adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, family, father, mother, orphan, pain, parenting, rejection, Uncategorized



This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is pexels-photo-1122868.jpeg

I was always sent away for the summer. Mom and Dad had to work. There was no one to take care of me, so I had to go. It was so scary living with other families. I never knew what to expect.

I was 6 the first time, sent to Mom’s sister’s house. I remember the fear. What would my cousins do to me? Why was I alone, with no one to love me? What did I do to deserve this?

I never said a word. Next year, back to Aunties. I guess i finally said something, because the next years, off to Dad’s sister’s. That was better. The cousins there were not cruel. Still living with a strange family, but a lot less fear.

Eventually I was sent to summer camp, for 4 summers. I know summer camp is supposed to be fun, but I hated it. Hated sports. It was a kosher camp, with Friday night services, and I wasn’t Jewish. I had trouble fitting in.

It was 50 years ago, but I still feel for that little girl. I don’t know why they bothered to adopt.


adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, brother, family, father, grandfather, grandmother, half brother, half sister, mother, orphan, pain, parenting, pregnancy, rejection, reunion, shunning, Uncategorized

I’m Going to be a Grandmother!

woman pregnant in black and white striped shirt standing near bare tree
Photo by Leah Kelley on

My oldest daughter is due to have a baby girl in 2 months.  I’m very, very happy.  I love babies, and can’t wait to meet my little granddaughter.

Of course,  this wonderful news brings up feelings about my birth, and adoption.  I’m estranged from my father’s family.  I don’t think they know anything about my daughter’s pregnancy, unless they somehow heard through social media, or from someone in the neighborhood.  My half brother, Mom’s son lives in the same area as many of my father’s relatives.  He owns a house with his half brother (same dad, different mom). My cousin E rents an apartment in that house.  E is my late mother’s half sisters son.  I invited E’s preteen daughter to my daughter K’s baby shower, and she said she will attend.  She will be the only blood relative of mine that will be there, aside from my 3 daughters.  The only member of my adoptive family that will be there is my adoptive mother.

Luckily, my husband has a big family, so my daughter will have blood cousins and aunts there.  Only my side will be lacking.  I have a sister, sister in law and many female cousins and aunts, but they are not part of my life, and I don’t think they ever will be.  My father will be a great grandfather, but I have no idea if he would care about that.  My mother did not live to see her great granddaughter.  My half brother will be a great uncle.  My Dad’s kids, will also be a great aunt and uncle.  They are 31 and 24 years old.

I don’t know if my cousin, who lives in the house my brother owns told my brother about the baby.

I want to tell everyone, so much.  I want them to all come to the shower. I want my granddaughter to be marveled over.  I want my family to say who she looks like.  I want us all to be part of their lives.  I don’t want to be treated like a monster.  I don’t want to be hated and feared.

But, what I want doesn’t matter.  I’ll love my granddaughter.  I love my children.

I still wish we could be part of my family, though.

adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, brainwashing, family, father, mother, orphan, pain, parenting, rejection, reunion, shunning, Uncategorized

The Holidays

christmas tree with decors under the staircase


The holidays are upon us again.  It’s a time of joy, but also a time for sadness for many.  All of the positive images of family and love can make people long for what they don’t have.  I’m one of those people.

I have a wonderful family.  Husband and 4 grown children.  My eldest daughter is expecting a daughter in April.  This makes me so happy!  I cannot wait to meet the little one.  K, my daughter is 32, and not married to the father.  In fact, she only knew him for 4 moths before she fell pregnant.  In the old days, she’d be a great candidate for adoption.  Not in my house though.  Never, never ever. We will love that baby, and my daughter and do everything we can to help and support them.  Granddaughter! What a beautiful word.

I was born November 13, and relinquished on November 18.  This is always a trying time of year for me.  I was in a foster home, somewhere for my first Thanksgiving.  I don’t know who I was with, or what name they called me.  Was I Marylee, what my mother named me, or did they just call me another name they made up?


I arrived at my adoptive parents house on December 13.  Just in time for my first, terrifying Christmas.  Why terrifying?  I didn’t know these people, and my A-mom was always rather terrifying to me.

