ADOPTION: FACT OR FICTION

I am unsure how many people still read my thoughts and blog, but that's okay. I have said many times that I “don’t post for the thousands of people who hate my post. But for the one who smiles and says, ‘Thank you, I needed that.’” You see, I am thankful for the posts from those who not only think and believe as I do, but have shown me that the thoughts and trauma I have carried all through my life, believing I was the only one with them, that I was not alone after all. Thousands were traveling with me, and I now know how much these other adoptees share with me.

I have been formulating a memoir of sorts as a suggested method of therapy. Adoption is a significant part of it, as that is how I began my journey on Spaceship Earth. Society has caused me to suppress my perspective about what is commonly termed adoption, but I have come to realize and have been taught that it is, in reality, human trafficking. I am sure that is as hard for you to swallow as it was for me. However, in my case, a light bulb went off in my head. For the first time, I could see beyond the fog, beyond the propaganda I had been fed my entire childhood. 

It has occurred to me that now is the time to share some of those thoughts with the one who will say, “Thank you, I needed that.” Let me start by telling others, like Moses Farrow, Nancy Verrier, Bette Cahill, and Robert Hartlen, “Thank you, I needed that.”

I will be doing much paraphrasing from sources I neither remember nor knew in the first place, so please, forgive me if it seems like plagiarism. This is not meant to be a treatise on adoption nor human trafficking. As a result of disease, war, accidents, and other man-made tragedies, children have been losing his or her parents and are not allowed to grieve. Society has created an industry they term adoption, and these children are expected to be grateful for the family they now have. The public perceives such grieving as disrespectful to the adoptive family and is discouraged. However, no one, until recently, has contemplated the emotional effect it has on that child, now an adult. It is a lonely world the child must navigate with no training, no guidance, no empathy. After all, the child is “lucky” to have the new family that they do.

Let’s pause there. Who the heck came up with such a dehumanizing, stupid term as “luck” for having your biological parents, biological family, culture, and life taken away from you with no say on your own behalf? What sort of unempathetic, disturbed mind considers life’s greatest tragedy as “luck”? Dictionaries term children born out of wedlock as “bastards,” but there exists the true epitome of a bastard.

To this day, people have convinced themselves that I have had a better life. Yes, some did get a stable home, but it comes along with the trauma and grief of losing their original family. Why does society discount that? Are you aware that statistically adopted children are at an increased risk of child abuse and later in life, drug and alcohol abuse? Not to mention suicide? Is that how you define luck?

As a child, I dreaded my birthday celebrations. As an adult, I do not publicize my birthday. No, not for fear of exposing my age, but because it has never been in my mind as a cause for celebration. I did not understand why, as a child, but learned as an adult that the day is the anniversary of when I lost who I was meant to be. It was the day I was separated from my biological mother after being a tangible part of her for nine months. There was no explanation, and I wasn’t contacted for my approval. Just ripped from her womb and sold to the highest bidder.

One is not simply adopted on one day or date like birth. Being adopted is a lifelong part of the adoptee's identity and can be carried on to their own offspring. Every time the adopted person looks in the mirror or at their own children it is a constant reminder of their true origins. When the adoptee is watching a news story about breast or prostate cancer, or reads a new study on family history regarding heart disease, they can not help but think of their birth families.  “Am I a ticking time bomb and don’t know it?” Their biological parents may not think of them every day, but it is impossible for the adoptee not to be reminded that they are adopted every single day of their lives.

When you are “adopted,” you do not see yourself in any of those you are told are relatives or family. They will say you resemble this uncle or that aunt, but you don’t, and you know it. While this may sanitize the term adoption for the people who bought you, it creates mere bewilderment for you. There is no one you can look at as a mirror image of who you are. No one to indicate who you might become, how tall you might be, or how your body might change during puberty. Satisfying this curiosity is essential to the transition from child to adult. Experiments are never integrated into society. Loneliness is a harsh mistress.

Have you or someone close to you had a baby? Was the pregnancy planned? Most people, whether they were having a planned pregnancy or not, are visited in the hospital by family. Were photos taken of the new family in a group shot? Is there a photographic record of the birth and first bonding of mother and child? You see, no such happiness, memory, or celebration surrounds the anniversary of an adopted child’s birth. That birth, for most adoptees, was a sad occasion, and decisions were made about their lives that not only affected their adolescence, but the rest of their, our, lives. The only photos, if any, that exist are of strangers. In most cases, no pictures were taken.

