Monday, June 17, 2013

Failed adoption after a 5 month placement.

Quick back story to this post:

My husband and I adopted a newborn baby girl in November. We had her in our care from the time she was three days old until she was nearly 5 months old.

The birth-mother lied to us about who the birth-father was. She had her boyfriend sign adoption papers as the birth-father  knowing that there was a possibility that it was someone else’s child. Well, the real birth-father found out. Through two months of drama and DNA testing the second guy is the birth-father  The birth-father would not sign the adoption papers and was not open to an open adoption. Our daughter was removed from our home at the beginning of April.

Not only is our daughter leaving us but we are left to worry about her daily care without knowing how she is doing.

On top of that, I've had two miscarriages in the past year, the latest one just a couple of weeks ago.


Things don’t hit me right away in a crisis. It takes time for me to process things and get to a point where I can’t rationalize it anymore and actually start to feel feelings. Up until now I’ve been kind of numb to what has happened.

I’ve been putting on a brave face because I know that the people around me want me to feel better. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone, so I’ve kept a lot of this to myself. Because I’m now in a part of my process of actually feeling now, I’m doing worse; much worse than when we initially lost Z.

It’s so bad that I actually called a Crisis hotline today just so I could talk to someone who I did not have to censor myself in front of. I’m aware that seeing loved ones or friends in so much pain is painful, so I’ve been sugar coating how I’ve been doing.

The pain is so bad and it’s hard for me to see the light at the end of what seems to be a never ending tunnel of darkness. And I feel like if I don’t let out how I’m feeling, I’m going to keep internalizing it and things are going to get worse for me.

I feel like since it’s been 2 months that everyone around me and Justin are moving on and in doing so, it feels like everyone is expecting us to do so as well. But I can tell you that I have not healed very much, probably because I've been numb the past two months.

The problem is that I don’t know what anyone can do for me or what I’m expecting anyone to do.

So this is the part where I get brave. I’m going to write out all of my fears, wants, reasons why I’m angry. I'm going to publish them on my blog. Then I’m going to write all of these on plates and glasses from the thrift store and I’m going to smash the hell of them while yelling and screaming and crying the whole time. I’m not going to worry about what anyone else thinks.

I want to be honest and tell you what I’m afraid of:
I’m afraid of seeing family happy with a grandchild/niece/nephew, etc. that isn’t Z.

I’m afraid my reaction will be seen as selfish.

I’m afraid of never being able to get out of this pain I’m in.

I’m afraid that I’m going to be bitter and angry for the rest of my life. That losing Z is going make me jaded and I’m not going to be the person I want to be in life because I’m too busy being bitter and angry.

I’m afraid that everyone around me doesn't care that I feel like I’m so very vulnerable and raw right now.

I’m afraid that no one will care that I’m upset.

I’m afraid that everyone around me will see my vulnerability as a weakness instead of a strength.

I’m afraid that my life is going to be meaningless if I don’t have a baby.

I’m afraid that I will only be happy with identifying myself as a mother now.

I’m afraid that even though my marriage is solid, that Justin and I are not going to be able to look at each other without seeing pain.

Things I want:
I want to be happy for everyone else who has a baby or gets pregnant.

I want to understand why we had a baby ripped from my arms.

I want to know why I have to suffer through two miscarriages in the past year and have my child taken away.

I want to know why the moment that I open myself up to a baby that I experience the loss of her.

I want to know why I have to learn the lesson of loss over and over again.

I want to stop being tired of feeling pain.

I want to know when I will start feeling joy again.

I want to be a better person on the other side of all of this pain, so at least there will be a reason for it.

I want to have a child.

Things I’m angry about:
I’m angry that life isn't fair.

I’m angry that God allowed Z to be taken away from me.

I’m angry that I have to go through this process of healing.

I’m angry that there is something that is causing me so much anger.

I’m angry that people are moving on and being happy with their lives when I’m stuck here, being swallowed up by pain.

I’m angry that Z’s birth-father was so set on taking her away.

I’m angry that there is going to be no closure for me with Z…that I’m ALWAYS going to have to wonder how she is going.

I’m angry that Z is not going to know who we are.

I’m angry that I may never again know the love of a baby.

I’m angry that I have now become a person who wants to have a child instead of having the attitude of “I can have a happy life with or without a baby.”

I’m angry that my father never got to meet Z.

I’m angry that we may lose the money we paid for the adoption that did not go through.

I’m angry that I've had two miscarriages in the past year.

I’m angry that Z’s birth mother lied about who the birth father was.

I’m angry that Z is being raised by the woman who gave her up.

I’m angry that Z doesn't really exist anymore…she is someone else’s child with a different name.

I’m angry that our adoption agency didn't know that this was going to happen.

I’m angry that I was not prepared for this possibility.

1 comment:

maggie gore said...

Ugh, I wrote a long comment, from my phone, that disappeared on me and I can't get it back. It was from the heart, so the gist should be easy to repeat, or maybe that was one way of letting me know I don't need so many words ;) My most recent bout with tears on your behalf (prior to reading this), was yesterday- when I was angry that we weren't able to wish Justin a happy Father's Day. I have been alternately angry and sad on your behalf. I cannot imagine the agony and rage, numbness and bliss you have experienced the last seven months and my heart truly aches for you daily. I am sickened that there is even a question on the part of the adoption agency about returning all monies to you immediately. Had they had proper safeguards (such as DNA testing parties of record before birth and subsequently matching PRIOR to placing)in place to prevent this tragedy from happening, they would have saved heartache all around. It disgusts me that they are complicit, yet hesitate to do the right thing. It angers me that a boy who cannot afford a DNA test believes that he can care for a child financially. I have a laundry list of things I am angry at for you; all I can see is the anger and sadness. It breaks my heart than my amazing, loving, kind, gracious, funny, compassionate friends are so helpless to stop this injustice and live with the grief and anger daily. I too, worry for the lighthearted, generous, kind Hanly's that I know and love. How could you not help but be cynical, bitter and jaded? But I also know a bit about your strength, so each morning, I send you love and strength, and end the day the same. I know there isn't anything I can do to lessen your pain, but I can promise you this, I won't judge you, criticize, try to make light of, rationalize or place expectations on what you feel. I'm glad you are strong enough to be so honest and raw with what you are feeling. Love you guys- now go smash some stuff!!!! ;)