Pound Pup Legacy

After we landed in the land of fairy tales, my escort left me to an unknown American woman who took me to a room full of adults. Taking the babies, they were crying, laughing, talking aloud, and showing their new babies to each other. That's what my amother compared to giving birth because these women "were exactly like women giving birth to their babies" and she (my amother) also felt the pain of childbirth when she saw me.

I was 20  when I revealed the secret the first time to a psychologist of a college. I liked her immediately but it took me several weeks before taking the decision to talk about it. I told her that my father touched me repeatedly and did more than touching me during my adolescence. I thought that would be our last meeting, I was sure she would despise me. We continued to meet but I never wanted to talk about the secret again. I told her that he had stopped touching me since four years and that it wasn't a problem for me, the real problem was my mother drinking almost every day.

The Olympic Games remind me of:

My adoptive father is deceased. I didn’t see him before his death because I had cut off contact with him about 18 years ago. He died more than seven months ago but I know it only since two weeks. His death reminded me of my first father. My first father is also deceased. I didn’t see him before his death either. I learned about it 24 years after his death.

The Duplessis orphans (French: les Orphelins de Duplessis) is the name given to thousands of orphans who had been improperly diagnosed as mentally incompetent by the government of Quebec, Canada and confined to psychiatric institutions under the Duplessis government.

almost-human wrote: 
"I'd rather live in an orphanage than have gone through what I did in isolation. At least I would have had others going through the same experience."

Hey sister! That’s exactly what I wrote in my memoir (in French)  few months ago. Going through the life as a transracial adoptee (and I'm not talking about the abuses) in isolation and loneliness was more difficult than going through the same experience with others in an awful orphanage. 

My mother gave birth to me at the airport in New York on Dec 2, 1975. She never specified which airport I was born thus I can’t tell the name of it but I remember every other details of this beautiful day because I was already 9 years old when I was born. If you are an adoptee reading this, please don’t be offended; it is my way of laughing at adoptive parents comparing adoption to paper pregnancy.

On a document entitled “Child’s progress report”, which was the 2^nd report sent to my adopters, under the section “child’s development”, the agency wrote: “Dances, sings the children’s songs and paints pictures.”

The adoption industry legally erased my past but it didn’t erase it from my memory.  

I had a family before being adopted.

While the adoptees have to fight to access to their adoption records, I had access to mine at 11 years, only two years after my arrival. My adopters never tried to hide it from me, there was nothing to hide. My adoption record is only a piece of shit filled with falsehoods made up (legally) by an adoption agency and my birth certificate is also a piece of shit made up legally in the country of my purchasers.