We all grow up hearing cliches such as “Home is where the heart is.” However, adopted people can never go home. Legally, an 18-year-old can do what they want and be a part of both families. But that is a misnomer. Suppose an adoptee is fortunate enough to be allowed to discover their biological family. In that case, they might become a part of the two families, but are not entirely a part of either. It is just a fact of life, not a subject for debate.

Have you visited the place where you were born? Adoptees have no idea of where that place is. A birth certificate might exist, but it is a forged document that cannot be relied upon as truthful. We are born and raised in secrecy. In most states, our records are sealed, and we are not allowed, by law, to be privy to information that the rest of the world is allowed access to about themselves. Not all adoption agencies reported the correct facts or passed on information. Many adoptees who were able to reunite with their biological families found that they had never received updates, photos, and letters given to the agency. They also found that the reason given for surrender was incorrect, as well as factors such as cultural heritage, family medical history, and siblings. I learned, for example, that I had twelve siblings, brothers and sisters. No, I am not in contact with any of them. They deny my existence, claiming to recognize my birth would paint a black mark on the memory of “their” mother. I see it as their attitude of denial, leaving a black mark on the memory that will one day be of them and not of “our” mother. You are right, that did not go over well. They refuse to believe that my conception was not of my making and seem to blame me for it, not our mother and her paramour.

Adopted children grow up denied information regarding their ancestors. The adopted person wonders not just who gave birth to them, but if they are related to someone famous or have an inherited trait or skill. Adoptees often wonder about the careers they should pursue and consider the legacy they wish to leave for their own descendants. They would love to tell their children and grandchildren stories of their ancestors, not of some family history that a society has compiled for them. Had I known I was of French ancestry, I would have taken French as a language in high school and university, and I would have visited France when I had the chance. My child might have also studied French to learn about her heritage. Should not my descendants be left a better legacy about their ancestors on my side of the biological spectrum? 

I am not sure where it interjects this, but international adoption or cross-cultural adoptions add an entirely new dynamic. In most cases, they are not adoptions as that term is used in our legal system; instead, the children are victims of coercion, kidnapping, and trafficking. Human trafficking has become a billion-dollar industry for the lowlifes amongst us. Victims lose not only their families, but an entire culture and way of life. I know. I am one.

Adopted people are used in pro-life arguments. They are seen as poster children for anti-abortion groups. It would be wrong to assume that every one of those relinquishments actually averted an abortion. Many women who place their baby for adoption may never have considered abortion in the first place. Adoption rates almost always include foster care from children removed from abuse or neglect, who were never candidates for abortion. Many foster placements themselves result in the abuse and/or death of a child that goes unreported; there is no one to care. And I haven’t even mentioned the Walmart parking lot re-sales of troubled foster children that society loses track of, similar to the caged children at our southern border. 

When having their own children, adoptees often relive the trauma of their adoption. They realize how vulnerable they were and how much they love the child they have brought into the world. It is hard to imagine how someone could give away the most precious thing in the world due to their current financial situation. It is then that many adoptees feel the loss of adoption. It overshadows what should otherwise be a joyous time in their lives.  

The lack of a birth family connection can be a strain during childhood, much like those who have a loved one who is presumed missing or dead; the adopted person thinks of them often. Sometimes it can disrupt their lives and leave them not wanting to move or "move on" in case their bio family comes looking for them.

Adopted people, because of the stigma and shame of the history of adoption, have self-esteem problems. Growing up away from where they belong and lacking basic comforts, such as being told how much they resemble their sibling, parent, or other family member, can be an emotional strain. While the adoptive parents and children feel as though they are a family, other extended family members or the public may not feel the same about their family bonds.

This is just scratching the surface. What is my purpose here? One, it is to tell other adoptees who still feel alone what I have learned and that there is a vast community out there that cares about and understands them, relates to what they have been through and are going through, regardless of their age. Second, hopefully, people who still consider adopted children to be “lucky” will understand that losing your heritage, your people, your culture, your language, being kidnapped and sold, is a trauma that sticks with a person for their entire life and can be transferred from generation to generation. I am hoping such people will rethink their relationships with “adopted, stolen, kidnapped, sold” people who are in their lives and will now be able to better relate to and support them. I am sure you can undertake these simple requests. I am unsure how many people still read my thoughts and blog, but that's okay. I have said many times that I “don’t post for the thousands of people who hate my post. But for the one who smiles and says, ‘Thank you, I needed that.’” You see, I am thankful for the posts from those who not only think and believe as I do, but have shown me that the thoughts and trauma I have carried all through my life, believing I was the only one with them, that I was not alone after all. Thousands were traveling with me, and I now know how much these other adoptees share with me.

