I was doing some surfing and came across this personal home page about an unwed mother in the 1960s who had to give up not one but two of her children. Her pages detail her stays at the home for unwed mothers in Texas and her life from there, up to and including her reunion with her daughter. I have no problem with that. (And for purposes of this post, I am ignoring the fact that these pages defy every HTML and design principle ever conceived.) No, this time, it’s the CONTENT that has my fur up.
On this page she whines:
The adoption agencies will tell you that adoption creates families. Does it really or does it destroy the true family? I say it destroys the true family, the family that should be supported to keep their children within the family. If I had been supported to keep my children then we would have been a family. But my family was destroyed so that someone else could have a family, someone who society deemed to be able to be a better parent because they were older, had stable jobs, had more money and more material possessions. But those people could never provide the things that I could have and that are so important–a natural mother’s love, knowing who they really are–their heritage.
Your family was not destroyed so that someone else could have a family. Someone else could have a family because you were not able to keep your child. Despite what you claim otherwise, your parents exercised good judgment when you did not. You were willful, selfish and stubborn and you used poor judgment. Not once, but twice. These are not good parental traits. So yes, someone else could have been — and was — a better parent than you. Clearly, in your statements above (and below), you are less concerned with the welfare of your child than you are of your own feelings of entitlement. The child is not a doll that was taken away from you. It is a living human being totally incapable of caring for itself or making decisions on its own behalf. You were no different.
Oh, but there’s more….
Some may ask, well, what about the people who can’t have children. I am truly sorry that they cannot have children, but that does not mean that I should have to give them mine nor does it mean that someone else should have to lose their child. I don’t mean to sound cruel or callous, but it may mean that they have to accept that they were just not meant to be parents. It is not possible really make someone else’s child yours nor is it ethical to take someone else’s child and pretend that it is yours.
Lady, you need to put the crack pipe and the pity bong down RIGHT NOW. I am adopted. I had a very stable and secure home life. My mother (my MOTHER, my adoptive mother, the ONLY mother I ever had or will ever need) raised me to believe in myself, to believe I could achieve any goal I set for myself. She taught me the value of a dollar and how to pinch pennies until they screamed. And she was not PRETENDING. She was living and breathing mothering 24-7. Even though she was sick with emphysema. She kept going day after day, because after all, she had a bratty little child to raise. She was unselfish and tireless. And sometimes I didn’t appreciate any of it. But youngsters can be like that sometimes.
But this tripe you are serving up. Why it has got to be the single biggest load of horse shit I’ve heard in quite a long time.
As for my own mother, it wasn’t until we were in the family car at her funeral that I learned that I was adopted. (One of my sisters-in-law blurted out, “So, Joni, when did you find out you were adoped?” “Uh, right now, I guess.”) It was quite a shock. My mother, who was quite a bit older than any of my friends’ mothers, and was often mistaken for my grandmother, apparently never told me because she was afraid I’d run off to try to find my “real” mother. I would never do that, but she didn’t want to take the chance.
“Real” mother? I know who my real mother is. She’s the one who raised me, who punished me when I was bad, who was disappointed in me when I didn’t do my best, but still let me know she loved me no matter what. As I got older, we became best friends. About the time Helen Reddy came out with the song, “You and Me Against The World,” we adopted that as our anthem. So when I say mother or real mother, I mean the woman who raised me, and for whom I am shedding quite a few tears right now as I type this.
As for my “birth mother,” back in 1980, when my mother died, I had a birth certificate all right. But the information on it was wrong. The woman who raised me would have been 58 at the time of my birth and I knew she had three natural children. The birth certificate said my mother was 33 at the time of my birth and had two natural children. In the space for “Father,” “Unknown” was written.
My brother surmised that since my mother was a midwife that she might have delivered me. He suggested I see who signed the birth certificate. There was a midwife who signed my birth certificate and my brother suspected that she was probably my real mother. So my mother more than likely delivered me and took me to raise at birth.
Since I worked at a law firm, I had a friend who was a private investigator at a bail bond company. I gave him the woman’s name and a last known address which was 22 years old. Before the age of the Internet, he was able to find her within half an hour. He told me she was living in Wisconsin with her adopted son. He asked me if I wanted her telephone number. I told him “no thanks.” And hung up. Because she is not my mother.
Here’s a photo of my mother, taken around 1934 next to her new car.
And I close with a quote from this idiot’s web page:
The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable man persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man. . . . George Bernard Shaw
You did not adapt yourself to the world, to your situation. You, to this day through your web site, persist in trying to adapt the world to suit yourself. It won’t happen. But I guess all progress does depend on YOU and others like you. God help us all.