recap

I thought I would do a recap of my daughter and her adoption.

I was 14 years old and almost sure that I was pregnant. My sister 1 1/2 years older than me told our Mom that she was pregnant. My tried to force an abortion. When that didn't work, she kicked my sister out.
That left me doing most of the childcare for my younger brother and sister. I was afraid to say that I too was pregnant. I didn't want an abortion.
So I just hid the pregnancy. It wasn't too hard, because my Mom was never home.
During the early morning of Sept 11 1991, I was feeling contractions. So, I had to tell her. I told her that I was pregnant and lied about how the baby was conceived. We had never talked about sex. I told her I was raped. Big mistake. My Mom suggested/forced an adoption on me.
I met an couple that my aunt knew that "couldn't" have kids. I wasn't educated on adoption at all. They seemed like the lesser of two evils, because I was told she would be kind of still in the family. i was told that I would get pictures and if my daughter ever wanted to meet me she could.

When the adoption was final they moved out of the state. I have only received two pictures. One before they moved and one that wasn't really for me. She must have been about three. When I asked my aunt to ask for pictures. they said no. I always felt like I was the evil one for asking.

Fast forward. About two years ago, I found their names in the phone book. Oct of last year, I wrote a letter and they ignored it. The end of march of this year, I wrote again asking for a reply and they ignored it too. I was able to find pictures of my daughter in the yearbooks at the liabary and have no question in my mind that the people I wrote are my daughter's parents. Seeing my daughter's face has helped me accept that she isn't a baby anymore and I just love seeing how cute she is. But it also makes me so sad, because how much distrust and disrespect of not even giving me so something as a picture.

My daughter lives about 1/2 mile away from my ex husband where my oldest son stays with his Dad. My son thought the grass was greener on the other side. My son has met the brother of my daughter. The brother was telling how he was a mistake or a accident and how his parents adopted his sister. It's the same girl. I am thrilled to death that she wasn't raised as a only child, but hurt that even with them going through a pregnancy and new baby that they didn't understand me a little more.

Izzy's birthday has been harder these last few years. The horrible events that happened on 9/11 our a constant reminder of my daughter and her birthday.

Being a birthmom has been the hardest thing to deal with in my whole life. I haven't found much that really is the cure all to my deep sadness that runs through me. I do enjoy life, but sometimes it hits me like a truck. I have enjoyed blogging and connecting with others who really get me. I have slowly been more comfortable in my skin and now I have two people in real life who actually ask me questions about adoption. Also, I have another birthmom that I was able to talk to. I have loved making a scrapbook for Izzy. I have been working on it for about 16 months now and it's so full. It's actually 90 pages of photos and notes and just my thoughts. I am still full of more ideas and treasure the book with my life. When it was first suggested to me, I thought boring old me. What could I possibly put in it? 90 pages later, I am saying, I wonder how much more this book will handle, because I can't quit working on it. I have tried to get family involved in making a page or two. Ya know as in a this is my memory of (Blank) But no one has came forward with it. Oh well.