Posts from the ‘Mother’ Category

Small Update

I mailed my Dad’s Father’s Day card, which included my letter to him asking him to adopt me back, today.

Now I’m nervous, but it probably won’t even get to him for like a week or two. I’m contemplating asking him to let me know when it arrives before he opens it. I wanted tracking, but it was an extra £5, so I couldn’t afford it.

In other news:

  • I’ve had 3 of 6 counselling sessions with an adoption-trained counsellor. This is to meet the requirement for adoption-specific counselling to ask for my adoption file to be unsealed and given to me. I still have to come up with a good reason to want it. Any suggestions welcome.
  • I had an interview at a coffee shop near my house. I hear back about it on Monday. I also have another interview on the 6th. As nice as the coffee shop people were, I hope I get the one I interview for on the 6th. It pays better, and it’s office-based.
  • Which is especially good, because we had our financial low the other day. We ran out of food/money and had to visit the food bank. The people were nice, thankfully, and now we have some food. Yay.
  • I may, or may not, have my first breastfeeding counsellor client. I’m very happy I’ve had an enquiry, even if it doesn’t pan out. If it doesn’t pan out, that means she got the help she needs without me, and I’ll be glad for that.
  • I think that’s it.
  • Oh, yes, my mother finally responded to my asking if she’d ever want to visit me. She said she would, so, woot. Hopefully by next year (I’d love to have her visit over the Paschal Triduum) we’ll actually be living in a place that can host visitors.
  • Dom might be pregnant. He refuses to have any hope, but I can’t help but be cautiously optimistic. He’s gonna go to the crisis pregnancy centre for a test in a couple weeks if nothing changes.
  • That’s really it, I think, lol.



A (Pre) Mother’s Day Surprise

This is how terrible I am at posting. I’ve been meaning to write this since, well, the day before Mother’s Day.  That was like a month ago. So, on that Saturday, the day before Mother’s Day, I happened to check my cell phone. Yes, this is a rare event. I was walking to work when I looked, and I noticed I had a new voicemail and two missed calls from an unknown number.

Curious, I dialled my voicemail to listen. It was from my Mom, asking me to call her back. For the rest of the twenty-five minute walk to work, I worried about what she wanted. Had she called to tell me to stop contacting her and/or my siblings? That’s really the only thing I could think of. I vowed to wait to call her back until after work, but since I got in really early, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore and had to know right then. So I called back.

She answered. Apparently, she just wanted to talk. We talked about a lot of stuff. She told me (again) that I was born six weeks early. Secretly, I felt bad for her, because then she had to give up her baby six weeks before she’d planned. I hadn’t known I was born that early when I was younger. So I’m thinking the agency might’ve lied. Who wants a preemie baby? She said she got to hold me and nurse me for a day or so, then she was released. She said before then that they’d take me away and she cried and screamed until they gave her medication to knock her out. I told her they should’ve just given her her baby back. Yeah, I kinda dissociate from the whole thing.

When she was released from the hospital, she was told I would be going straight home to the adoptive parents, but she checked on that. I’d been born the week of Thanksgiving, and when she found out that I was still at the hospital days later,  in her words, “all alone in the nursery”, she came back on Thanksgiving and stayed with me all day, holding me and stuff.

We also talked a little about my name and original birth certificate. I think she’s sekritly pleased I’m changing my name back to the name she gave me. 😀 She asked if that’s what I was doing and said she’d always loved that name. I also said I wanted to get a hold of my OBC but that it’s a pain in the butt, especially when I’m not sure what info’s on it. I asked her if she was the one to fill out the form. She said no, and that no one had told her she could. She said “I was young, and you were my first. I didn’t know what was supposed to happen. I just did what they told me.” But she does have the hospital birth record with my footprints on it. So we’re both at a loss for the OBC stuff. The agency swears up and down that they put exactly the information that the “birthmother” tells them, but, psssh, like I believe that. My aDad, when asked, said he’s pretty sure they tried to erase everything – his words, not mine.

But, yeah. My mom wanted to talk to me! And, at the end, she said that now I had her number so I could call whenever I wanted. I’ve been trying to call once a week/every other week. I’m not sure how much is too much? We’ve only talked one other time, two weeks after that first call. Then the next time, she asked after a few minutes if she could call back, but she never did. Then I tried to call this last week, and there wasn’t an answer. So. We’ll see how the next time goes. Hopefully she won’t go back to not wanting contact anymore.

The Little Things Give You Away

Dear Mom,

Why did you make me? I hate this. I’m all alone. You didn’t want me, no matter what you say. You gave me away, it’s obvious you didn’t really want me. I hate you so much, but I can’t help loving you. Why did you do this? Why didn’t you just have an abortion? It was 1987, you could have had one. Non-existence would be far better than this. I hate you. You left me alone. Why didn’t you get rid of me properly? Why did you do this? I don’t want this anymore. Why did you have me, only to leave me behind?

I’m sorry. I wish I could be good for you. I wish I could make you want me.Why don’t you want me? I’ll do anything, I promise. Please come back. Please make this all go away. I love you. I hate you. I don’t want to be alone anymore, but I always am. You left me, and it never goes away. I’m so alone. You still don’t want me. You’re gone, and I’ll always be left wanting you.

I hate you.

I love you.

Please come back. Please love me. I’m sorry.

Love always,

Your thrown-away daughter

“Don’t want to reach for me, do you?
I mean nothing to you.
The little things give you away.
And now there will be no mistaking, the levees are breaking.
All you’ve ever wanted was someone to truly look up to you.
And six feet under water, I do.”