I'd like to say that my iPhone failed me and didn't forward all the responses to my phone, which is basically the only way I know what's going on. I never go to my blog...that's just me. I let thoughts roll off my mind and that's the end of it. I suck.
So I'm going back to the previous post because I read some really good responses from everyone. There wasn't one single response that I didn't agree with and so many were so different. Now what does a confused girl do with that garble?
I have to say, that I continue to weigh this subject heavy and though it would be really easy for me to claim that I don't believe my daughter was stolen, it would also be very ignorant for me to assume she wasn't. Does the whole thought piss me off? Yes.
I know I didn't sign up for a process that would be unethical. & I doubt all the waiting parents to hold someone sweet did either.
The thought that my beautiful girl could be the person that another Mother mourns desperately over and continues to seek could torture the most heartless human being.
Where does the responsibility lie?
InMySeoul said it best: "....send some pictures but remain anonymous so they can't do anything. How horrible would that be as a parent to get quarterly updates on the child you gave birth to, loved, had kidnapped, sold off; and then to get quarterly updates with photos of them smiling and hugging strangers who replaced them. That would be pure torture...."
I couldn't agree more.
I also have to agree with InMySeoul and Campbell that as adoptees, that would shatter your relationship with your AP's. I would never want my relationship with my daughter to be shattered over keeping such a huge part of her from her. Never.
It sort of reminds me of our foster parenting days, when we entered into a knowing situation that the #1 priority was to unite birth families, regardless of the foster parents thoughts, feelings or the years that go by. We, the foster parents didn't really matter. We were just simply part of an equation where a whole bunch of people including, judges, guardian ad litems, case workers and lawyers all made decisions of what would be 'in the best interest of the child' and not a damn one of them had spent any time with the child or the family they had grown to love. They made decisions based on the blood line of the child. I know from experience, that when we were given the twins, we were told that they would never return to their birth parents. The abuse was to much, the lies to deep, the pain the child endured was to extensive. The damage had been done. I was handed a limp child that slept 23.5 hours a day. I honestly thought I was taking care of a dying child. The brain had been hurt. Badly. The child recovered and our life as a family of 6 strolled happily along. We connected, we worked through issues, we fell head over heels in love with each other. The BP's didn't visit for the first 8 months & when they finally decided to work the case plan, it was only one of the children that they spoke to, held & played with. I saw neglect in a way that brought the Mama bear out in me. That was MY child they were now hurting & I couldn't bear to watch it take place in front of me during these 'forced' visits.
On a warm November day, I stood in front of the judge at a court house where I heard the slam of the judges gavel that was followed with, "Congratulations Parents, you fulfilled your case plan (which was to visit the twins once a week), now go pick up your babies." & at the slam of that gavel, my heart literally fell out of my chest.
It was in that moment, my knees went week and I felt the hand of my husband and case worker grab me from behind and hold tight to me. I couldn't breathe. The pain was to much for the heart to handle. To much.
How did that happen? How could it have happened??? They had never held one of their children since I took custody of them. My heart was broken and blood relations meant nothing to me or Liam and Shelby. Those were my babies. It was my arms they learned to walk to, me who made their birthday cakes, sang them songs, read them stories and taught them to talk. I was Mommy and J was Daddy. I asked for one hour before the birth parents were to pick them up, they gave me 15 minutes. I had to say goodbye. I had to prepare my babies for what we never thought would happen. I held each of them and sobbed. I rocked them and I sang Shelby's favorite song, "you are my sunshine." I told them that I would NEVER stop loving them & I haven't. Blood lines didn't matter, not one bit. My heart shattered and for the next few years, it didn't get easier. The twins came and went in our life often. The parents struggled and would call when in need, we were ALWAYS there to get them. We would get them back often, a week or 2 at a time. Every single time they came 'home', they would throw their shoes out the front door and run, play and spend time with the only family they knew, when it was time for us to return them, they would hide under the beds and tell us no. On one particular night, we were bringing the twins back to their biological parents when Shelby gave J a big hug, paused and looked him square in the eye and said, "bye bye Daddy, I luv you" & as I closed the door to their home, I heard 4 hands beating at the door screaming, "No MOMMY, don't leave us." It was in that moment, that I knew we were causing more harm than good. They felt as though we were abandoning them, even though it was our arms that the birth parents were dumping them in to.
Why is all that relevant to the prior conversation? Because sometimes blood lines mean nothing to the heart of a child who only knows one Mommy and Daddy. We were 2 different sets of parents in 2 different cultures, the children were stuck in the middle. One parent spoke no English and all the twins knew was English. I don't know if my twins recovered from their very disruptive early years of life. I do know that one suffered from RAD and I am positive they never sought treatment for it. Was their pain worth the price of uniting a family due to blood?
So for this reason, I could never put my daughter through the pain of losing the only family she knows. ***How could I ever send her back to a place she doesn't know exists? What would that do to her and her emotional stability? Could she recover? Doubtful. She's almost 2, we are working hard to recover from her past now. It's been to disruptive. She's already gone through to many changes in her short little life. I have to protect her, she is my daughter. There is no way I could love & adore more, she is my hero.
So where does this whole scenario leave us adoptive parents?
The ones who waited for a 'legally' adoptable child to be up for adoption.
I am confused by all of this. I see every side of the spectrum. I endured the pain twice of losing a child that I was the Mommy to and I can say that I survived. My heart healed and life went on. Could I survive it if someone made me return my Eme to an unknown place? Absolutely not. Is this about me? No. Is this an issue of the heart? No. I believe this is an issue that needs to be purued at the government level. At no point in my *waiting* days did I think I would have to wonder if I would be adopting a stolen child. So many stories coming out, so much that scares me. So much that is wrong. How do we fix this issue? It's a whole pile of shit that we as the adoptive parents, the adoptees in life, the children waiting to make their journey and all the Mommy's ad Daddy's waiting to hold a child have to sort through.
Dialogue, it's the only way.
***I am only using my child as an example. I have absolutely NO knowledge as to whether or not my daughter was stolen or not.