I have no idea what my natural family does for the holidays.  Do they still gather as a large group, or do my aunts and uncles celebrate with their own growing families of children and grandchildren?  I will never know, because I will never be allowed into that family.  They say it’s because of the way I behave, but I think it’s because I was relinquished.  I think they can forgive one of their own, if they behave badly, but I must be shunned if I do.  And, the extent of my bad behavior has been my anguish over my adoption.

Every holiday, I still foolishly hope I’ll get something from my family.  I never do.  I never will.






adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, brainwashing, family, father, mental illness, mother, pain, rejection, reunion, shunning, Uncategorized

The Past



Last night, I woke in the middle of the night, and I felt such fear and dread.  I sought the root of the feeling, and could not find it.  I remembered that I have always felt this, and that the feeling has no name.  I also remembered that it will pass.  It will return, and it will go away again.  I think we all have these feelings.  It’s the human condition.

When I think back on my childhood, I cannot find any happy memories.  None.  The whole thing is colored a dark grey, by my adoption.  Losing my mother, and never being allowed to even speak of it, colored my life.

No family. No one. Nothing. Every day, all day.

I could not wait to escape from my adoptive parents house.  I met my husband when I was 16.  Someone who could save me, and make me whole.

“But, your adoptive parents loved you.  They did not abuse you! They raised you!”.

I know. I was there.  They tried, but I was so hurt.  I could not feel their love.  Their love was spoiled for me, because it came at the expense of my real family.  I should not have been put in such an impossible position.  I could not accept the love of the ones who I felt were responsible for my loss.

Did they really love me?  I suppose so.  I was a good enough child.  But, I was not, and could never be their child.  They had to maintain the illusion that I was.  They did not tell anyone that I was adopted.  It was a hidden family secret, one that I dared not speak of.

How I hated the phrase, “when we got you”.  Got me? I wanted “when you were born”.  I wanted my mother to tell the story, of my birth, not the story of these  strangers who somehow, “got me”.

Even as a young child, I felt this way.

It was a lost cause, from the start.  I was broken, unable to be fixed.  On my own, from the start.  I had to turn my heart to stone.

I remember, being at my Auntie Irene’s house, during the long hot summers when I was 6 & 7.  There were 4 older kids there, my adoptive cousins.  They did not like me much.  The feeling was mutual, but I was at a disadvantage.  I was all alone, and they had each other, as well as their real parents, and I was an unwelcome guest in their home.  My adoptive parents sent me there so they could both work full time during the summer.

I used to lie awake in my borrowed bed, listening to my adoptive uncle’s snores and will my heart to be hard, like a stone so I would not feel the pain of being left alone, again.  I locked my self in the bathroom, and said every curse word I knew.

I went home on weekends, and never told my adoptive mother any of it.  I never told her the sex games my cousins would play either.  I finally told her when I was an adult, and she said, “why didn’t you tell me”.  Sigh.

Would I have sadness if I hadn’t been adopted?  I’m sure.  My real mother had issues.  I still loved and needed her.

adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, brother, death, family, father, mental illness, mother, pain, rejection, reunion, shunning, Uncategorized





My father’s sister did 23 and me, and guess who popped up on her DNA family page, little ole me!

She was listed as my half sister, which would either mean her father,  is my father too, or my father, her brother is her father too.  I don’t think either is the case, with DNA relatives, they come close, but the exact relationship isn’t always certain.  But I kinda liked the idea that my dad slept with his mother.  Then finally his family would see he wasn’t a great guy.  I thought it was kinda funny.

So, I contacted her, on the 23 and me website.  We shared our DNA profiles.  It was nice.  Then we started emailing.  I shared my huge tree with her.  She asked if I wanted to meet for dinner sometime, me and hubby with her and her hubby.

I did not want to do that.  I told her about the shunning, and she said my cousin, the one who told me about the shunning had it wrong.  There was no decision to shun me.  I guess it was not official, but everyone did it anyway?

Strangely, I have no desire to see my Aunt.  She does not mean much to me.  She told me that she loves my father, “warts and all” and cannot speak about his decisions.  Fair enough.  I can, and his decisions hurt a lot of people.  He’s a scumbag.  As long as I feel this way, I don’t think I can ever get along well with my aunt.  We can’t have a casual going out to dinner kind of relationship.  Especially after all those years of silence.

And…still no word about my mother.  No acknowledgement of her death.  No I’m sorry, nothing.  why would I want to be near this woman?  Well, I don’t.

