Read at your own risk

Read at your own risk.

I have been informed that my blog has become bitter. I agree some posts are bitter, but I believe others are just me talking about my life and just being me. However, the adoption posts are me too.

17 years ago, I had a child and my Mom forced me to place her for adoption. She had already chased one child away, so she couldn’t chase me away to raise my daughter. There would have been no one left to babysit my brother and sister. As a two parent working household, I can understand that it is sometimes hard to find people willing to babysit, but never is the older child’s sole responsibility. My Mom chose to send my daughter away so I could continue to raise her kids. So am I bitter? Yes I am. Mom I want to know where was my counseling or my legal advice? Did you provide me with any support?

My Dad chose to do nothing. He didn’t come to see me or the new baby. He didn’t try to help me raise my daughter. I wouldn’t be young and broke forever. He counts out his grandchildren and had the nerve to look me in the eyes and say “I only have one 17 year old granddaughter. “ Why not hit me instead. It felt like a punch in the stomach.

I was told not to tell my younger brother and sister, because they were young. I can understand, but at what point did people choose to tell them about my daughter and not inform me?

My stepmother was the only person who had the balls to ever speak of Ashley. She used to say what my Mom did was wrong. If we had a lawyer we could go get her back. This went on for a few years. Now if I thought of me and only me. I would have loved to take her back if I thought I had a legal leg to stand on. However, since I didn’t and don’t think of me and only me. I wouldn’t rip my daughter away from the people who became her parents. I wouldn’t do that to my daughter.

I continued to live with my Mom for the next three years. Not once was my daughter mentioned. Not once did my Mom do anything to try to help me with my grief. Okay I lied. She let me get Tigger. She moved from one place to another and always made sure I could bring Tigger. She died about two years ago, so my Mom did her one thing. She did nothing else to help me. Yes Mom I am talking to you. You sent my daughter away and forced me to live as if she never existed. Did you ever stand up for me and try to get pictures for me? Or did you tell Mary not to give me the one she did give me? While I am asking questions.. How do you know she went to a good home? Do you get visits or pictures?

Even after I moved my family has never spoken of Ashley. It’s as if she never was born. I have lied to my brother and sister, because I thought I was still keeping the secret. However, the joke was on me. I am tired of being quiet. I am tired of playing the happy daughter, wife, mother, and sister. I am hurt and angry.

I am having a hard time dealing with the fact that Ashley is almost 18 years old. Wow! Oh my fucking god, am I going to get to meet her? Will I be able to have a relationship with her? Will my boys get to know her? Shit! What are my kids going to think of me and that Ashley is real.

I worry about Ashley. Has she had a good life? Is she happy? Does she laugh at crazy shit like me? Does she have a brother? I think so. Aunt Mary let that slip years ago. Suddenly their unability to have children was cured. I wonder did they do a good job of not making her feel as second best? I worry that she will die and I will read it in the newspaper. I wonder does Ashley wonder about me? Has she wanted to meet me and was told no? I wonder if I seen her at the grocery store would I know that I was looking into the face of my child. Can anyone imagine the fear of not recognizing your own child?

Let’s talk about her parents. They paid a huge adoption fee to become her parents, but that is beside the point, unless I get into the moral of adoption. Adoption can’t be moral if people are making money. The adoption happened and they are legally her parents. I have no legal right. I understand that. I personally loved Ashley’s Dad. He showed me compassion when no one else did. I can imagine Ashley having him wrapped around his little finger. I don’t have any proof of this. Maybe it’s how I cope. I have been mad over the years, because they made promises to a young girl and didn’t keep them. Was it legal? Yes. What is moral? No. I have contacted them in a letter asking for a picture. They choose to ignore the letter. I didn’t even get a bug off letter. I don’t understand what they are so afraid of. What am I going to do? Go to their house and kidnap her? If I go with me and only me. I would sell my parents to have a day with Ashley? Am I mean and cruel? Yep. But it’s the truth. I might even throw in my husband. The desire to see and know my daughter is so strong. I have to live with it. I have to do what is right and wait for Ashley to come to me. Why do I have to wait? Legally I just have to. But morally I am going to do what is right for Ashley. I don’t have a lot to go on with what is right for Ashley. It has really bothered me that I trusted them to raise her and they can’t even trust me with a picture and give me a general idea on how she is doing.

I feel like they got what they wanted and the hell with anyone else. I guess that was the adoption way in the 90’s. Pretend it was your own child so don’t ever see or talk of the birthparents. Don’t send pictures, because she might take the baby back. I can’t be too angry with them. They couldn’t get past the desire to have a child that they stepped on the first young girl. I can be angry with my family, because they threw me to them. I just hope that they were the best parents and Ashley can find a little room for me. Not as Mom, but as her friend. Will I want to share her with anyone else? I probably won’t want to. You all can just keep pretending she wasn’t born.

Since this blog is becoming bitter, I am going to try my best to make this my last adoption related post. I will do my husband a favor and keep silent. I will keep on playing the happy wife, mother, daughter and sister. Just remember just because someone puts on a happy face, it doesn’t mean you are seeing the real them. You all can have the fake me now. I am happy now. Can you tell?? The bitch of what my husband says is just don’t talk about it. Let’s not bring it up. Don’t dwell on it. Well someone tell me how you have a child and don’t dwell on it. So, this blog maybe bitter sometimes, but hey it’s mine. I write about other things too. My last thoughts are it’s mine! If you don’t like what you read you can do either two things. 1. Don’t come back here. 2. Skip over the parts you don’t like.

P. S. Parents make mistakes, but my Dad called me twice while I was at work.