tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post6473472002454256385..comments2023-05-13T05:39:17.781-04:00Comments on One Option Means No Choice: Coming to TermsCarlynne Hershberger, CPSAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01365785230628216814noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-90684037579053457052013-10-17T15:20:02.501-04:002013-10-17T15:20:02.501-04:00I agree. The validation is so important. Thank you...I agree. The validation is so important. Thank you for validating ME!Rebecca Hawkeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10736626549316682171noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-38529850766453575182013-10-17T14:38:18.763-04:002013-10-17T14:38:18.763-04:00Thank you for being here Holly. I appreciate all t...Thank you for being here Holly. I appreciate all the voices like Rebecca's that bring us to thinking and feeling about this. It needs to be done to work through this grief. It doesn't seem to matter how many years have gone by, there's always another aspect, another thought to process, another wave of grief and hurt that has to be dealt with. That's why it's so important for us in the community to connect to each other - we understand each other better than anyone.Carlynne Hershberger, CPSAhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01365785230628216814noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-12641005531623976552013-10-17T12:40:55.439-04:002013-10-17T12:40:55.439-04:00(((Deanna))) I understand how she must have hurt y...(((Deanna))) I understand how she must have hurt you. Maybe she would not have agreed with any of this but I don't think we can ever really know what's in someone's heart or why they do the things they do. It's so hard for me to understand first mothers who don't or won't share with their children or be there for them. I guess some are not capable of behaving any other way and we can't know why. I'm just glad that I'm able to help in some small way. Love to you Deanna.Carlynne Hershberger, CPSAhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01365785230628216814noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-64195034320249007502013-10-17T11:11:10.554-04:002013-10-17T11:11:10.554-04:00Excellent post, Carlynne. I need to hear from firs...Excellent post, Carlynne. I need to hear from first moms like you. I don't feel like my natural mother would have agreed with any of this, and it hurts so bad at times. Reading your words helps me make sense of things. Thank you for opening up and sharing. It means so much to me. Much loveDr. Deanna DossShrodeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06651422170585497480noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-16088417712258830932013-10-17T11:04:33.251-04:002013-10-17T11:04:33.251-04:00"We all live with it every day in small ways ..."We all live with it every day in small ways and large." <-- So true! xoxo<br />Rebecca Hawkeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10736626549316682171noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-36252717710515598782013-10-17T11:01:33.897-04:002013-10-17T11:01:33.897-04:00I'm so sorry, Maru, for what you are experienc...I'm so sorry, Maru, for what you are experiencing with your son. <br /><br />Yes, though I was lashing out in this post I was also taking a step closer to my parents. A "bad parent" is a parent nevertheless. My post was an acknowledgment of that relationship. The "bad parenting" statement may have seemed hurtful but I wrote it deliberately as a counterbalance to what we so often hear: that adoption is the "loving choice" made by a mother who puts her child's needs ahead of her own. That's what the industry tells us, but I call BS. Adoption rhetoric persuades parents to ignore their basic instincts, convinces them to let go when they know in their heart of hearts they should hold on with everything they've got. It convinces them that they are not worthy to be parents, that the child needs something that they cannot provide. <br /><br />I'm mad at my parents because they didn't protect me from the harm our separations caused, but I can acknowledge, at the same time, that they had very little power in the situation themselves. I'm mad at them _because_ they are my parents, but my acknowledgment of the anger is a step toward them, not away. I am chipping away at one more piece of the barrier that adoption erected between us. <br /><br />I'm sorry to hear about your son, but I also understand something of his side of things. Throughout my reunion I have had to work against the impulse to pull away. I am steadfast in my determination to push forward into relationship (even when doing so is painful), but I understand why some adoptees (and some first parents) can't do this. Relationship is risky, and the self-preservation impulse is so strong. Rebecca Hawkeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10736626549316682171noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-63666975691391115632013-10-17T10:48:42.860-04:002013-10-17T10:48:42.860-04:00(((Rebecca))) Mothers and adoptees were both so da...(((Rebecca))) Mothers and adoptees were both so damaged by this institution. It helps all of us if both recognize the pain and injury the other suffered because it wasn't a one time event. We all live with it every day in small ways and large and we have to find ways to make things "set right again". Waiting for someone to take ownership of their role in the injury can make it very difficult to let go of the rage and that's where I find myself right now - forgiving is an ongoing process. Maybe that's why I want to be sure to take ownership for my part.Carlynne Hershberger, CPSAhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01365785230628216814noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-39333015402644627322013-10-17T10:33:31.332-04:002013-10-17T10:33:31.332-04:00Thank you, Carlynne, for continuing this conversat...Thank you, Carlynne, for continuing this conversation. Since writing that piece I've come to refer to it as my "temper tantrum of a post." I recognize it as the equivalent of a child yelling "I hate you" or "you ruined my life." Such words are emotionally true for the child in the moment, but they are not necessarily an accurate reflection of the child's true beliefs or of how the child feels when in a more regulated state. My inner child has been sleeping quite peacefully since I let this all out; I've also been experiencing a renewed sense of compassion for my young parents, faced as they were with such a lack of choices and support. Their loss. My loss. It's all intertwined.