You may have heard the phrase “Adoption is a permanent solution to a temporary problem”. I know that I have used it myself a few times before on my blog. The part about “temporary problem” has to do with the situation which leads to adoption, such as single motherhood or poverty. Many adoptions could have been avoided if, instead of taking the children away from their natural parents during such periods of hardship (which is the “permanent solution” part) the parents might receive help, financial or otherwise, which would allow them to raise their children themselves. Adoption is permanent – and often destructively traumatic both to the children and to their parents. By helping the natural parents one would ensure that, when whatever difficult situation they are in, the children would still have a chance to grow up in their proper home in the care of their proper family. And yes, Adoption is a business, a trading of souls. This must be understood. It is as plain as the nose on your face.
And adoptive parents must also understand that we adoptees never came from them: we came from our natural parents. To deny this truth is disrespectful and ruthless. So many books, blog posts, essays and articles have been written about the problems of adoption and the struggles of adoptees. The truth is all out there, easily accessible, and anyone involved or interested in adoption has only to reach out to learn. To not do so is to blindfold and lull oneself into a dream of lies that says problems do not and cannot exist. Please wake up! You can’t mould us into something that we are not. If you think you can, then you have swallowed the fairytale whole, and you’ve chosen to believe that everyone will live happily ever after. But so many things can and do go wrong with adoption! To think that an adopted child can simply start over fresh is an illusion. It’s not that simple. The fact is that every child, however young when adopted, carries emotional baggage, the results of traumatic experiences that led up to the adoption – and the adoption itself is one more of those.
It’s time to recognise things for what they are. For the people in Adoptionland this means to think different, and to rid themselves of the illusions that keep them from seeing the truth. Adoptive parents must learn to raise their adopted children with the respect and care that they need, and adopted children must understand that many of their emotional problems stem from being adopted – both the adoption itself and their experiences from before that. And, above all, things must change so that adoption no longer is the preferred solution to any problem, but that it instead becomes a last resort when all other options have been tried and exhausted. Personally, having grown up as an adoptee, I would prefer to see adoption abolished completely.
Those of you who read, understand that when someone writes from the depth of their soul, it is not an invitation to find faults or make rude comments. Do not criticise someone until you have walked in their shoes. And if you have nothing nice to say, then it may be better if you say nothing. Not many share as much deep, personal stuff on their blogs as I have chosen to do. I could of course have chosen not to, but then this blog would have had no purpose: it would not have been the same without sharing my heartfelt feelings, painful memories and warm ones, as well as humour and despair. Much of the raw emotion that I have dug out of my heart and the core of my soul has found its way into my blog, and I have cried enough to fill rivers and streams in the year that went by since I started writing my very first blog post. I wish for 2013 to be a year when we learn to be more compassionate towards each other, no matter where we come from.
A happy new year to all!
I’d like to share a few words that I wrote last year in a moment of sadness, for my dear Umma:
For a while you held me. I looked at you and I felt safe. I was loved for a moment. Like the wind, your sweet, kind words flew away, never to be heard again. Your kind touch, your voice and face, gone in a second. I was just a tiny bundle when you went home to God. You left me when I needed you the most, though we shared your last moment on Earth. My heart has ached now for over four decades. When will I find peace? Where can this girl find treasures, like hidden memories of you? Somewhere inside I know you well, your face, your shape, your voice, but its so hard to find you again. And my grief is an endless ocean of tears. I miss you Umma. I am craving for your love. Your absence filled my world for too long. I think of you whenever I see a falling star, the rainbow or the Northern Lights. I think of you when I see the waves on the sea and feel the wind in my face. Because like the Elements on Earth mean everything for our lives here, you were everything to me for a brief time: my beloved Umma.