Typical adopter B.S.

The Today Show did a piece on birthmothers finding their surrendered childrend through social media. (See link HERE)

The following are some of the insensitive remarks made on the Today Show's facebook page. Asshats.


Tara Greenup Baylor If they chose to give up there child for someone else to raise then they shouldnt be looking for that child. U gave up ur child which means they not urs anymore they have a new mama, daddy, & family. U made ur choice now deal with the concequences. If that child u gave up on comes to find u later on in life then & only then can u see that child. Dont ruin someone elses life bc u made the wrong choice!

Naomi Sweet It's such a sensitive question to ask. I am an adoptive parent to an amazing 12yr old boy. To be quite honest, I hope that he never reconnects with his bioparents due to their lifestyles. I'd hope that even when my son becomes an adult that he nor them try to make contact!!

Robbie Caudill Denny NO ...once the papers are signed , he is my child !!! I am the one who has taken on this responsibility as his parent !!!

Irene Carter-Rivera NO! You gave the child up... Move on. The child now has a family. I hate birth parents who want the best of both worlds. No diapers or expenses but want to play mommy and daddy.

Melissa Alexander Lippincott my son is adopted from another country and therefor he does not have the same name so his birth mom wld never be able to find him, thank God!

Barbara Rench BIRTH PARENTS SHOULD LEAVE THEIR ADOPTED KIDS ALONE.THEY MESSED UP THE KIDS LIVES. ONCE THEY DO NOT NEEDTO DO IT AGAIN

Ray S. Ormond Heck no!? If they didn't have guts enough to raise the child, they got no business butting in and cause emotional problems later! If the kid wants to connect, that's a different thing - because the kid has a right to know - but "parents" who dump their responsibilities at the beginning should butt out!!

 Linda Lentz no, leave them alone it is bad enough you had them and gave them away so don't screw them up anymore by trying to interfere in their lives

And my favorite one:

Shirley Harris White I feel they gave up the right as a parent to these children.I myself adopted 2 children at birth ,and they were told when they were 8.they are in thier 20's now if my children feel the need to look up their incubators it's up to them not the incubators.

Jane Mashburn Ingles The people who raised you are your parents not a bimbo and a sperm donor.

Too bad those asshats are the majority. We need more like this woman:

Mary Jo Wetterstroem Wickelhaus This is why today, open adoption is such a great choice! Birthmothers can continue to be a part of the child's life. There is never any doubt that she loves the baby she gave birth to but wasn't able to parent. She is always there for any medical history as well.

Psst. Hey, Ethan!

The championship game of the 2011 College World Series starts tomorrow night. Florida vs. South Carolina. I am a huge fan of the Gators, but if they lose I won't be too upset. Why? Because it was awesome watching South Carolina beat the hell out of your Virginia Cavs. It was exceptionally sweet sitting in my living room Friday night, watching the Gamecocks celebrate their 13th inning win ... and watching the Virginia team mourn because I knew that YOU were upset watching that defeat.

Childish? Yeah, a little bit.

So, if South Carolina wins a second championship title this week, I'll be OK ... because I got to see them destroy your team's chance at the title.

Good points and bad judgements

I was talking to a friend online last night about this whole adoption fiasco and how my story is, sadly, a horrible norm when it comes to infant adoption in the United States today. I lamented over how the people at Bethany Christian Services and the couple that took Martin claim to be doing it all in the name of Christ. They toss His holy name around like mad.

My friend said: "These people all have one thing in common: they are protestants, a group of people who are known for their dismissal of Christ's own mother. If they so nonchalantly ignore, even berate the Blessed Virgin Mary, why are you surprised that they have no qualms about treating you like dog crap on their shoes?"

Good point.

So, the use of Christ's name to justify their biases, prejudices, and judgements is no surprise.

It's D-Day

Yes, today is D-day. It's the anniversary of the day a part of me died.

4,383 days ago I was coerced into signing away part of my soul. I was promised one thing by the agency that had vowed to help me and was begged to “take a leap of faith” with the people who wanted my child. I jumped and landed flat on my face in a desolate land of cast-offs, the land of women who, to quote Bethany representative Carlan Foltz, “spread [their] legs and got pregnant out of wedlock.” I was among those who had “no right to grieve” the loss of a baby (again, quoting Foltz) since we had no right to it to begin with.

