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No One Told Me Author: Skye Hardwick
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Attention: Mrs. Joyner Family First Adoption Center [Adoption agency is fictional. Sadly, the stories are not.]
Hello, This is (fill in the blank). I walked into your adoption agency a frightened young girl (fill in the blank) year ago. Do you remember me? You most likely do not remember me by something so personal as a name; so, I was the one who placed my baby girl/boy with the (fill in the blank) family. Now that time has passed I have come to see that you failed to completely inform me on many issues about the adoption and my life after adoption. You said you were my advocate, on my side. I now have some to see the only side you were on was your own. No one told me, so know I will tell you. No one told me …That placing a child for adoption needs to be a heart choice, not a choice based entirely on one’s current living situation. Now that I am financially secure, older, and married-where is my baby? No one told me …That I would desperately search in vain for something to fill this vast hole within my very being. At first the void was deep inside, but now I feel as if it is just beneath the surface. I am now a mother, once again, before I am ready. No one told me …That when I would arrive for a visit with my child and his adoptive family that this time there would be an uncomfortable vibe in the air. I would soon learn that they need more "space". What about what our child needs? No one told me …That book you gave me at the agency on saying good-bye to a baby would not comfort me when I woke up at 3 a.m. soaked in breast milk for a baby who was not there to nurse. No one told me …That this honeymoon period would end for both the adoptive parents and myself and reality would set in. They were not as "great" as I had once proclaimed and to them I was becoming "needy". No one told me …That you can be haunted by the absence of someone as well as by their presence. I am haunted by the face of a boy I have never seen. That boy is my child. No one told me …That I gave up my title of "Grandma" up when I gave up my title as "Mom". One day my child will have children, but I will not be their Grandma. No one told me …That placing my child for adoption would have such an impact on the children I am raising now. Looking into my son's eyes as he asks if I am going to give away him too ...there are no words for it. No one told me …That the small gifts, the calls, the lunches, the ‘girl-talk’, and all the attention lavished upon me by your staff at the adoption agency would end the moment I signed on the ‘X’. You told me that you cared about me when I confided in you about my alcoholic mother and the father I never knew. You never saw me--you only saw my baby, wait, you never saw her either! $ C - O - M - M - O - D - I - T - Y $ No one told me … That I would dread being asked, at one time, simple questions such as: "Do you have any children?" "Is this your first child?" "Oh, this is your first pregnancy? Let me tell you all about labor!" "If you had a little girl/boy, what would you name her/him?" "Can you believe so and so gave up her own flesh and blood for adoption?" No one told me …That the baby I once knew would some day become a man/woman that I would not know. No one told me …That there are wonderful agencies such as Carenet and Birthright. These agencies offer support groups for teen/single mothers, formula, diapers, clothing, Parenting classes, and mentoring programs. I have found out there are such things as toy libraries and medical coverage for needy children. My child was needy, but so was I. I still am. No one told me …That these ugly stretch marks will always remain on my tummy, my hips, my thighs, my breasts and, of course, my heart. No one told me …That it would be hard to grieve for someone I willingly gave up. As if I gave up my right to grieve as I did my child. No one told me …That I could find a network of support in my community or on the Internet. I was astonished to find numerous support groups and web sites for women who have placed/given up their babies. No one told me …That when I became angry over the stereotypes and misconceptions about firstmothers and defended the women without their children, that I would be labeled a "Bitter Birthmother". It seems that when a woman is angry, it is tossed aside as that ‘time of the month’. Can’t a woman be angry? If a firstmother speaks of her injustices, she is bitter. Does my anger scare you? Does my voice threaten you? No one told me …That in church on Mother’s Day the Pastor would pray for every kind of mother but me. Many times if it were not for our choice and sacrifice for our children, some mothers would not be celebrating Mother’s Day. No one told me ...That while helping to build a family, I only broke my own. No one told me ...That I would greatly fear becoming infertile after relinquishing my firstborn. No one told me ...That the adoption agency I went through would close up and throw away all my files, all with no word or warning. Now, I'm left with no information for a future search. No one told me ...That judgements about my past sexual behaviours would be used against me on some online adoption communities. As if no one else but a birthmother has ever had unprotected sex, or experienced failed birth control! (Of course, let's not forget those who were raped--how dare anyone judge those who didn't have a choice!) No one told me ...That when we agreed to exchange pictures, I didn't know that the pictures that would be sent would be outdated, or blurry. Some pictures where not even my child, but someone elses. Did they think I wouldn't know? What are they afraid of? No one told me …That my child may not want to reunite some day as I prayed he/she would. That he/she is doing just fine and does not want to disrupt his/her life with my presence. I have counted each day as one-day closer to the reunion with my child for twenty-one years. Even still, I shall keep on counting. No one told me …That my heart could possibly become so dormant and still. It lies dark and cold, like a sleeping volcano, waiting for something or someone to allow it to churn with the lava of love once more. No one told me …That society would view me in the light in which it feels safest. Usually I am portrayed as an easy girl who "made her bed, but couldn’t (or wouldn’t) lie in it". As if I preferred to enjoy the excitement of the party life to the joy of my precious child. No one told me …That I would bear labels such as: "Hero" "Selfless" and "Strong" while I was still pregnant and making an adoption plan for my child. However, once I my child was born and placed with his new family, the labels changed to: "Selfish" "Heartless" and "Cold". The opinions of Birthmothers seem to change as much, if not more, than Wall Street. No one told me …That the milestones of the child that I parented after placement would be shadowed by the milestones of the child that I missed. No one told me …That I would share the title ‘birth mother’ with the one’s who throw their newborn bundles in the trash. No one told me ...That to abbreviate the word 'birthmother' I'd have to put up with being referred to as a "BM" -- need I say anymore? No one told me ...That all of our visits would take place in the playland of McDonalds. No one told me ...That my son would have abandonment issues because of a choice I made when I was a teenager. No one told me ...That even though the adoptive parent's of my child have kept each promise, and I get to see my child, the ache inside is near unbearable at times. The openness of my adoption is not a band-aid for the loss in relinquishment. No matter what, adoption is still loss. No one told me …That for years and years I was portrayed as a bad person to my child. That I would not even be allowed to have any baby photos after the reunion. I was painted as a "loose" girl that left and never looked back. If my child only knew that is all I did…look back. No one told me …That placing my darling baby girl for adoption would not cure the reasons that I found myself in that situation to begin with. That only going back to that sticky summer’s night when the neighbor boy put his clammy hands upon my little girl thighs would. There are root problems and there are fruit problems. Having a child before I was ready was the fruit problem. Having my innocence taken from me by a boy with a man’s intentions is the root. No one told me …That it could hurt like this. That a part of myself went with my daughter as she left my arms. It is almost as if my own veins carry the poison of despair throughout my entire body. No one told me …That there can be healing. There can be beauty for ashes, there can be oil of gladness instead of mourning and there can be a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair! Isaiah 61:3 No one told me. No one told me, not even you. I know now…. Yes, I know now. Sincerely, birth Mothers Everywhere
Updated 9/16/03
Copyright © 2000-2003 Skye Hardwick - Do not use
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