Life of A Birth Mother

As the holidays are approaching, my heart is breaking a little more than usual. This year my heart aches because I miss my children. You see, I’m a birth mother to three boys. Yes…three human beings came through me for some reason or another.

Though I feel that I made good decisions about my adoptions, it doesn’t negate the emotional pain that I go through as a birth mother.

One thing that really bothers me is that I had an open adoption with my first two children’s adoptive parents. An open adoption is one where there is an agreement between the adoptive parents and I about the ‘openness’ of my relationship with my boys (I call them my boys, because logically and biologically, they are) and in what capacity I can see them. We all agreed that I could see them initially once a month, then taper off over the years to once a year or so…and I can receive pictures when I asked for them. I knew I wouldn’t be some crazy stalker, so my photo requests wouldn’t be too much for them to oblige.

Well, I was lied to. I haven’t seen my boys since 2008, and during which the adoptive mother told me in front of my boys they we would meet again soon. After that meeting, I believe I called a few months later and got cussed out by the adoptive mother. I was hung up on when I tried to call in 2013. It’s like I became their enemy…for no reason. I never hurt them, all I did was give life. What’s so bad about me for giving birth? Was it too much for the adoptive parents to see that my boys loved me? I mean, the family grew to know my while I was pregnant with my second child. My first born was a toddler. I stayed with them, had outings with them, etc.… so it’s not like I’m a stranger.

Thinking of all of this makes me weary about reconnecting with them, for fear that their perception of me has been tainted. Would they see me as a needy woman, desperate for them to love me? Did their parents train them to not love me, or made sure that I would regret loving them?

I’m already dealing with African American issues. I speak about them out of experience and knowledge. I bash ( I can be honest) black women for getting abortions and not raising their kids, but when I think of my decision to be a birthmother…I wonder if they are right.

Think about it: Black men aren’t known as the most chivalrous, role-model worthy men to begin with. I left my family full of women because they weren’t good for me…so was giving birth to more black people a mistake?

Did I do my children a disservice by giving them life? I mean what happens if they are resentful towards me for giving them life and a stable family? Should I tell them that I am sorry that they came through me…maybe they should have re-considered coming at a time when I wasn’t ready? Should I tell them to look around at all the black men running around and say that maybe it wasn’t me that made a mistake, but the fact that they wanted to come as who they are…?  Should I say, well if you are mad at where you came from, why not make it you that gets lost? If you are mad at me for making you…shouldn’t you be upset with yourself for having the audacity to give me stretch marks and hurting my soul just to resent me?

***They should realize that I was trying to protect them from the atrocities of black on black supremacy. I write about it all the time, and discuss it with other black people to much dismay…they can’t comprehend their behavior and attitudes towards other black people, which resorts in resentment, jealousy and hate.

I want my sons to know that I wanted them to be better black men, through being and living a better American life than their black brothers, and be raised to know thyself.

If they would just look around and see that I did what was best for them and always remember that I love them and miss them, then I would be fine with that.

I’m pondering all of these things during the holiday season. In my spirit, I really want to reconnect with them, just to hug them and say hello. But what if they have me misconstrued? What if all the love I have in my heart for them is for naught?

Though my heart was in the right place…were the adoptive parents? Why was I all of a sudden cut off from my children’s lives? A picture would even be sufficient for me. A phone call where I wasn’t cussed out or hung up on would be nice.

Though I have grown into my own person, free from any emotional attachments…my spirit is still connected to my children. I can’t even think of pro-creating again until I can see them or hear from them. It’s like some part of my life (emotional) is at a standstill at the moment.

I guess the best way to heal myself is to heal others. Hopefully my tarot-scopes do the job. I do it from my heart, which sometimes I feel is the only way to connect with others on an emotional/spiritual level. So much loss and break a person, but it’s made me more resilient…or guarded. Not sure which one…

In any regard, I hope to help other birthmothers heal their emotional scars somehow. They did nothing wrong to deserve the emotional abuse that they endure for simply giving birth. How is it possible to elevate bad mommies who are the worst parents, while looking down on women who simply give birth for someone else to parent their child? Why would the kids be mad at the birthmother? That’s not a crime. Birthmothers have been lied to for decades. I assume adoptees have been lied to for just as long… Open adoptions turn into closed adoptions without warning. This is painful. My heart hurts for myself. My heart hurts for other birthmothers because I empathize with you all…

I have no control over whether I can see my boys again, but I hope I can see them, so I can help them spiritually…so they won’t grow into stereotypical birthmom hating adoptees. I wish for them to know themselves, like the adoptive parents and I discussed when we talked about our adoption plan. Hating me wasn’t a part of the plan…who’s plan was it?



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