And, as I looked back up to the precipice from which I lept, I could see the couple holding my baby and shaking hand with the Bethany Christian Services representative. None of them were going to take that “leap of faith” with me. It was just rhetoric used to convince a simple little rube like me to do what they wanted. It was rhetoric that they could use to get rid of me. It was rhetoric that led to my banishment in the land of birthmothers.

Now, the couple kept their promise to the agency and sent pictures and a letter every month for the first year. I am positive that they would have stopped had I not come across their identity, and thus their location, six months into the “open” adoption fiasco. I am sure they were scared of me because, let’s face it, Hollywood has pegged all birthmothers as promiscuous, drugged up pieces of trash, people who are absolutely untrustworthy. So, they placated me for the next 10 years – sending a letter and some pictures every 12 to 18 months. They always sent things through the agency despite the fact that I knew who and where they were and vice versa. I, on the other hand, refused to do so. I would mail letters directly to them. But that was the only contact. I never went to their house, searched them on Facebook, sent emails, showed up at their church, or harassed them on the phone. Nay, all I did was send letters every now and then to the adoptive mother in an attempt to establish a relationship with her. I never asked to see the adopted child at all. I wanted this woman to see me as someone very much like herself, someone that had the best interest of the child at heart. I told her about things happening in my own family (I am now married and my husband and I have two daughters of our own). But no, each response from her was very clinical, always referring to me in the past tense. In one letter, she likened me to baggage. Not just baggage, but Nazi baggage.  How nice.

Like it or not, though, I will be a part of their lives until the day I die. I gave birth to the child they cherish so and I specifically chose them to adopt her. I entrusted them with a part of my soul and they can’t trust me enough to send me a letter in the mail directly.

To make matters even more insulting, we live within 10 miles of each other and have friends in common. One "friend," turns out, talked trash about me to the adoptive mother. I had been warned about this two-faced person, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt and trusted her. My trust led to the closing of the already semi-closed adoption. But I digress, we have other friends in common. One other has come out to Mary, but the others have not. And I will not force them to.
Heck, I graduated high school with one of the associate pastors at her church! I ran into the reverend in a store one day and, after catching up with things that have happened since our days at good ol’ Southside High, I told this person about the adoption fiasco. After a moment of dumbfounded, wide-eyed silence, I got the same old thing – “She looks just like you!”

They all reassure me, though, that Mary (the adoptive mother) is a wonderful, caring person, that she is an excellent mother to her adoptive children.  They tell me that she is more than likely just afraid of me.

My issue is that Mary begged me to take a leap of faith on her and her husband – begged me as I sat in my hospital bed holding the baby the day after giving birth. She begged me to trust her, yet she can’t do something as simple as establish an email relationship with me. Seriously? I hate to sound hokey, but seeing that she is a strongly convicted Protestant, I have to ask: What would Jesus do?

Mary really would be horrified to know how interwoven God has made our lives. I have not sought out her friends – they just seem to fall into my lap. Perhaps God is trying to reassure me that Martin is well taken care of. But I think it’s more than that. I think that He is trying to show Mary that I, too, am a person very much like herself. It seems that she is just too stubborn to see it.

So I sit here, my hands tied. Martin turned 12 two days ago and I was not allowed to wish her a happy birthday via a card or gift. (The card and gift I sent last year was returned, unopened, in a trash bag.)  I gave her life, I allowed them to have their heart’s desire, but I am not allowed to celebrate either. I lit a candle on a cupcake, hummed “Happy Birthday,” made a wish for openness, and blew out the candle. Then, I threw the damned cake against a tree outside.

 That agency used me, lied to me, then treated me like a pariah. And Mary and Ethan followed their lead.

So, I sit here, 4,385 days into Martin’s life and I bide my time. I’ve waited 12 years. My banishment is two thirds of the way over. I’ve waited this long. I can wait another 6 years until I can legally walk up to Martin and introduce myself. She will probably be less than receptive, but I will leave her with enough reading material to make her question everything that she was raised to believe.

I do wonder, though, if it’ll take that long. In this age of the internet, I would be surprised if Martin doesn’t begin search for her roots online. The teeneage years are fraught with questions and how I so hope she not only has them but seeks answers. In the coming years, I will make my blog searchable on engines like Bing and Google. If she does know she’s adopted, that blog will be easy for her to find.

So, looking back, I can say that I am not that stupid, naïve young woman who so easily trusted, who jumped off the cliff into the land of banishment. If this experience has taught me anything, it’s that the old adage rings true: “Beware of wolves in sheep’s clothing.”