Auntie said she’d be there if I ever wanted to get to know her.  Does that sound like a loving invitation?  It does not to me.  I know enough to stay away from this one…



adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, brainwashing, brother, family, father, mental illness, mother, pain, rejection, reunion, shunning, Uncategorized

Maybe I’ve Got it All Wrong




I think my birth parents are my parents, not my adoptive parents.

I do not think I’m related to my adoptive parents at all.  I can’t understand how I can be expected to believe unrelated strangers are my family.  I was raised by, and around my adoptive family, but I never,ever thought, or wished that I was related to any of them.

They’re OK people.  Not too bright, actually.  My mother was much smarter.  More damaged, for sure, but quick, in a way the adopters are not.  Mom & I both have large vocabularies.  A-mom, not so much.

It’s not a popular point of view, but it’s one I just cannot shake.

No one likes it.  My adoptive family think it’s wrong, because my A-parents raised me, and I should see them as my parents.  My birth family doesn’t like it.  I’m not sure how they feel about it, but it seems they don’t consider me a relative, and wish I would just vanish.  Which I have.  I have little contact with my natural family, 7 years after reunion.

We may have no contact, but they are still my relatives.  No matter what everyone else believes.

Are there any others out there like me, who do not understand how we’re supposed to believe strangers are our families?  Please let me know how it is for you.

adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, brother, death, family, father, good vs evil, mental illness, multiple personality disorder, pain, rejection, reunion, shunning, Uncategorized

A Letter to My Father



September 13, 2017


Dear Dad,


I can’t believe it’s almost 7 years since I found my family.  It hurts so much to know that you are all out there, and I am so alone.

It’s been over 2 years since my mother died, and I haven’t heard a word from my family.  I don’t think anyone can imagine how bad that feels.  It’s a terrible curse to have a family, but not be part of it.

The last family member I heard from was my cousin W.  She told me that the entire family decided that it was best not to have any contact with me.  Best for who? I asked, but there was no answer.  It’s not best for me, so I guess it must be best for the rest of you.

It was best to give me away as a newborn, and best to shun me as an adult.  But, never, ever best for me.  Best for me would have been to live and grow up with my family, and best for me would have my family accept and love me as I am.  I will never get that.  What’s best for me is not very important to my family.

I still live with the pain of being cast out.  It does not get better.

I did not attend my mother’s memorial.  My brother kicked me out of hospice on her last day.  He asked when he got to be alone with his mother.  I guess his whole life was not enough for him.

My mother and her friends hated me, so I thought it best to stay away from the memorial.  I never saw my brother, John after he kicked me out of hospice.

You are the one with the mystery illness, but my mother was the one who died.  Life’s funny like that.

Anyway, just wanted to let you know how much being abandoned, and shunned hurts.  I’m pretty sure you don’t care, since you always do what’s best for you.  And never, ever what’s best for me.















adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, brother, family, father, mother, pain, rejection, reunion, Uncategorized

The Thing About Blogs


BLOG on speech bubble price labels


Well, I made a big boo boo.  I showed my blog to a bio family member.  It did not go well.  All they saw was anger and hatred, on my part.  Nothing at all of the pain that I’ve gone through.  They told me, repeatedly that I was harboring hatred, and that I hated my entire bio family.  I do not.  I don’t even know my entire bio family! ( that’s a joke)  I do know that they haven’t lived up to my expectations, but then again, I haven’t lived up to theirs either.

ISA, Infant Stranger Adoption changes everything about a family.  It removes a child, like surgery, and the wound that removal causes heals.  Scar tissue forms.  Life goes on.  When that person finds their family, no one knows what to do. There is fear, a lot of fear, on both sides.  Here are my mother, father, brothers sisters, aunts Uncles and cousins. but they are all strangers.  And I’m a stranger to them.

I wanted them to treat me as if I had been kidnapped, and finally found alive.  I wanted them to fuss over me, show me off, invite me over.

But, with ISA, there is also shame.  A kidnap is not voluntary, ISA is.  My parents made a decision to give me to strangers.  It was not random.  I was not taken.  There is guilt involved.

When I blog, there is usually a reason, a trigger.  I don’t do it that often.  The trigger is usually negative, something that made me feel hurt, and I use my blog as a way to get over it, to get it out of my system.  So, most of my blog posts are angry, or hurt, or mostly both.

