It's November. I am reminded of all the pain I caused my daughter through my rejection of her. I try to forgive myself by realizing that I was young. That makes me even more infuriated though. I was young. Because I was young I was exploited. The adoption machinery took advantage of my naivete. They didn't tell me the whole truth. They knew that relinquishing my daughter for adoption would cause me psychological harm that would last for the rest of my life. They also knew that being relinquished would cause my daughter to feel life-long rejection and abandonment. But they did such a good job at hiding this from me.
They convinced me that giving my child up, though extremely painful to me, was best for my daughter. They told me I had no right to be the mother of my child. I should purge every maternal feeling from my heart. So I did. I did such a good job at this and was patting myself on the back for being such a "good" birthmother. I didn't realize all this time how much I was hurting her. She never felt a part of my life, or wanted by me, and I inadvertently did all I could to ensure she would feel this way. All the time I was thinking that I was doing what was recommended, and what was best for her. My God! How I wish I could turn back the clock! I wish I would have listened to my young teenage heart. I knew more than I gave myself credit for at the time, and the adoption machinery preyed on my insecurity.
The agency had a "sale" to make. My daughter was their product. They were very careful with me so as to not lose the supplier of their product. Oh God! How can this ever be made right?! I can never make up for all the hurt I caused her. I can never make up for all the years I missed. I want to believe that Jesus will wipe away all my tears and all the tears of my daughter, but how can that be? My daughter does not want to be part of my life now, and I can understand why. I pushed her away so many times because I was being careful not to overstep my boundaries. In my final act of rejection, I went out of my way to exclude her from my list of children, mentioning her and then casting her aside as if she was not important to me in the least.
How could I have been so awful to her? Why didn't I see it through her eyes? How could I have been so blinded by the adoption mantra that birthmothers are supposed to sing... "I placed my child for adoption because I wanted a better life for her. I did such a wonderful, brave, courageous thing." I believed that for so many years. It was what I hung onto in my darkest hours for so many years. Now there is nothing to hang onto in my grief. The grief from losing my daughter and my horror at realizing all the pain I caused us both will never leave me. There is no light at the end of this tunnel. I feel just as hopeless and desperate as I did when I was pregnant with her. Only now there is no social worker, no adoption agency whispering the rainbow, lollipop, unicorn story in my ears. It's silent here. Silence in my empty heart that will never leave me.
