adoptee, adoption, rejection, reunion

The Wonderful House


There are a few things that have been preying on my mind tonight.

I’m a member of a facebook group called, “You Know You Grew Up in T*****”.  It’s the town my parents grew up in, where I was conceived.  There’s a picture on the site, a lovely painting of a large farm house.  It’s painted red with white trim.  A wonderful place, that any child would love to call home.  Someone asks if anyone in the group recognizes this house, and remembers the owners and where it was located.  Many group members chime up, saying they knew the owners, many saying it was their second home, because they spent so much time there as young folks.

That is my grandparents house.  I was never allowed to see it.  My parents did not bring me home.  They brought me to the agency instead.  Seeing that picture broke my heart, again.  How much breaking can one heat take?  Is there a limit?

I wonder why my father didn’t ask his wonderful parents to help raise me.  I wonder if my wonderful grandfather encouraged his son to give me away.  Maybe because Momma was half black.  No one will tell me.

Then I think of my Auntie.  Dad is one of 5 children.  His twin sisters were only 8 when I was born.  They remember crying when they were told that I died.  I asked my Auntie if she could give me any family heirlooms.  Something that belonged to my grandmother.  She told me that all family heirlooms were divided 5 ways, and if I wanted anything I could ask my father, if I had a better relationship with him.

Why do people have to be so cruel?  I have nothing from my fathers family.  The wonderful family who lived in the big red farmhouse aren’t very nice to their cast off niece.  Maybe they’re not so wonderful after all.  Maybe there were some dark secrets in that little town, and maybe I’m one of them.

I read something tonight about chosen children.  It asked how do you choose a child to adopt.  It made me think of my adopter.  She was offered a little boy, about one year before she got me.  She turned him down, because he was already 1 year old, and she wanted a womb fresh baby that she could pass off as her own.  So she waited for her order to be filled, a newborn girl.  Lucky me.

adoptee, adoption, rejection, reunion



I’ve been communicating with my mother a little bit.  It hasn’t been very good for me.

I’ve been taking medication, Celexa for about 2 months now.  I went to the emergency room, in the middle of the work day, because I just couldn’t stand the pain anymore.  The medication makes me care less about things.  It also took away my desire to write.  It just doesn’t flow out of me like it used to.  My husband says it’s better, because I’m in less pain, but I think I lost something.

I sent Mom a magnet I bought in the city.  It depicted a young 50’s style mother feeding a baby in a high chair, and the caption was “I’m sorry, we’re f***ked”.  I thought she would appreciate it, because we were both f***ked by the adoption industry.  She’s not upset by 4 letter words.

Well, she didn’t seem to like the magnet.  She sent me a card saying that I might be f**ked, but she is not.  She added, “wake up and smell the coffee” and “I ask you again, Who are you?” She included some pages from a magazine she reads called The Science of Mind.  She’s into a lot of new age spiritual stuff.  She tries to get me into it too, but I really don’t agree with most of the teachings.

She told me feeling f**ked was not an option for her anymore, because of the teachings of “The Power of Now”.  She lives in the now, and if I have problems, they are my business.  She cannot help me.

I told her I was happy that she was healed, but that I’m not there yet.  I asked if we could start communicating again, because I miss her, and miss getting to know her.  I told her my problems were different than hers, and that I have to heal my own way, on my own time.  I asked her to be patient with me.

Her response was this, “Maybe 2014 will be better”.  Not exactly what I wanted to hear.  It’s more of the same, I’ll talk to you in the future.  A time that will never really come.

This is how she has to deal with what happened to us.

adoptee, adoption, rejection, reunion

My Sister Got Engaged, I Think


I really have to stay off facebook.   I just can’t seem to help myself, I snoop on my families lives.  I want to be included so badly, I look for scraps of their lives, and then I’m in terrible pain when I find things out.

My sister is my father’s kept daughter, the child of his second wife.  Dad met Chita when he tried to open a resort in Puerto Rico.  She was 14 and he was 40.  He got her pregnant, and she aborted their first child, just like my mother did.  She was 15, the same age as my mother when she aborted her baby.  But according to my father his relationship with Chita was true love.  My father told me he married my mother out of obligation, because she was pregnant with me, but his second marriage was the real thing.  The the 26 year age difference meant nothing.  They divorced years ago.

My sister is 25 years younger than me.  She’s younger than two of my children.  Dad kept his last two children, a girl and a boy, because he was finally able to provide them with a good life.  The rest of us were killed or abandoned, but these last kids are the real deal.

So I saw a picture of my sister’s engagement ring on facebook.  I assume she’s engaged.  Maybe my father will live to walk one of his daughters down the aisle.