That does not mean that I am angry all the time.  I’m just not.  I actually have a real life, full of good things.  I guess if you read my blog, that may not show.  My blog was written over years, but reading it all at once may be overwhelming, especially to someone who has lived a happy life.

Letting my family read it was a very bad idea.  They think I’m bad enough already.




adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, brainwashing, family, father, good vs evil, mother, pain, rejection, reunion, Uncategorized

Good vs Evil



I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what makes a person good, or bad.

No one is all good, or all bad.  I think it’s a matter of perception.

I have been communicating with a paternal cousin, only through Facebook.  We have never met in person.  She is a few years younger than me, and grew up surrounded by our extended family.  I was touched when she said that she was sorry about what happened to me.  No one in my father’s family has ever expressed any remorse about my being given away.

I told her that I thought my father was a bad guy, and she assured me that her Uncle was not a bad guy.  He just made mistakes, and she was not going to judge him based on that.

That’s fair enough, but it’s a little different for me.  I am one of the mistakes that he made, and his choices affected my life in every way.  To me, he is the very essence of evil.  An entitled man, who liked to stick his dick in women (and sometimes children, if you count 14 yr old girls)  with no care at all for what his actions produced.  He left dead and abandoned children  in his horny wake.  He gave me the same amount of care that he would a tissue that he jizzed in.  Just throw it away, and don’t think about it any more.

I also shared that my father’s family does not speak to me, and my cousin told me that there had to be a good reason, because they were good people also, who would never turn on someone for no reason.

Maybe she’s right about that too.  Maybe they are good people, and I did something wrong.  I’m not the most diplomatic person in the world, after all.  I definitely said things that were very hard to hear, but what did I really, ever do to anyone, besides being born at the wrong time, to the wrong woman?


Where she sees good, loving family, I see cold unforgiving strangers.  We are blood  but I am different because my father put me outside of the family, and his blood is better than mine.

It’s all a matter of perception.

If my father is a good man, who made some mistakes as a callow youth, why does he still shun me and his grandchildren? Why doesn’t he try and atone for his mistakes?  Are these the actions of a good man?

Why didn’t he say anything to me when my mother died?  Does anyone know how much that good man, and his good family has hurt me?

If they are such good people, why can’t I see it?  Why are they hiding their goodness from me?  They seem to love each other, why don’t they love me, their cousin, their niece, their daughter?

Maybe it’s me who is the bad person, unable to forgive and forget.  Maybe that’s why I deserve this.


adoptee, adoption, anger, birthmother, family, mother, pain, rejection, reunion, Uncategorized

Another County Heard From


Since my reunion, 5 years ago, I’ve heard from several family members, both adoptive and biological.  Usually it’s not good.  This is from my adoptive cousin, on my father’s side.

My adoptive parents farmed me out to various relatives when I was a kid.  This cousin was very kind to me,and her house was my favorite place to stay.  Of course, I would have preferred to remain in my own home, but that was out of the question.

M    I don’t understand why you would be in a group called “Adoptees against Adoption”. Can you explain it to me?

10/22/2014 10:59PM

I don’t believe in infant adoption. I don’t agree with secrets and sealed records. I think that too often infant adoption is about couples who want a child, not about a child who truly needs a home. I believe in family preservation, wherever possible.


09/28/2015 7:38AM

M what is your adoption story? Did you find out why your birth mother made an adoption plan for you? Have your feelings against adoption affected your relationship with the mother who adopted you? I’m very curious, because some of your FB posts seem so bitter. My goodness, Mitch and Ramona adored you. You were everything to them. I used to be so jealous of you, because you got the best of everything, being their only child. (Although I did benefit from some of your “cast-offs”, like an itchy camelhair coat one year.) Anyway, I have fond memories of you as a child. I hope you do, too.

09/28/2015 5:31PM

I wouldn’t say my dear mother made an adoption plan for me. It was more that she had her back up against the wall and could not think of any other options.

It’s a long sad story, if you really want to know, I’ll be happy to tell you, but be sure you’re sitting down, in a nice calm place when you read it.

I also can’t imagine you getting any hand me downs from me, since I am 4 years younger, and a lot smaller than you!

09/28/2015 8:37PM

Infant adoption is a very complicated thing. It’s not as simple as a woman not wanting her baby, and another woman wanting it. Before a child is adopted, it is relinquished. I lost my entire family when I was 5 days old. Ramona and Mitch may have adored me, but they could never really be my parents. Infant adoption involves a lot of secrets and pretending. Not usually healthy things in a person’s life.

