I feel blessed to have been adopted. A few days ago Meg and I were talking about some of my own pre-birth issues. They stem back to damage that happened well before my birth date. I was one of the 'unwanted' pregnancies. And let me tell you I was not wanted-- a mistake or mishap. Meg really hates when I say that, but I was. You know it is sensitive to me, but something more happened. I was placed after birth with parents that had waited for me and prayed for me even before they knew I was going to be theirs. They chose me and chose to be my parents. I was never a mistake to them. I became a gift and a blessing. I became my mother's 'little adopted doll'. I became my grandma's shadow instead of a mar on my biological grandmother's reputation. I was given love, and you know that love has conquered so much of the pain from that first nine months. The other thing I know is no matter how much I began as a mishap or mistake God did a miracle. He made me into something beautiful and wanted and with purpose. To do that he used two people that by their own devises could not have a child and gave them me, who if it had been up to my biological mother and her mother wouldn't be alive. Yet he gave them joy and gave me direction. If I had been conceived two years later I would have been an abortion... That was the nice thing my biological mother informed me of nineteen years ago.
Let me clarify something, my biological mother wasn't the enemy or even a truly bad person. She was just a seventeen year old girl in high school who had a boyfriend and had sex for the first time then oops... Yep that was me-- the oops. From what I've been able to piece together from what my biological mother told me and the bits of memory I retained (yes for those of you that believe that preborn babies do not have memory or feelings I can prove you wrong) originally I was one of two. She lost my twin fairly late-- like four months or so-- and thought she had had a miscarriage. Until she really noticed her stomach moving-- about two months later. Her mother found out and in horror punched her in the stomach-- By the way I remember that and felt guilty for even existing. Tell me anyone who is about six months pregnant did you realize your baby can feel emotion? I know babies of this gestation can because I did. In fact after I met my biological mother, one day I called her up after wrestling with this particular memory trying to figure it out. I yelled at her.. "What happened when you were six months pregnant with me!?" That is when she told me about her mother punching her in the stomach. Then my memory finally made some sense.
My biological mother and I really didn't get along. I don't think it was much different when she was pregnant with me either. I know I was glad to be away from her. That sounds bad, but those are my earliest thoughts. For her the pregnancy produced something close to post traumatic stress syndrome. Afterwards for weeks she woke up hearing me cry even though I was not there. Later when I met her when I was in my mid twenties we still didn't see eye to eye even though I loved her because she was my biological mother and she tried to accept me as her biological child.
At two months old exactly I was placed in my mom's arms and my life radically changed. I screamed and cried and caused ruckus like you would not believe! There are pictures of me as a baby stiff and screaming. But there are memories of my dad getting down on the floor with my toddler self pretending to be all kinds of animals. There are memories of my mom and I standing outside of the kindergarten on the first day of school and my mom pointing out the other kids that were crying and praising me for being so brave, and of my grandmother getting up with me and helping change my clothes because I had wet the bed again. There are memories of my grandmother picking me up from school and bringing me an orange because she knew I was hungry after class, and of my mother quizzing me on my multiplication facts as we drove to school each morning. There are memories of my dad reading me stories before bed each night and not acting worried as I struggled to learn to read. There are the memories of my mother deciding I needed to be in a better school and fighting the school board to get me in the school she thought would help me with the difficulties I was having.
Yes there were huge problems and yes I faced things that I have discussed in other posts, but I was loved and wanted, and made to feel as if adoption was a normal part of life. As a kid I was proud of being adopted. I was chosen! How many kids could say that? As an adult I am even more proud.
After two adoptions I realize how much trouble my parents went through to get me, and the two kiddos I adopted were much easier on me than my adoption was on my parents. They waited two years on a list before they got me. Which in the sixties was an outrageous amount of time. Now many would be adoptive parents wait much longer. Then they went through three different court dates in three different counties over another two years before I was officially their daughter. Talk about a boost to my ego.. They went through that to have me. Wow! If for no other reason (and there are many other reasons) I love my parents for that.
I am telling you about this for just a few reasons. One for those of you that think a couple who adopts is just taking over with someone else's kids-- you have no clue how off you are. Adoption is about making a family, giving love, and receiving love. I became my parents' child. I was no longer really the child of my biological mother-- yes genetically I was her offspring, but emotionally, spiritually, and even physically I was my parents' child.
Two every child is wanted whether you realize it or not. Every child counts-- even a mishap like me. I was a gift to my parents just like my two sweet adopted babes are to me. Every one of my birth children are too-- even though I was a confused single girl with one of them.
Three you don't know what that mishap is going to grow up to be because God is in charge and he does love that child you consider a mistake. They aren't a mistake or mishap or oops in his eyes. He still has a plan.
Four if I had been aborted my parents would have never known me. My children would have never been born. This world would have had a void. Each abortion not only kills a child, but leaves a void where that child is suppose to be.
Five rape does not make that child any less a gift-- my grandson is that case in point. Meg became pregnant because of a rape. Her son is a blessing regardless. The rape was no more his fault than hers.
Six and final point... I have never regretted adopting or being adopted. It is not a second classification. It is just as beautiful as birth. I am not less of a person because I started out life as an 'unwanted' child. That also was not my fault. I was only unwanted to my biological mother. My mom and dad very much wanted me and were praying for me even then though they did not know I was the child that was coming to them.
One last thing. Maybe my mother would not have had such a difficult time if she had received a little bit of love. If her mother had taken her in her arms and realized how frightening this was to her seventeen year old daughter. She didn't mean for this to happen. If those around her had talked to her about what she wanted or how she was feeling maybe she would have made better choices. What about the girls and women in your life that are going through this? Are you going to tell them to have an abortion, or are you going to listen to how they are doing? Are you going to whisper about the girl in the youth group that got 'knocked up' or are you going to be her friend? When she doesn't know what to do or how she's going to handle being a mom are you going to bring up adoption as a viable option-- even a good option? Or drive her to the clinic as she holds back her horror and tears acting as if she is brave?
You know I talked to my youngest sister for three months listening to her and helping her in every way I could from two thousand miles away while she tried to make this choice. She still chose abortion. It broke my heart, but afterwards I was also one of the first ones to talk to her. Though it hurt to know she made that choice, I still tried to listen and love her. That was while I was pregnant with my youngest birth child-- nineteen years ago-- when my biological mother told me if it had been two years later I would have been an abortion. It hurt. Especially it hurt because I will never get to meet that niece or nephew. It hurt because of the pain I heard in my sister afterwards. It didn't fix the things that were wrong. She still had to do the healing plus she had healing to do because of her choice. Abortion is death. There is no way you can get around that. It is murder. It murder's the dream that the little child brings into this world. It murders the emotions of those around watching it happen, and it freezes the mother's heart while it stops the child's heart. I choose life. Life for the mother. Life for the child. Life for this society. I don't want anything to do with death. I don't mind being a mishap, but I would not have wanted to miss life.
This is Cat out giving you a little to think about.
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