National Adoption Awareness (of how much it sucks) Month

So. November is National Adoption Awareness Month.

I really loved what I was able to do last year on the blog, “Knit Together through Adoption.”

This year, I have absolutely no motivation to tell you to not be ignorant. I have no patience for people not understanding. I’m tired of hearing from adoptive parents. I’m so done with adoption.

You see, people try to paint this beautiful picture of adoption, weaving families together, growing family orchards instead of just trees. I can’t sit here and say that’s always a lie, because some people actually desired adoption when they found out they were pregnant and it has worked out for them.

But it’s all a lie for me.

“Adoption is…” is a campaign I’ve been following on Instagram this season and all I am seeing is positive positive positive. It’s sickening. Because in my reality, adoption is: never ending pain, permanent uncertainty, guilt, promises you never wanted to keep, it is forced and unwanted.

I want my baby back. And it’s way too late and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I can’t change the decision that I was forced to make by my abusive boyfriend and “supportive” family members while I was underage (when the initial process started) and clearly not in a good state of mind (hormones, duh.) And then our lovely state law decrees I only get 48 hours after my baby’s birth (aka 21 hours after leaving the hospital without him) to change my mind. WELL GUESS WHAT?! I cannot possibly count the amount of times I told the people in the hospital that I didn’t want to do this, or the amount of times I told my family I didn’t want to do this. So as much as I’m his mother, I could’ve kept him ladeedah, I DIDN’T GET A FREAKING VOTE.

I hate adoption. I am not doing okay. I want my baby.

The best part is when my sister pulled me aside last month and started talking to me about God and coming back to church. I told her that I couldn’t, not yet, because I am so angry. Adoption has messed me up. I am too bitter and angry with God for giving me my baby just to take him away and dangle him in front of me for my torture and his amusement. She looked at her sweet baby that was crawling around and admitted that she couldn’t even fathom what it would be like if someone took her baby from her. THANK GOD. AFTER YOU’VE FORCED ME TO GIVE UP MY BABY, BUT THEN GOT YOUR OWN, YOU’VE REALIZED WHAT IT ACTUALLY MEANS TO BE A MAMA BEAR. Guess what?! It’s too late. You already took him from me. I’m glad you trying to understand now, but it’s too late. It’s always going to be too late.

He’s gone. I’m alone and my heart is broken.