My mother was born on Sept 14, 1943. Her mother was 16 or 17. Her father was a light skinned black man. Mixed race marriage was a forbidden thing back then, and my grandmother was called many nasty names because of her relationship with my grandfather. My grandmother was probably abused as a child, by her father. She was promiscuous and a heavy drinker. She liked spending time in bars and slept with a lot of men. My mother was responsible for the care of her younger sister from a very young age. My grandparents separated, and my grandfather ended up in Michigan. My grandmother used to leave my mother and her younger sister, Louise with her mother while she went out drinking. My grandmother’s name was Patty. Patty’s mother died, and she started to leave her daughters with her father while she went out drinking, but came home one evening to find her father molesting my mother. My mother was 3. Patty decided to send the girls to live with their father, in Michigan. Patty dumped the girls in Michigan and took off. My grandfather, Jimmy  tried his best to care for the girls, but he had to work. Louise was my mother’s half-sister, the result of Patty’s affair with another man, but Jimmy treated her as his own child. Jimmy found a couple to take the girls in as foster children. He would visit and send money for their care. The foster father was a pedophile, who regularly molested the girls. The foster mother would beat them severely as well. My mother said they were basically tortured, while from the outside everything seemed normal. My mother lived there from age 5-11. During this time, I believe my mother developed multiple personalities. When Mom was 11, Patty brought her back home to New York. Patty had had several more children, and needed someone to take care of them while she went out. Mom describes her foster father crying and saying how much he loved her, and kissing her romantically, goodbye. She was 11.

Things back in New York were horrific. Patty was a negligent mother and housekeeper. The babies ran around in filth. Rats and roaches filled their tiny bungalow. Mom was responsible for trying to keep order and feed the younger children. She told me she could not go to school because her mother would stay out for days at a time, and she could not leave the babies alone. Her mother was the town bar fly. Patty had 7 children with 7 different men, and at least one illegal abortion as well. Her boyfriends would beat her regularly. None of them took responsibility for the children they fathered, and the family lived in squalor. My father’s family lived in the same town in New York. They were the rich family who lived up on the hill. My father’s name is Robert Mc. His family owed Mc’s picnic grounds. It was famous in the town. My grandparents were prominent in the town. They were masons and active in the community. My father’s family owned acres of land and a large farmhouse. They grew vegetables and had animals. My father is one of 5 children.

My parents started dating when she was 14 and he was 17. She got pregnant at a young age, and Patty arranged for her to have an abortion from the same abortionist that she herself used. My father worked all summer to pay for the abortion. A few years later, my mother got pregnant again. This time my parents got married. They were planning to raise me in an apartment attached to the Mc farmhouse. Then, something happened. I really don’t know exactly what. My mother said that she went into a church for advice, and they told her about adoption. She went home and told my father, and he loved the idea. They moved to another part of New York, to hide the pregnancy. When I was born, they didn’t tell anyone. My mother took care of me in the hospital for 5 days, then my father came and picked us up. He drove us to the Spence Chapin adoption agency in Manhattan, where they left me. They took turns holding me while they filled out the papers necessary for my abandonment. My mother was described as weeping during the entire time. She told me that my father worked on her, the bigger she got the more he told her that I would have a terrible life if they kept me, worse than the life she had. She was broken down and had no self-esteem. She thought she wasn’t good enough to be my mother, but she was. All she needed was support. My parents went home and told their families that I was stillborn. No one questioned their story. or even asked what happened, or had a memorial for me.

I think that my father’s parents knew that I was alive. I think they did not want to help raise me because my mother was black. There was plenty of room for another kid in the Mc house. My spoiled, rich father took advantage of a poor mentally sick woman. He used her for sex, but did not want the responsibility that came with it. My father was 22 and my mother was 19 when I was born. 6 months later, my parents’ marriage was annulled. My mother got no alimony, or any support from my father.

She attempted suicide after I was gone, and she truly lost her mind. 4 years later she had a son with another man. His family helped her raise her son, my half-brother James

My life with my adoptive parents may have seemed enviable to you, but it was not as great as it seemed. We lived in a 1-bedroom apartment. I shared the room with Ramona, and Mitch slept on the couch. They had a loveless marriage.