So, until June 11, 2017 … I wait. I hope for the best, but am well prepared to wait out this sentence in its entirety.

Happy Birthday, Martin

Today is June 11th.  And four thousand, three hundred, and eighty three days ago I gave birth to a little girl I named Elizabeth Christine. She was born at 10:55 a.m. Today, she turns 12 and I won't be allowed to give her a gift or tell her happy birthday. Why? She was coerced out of my arms by a "Christian" crisis pregnancy center and placed into the arms of a "Christian" couple who promptly renamed her Elizabeth Martin.



But let's rewind. So many of you know my story so I won't linger over the details in yet another post. If you want those, you can read them in the archives listed to the right. Start at the earliest post and read forward.


But, in a nutshell, let me sum it up this way. I was in a very bad relationship from Oct. 1994 - Spring 1999. I fled the relationship after deciding not to abort the baby at 19 weeks. I was literally on the table, abortionist between my knees, when I decided not to have her butchered. I called a crisis pregnancy center that promised to help me. Once they had me in their office and had promised help, they began to pitch adoption. I was moved from the Upstate to Myrtle Beach in April 1999. I had virtually no counselling since my counselor was brand-spanking new. Seriously. I was her first adoption case. I was told that Bethany only did open adoptions but that I would not get any identifying info until the papers was signed.. I chose a couple, met them, had them at doctor's visits, and even in the delivery room.


But after I'd given birth, I was told that the state of South Carolina did not recognize open adoption agreements and that the adoption would be "semi-open" ... meaning that any and all correspondences would go through the agency. I would never, ever receive any identifying information on the family. I started to change my mind on the adoption and was treated like a whore, a piece of trash by that oh-so-loving "Christian" agency family with whom I'd been living. My medical records state that I was crying and distraught, that I had not slept at all. The nurses called my counselor. Ginger came to my bedside ... with the couple who proceeded to cry and promise the moon if I'd just sign the papers.


So, on June 13, 1999, I did just that. I signed those fucking papers from my hospital bed, less than 48 hours post partum, and with no sleep. I'd cried so much that my eye lids were swollen.


Mary and Ethan took her. I was rushed from the hospital without even being discharged.


Since then, I have been lucky enough to come learn the full identity of the adopters. They know that I know. And I have been overly civil. I've never gone to their door or made a nuisance of myself. All I've done is sent letters to the adoptive mother and asked to have a relationship with her -- not the child. She has balked each time, claiming that God wants it this way. Yadda, yadda, yadda.


We have friends in common, but that's still not enough to get her to see me as a person, not some faceless "birthmother."


In September of last year, they closed the adoption and returned -- unopened and in a trash bag -- the gift I'd sent to Martin last June for her birthday. (blogged here http://messagesformartin.blogspot.com/2010/09/snotty-letter-from-martins-adopters.html)


So, today, I sit here and silently wish Martin a very happy 12th birthday. I hope that, as she grows and becomes a curious teen, she will search me out. I hope to be able to tell my side of the story and not that whitewashed, "God ordained this" hogwash.   I've waited 4,383 days. I can wait another 2,192 days for her to be of legal age and out of the legal hold of Mary and Ethan Allison.


Infant adoption in this country is, for the most part, a huge money racket. Too many young women are used and lied to in order to obtain that womb-fresh baby to sell to the highest bidder. So, yes, I sit here and send birthday wishes into the cool, silent early morning air. I shed tears from what might have been. And I send a big "SCREW YOU!" to the people who used lies and coercion to take her from my arms.

It's a new year...

Dear Martin,


Happy New Year! A new years always bring excitement, but for me it's more than that. The passing of a year means that I am that much closer to seeing you. You will turn 12 this year. Legally, this means that I am only six years from being able to contact you. Six years. I can't help but think that it'll be sooner than that, though. I have a feeling that, as you enter into your teenage years, you will start searching for your heritage. In this age of computers, a search is as easy as entering a few simple key words into a Google search. Maybe one day in the coming years you will stumble upon this blog. Perhaps you will find me on Facebook. If you are anything like me, you will want to know.


So, each passing year not only brings new and wonderous things for my family, but it brings me so much closer to some sort of reunion. And I can't help but wonder if your adopters feels it, too. A some point their little bubble is going to burst and both Grant's birth mother and myself will be a part of your lives again.


So for now, I wait. I let them play house with children that aren't theirs other than on legal documents. I wait knowing that blood is thicker than water ... that I will see you again soon.


I love you,


Your Natural Mother.