The powerful emotional link that binds families who grow up together often manifests itself in curious ways when adult adoptees meet their biological families. Yet as common as it is, few want to touch it because–well–incest. But this issue needs more awareness, and not only because according to recent reports it’s on the rise. Also because I believe that it’s a fertile ground for a particular type of abuse.
So going to meet his family, I knew I would be the square peg. To tell you the truth after 40 years, it’s not a big deal anymore. I have my partner, my children and I’m doing fine as the odd one out, thank you very much. I’ve even made a career out of it on the basis of–‘if you’ve got it, flaunt it’. I don’t fit in, so instead I celebrate it. It’s much better that way.
I don’t remember them killing my baby because they put an IV in my arm and told me to count backwards from ten. And by the time I’d hit seven, I was asleep on the good stuff. But I knew from the soreness between my legs when I woke up that they’d done it. Been there. Up my vagina with speculums and nozzle headed vacuums. Sucking out the foetus that would have ruined my life.
There are babies in abusive situations. There are children for whom the alternative is neglect, maltreatment, foster care. Or even worse. Children who badly need care, love and a roof over their heads. It makes me want to scream. Rocks pounds in my ears when I face the reality that adoption is the best alternative we have. How have we arrived at such a point that for some mothers their own survival means abandoning their children? Or for some children their best chance of survival is to be taken from their mothers?
It’s a big ask to claim parentage of me. I’m outspoken about my mistakes and theirs. About the way I live my life. I’m highly critical of adoption. Resuming more contact would mean facing up to truths, dealing with emotions he prefers to let slide. But if there is one thing about adoption that I can see now, it is that it gives you the option of being a parent or not. Adoption is apparently not for life. It is only enforced by the willingness of the participants to accept the contract.
Agency was conspicuous by its absence in my upbringing. My adoptive mother neither trusted in me, nor in my agency and this might be regarded by many as wise. After all what can a child know about the consequences of their decisions?