I have been formulating a memoir of sorts as a suggested method of therapy. Adoption is a big part of it because that's how I began my journey on Spaceship Earth. Society has caused me to suppress my perspective about what is commonly termed adoption, but I have come to realize and have been taught that it is, in reality, human trafficking. I am sure that is as hard for you to swallow as it was for me. However, in my case, a light bulb went off in my head. For the first time, I could see beyond the fog, beyond the propaganda I had been fed my entire childhood. 

It has occurred to me that now is the time to share some of those thoughts with the one who will say, “Thank you, I needed that.” Let me start by telling others, like Moses Farrow, Nancy Verrier, Bette Cahill, and Robert Hartlen, “Thank you, I needed that.”

I will be doing much paraphrasing from sources I neither remember nor knew in the first place, so please, forgive me if it seems like plagiarism. This is not meant to be a treatise on adoption nor human trafficking. As a result of disease, war, accidents, and other man-made tragedies, children have been losing his or her parents and are not allowed to grieve. Society has created an industry they term adoption, and these children are expected to be grateful for the family they now have. The public perceives such grieving as disrespectful to the adoptive family and is discouraged. However, no one, until recently, has contemplated the emotional effect it has on that child, now an adult. It is a lonely world the child must navigate with no training, no guidance, no empathy. After all, the child is “lucky” to have the new family that they do.

Let’s pause there. Who the heck came up with such a dehumanizing, stupid term as luck for having your biological parents, biological family, culture, and life taken away from you with no say on your own behalf? What sort of unempathetic, disturbed mind considers life’s greatest tragedy as “luck”? Dictionaries term children born out of wedlock as “bastards,” but there exists the true epitome of a bastard.

To this day, people have convinced themselves that I have had a better life. Yes, some did get a stable home, but it comes along with the trauma and grief of losing their original family. Why does society discount that? Are you aware that statistically adopted children are at an increased risk of child abuse and later in life, drug and alcohol abuse? Not to mention suicide? Is that how you define luck?

As a child, I dreaded my birthday celebrations. As an adult, I do not publicize my birthday. No, not for fear of exposing my age, but because it has never been in my mind as a cause for celebration. I did not understand why, as a child, but learned as an adult that the day is the anniversary of when I lost who I was meant to be. It was the day I was separated from my biological mother after being a tangible part of her for nine months. There was no explanation, and I wasn’t contacted for my approval. Just ripped from her womb and sold to the highest bidder.

One is not simply adopted on one day or date like birth. Being adopted is a lifelong part of the adoptee's identity and can be carried on to their own offspring. Every time the adopted person looks in the mirror or at their own children it is a constant reminder of their true origins. When the adoptee is watching a news story about breast or prostate cancer, or reads a new study on family history regarding heart disease, they can not help but think of their birth families.  “Am I a ticking time bomb and don’t know it?” Their biological parents may not think of them every day, but it is impossible for the adoptee not to be reminded that they are adopted every single day of their lives.

When you are “adopted,” you do not see yourself in any of those you are told are relatives or family. They will say you resemble this uncle or that aunt, but you don’t, and you know it. While this may sanitize the term adoption for the people who bought you, it creates mere bewilderment for you. There is no one you can look at as a mirror image of who you are. No one to indicate who you might become, how tall you might be, or how your body might change during puberty. Satisfying this curiosity is essential to the transition from child to adult. Experiments are never integrated into society. Loneliness is a harsh mistress.

Have you or someone close to you had a baby? Was the pregnancy planned? Most people, whether they were having a planned pregnancy or not, are visited in the hospital by family. Were photos taken of the new family in a group shot? Is there a photographic record of the birth and first bonding of mother and child? You see, no such happiness, memory, or celebration surrounds the anniversary of an adopted child’s birth. That birth, for most adoptees, was a sad occasion, and decisions were made about their lives that not only affected their adolescence, but the rest of their, our, lives. The only photos, if any, that exist are of strangers. In most cases, no pictures were taken.

