the Counselor said the child would be raised Jewish the shit hit the fan!  I saw a side to "Joyce" I never knew existed.  This woman was so full of hatred, the things coming out of her mouth were horrible!!  I was honestly scared for me and my baby.

You can tell in the 20+ years the Counselor has been brainwashing unwed Mothers she had never come across this in her own office.  The look on her face scared me even more.  I wanted to run out that door and keep running.  The Counselor's response wasn't what I expected...she didn't have on her "Counselor Hat".  She very calmly and firmly told "Joyce" off, to sum it up she told her she was nothing but a piece of ignorant, racist trash (she doesn't use those words exactly).  The Counselor was scared for me, she wasn't afraid that I wouldn't relinquish my baby, she was afraid of what "Joyce" would do to me.

"Joyce" was escorted off of the property, the Agency's driver brought me home.  I was in shock. I had never run across anyone with so much hatred in their heart.  My boyfriend and I decided it was best that we kept his Mother as far away from me as possible.  

At the end of August 1988 I told her I had the baby in July.  She went into a panic and started calling attorney's to see what she could do.  They all said the same thing...she had no legal right.  

Things were definately different between us after that.  The way she acted you would have thought I handed my baby over to a Satanic Cult.  So as the years pass on and my First Daughter gets older I get anxious, almost fearful...she has no clue that her paternal grandmother would turn her back on her because she is Jewish.  My First Daughter also doesn't know what I had to endure to protect her from the most hateful bigot I have ever met in my entire life.

A little ADD/OCD can be a good thing

I was thinking about the post I did the other night...the ADD/OCD thing and few nights ago my husband commenting about how I need to relax a little.  So it got me thinking...

How is a Mother suppose to behave when she loses her child to adoption?  What is she suppose to do when she realizes she was manipulated and believed the lies she was told for so many years?  Hell yeah, I'm going to be a little skitzy and have to maintain some sense of control about myself.  I'm not some animal that doesn't care that her first child is out there somewhere.  I've been called many things in the last 23 years and I have worn that scarlet letter on my chest...like Hester Prim in The Scarlet Letter.  This is what our society has done to First Mothers, we are treated like trash so the "Baby Brokers" can make their profits and families can be torn apart.

Maybe it's just me, but no Mother should be separated from their child so an "Agency" can profit, it's really a legalized form of baby selling.  The "Agencies" swoop in on unsuspecting, scared, and naive unwed Mothers, tell them stories about how they are "giving a gift to a couple who so desperately needs a child", then after delivery the Mother can pick up where she left off and continue life like nothing ever happened.  BULLSHIT!  

I'm not a baby factory, I'm not some cheap whore.  I'm a Mother who is worrying about her First Child, a Mother trying to figure out what I did that was so wrong to cause her First Child to not give a damn about the woman who has unconditionally loved her from conception.

18 days until her 23rd Birthday... *sigh*

Can't decide on which distraction to obsess over

My husband tells people I have ADD/OCD, I can't decide on which distraction to obsess over.  People seem to find the humor in this, but they don't realize how true this statement is about me.  What they don't know is that I need to focus in on a distraction (I prefer positive distractions) so I don't go crazy trying to figure out why my First Daughter still wants nothing to do with me.

So far this summer has been filled with all kinds of distractions I would honestly wish to go away, especially right now.  Every July I seem to be on edge, sometimes I just start crying for what people think is for no reason.  What some don't know is that my First Daughter's birthday is on July 23rd, this year she will be 23 years old.  23 years of trying to cope with losing a child to adoption.

The Murder Trial I was suppose to be a witness for has been postponed to July 18th.  Great...just what I needed added to my plate the week of my First Daughter's birthday.  This is starting to get a little annoying for me.  Not only am I remembering the vivid details surrounding the birth of "Ashley" and our time spent together in the hospital, but I am also remembering vivid details of this murder.  You would think this trial would be enough to distract me...but no...I am a master at juggling things!  *Sigh*

My youngest daughter is currently spending two weeks in Florida with the Grandparents.  My In-laws believe children should be seen and not heard. I think this visit has been quite an eye opener for them (and my little one).  They have now realized that we are raising this 12 year old to speak up and not let people walk all over her.  She'll be home in two days...I think we will all be glad when she's back home.

While my youngest is in Florida my husband and I finally had enough of my daughter's synchronized ice skating coach.  We pulled our daughter off the team.  Now I'm dealing with 8 other Mom's bitching at me because we questioned the coach's abilities.  Seriously?  Everyone of them bitched and complained behind the coach's back, but when someone says something they freak out and turn on the person who wasn't a chicken shit and actually said enough was enough.  Right now I'm very confused, why would parents teach their children to talk behind people's backs and then be a chicken shit towards the person who stands up?  Younger Daughter doesn't know about this yet, we are waiting to tell her when she gets home.  She'll be upset that we are not going to San Diego for the State Games of America, but she will be relieved.  Her private coach has already told her that she wanted her on the Intermediate Synchronized Skate Team.

So I have all of this going on...the same time I am trying to cope with the fact that my First Daughter will be turning 23 in 20 days and so far she doesn't give a crap about me, her First Mother.

Hurry up and be done with July!!!

You will forget

Everytime I went into the agency for my counseling brainwashing session I was told "You will forget".  From the moment those words first crossed the Counselor's Brainwasher's lips I knew it was a load of crap.  

Seriously...how is someone able to forget something that changes who you are and changes your life completely?

This woman who was old enough to be my mother would sit across from me.  Her desk was cluttered with so much crap I could barely see her.  She would always sit there looking at me disapprovingly, an obese woman shoveling dry cereal into her mouth, filling my head with lies.

How am I suppose to forget how I spent most of my Senior year in hiding?  How am I suppose to forget I didn't go to my Prom because my boyfriend didn't want anyone to know?  How am I suppose to forget I didn't graduate when I was suppose to because I missed so many days from being pregnant?  How am I suppose to forget that my hips had spread and I could no longer wear size 0 jeans?  How am I suppose to forget how bruised my ribs were from my First Daughter kicking them?  How am I suppose to forget everytime I went in for my "well woman" check ups and my doctor constantly raved about the episiotomy scar?  I can go on and on....

Are these people so warped they honestly believe that a Mother could forget about being a pregnant, scared teenager and giving birth?  Seriously?

The only reason this is really bothering me right now is because I was served a subpoena yesterday.  I knew this subpoena was going to happen, I received one last February but the trial it was for was postponed.  I was served because I am considered a witness to a murder.  I didn't see the murder take place, I was trying to save this kids life.  This kid was (is) 3 months younger than my First Daughter.  You would think that going through this experience a year and a half ago would be enough to push the memories aside of my First Daughter...but no.  This tragic event I was involved in isn't enough to overpower the memory of my First Daughter.  (After the trial in June I'll write more about it)

So I was told repeatedly I would forget.  It is not possible to forget.  I can not forget the experiences I had carrying the child I so dearly love when I was 18.  I can not forget the experience I had giving birth...without any type of pain killers.  I can not forget holding this precious, beautiful child.  I can not forget being manipulated into signing that piece of paper.  I can not forget, no matter how much I tried in the past it just is not possible.  Just like not being able to forget hearing the blood chilling screams of a mother who was just told she lost her son...I can not forget that on Saturday, July 23, 1988 I became a Mother.

I can NOT and I will NOT forget!!