This is the story of my only son, my angel. The adoption isn't ideal, and it certainly isn't what I would like it to be, although the knowledge that he is halehty and happy, and with a family who loves him dearly is sometimes a small comfort that gets me through the night. I perservere, try to be patient, and continue to send my son gifts and letters, in order to show him I never gave up on him, to show him I am always thinking of him and I love him with all my heart. It breaks my heart that our adoption isn't truly open, and that his aparents don't seem very open to the idea. I can only pray in time that karma will work its magic, and my son and I will be reunited and get to know each other, that he can have what I always wanted... to get to know and love his birthfamily.
1996. I was a single mother with two daughters. Life wasn't all that bad. Things were pretty decent, actually. I was making a decent income from a job I enjoyed, I had good friends, the girls were doing well in school, I had a decent place, I was enjoying being single, we were... happy. June 17, 1996 changed all that, perhaps forever.
HRS (Child Protective Services)
invaded my life, my home, and destroyed our happiness. My life subsequently crumbled around me, piece by agonizing piece. They had begun their slow destruction of my very being by taking my youngest daughter, and kept hounding and harassing me until, in the middle of the night, they had snatched my older daughter, and taking with her.. my very soul.
In the midst of this pure hell was when I met Michael, and I thought everything started to change. He and I fell in love, and that gave me some semblance of hope, though it was fleeting. Michael was going through a very serious personal crisis in his life, and I wasn't about to burden him with my pathetic excuse of a life. So I fought on alone, and as the days and weeks went by, my work suffered, starting the chain reaction that caused me to lose my apartment. My girls were gone, and with HRS (now named DCF) consistently making things impossible for me to even survive a normal existence, my normally strong and independent sense of self deteriorated at a rapid rate. I began to doubt my abilities as a mother, and began to feel I wasn't worthy of their, or anyone else's for that matter, love. My outlook on life had become desperately bleak as HRS consistently hammered into me that it was pointless to try to regain custody of my girls, for I was a single mother AND an exotic dancer with a moderate income. How could I give my children what they deserved? My life had hit rock bottom.
I had moved into an efficiency with a friend in my utter despair. That was when I discovered I was pregnant by a relationship right before I met
Michael
. That had convinced me that I was a curse not only on my children, but on Michael as well. So I disappeared to Dallas without so much as a decent explanation. Why this? Why now? What had I done to have this happen to me NOW of all times? I wanted another child, but didn't know how Mike would react, as he had his own problems to deal with, and I also considered HRS... I would die before they took this child from me. One night, out of the blue, Mike had called me and told me he had a dream... was I pregnant? Stunned, I broke down in tears and told him everything. Before I knew it, he whisked me on a plane back to Florida, where he waited with an engagement ring, and with a pledge to do whatever he had to to protect me and fight for my family. He began to nurse me back to some semblance of my former self.
I was back, and had a renewed strength to fight vehemently for my daughters. I now had Michael by my side,
now my fiancée
, who had become my rock, my only solace in the midst of all this hell. Michael and I talked about the options extensively, and I decided, hesitantly, on adoption. It killed me to even consider it, but I couldn't bear the thought of giving HRS the opportunity to rip apart another of my children, as they had so viciously done to my two daughters. I chose a couple in Central Florida through a private attorney, and after I had researched and made my choice, Mike & I had gone to meet my son's adoptive mother. She was a wonderful, caring woman who had an older son, Danny, who was also mixed as well as adopted. That in itself was probably the clincher for me, myself being
adopted
and
raised
in a white family, and predominantly white town and all... so we trudged on diligently through the pregnancy, battling the constant harassment of HRS.
July 3rd, 1997. I had gone to the doctor for a routine appointment, and he broke my water. Mike and I later that day, around 8 pm, had gone to the hospital, and the labor began. It was a hard labor, until I had my drugs of course *grin*...and it was hard because I spent 1 1/2 hours pushing, because he kept crawling back up everytime I stopped. I like to think maybe somehow he knew what was about to transpire. At 1 am, my angel
Matthew Ryan
was born, 7 lbs 3 ozs., and healthy with a full head of black hair, a gorgeous olive complexion, and eyes and smile you could just melt right into. I saw my perfect innocent angel and fell head over heels deeply in love. I spent the next 36 hours not leaving his side, just watching him sleeping cuddled comfortably in my arms, enthralled, entranced, and completely in awe of every inch of him, and etching every little detail of him into my heart. When it came time for him to go, when his adoptive parents came to bring him home, I fell apart and died inside. I could barely stand to let go. How do you say
goodbye to your baby
? No matter what you do, nothing can prepare you for that moment. Nothing.
August, 1998
:It's been 13 months to the day that I brought my beautiful
Evan
into the world, and it's amazing how much difference a year makes. After much faith, and much persistence, ( throw in more than a few sleepless teary eyed nights and dozens upon dozens of letters and requests and arguments with the attorney about her mediation...) I was able to make the connection with my birthson. It was a crowded food court in a mall when I saw him again, but once my eyes locked with his, for me, everything else around us faded. He's a rambunctious little toddler now, off and running as soon as his little feet touch the ground... he's incredibly happy, perfectly healthy, and everything I ever dreamed he would be. Just the type of child I think everyone just can't help but fall in love with immediately... He's the perfectly charismatic little boy I always thought he would turn into, and I can't thank his parents enough. I can't say it's not hard, for it still is. Every holiday, every time I pass a hospital, or see a little boy his age, or watch a baby commercial, I fight to keep the tears back. But it DOES get easier. Those of you birthmoms that are fighting to be able to see your birthchildren, or you adoptees/birthparents that are searching.. keep at it. I know it's a cliché, but if it can happen for me it can happen for you too. The doors have been opened for me, even though it's simply a start and no one can predict the road this will take us through, and all it took was a little faith and a bit more persistence. You can achieve anything if you put your mind to it and refuse to accept nothing less. I hope my quest to open one more adoption and educate a few more people to the incredible benefits of
open adoption
helps someone... I know when I held my beautiful little boy in my arms and he smiles at me, it made all the agony and anguish that much more worth it.
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