My mother tried to have her own child for 10 years. That was what they really wanted, but it was not to be. Adoption was a last resort. My parents struggled to live on Mitch’s small salary for 6 years, when Ramona went back to work. Work was what she really loved best. At first she worked part time, while I was in school, but in the summer she had the opportunity to work full time. That was when she started boarding me out. I stayed with Ramona’s sister, Isabel for 2 summers. Isabel had 4 children. all older than me. I had never been away from home before and was frightened and alone. This was the summer after first grade, when I was 6. My cousins were Ethan, who was 14, Jane 12 and Mary who was 6 months older than me. They had an older sister, Kitty, but she was out of the house a lot of the time.

Ethan was left in charge of us girls a lot, while Auntie Isabel went to her social activities. There was incest in the family, and he would have us touch him. I was scared of him. He exposed himself to me. I was trapped and alone. I didn’t even know how to use the telephone. I wondered why Ramona left me there. I wondered why she adopted me, if she was just going to board me out. I didn’t understand why I was so unlovable. I decided I had to make my heart hard, like a stone, so I wouldn’t care about being left anymore. I tried really hard, and it worked. I began to hate Ramona.

I told Ramona that I didn’t want to go back to Auntie Isabel’s for a third summer, but I didn’t tell about the incest. That’s when I came to your house. It was much better there. I liked the lake, and you were all much nicer than Auntie Isabel’s kids, plus, no sex abuse. I was happy with your family, but still felt abandoned by Ramona

Ramona went to work full time when I was 9, and then I had to go to a friend’s house every day after school. I didn’t like that. I wanted to go to my own home after school. Ramona would work all day, come home, make dinner, then go out to play bingo in the evenings. I stayed home with Mitch. I was an only child and very lonely. Ramona also had a boyfriend during this time. She would go out with him on Thursday nights, and say she was shopping in the city. I was still sharing a room with my mother, my parents said we could not afford a bigger apartment.

We never spoke of my adoption. I had no idea who I was, or where I came from. I was living in a world of strangers. I remember asking about my “other mother” and having Ramona scream, “you don’t have another mother, I’m your only mother”. After I stayed at your house, I started going to summer camp. My parents sent me to an all Jewish camp. It was Kosher, and we had Friday night services. I was not very athletic, and hated camp very much. Finally, I was old enough to stay home alone! I scoured my apartment, and found my adoption papers. I finally learned my name, Marylee Mc. I told no one, but I repeated the name over and over in my head.

I started smoking pot at 14 and drinking at 16. It helped with the pain. I couldn’t wait to get out of my parents’ house and left home at 19 and moved in with Don. We’ve been together ever since. The pain of my adoption never left, but I was afraid to find them. As I neared age 50 I feared I would not find them alive, so I hired someone to find them. We reunited, but it has not gone well.

I believe that most women do not want to give their children away. There are extreme cases where a mother is a true danger to her child, but that is rare. more often it is poverty and fear that cause women to relinquish.

I wanted my mother. Ramona and Mitch were fine people, but not my people. I have a big family. They want nothing to do with me. My birth certificate has been altered, and the real one sealed. I am not legally related to my parents. My children are not legally related to their ancestors. My descendants cannot accurately track their roots, because my birth record is false. That makes me very angry.

Only an adopted person can understand how it feels to be given away by your own parents. We are not supposed to speak about our feelings, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have them.

I feel the pain from my adoption every single day. My mother died on Sept 1, and my brother James kicked me out of hospice so he could be alone with his mother. I did not go to her memorial service, I am her first born, but I am nobody and nothing to her legally. My father married a woman younger than me and I have a sister who is 27 and a brother who is 19. So, that’s part of my story.

09/29/2015 10:57AM

Oh, M, I had no idea you had such pain in your life. There was NO indication from your visits that you were so lonely and unhappy. I’m glad you found Don. How many children do you have?

09/30/2015 7:31AM

I have 4.

09/30/2015 8:54AM

This one was not so bad! She did not judge or condemn me.  She is a fundamentalist christian, so I imagine she is from the “adoption not abortion” camp.

There was no indication that I was lonely or unhappy because I did not trust anyone.  There was no one to confide in, at that age.  They would tell my adoptive mother.  I kept it all inside, and it seems like I did a pretty good job.