<br /><br />And yet, the head/heart split remains. So much the adoption experience is contradictory, isn't it? I can accept intellectually that my parents were not to blame for our separation and yet still have a strong desire for them to take ownership, to lift the weight of what is between us. The responsibility for what happened to us may be "out there," but the pain and trauma lodges itself in the middle of the relationship. As I wrote in the comment section of my post, "When I encounter a first mother who says 'I was hurt by adoption and I deserve empathy and understanding for what happened to me,' I agree 100%. But when I encounter a first mother who says 'My CHILD was hurt by adoption and I will stand up and acknowledge that so that I may hold a piece of that pain for them' something powerful happens for me. I see the mother stepping back into her parental role, and something is set right again." So I love, love, love that you wrote "Did I 'lose' my daughter to adoption? Yes I did. It was a forced, closed adoption. I had no choice at that time but my daughter was the one left behind and truly voiceless so I understand if there's a part of her that rages and it's ok if the rage is directed at me. I was afraid to use my voice but she was too young to use hers." I appreciate how you hold both pieces (yours and hers) simultaneously, in a way that makes it clear that the one does not subtract from the other. Her trauma and voiceless is not mitigated by your lack of choice in the matter; the two things coexist. <br /><br />As you wrote on my facebook wall, "We're all in this adoption mess together." Amen to that!<br />Rebecca Hawkeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10736626549316682171noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-74847499243438248932013-10-17T10:20:47.825-04:002013-10-17T10:20:47.825-04:00I'm sorry you also had that type of father. I ...I'm sorry you also had that type of father. I don't understand it and the men in my life who are fathers certainly don't understand it either. I'm with you on the Veronica Brown case. I've never been so affected by a story before. I think of her and Dusten every single day. My heart breaks for that little girl and her whole family grieving the loss. It's so wrong and that's another place where the rage is directed - the industry, the lawyers, the court system and the C's.Carlynne Hershberger, CPSAhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01365785230628216814noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-66702269798298277722013-10-17T08:55:08.561-04:002013-10-17T08:55:08.561-04:00""You have never caused me anything clos...""You have never caused me anything close to pain." <br /><br />I have a hard time believing that. In my, admittedly, limited experience, I have found more male adoptees to feign indifference while actually being angrier than their female counterparts. My pet theory, that may explain some of this, is that males have always had more freedom and power in society and would have a harder time understanding how someone could feel so coerced to give their child up for adoption when they really didn't want to do it. I think men have always been allowed to do more of what they wanted to do and not be branded as 'selfish' for doing so. Like I said, just a theory of mine, which may or may not be true.Robinnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-39590821877691823562013-10-17T08:43:51.617-04:002013-10-17T08:43:51.617-04:00"He wanted nothing to do with me. How can a ..."He wanted nothing to do with me. How can a man who fathered a child be that way? How could he? He failed me."<br /><br />I really struggle with this issue as it is the sole reason I was given up for adoption. My n-father was single, in his thirties, and self-supporting. In other words, he was in a position to raise a child. But he adamantly refused to do so. We talk a lot in the adoption reform community about how not only are looks, but our personalities and character traits, are inherited. Well, as far as my n-father is concerned, my apple couldn't have fallen further from the tree (at least character wise).<br /><br />I know my n-mother would have done anything to keep me. She was even willing to have a short marriage and get divorced so I would get my father's name. But my father was having none of it. When I found my paternal relatives they assumed my father must not have known I existed. I assured them he did. He was at the hospital when I was born making sure that I was taken by another couple. But even with all this, I still consider his surname to be mine. It is my lineage, my heritage. And even though he was a supreme jerk, it's still my name.<br /><br />This whole father issue is another reason I am so devastated over what happened to Veronica BROWN. To see a little girl with such a wonderful father who wants to step up to the plate and to watch that STOLEN from her, based on lies and breaking laws, has been more than I can bear.Robinnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-51200438367893928322013-10-16T18:19:01.351-04:002013-10-16T18:19:01.351-04:00(((maru))) There just aren't words for this. I...(((maru))) There just aren't words for this. I don't know why so many adoptees stop communicating. Maybe the pain is too great. My daughter and I have our times too. Right now we're in the middle of a silent time. She's in my life but it's very limited at the moment. I only hang on to the hope that she'll talk to me again soon. For your son, he's younger. Maybe over time things will change. Don't give up hope.Carlynne Hershberger, CPSAhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01365785230628216814noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1138721004042487054.post-76053216837731822162013-10-16T17:48:26.065-04:002013-10-16T17:48:26.065-04:00Rebecca's post has weighed heavily on my mind ...Rebecca's post has weighed heavily on my mind since I read it the other day. Twenty-three years later I still don't know how I could have "move[d] that particular adoption mountain out of the way . . . " I begged for help, for anything and/or anyone to help me to hold onto my son. <br /><br />Upon meeting my son two decades later all I could think was that he would hate me or be so angry with me for letting him go, for giving up, for surrendering, for capitulating. I told those people way back when that it would hurt my son to not be raised by me. I was so concerned about his pain after we met again that he finally said, "You have never caused me anything close to pain." He stopped communicating with me a couple of years ago. I am a bad mother, a bad parent. I would love to get to a point of my son realizing I'm a bad parent, but instead I'm invisible. It's too far gone, too damaged, and I am nothing. I wish I knew how he felt; all I have is the silence between us. Silence means he doesn't accept what occurred -it's just my excuse for bad parenting- when I gave up on him twenty-three years ago. maru67https://www.blogger.com/profile/16661693981779395753noreply@blogger.com