Psychological Worth Of This Adopted Child
An adopted Infant to replace the family's stillborn child tragedy,
I never developed a sense of worth. I was simply there as a new burden to an exhausted, angry mother overwhelmed by her third baby's death. Luckily her first and second sons were completely secure in their infant development and maternal bonding that gave them the ability to accelerate to the full potential needed to have a full foundation. The adoption of a female baby was a temporary diversion to get mamma out of bed and stop crying, that was a failed attempt that needed time instead of substitute, to process the lengthy grief from tragedy and it's lengthy after affects on a mother's ultimate loss in life.
In my infant state of need and constant unrelenting cry caused mother to slip further into the depths of her misery suffering.
She has repeatedly blamed me for the forced hysterectomy that was contingent on her adoption plan to forgo the grief process.
I can still remember her telling me of the horrors that she suffered during and after the surgical procedure that was forced on her to be allowed to adopt a child. The painful humiliating surgery that forced many more months of physical agony to remove her chances to conceive another child and rendered her no longer a woman, Was all my fault. I was the bearer of the mother's burden for being so fortunate to be saved by this adoptive mother that "I'd Better Be Grateful for all she has Suffered to Adopt Me" The loss of her baby girl, the forced hysterectomy, the loss of her ever being able to have another baby, and the loss of her womanhood was the sacrifices she gave of her body, all at my expense Is too much for a four year old to understand. Being constantly reminded of her specificly mapped out sacrifices of her body, femininity, potential, and future were all waged on me to cooperate and be the perfect child that she gave up her life as a fruit bearing woman to become a broken woman to mother me. I should feel bad, and sad and ashamed that she would give too much of herself away for my new and better life as her child. I became mother's ultimate shameful burden, as I was not producing the life she imagined, I was her greatest disappointment and the grim reality that she could not stand. As a small child I did not know to apologize for ruining her body, I didn't know to tell her that I was sorry for her forced hysterectomy, I was ignorant to what a loss of womanhood means or being sad that she couldn't have more children because of me. These were concepts baby's are too young to comprehend. Mom's anger at my constant needs of insensitivity at her own struggles of baby, womanhood and body loss grew., I was not grateful enough as a toddler and did not consider how my constant needs, non-verbal crying aggravated mother while she was trying to sleep. My repetitive crying, dirty diapers and needing milk bottles were causing her great stress that quickly morphed into anger. Mother thought me to be an animal in my development arrest as I did not learn language which she believed I was retarded, or purposely not developing in my perpetual crib prison, just to spite her my inconsiderate behavior of her own emotional well being. Although she successfully bonded, cared and raised her two sons, the adopted child is supposed to be good baby that is self contained and grateful to it's mother, because of the adopted state even a baby knows it is lucky and will behave because it is adopted by good christian mothers. At three years old I was told My real mother was "out there" and I remember being told that she would someday come to get me, so I was constantly aware that anytime she would come and take me home. This was not a concept that a three year old could make up on their own, It must have been told in some dismissing way
within a threatening punishment which was consistent in my young life. I was the family's princess, nor the apple of someone's eye. I was an illegitimate adopted child and the old wives tales believed that being a bastard somehow couldn't be washed off with soap and water. The way I was at three was a result of how I was treated this far and I was not a girley girl that my adoptive mother expected. I was not like the adoptive mother in any way, I was the opposite of the adoptive mother,
and she was ashamed of me and my existence was forced on her that she could not get rid of me, and resented me for this burden of childcare. I had no worth except that I was adopted by this family and that gave me some worth. In later childhood I was constantly threatened that without my adoption connection to this family, I was only an illegitimate bastard child that even my real mother did not want me. I had no worth except as the possession of the adoptive family, without that connection which could be taken away if my behavior did not improve, they would take me back and get a grateful adopted child to replace me.
This time 1967 in american adoption culture, adoptive mothers
were reliant on the gossip, old wives tales and exaggerating women who stretched the truth to make themselves look good.
No one really read books, asked logical questions of child professionals and the status quote was that adoption psychologically benefited the adopted child. The experts were creating propaganda to drive their own profits, and threatening the lives and livelihoods of the scientific community that dared expose the truth of adoption damage to the public.