I haven’t spoken to my mom in over a year. She sent me a note this week, in her passive-aggressive manner, hoping that I had come across some “scriptural verse” to calm the “storm” in my life. If only she knew she were talking about herself. I’ve been trying to seek shelter from Hurricane Mom for many years now.
I haven’t sent this response as of yet. I’m mulling it over in my head. But, this is my response if I were to send one at all. I’ll sleep on it.
I Choose My Daughter
I know that God is near. Thank you for your concern. He has revealed Himself to me over the last year. I’ve been studying Adoption Literature.
There’s a conspiracy theory that was conveniently overlooked (note to reader: my mom is a major conspiracy theorist). A multi-billion-dollar industry invented in the 20th Century by psychiatrists and social workers. A ploy to take poor children and give them to wealthy families.
Adoption has never felt like a “blessing.” So I did a study. Nowhere does God condone adoption. Especially Newborn Adoption. The closest stories are Esther and Moses. Esther was truly orphaned. She wasn’t a man-made orphan like MY daughter. She wasn’t sent to strangers in a foreign land where her entire identity was changed. Where her mother was figuratively killed and replaced by a pre-menopausal stranger on her birth certificate. Where her original birth certificate would be sealed and great lengths would have to be taken in order to prove that she was in fact born in the United States and constitutionally had rights as a citizen. Where adoptive parents never kept the promise to raise her in her original faith. Total strangers would lie to obtain a baby?! Shock. Oh, the lies of the Adoption Industry never end, but I digress. Nope, Esther was kept within her family and raised by her cousin Mordecai.
Then there’s Moses. Even through threat of death, God managed a way to keep him and his mother together. Jochebed was in fact employed by Pharaoh’s daughter to be his wet nurse and caretaker. Even the “evil” Egyptians realized the importance of family preservation.
Solomon, in his great wisdom, recognized that a hooker was worthy to raise her own child.
Unfortunately, *** and I have experienced firsthand the effects of Solomon’s original decision. As a baby, *** was indeed cut in half. She would have two mothers and two families. This required, unbeknownst to me for many years, a lot of therapy. In order to have a simple relationship with my firstborn, I have to study adoptee literature to understand the complexities of the primal wound that was inflicted on her by her own grandparents.
People who never wanted to “push me away” by criticizing random boyfriends. But had no qualms with literally pushing my daughter and me away by telling us we weren’t welcome to have a home if we stayed together. “If you plan on keeping this baby, you won’t live here”. Words that would shape our destinies. Kicking me at my lowest point in life. “This” baby of course, being their first grandchild. The first of many to come that they now shower with love and acceptance.
My outlook as a birth mom is grim. I talk to many that I’ve befriended over the last year. Many that are further along this torturous journey. I’ve noticed the grief gets deeper with age. I’ve been told that’s to be expected. It is an “unresolved grief”; a “complicated grief”. There’s never closure. There’s always a fresh wound of loss- graduations, college, jobs, marriages. I’ve been warned that the birth of a grandchild may require suicide watch.
I battle with this millstone that was placed around my daughter and me. I battle with the knowledge that it was placed by self-professing Christians who threatened me into this fresh Hell of psychological death. Christians did this to me. Not atheists.
I battle with a Church that embraces this godless perversion of taking poor women’s babies and giving them to those deemed worthy. That it’s done in God’s name. Those that speak out of both sides of their mouths (Prov 4:24). Praising God’s infallibility, yet calling Him a liar by denying His very Word. That offspring are a part of one’s own body (2 Sam 7:12) and that a woman is saved through child-bearing (1 Tim 2:15). Those blasphemers that infer that God made a mistake by placing a baby in the wrong womb (Isaiah 8:18, Deut 28:4, Psalm 17:14, James 1:17, Jer 1:5) because it wasn’t according to their arbitrary timeline or personal liking. Did you know that God “crowns” grandparents? (Prov 17:6) A blessing that was all too eager to be shipped away to total strangers. One 15-minute phone call with random people and a grandmother was calling the loss of her first grandchild a “blessing”. Her exact word at the end of that phone call. A woman who takes more than 15 minutes to make a decision about dinner. Blasphemy.
So, yes, I have “found” many verses in the last year. I’m not sure who prayers were being lifted to 18 years ago, if prayers were lifted at all. I’m pretty positive that I do know who didn’t answer those prayers. His word stresses the importance of family preservation; Hagar, Tamar, Mary, Jochebed, Esther, and Solomon’s prostitute. There is no scriptural example of this social worker invention; of taking a womb wet baby from her living mother and sending her off to strangers in a strange land. Well, there is, but they aren’t perceived as the “good guys” (Job 24:9).
I am not a punching bag. It took me a long time to come to this realization. I never deserved a lifetime punishment of having my daughter stripped from my arms. I didn’t deserve not being informed about my sister’s car wreck. I didn’t deserve being told “we’re sorry you feel that way” when I humbly reached out for closure. I didn’t deserve to be hung up on 8 months into an estrangement on my daughter’s birthday. Then to be harassed, like clockwork, by my father.
You are passive-aggressive. I don’t say that to be cruel. I say it as a fact of life. I’ve come to accept it. I don’t have the energy as of now to navigate fixing a relationship where other people are too arrogant to see or admit their own faults. People who should have had extensive counseling years ago so they don’t dump their personal junk on their kids.
I’ve tried my damn-dest to abide by “honoring” my parents. The proof is that I have remained 18 years longer than I ever should have. I am at a loss on exactly how to do it anymore when it is a toxic relationship.
My concerns as of now are my lost daughter. Righting the wrongs of our so far 18-year sentence. Trying to recover fragments of a child who has resorted to self-harm; a very common adoptee response. This is NOT of God.
My concerns don’t lie with those who threw us under the bus all those years ago. Those who withheld compassion and empathy in a time when they had the upper hand. Perhaps, once my daughter and I forge a healthy relationship I will then care to mend others that are broken. I’m not certain that we can ever have a healthy relationship. The professionals and those living it rarely recognize happy endings. I do know that I can emotionally handle one fractured relationship at a time, so I’m doing what I should have done 18 years ago. I’m choosing my daughter.