Adoption

      I don't know if I ever mentioned it on here before but I'm adopted.  I was born in March of 1965.  I lived in a foster home until May when I was placed with my parents.  My mom and dad.  My "real" parents.  There is nothing more aggravating than having someone call the people who gave you away your "real" parents because that's not what they are.  They are donors.  They donated an egg and some sperm and that was the extent of their involvement.  My "real" parents are the ones that nursed me thru all those nasty childhood ailments, a cancer scare at 13 and all the teenage attitude and rebellion that I dished out.  They are the people that had to feed me with towels laid all around the rocking chair because I had a defective valve between my tummy and my esophagus and I regurgitated part of my food with every feeding.  Those were my parents.  Not some woman that got knocked up at 16 who didn't want a child to disrupt her life and future plans.  Not some man who never knew for sure that I existed until a few years ago.  
      I've met my biological mom.  My mom - my real mom- helped me to find her when I was pregnant with Kristi 33 years ago.  I had a high-risk pregnancy.  I had gestational diabetes and I was battling toxemia.  Every different specialist I had to deal with and every trip to the hospital, I was asked about family medical history.  Something I didn't have any knowledge about and no access to.  So mom helped me find out the info.  And bio-mom, Pam, claimed she wanted to develop a relationship.  And it's been more of an on again/off again thing.  She has a son.  He's 44.  Still lives at home with his mom and dad.  Has never had a real relationship or a real job.  He is totally dependent on his mom and she wants it that way.  The only problem with that is that when she dies - he has nothing.  Even though he will inherit everything they have, that won't support him for the rest of his life and he can't even hold a job at a fast food pizza joint.  He worked 20 hours a week for one of those mainstream pizza companies answering the phone.  For one, he had to take a nap before a 4 hours shift answering the phone.  And then he got fired.  He has the people skills of a porcupine.  He would brag to the kids about how he would "tell his bosses how it was going to be" and didn't care because he thought they couldn't fire him.  He was working a job that most high school kids had too much experience to take.  And he couldn't hold it.  So next was a fast food restaurant.  He told them that he moved to his current area after "selling the bar he owned so he could take care of his parents".  None of which was true.  He didn't have a job before moving to their current area.  He was in drug rehab.  He's been fired - with cause- from most of the national fast and casual food chains.  His mom always makes an excuse for why he loses his job.  Nothing is ever his fault.  I am so glad this woman didn't raise me!  
      My parents taught me to accept responsibility.  My parents taught me right from wrong.  They taught me that life doesn't always go my way.  They taught me that it's ok to make mistakes.  To take responsibility from them and that I'm human.  That I need to learn from them and try not to repeat them.  They taught me that they would still love me even when I messed up.  And my mess ups were brilliantly epic.  I found new and improved ways to rebel and make a mess of things.  And they taught me to pick myself up, dust myself off, and to try again.  Mostly they taught me that love doesn't have boundaries.  That I could mess up and they would still love me no matter how awful I was.  Her son - he doesn't know any of this.  His mom - her love comes with strings attached.  It isn't never-ending - it's conditional on whether or not he jumps to her drummer.  She holds the purse strings, she determines his sense of self-worth.  And nothing they do is ever good enough.  And by they - I mean her husband too.  He fell one day and I took him to the clinic.  He just kept apologizing.  She was being so mean to him accusing him of doing it to himself by forgetting to take his potassium.  So when we went to the clinic, they checked his levels.  He was perfectly fine.  It wasn't anything he did or forgot to do.  It was simply old age.  He's over 70.  He's not as healthy as he used to be.  This is just how she is.  And both her son and her husband - they accept this treatment without batting an eye.  It's their normal.  
     So would any of you like to guess how well that works with me?  Yeah... it doesn't.  I have a sense of self-worth.  I don't jump to anyone's demands.  I am me.  I am content with my life and content with who I am and I don't need anyone's approval to validate my self of self worth.  I don't need (or want) her money.  I never expected to see any of it.  She wanted to play "let's pretend".  Let's pretend she was my only mom (never).  Let's pretend she raised me (not even close to true).  Let's pretend to all her friends that she didn't dump a child for her own convenience (she's still living that lie with her friends or they don't know I exist at all).  Lord knows it's good that I never wanted to play her little games and never expected anything from her because for all her fakeness where other people are concerned - she has never treated me like "family".  My birthdays and Christmas' have mostly been ignored.  There has never been anything resembling any type of family unity nor has she ever treated me like she has her son.  Which is a good thing because I love the fact that I am an independent woman and that I'm not dependent upon her.  She pretty much ignored my kids existence over the years too.  Her son - no kids.  Probably a good thing since he's never grown up himself.  But then her husband started falling and couldn't get to the shower or bed without help.  And her son couldn't help him. And in my stupidity, I asked Tim to help them once.  And once turned into an everyday abuse of my son's goodwill.  
     And then we found out that Tim was going to be a daddy.  And he took his pretty girlfriend over there.  And Pam - biomom- played her little "let's pretend" games with his girlfriend.  Telling stories about the kids when they were growing up.  But the problem was - she wasn't there.  She doesn't know what the kids were like growing up because she didn't want to be bothered with me or my kids.  But that didn't stop her from creating lies to tell Tim's girlfriend.  Lies about me and lies that made me look bad.  Some sort of little game to shine herself in a better light with Tim's girlfriend whom we barely knew.  And then when she was called out on her little games, she cried pity poor her - her poor wittle feewings were hurt that she got busted out.  No regard for my feelings or the fact that her lies embarrassed me with the woman who is going to be the mom to my granddaughter.  No regard to how my other children (whom she was also lying on) felt about the lies she told about them.  No regard for the damage that she did in our family and the issues she caused.  Now, our family has been thru worse and we will recover and survive.  We have survived and the recovery is underway.  Her little games to try and cause irreparable harm failed.  All her games and manipulation accomplished were that B, Amy, Jay and Dani have had nothing to do with her.  Elmer doesn't know her but superficially.  He's only seen her twice his whole life, he doesn't remember her, and he won't notice when he never sees her again.  Bio-mom doesn't get that her actions caused all this and she doesn't accept responsibility for it.  You can see where her kid gets it from.  Making me thankful - yet again - that she's not my "real" mom.  That she gave me away so that I could have good parents and a good life and learn all the things that are so important about love and responsibility that they taught me.
    Mothers Day is this weekend.  My first without my mom.  The pain is real.  So is the longing for my mama.  Wanting her to be here - to hear her voice.  To feel that sense of security that always came with talking to her.  That knowing she was always on my side.  I can't begin to tell you the number of ways I miss my mom .... not just on Mothers Day but every day.  My life just isn't the same since she passed.  And I've spent a year trying to find a new normal.  One day I'll figure it all out.