Protected: Mind over matter

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It’s that time again…

It’s the time again, where my emotions send me into pitfalls of depression. I can feel the release, as the months go by. But still it lingers. And, I will never be the same.

I will never be the same, because my daughter was stolen from me 10 years ago. And she breathes and walks, and I don’t even get to hold her. I don’t even get to be her mother. And any scrap of information I get, I have to dig and fight for.

I will never be the same, because on March 23rd, I lost my second baby to a miscarriage. I feel horrible pangs of regret, anger, and sadness, that I have failed these two in their lives. And, sometimes, such as days like these, I think that truly, I can never forgive myself.

 

Protected: My Mother’s Day…

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The crying never ends

Ever since I miscarried my baby, Luz, on Easter Sunday, I’ve been severely depressed. I’ve cried on and off the whole time, going between numbness, to utter pain. Ever since April 25th, I’ve been crying Every Single Day. And, not just crying a little bit, but bawling my eyes out. April 25th is when I started my new moon cycle, the first one since losing Luz. It gets so bad, that I have to really try HARD to stop crying so that I can go to my part time job and work. This is the 13th day of constant crying.

I know that this miscarriage has affected me on a number of different levels. I’ve again lost everything all over again. I am single again. I was alone during the pregnancy, the miscarriage, and thereafter. For which I can’t forgive. I’ve lost my best friend. And I lost my baby. And, I lost the hope that I will ever be a mother. Oh Mother’s Day is fast approaching.

I know, I know… I am a mother to my daughter who is lost out there in the world. But, while I know this intellectually, I do not know it Emotionally. I am not there for her. I was not able to be strong enough to keep my daughter, to guard against the evil doctors lawyers and agency workers while I was medicated up in the hospital. If I was not strong enough to keep her, I should not have the privilege of being called her mother.

And, if I am not strong enough in body and spirit to keep from losing my baby Luz, then I should not have the privilege of being his mommy either.

And, while I have been pregnant, and carried a child full term, there are no little ones around me. No 10 year old here with me.

Instead, she is somewhere out in the world. Smiling for a camera. But her eyes are sad. Her posture is sad. And I can’t hold her. I can’t console her.

And, my baby Luz has been buried, and is unable to know what life is about. Because I am not strong enough.

And now, I am completely alone. And I am revisiting the thoughts of 10 years ago, when I realized that I was not a mother, and that I never would be.

(Please do not write about how I should attempt to go on anti depressants. I have a number of friends who have tried anti depressants, and they are very unhappy with them, because they have had severe side effects after attempting to go off, and while attempting to go back on. Also, I am depressed and fucked up because society has taken my child, as well as numerous other things, and I will not pretend that it can be fixed by taking a pharm drug and acting happy about this life.)

 

Protected: Losses of 2008

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Miscarry

April 20, 2008

The Love we had,
so intense
It created life.
How quickly,
it Miscarries.
How quickly
You forget about me.

The good times,
Don’t compare,
To the cold comforts
Of the past.

And so I am letting
Go of you.
Of the love I
had for you.
I’m not giving up
On love,
Just letting go
Of you.

 

Adoption Kool-aid? Me??

One of the advantages of short term memory loss, is that I actually don’t remember having spewed out the raspberry red kool-aid that had been injected into my IV while in the hospital.

My situation was obviously coercive. Lawyer (Michael Shorstein) and Agency Director (Kathleen Stevens) coming into my room the day after my daughter was born, not leaving until I signed papers, and not taking no for an answer.

“But, I want to keep my daughter”

“I do not know any services available to allow you to do so.”

“You need to pick an adoptive family, who are financially and emotionally stable.”

Financially, yes. Emotionally stable? FAT CHANCE.

Even so, because I received a picture here and there for three years, I would say that I “chose” adoption. That, really, this was the best for my daughter. Even though there was strong evidence that her adopters were liars and crazy. “Yes, we’ll call you from the hospital when we pick her up, and you can say goodbye” – direct lie, no phone call ever.

In 2002, when my baby was just four, I was spewing the kool-aid crap to my current partner. Of course, he even realizes that the reason why… was because I had to believe it. Because I had to think of them in good light, so that I might get another picture. If I showed any sign of being not grateful for adoption, they might stop.

But, like the abusers story, the reason they stopped had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with them. Because, they are liars and abusers.

And, even though I received nothing from them, between 2001 and 2004, still I had hope. And, when the agency found them in 2004, and I received an album from them, in April, my daughter’s birthday, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I knew they had never meant to keep the adoption open. They did not respond to any of my questions, they continued to evade the whole, “I want to make you comfortable, how often would you commit to sending me pictures and updates” question. They just paraded about how smart my daughter was, what her favorite color, food, and so on was. I knew it was superficial. But still I tried…

And when I sent them a letter again in the fall of 2004, and Kathleen stated, “I’m sorry, Heather, they moved again. I’m unwilling to search for them again. Dana is obviously insecure, and does not intend to be in an open relationship.”

That was when I vomited up all of the kool-aid, and began my crusade against the adoption industry. Starting off, with helping my friend Allison Quets to fight against them to try to get her babies back. Because, Shorstein had coerced her, too.

Update: My daughter doesn’t even know she’s adopted. Her parents are getting divorced, and her “adoptive mother” is over-controlling, objectifying all of her relationships, and my daughter has become her cheerleader. They still refuse to respond to any of my requests for updates or visits, because the adoptive mother wants to keep the illusion that she gave birth to my daughter.

 

I’m Fine

So, everyone keeps asking me how I am doing. I don’t know how they expect me to give a different answer considering nothing in my life has really changed, least of all, the most important part of my life, the absence of my daughter.

I’ve been really really down of late. Partly because of primal wound, part of the work I do in anti oppression work, part of being rejected by all members of my immediate communities, and the fact that I’m simply a freak, and due to a multitude of my identies, including ‘birthmother’ (or as I have been frequently calling it, ‘lost mother’) and realize that there is no support out there. There are few online / groups, but most seem to be dying and have no money and are considering closing, and so on and so on. So, while I try to figure out a way to ‘heal’ from all this shit, I realize, that there simply is no safe place to heal, and that I’m simply going to feel this bad for the rest of my life. And, of course, a logical conclusion, is that I really don’t want to live this way.

So, people have been worried. Especially when they saw I deleted one of my online community accounts, and now I am the equivalent of jumping off a building with no safety net. I have had people call me, one person even visited. But, part of me just wants to be isolated. Part of me really doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Part of me just wants to drift into nothingness.