We all grow up hearing cliches such as “Home is where the heart is.” However, adopted people can never go home. Legally, an 18-year-old can do what they want and be a part of both families. But that is a misnomer. Suppose an adoptee is fortunate enough to be allowed to discover their biological family. In that case, they might become a part of the two families, but are not entirely a part of either. It is just a fact of life, not a subject for debate.

Have you visited the place where you were born? Adoptees have no idea of where that place is. A birth certificate might exist, but it is a forged document that cannot be relied upon as truthful. We are born and raised in secrecy. In most states, our records are sealed, and we are not allowed, by law, to be privy to information that the rest of the world is allowed access to about themselves. Not all adoption agencies reported the correct facts or passed on information. Many adoptees who were able to reunite with their biological families found that they had never received updates, photos, and letters given to the agency. They also found that the reason given for surrender was incorrect, as well as factors such as cultural heritage, family medical history, and siblings. I learned, for example, that I had twelve siblings, brothers and sisters. No, I am not in contact with any of them. They deny my existence, claiming to recognize my birth would paint a black mark on the memory of “their” mother. I see it as their attitude of denial, leaving a black mark on the memory that will one day be of them and not of “our” mother. You are right, that did not go over well. They refuse to believe that my conception was not of my making and seem to blame me for it, not our mother and her paramour.

Adopted children grow up denied information regarding their ancestors. The adopted person wonders not just who gave birth to them, but if they are related to someone famous or have an inherited trait or skill. Adoptees often wonder about the careers they should pursue and consider the legacy they wish to leave for their own descendants. They would love to tell their children and grandchildren stories of their ancestors, not of some family history society has bought for them. Had I known I was of French ancestry, I would have taken French as a language in high school and university, and I would have visited France when I had the chance. My child might have also studied French to learn about her heritage. Should not my descendants be left a better legacy about their ancestors on my side of the biological spectrum? 

I am not sure where it interjects this, but international adoption or cross-cultural adoptions add an entirely new dynamic. In most cases, they are not adoptions as that term is used in our legal system; instead, the children are victims of coercion, kidnapping, and trafficking. Human trafficking has become a billion-dollar industry for the lowlifes amongst us. Victims lose not only their families, but an entire culture and way of life. I know. I am one.

Adopted people are used in pro-life arguments. They are seen as poster children for anti-abortion groups. It would be wrong to assume that every one of those relinquishments actually averted an abortion. Many women who place their baby for adoption may never have considered abortion in the first place. Adoption rates almost always include foster care from children removed from abuse or neglect, who were never candidates for abortion. Many foster placements themselves result in the abuse and/or death of a child that goes unreported; there is no one to care. And I haven’t even mentioned the Walmart parking lot re-sales of troubled foster children that society loses track of, similar to the caged children at our southern border. 

When having their own children, adoptees often relive the trauma of their adoption. They realize how vulnerable they were and how much they love the child they have brought into the world. It is hard to imagine how someone could give away the most precious thing in the world due to their current financial situation. It is then that many adoptees feel the loss of adoption. It overshadows what should otherwise be a joyous time in their lives.  

The lack of a birth family connection can be a strain during childhood, much like those who have a loved one who is presumed missing or dead, the adopted person thinks of them often. Sometimes it can disrupt their lives and leave them not wanting to move or "move on" in case their bio family comes looking for them.

Adopted people, because of the stigma and shame of the history of adoption, have self-esteem problems. Growing up away from where they belong and lacking basic comforts, such as being told how much they resemble their sibling, parent, or other family member, can be an emotional strain. While the adoptive parents and children feel as though they are a family, other extended family members or the public may not feel the same about their family bonds.

This is just scratching the surface. What is my purpose here? One, it is to tell other adoptees who still feel alone what I have learned, and that there is a vast community out there that cares about and understands them, relates to what they have been through and are going through, no matter what their age. Second, hopefully, people who still consider adopted children to be “lucky” will understand that losing your heritage, your people, your culture, your language, being kidnapped and sold, is a trauma that sticks with a person for their entire life and can be transferred from generation to generation. I am hoping such people will rethink their relationships with “adopted, stolen, kidnapped, sold” people who are in their lives and will now be able to better relate to and support them. I am sure you can undertake these simple requests.