Piece by broken piece
I found more papers last night.
My kids wanted to know more about my childhood... so I told them about the time I was in the bicentennial parade, dressed as Betsy Ross. My grandmother made the costume for me. At least I wasn't alone... I had my brother with me; he was dressed as Ben Franklin. We looked like dorks. I wore a hat, and held a flag, and he wore fake glasses and carried a kite. We sat on this huge float made of fake flowers because we were kids, and our dad made us, because our grandmother made the outfits.
The whole time we had to smile and wave. The whole time we felt like idiots, so we laughed and wished we were off the wooden death-trap, hoping none of our friends saw us.
At the end of the parade, we learned our float won first-prize. My brother and I were stunned. We thought we were instant celebrities. Some guy, Buzz Aldrin, shook our hands and everyone was all excited. I remember thinking we would win something. We got a letter in the mail, that was it.
We got to keep the ugly outfits.
They were really ugly. Horrible little white stars, on red and blue fabric. <shudder>
My kids asked if I had any photos of the outfit. I found a newspaper clipping, it had made front-page news in our local newspaper back in 1976.
That's when I found some papers from the adoption agency my adoptive parents used.
Sister Mary Eugene Foundation.
My heart stopped.
A lump caught in my throat.
I recalled stories told to me from a few other women adopted through that agency. Horror stories. Complete horror stories of family-abuse.
I recall the story the social worker told me when I got my non-id info... how the agency was torched for illegal practicing... how records were burned and ruined, and many were not salvaged, but mine were. I was one of the lucky ones to have my records remained from the fires.
LUCKY?
I suppose...
"Lucky" being a sick, twisted word in the world of adoption... sure, I was indeed "lucky".
Far too often, I feel too sad to feel lucky, but then, maybe I'm not grateful enough to appreciate all that was done for me by illegal practices, eh?
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My own "The Baby" Pages
Social Services
My <cough, cough> favorite phrase these days is "studies show", so I will use it in my text.
Studies show a newborn can see the face of his mother when held at the breast.
If this is fact, why are there so many workers still selling the story that family-separation is best for the family?
How many faces must a child adapt to before that child shuts-down?
More-over, how many visits do these case-workers make to each child's house to ensure the child placed in a stranger's care is indeed safely kept, and in good hands?
Don't studies show Mother knows best, and mothers have natural instincts? Who is counseling these women when their babies are taken away from them? Are they told to forget about their babies, and pretend they were never born? Act as if they never existed? Perhaps in a man's world that can be done, but for a woman, that's not possible. Her body will NOT make that possible... PERIOD. A woman is given natural reminders of her body's loss.
Men don't experience this, and infertile women don't experience this.
Adoption advocates know this, don't they?
This adoptee sure as hell did.
Not once did I ever recall anyone "visiting" from Canada to see how I was doing. Of course, why would I think such a thing would happen? I was adopted... I had "new parents". I was safe and loved, and protected at all times.
Right?
I would love to learn how much my life was worth to that non-profit agency. [Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl.] After all, just because an agency lists itself as "non-profit" does not mean the agents themselves are not being paid for their "services".
Non-Profit simply means the company is proving to the government they don't make a profit -- somehow.
Still Face Studies & attachment
Robert Allan Hafetz
Not Remembered Never Forgotten
PathwaysinAdoptions.com
There is some great research in the area of " Still Face Studies." An infant's brain can't interpret the true nature of its mothers' face but the baby's eyes track with the mother's eyes. Eye contact is part of the communication system of new borns and first mothers. Mother and infant have a specialised method of communication that cannot be duplicated by another primary caregiver. Think of emotion as a virtual language, affects like joy and anger as words, eye contact, touch and facial expression as the voice, and we have a very complex conversation going on. With this language the mother teaches the baby the nature of the world,trust, love, hope, and the ability to regulate emotion. Take the mother away and replace her with another woman and the baby can't understand her. Its as if they "speak" two different languages because they actually do. This is the begining of attachment difficulties in adoption. Mothers are not simply interchangable and the lack of education, and insight in adopting families intensifies this affective dissonence. Its a miracle we adoptees can attach at all.
Non profit
When I first heard the term non profit it rang a positive bell with me. What doesn't sound better than people who do things not for profit. Then I got older and a tad wiser and found out non profit only means tax exemption. Non profit organizations by definition can not make profit and therefore don't have to pay income tax. So instead of letting everyone profit from their business by paying taxes like for profit organizations do, non profit organizations are allowed to spend it all on operational cost.
Churches and other non-profit organizations are very entangled. Only look the number of Christian, Jewish and Catholic charities around. In all that entanglement the most horrible things happen. Agencies making sure the members of church get the children they want, whether they are fit for it. In a world where it is more important who you know than what you know, things don't have to go with legal money.
Non profit, my ass. There is always profit for someone, whether the tax man is aware of it or not.