always. it's a constant wonder of "what would I do who would I be?" I still wonder if I would be a hockey player or artist. Would I still be loved for the things I can do and not criticised for what I cannot do...
I wonder this about my life too - if my parents hadn't put my baby up for adoption. Within a year I, like you, was deep in trouble with drugs, alcohol, running away, hanging out with the "bad" kids. I was ashamed, a slut and irredeemable. I dropped out of school at 16, filled with rage at my family, my church, my school. My plans to be a psychologist or English professor were forgotten. My body had the signs of pregnancy and birth but my precious baby had vanished into thin air and no one ever spoke a word about him. There was no language to express my loss and grief. I lived with a phantom limb and hoped to die.
20 years later I finally married and had 5 pregnancies in 7 years. 3 children lived and I found myself a single parent raising 3 children under age 6 after escaping the marriage. I always worked full time and managed to buy us a house but my inability to attach deeply as a mother, along with the mood disorders that came with CPTSD from my teenage pregnancy, birth, relinquishment and the marriage made for a volatile home environment. I was sure if I were to admit my struggles with parenting, my children would be taken from me. So we suffered alone and survived as best we could. They are now 27, 29 and 31 and I will spend the rest of my life trying to compensate them for how I failed them.
And what of my lost son? How would his life have been different if he'd been kept in my family of origin? I damn sight better, I venture. I don't believe he'd have taken his life at 27 and be buried with his adoptive mother (also adopted) who died a slow and painful death from breast cancer before she was 50. When he too became a birth father at the age of 18 I would not have asked him to surrender his child, as his adopters did. I would've helped him raise my grandson
And how different would be the lives of my grandson and great-grandson if I'd not fallen into adoption's trap and surrendered my son? They'd grown up knowing us all and I feel certain they'd have a father and grandfather still alive. Hopefully, the cruel legacy has ended in our family as I advocate loudly to everyone I know about the need to abolish the human trafficking known as adoption.
always. it's a constant wonder of "what would I do who would I be?" I still wonder if I would be a hockey player or artist. Would I still be loved for the things I can do and not criticised for what I cannot do...
I wonder this about my life too - if my parents hadn't put my baby up for adoption. Within a year I, like you, was deep in trouble with drugs, alcohol, running away, hanging out with the "bad" kids. I was ashamed, a slut and irredeemable. I dropped out of school at 16, filled with rage at my family, my church, my school. My plans to be a psychologist or English professor were forgotten. My body had the signs of pregnancy and birth but my precious baby had vanished into thin air and no one ever spoke a word about him. There was no language to express my loss and grief. I lived with a phantom limb and hoped to die.
20 years later I finally married and had 5 pregnancies in 7 years. 3 children lived and I found myself a single parent raising 3 children under age 6 after escaping the marriage. I always worked full time and managed to buy us a house but my inability to attach deeply as a mother, along with the mood disorders that came with CPTSD from my teenage pregnancy, birth, relinquishment and the marriage made for a volatile home environment. I was sure if I were to admit my struggles with parenting, my children would be taken from me. So we suffered alone and survived as best we could. They are now 27, 29 and 31 and I will spend the rest of my life trying to compensate them for how I failed them.
And what of my lost son? How would his life have been different if he'd been kept in my family of origin? I damn sight better, I venture. I don't believe he'd have taken his life at 27 and be buried with his adoptive mother (also adopted) who died a slow and painful death from breast cancer before she was 50. When he too became a birth father at the age of 18 I would not have asked him to surrender his child, as his adopters did. I would've helped him raise my grandson
And how different would be the lives of my grandson and great-grandson if I'd not fallen into adoption's trap and surrendered my son? They'd grown up knowing us all and I feel certain they'd have a father and grandfather still alive. Hopefully, the cruel legacy has ended in our family as I advocate loudly to everyone I know about the need to abolish the human trafficking known as adoption.