There are many stories about my adoption and the real one is not that pretty.
People would consider what my adopted mother did was a beautiful thing, you may think the same: and it is absolutely wrong.
My biological mother had 9 children, she was poor, I was the child number 8. She didn't go to an agency and said "I cannot raise this one", but it was my adopted mother "charitable personality" that took me away.
She was visiting that specific very poor area of the city looking for a young maid for her sister, someone who would be around 14 years old and could move to the city and live in. That person would be one of my older biological Sisters' . Instead my mother left the place with a baby who was very sick- that baby was me.
She promised my biological mother she would bring me back, she was just helping, saving me. But my biological family had to knock into her door to get me back, and they did.
Who cares about attachment, right? A baby is just a baby.
A few months later my aunt saw me at the hospital. You are wondering what my aunt was doing at the hospital, she was a teacher, not a doctor. I wonder about that too! I was there, this time very ill, and -according to my adopted mother- dying.
As an ungrateful #Adoptee I wish the left me alone. None of my biological siblings died anyway... (But the old narrative would say that happened with an older sister, it was not true,).
Again, after insisting a lot, my biological mother accepted the help of that woman, again I was taken away. The story goes that I was accepted in a private hospital, later sent to die at home because there was nothing that could be done at the hospital anymore, it was severe malnutrition.
My mother's words, I was fed like a bird, with a seringe, hour by hour, and brought to life. By then my biological.mother was asking me back. And somehow my adopted parents convinced her to give me away.
With a couple of thumb prints I was passed from one family to another, just like that!
I was taken to see them a few times over the years as a child: from the castle to the tiny house, where roads were mud. My confused, shy young me, trying to understand the two words.
I have the memory of one visit only, the memory in the fog. My adopted mother told me that one day I didn't want to go there anymore. She told me I would not talk, I would hide behind her, and even that I wouldn't leave the car. I have no memories of that.
I had nocturnal #Enuresis as a child, and as an adult. I was relentlessly bullied at school from people who had no idea I was adopted. And one of the boys commented "I can't believe she lives in that house, her mother must be the maid!" . It was a pretty big house, as I said, and I didn't belong to that world.
I didn't belong to the other world neither.
I didn't have many friends.
I perceived myself as an ugly kid, my adopted siblings (my parents had 4 biological babies, 3 older than me) were beautiful....
I had #BodyImage issues... I had suicide ideation since I can remember, the self harm started like that, just to feel how it would be ...
All that without my biological mother noticing! She didn't know I was hurting myself, I was being bullied (I was scared she would say it was my fault), and about the bedwetting? It was just too much water at bed time! You know? Every kid loves wake up wet.
Three years after my adoption my brother was adopted. I am white, like the rest of the family; my brother is black. If I suffer for "not belonging", imagine him?
Three more years and my mother for pregnant again, I was six years old: a girl, the only blond and blueyed kid in the family, just like my father.
Money changes everything...
I refused to reunite with my biological family for years, the main reason was that my adopted mother wanted to have control and credit over the reunion, she wanted on her terms. That was the reason I didn't see my biological mother in her death bed, she didn't want me to go alone! I was 29.
A few years ago, living in Canada, my biological sister found me on facebook. Then we reconnected online. Going back to Brazil wevmetvin person, I met all my siblings. My biological parents are dead. The visit was still a bit controlled by my mother, who would judge my behaviour from time to time with her eyes. By then I had so many inside jokes with my biological sister, my mother didn't like it.
All the siblings live close to each other, they get along well. They had a difficult upbring, but there is no drugs, no alcohol problem. They all work, have their own houses. They all have very good memories of a mother I didn't know.
My biggest chock was that here is one more sibling younger than me. I ask myself "why me?". Why did he get to stay.
Later my adopted mother told me she tried to adopt him too! When babies people perceive us as puppies, so cute! Just one more.... We are people!
After my youngest sister was born my mother tried to adopted an older kid from an orfanage, she was around my age, she couldn't walk well, and she was beautiful. My father said no more.
After I had my kids, living far away, my parents adopted my niece.... My adopted (black) brother was living with a woman, had 2 kids with her, left her pregnant with the second one. Suddenly they became "parents again", she is 20 now, my kids 22.
This time my mother made sure she hired a psychologist for my "sister" since young age. I wish I had some help growing up.... My mother is undiagnosed, but she tended to have mental health crisis, going to the hospital and etc.
The reason from all this writen was trying to talk about adoption with no adoptees, people still believe you are being saved, you should be grateful, you are just wrong.
The #Podcast #adopteeson has been very helpful to understand, normalize my feelings. But no one else understand the amount of feelings that I have regarding the whole thing. I still secretly wish I was not "saved", and I can't feel gratitude for that. I was saved, then abandoned at the same time, growing up lonely, sad, unhappy.
Hoping to find others #Adoptees , maybe? People who can relate, so we can go through this journey together.
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