Letter to Prospective Adoptive Parents and Possible Natural Mothers

Dear Prospective Adoptive Parent and Possible Natural Mother,


I thought I would share with you what happens to mothers that never planned on giving up their children. I thought I would tell you the truth….not the pretty stories without real details or words that made you stop and think. I want to tell you MY truth, what happened to me and a child I adored.

I planned my baby. I tried to get pregnant and did. Not because I was a stupid teen , but because I had cervical cancer and knew this was my last chance.

I ignored the social workers that tried to make me abort. I even failed to tell anyone (except the father) because I had friends that were forced into abortions. I knew, from month one that I was pregnant. I was thrilled; I had even started thinking of names.

The pregnancy was one that was filled with joy. No, Dad wasn’t that thrilled, until the day the baby was born. That changed everything.

In the end, my family, my father, allowed his wife and a social worker to force me into a situation that killed a big part of me. I signed the papers and rode home, 3.5 hours, in dead silence. The stepmother had taken me and my father went to get drunk.

We reached the house and I walked back to my sister’s room and locked the doors. I screamed myself raw. My anger and pain drowned me in tears and screaming. Finally, after the stepmother yelled enough and my father was so stressed he couldn’t take anymore. They opened the door – I couldn’t scream anymore, just lay there, exhausted and wanting so much to just die.

I thought of the cliffs near the house, especially the ones that were a thousand feet, the perfect place to end all of the pain. Instead my father kept me drunk for two weeks. Then I left with a man that didn’t care about me to go to a place that I hated. I spent time in the place my baby would grow up in…I didn’t have a clue. I stopped eating, feeling and became more and more numb, putting on a pretty face, a smile for the people I didn’t care an ounce for.

When I returned I joined the Army. I thought, now if there would just be a war! I could make sure I didn’t come home, it really isn’t that hard. Meanwhile I drank, a lot. I have no memory of a lot of that time. I slept with anyone and everyone. I wanted to get aids. Or just have one of them go psycho and kill me.

I have spent most of my adult life wavering between self-loathing and a horrible hate for those that stole what was my most precious gift to the world.

I met my husband and he saved my life. But it was never easy for him. He would find me in the closet in tears and unable to be touched or comforted. I would go crazy at the holidays to make up for the feeling of complete emptiness that ate me up.

It is still there. My father went to his grave knowing that I would never forgive him for what he let happen. I do, but not wholly, not ever.

So, if you still want to adopt or give up your child, remember this, because this is the aftermath.

Dead Mother