Dear Birth Parents,
Firstly I want to thank you for ‘creating’ my 3 beautiful children, I’d like to be able to thank you for more, but honestly I’m really struggling to find any good in the roles that you have played in their lives.
I think of you a lot, I wonder how much you think of them. I’m angry with you.
I’m angry that when my precious girls were supposed to be at their safest you began abusing them, filling their bodies with stress hormones, alcohol and drugs not to mention the physical abuse that took place between you both, they were abused and damaged before they were even born. I’m angry that when my sweet sweet daughters were tiny babies you were unable even then to put them first, instead believing that YOUR needs were paramount. I’m angry that your physical abuse towards one another has left my innocent children terrified of the slightest noise, unable to relax around strangers, unable to trust anyone, even me. I’m furious that you were unable to see that allowing drug addicts and criminals to be around them, even live in the same house, put them in vulnerable positions. I’m angry that you were unable to step away from our own self absorbed chaotic lifestyles and be the parents that they deserved and needed. I’m angry that a packet of fags or bottle of beer was higher on your list of priorities than baby food and nappies.
When my baby girl lies to me out of fear, its you I’m angry with. When my middle girl holds her head in shame and refuses to speak to me, its you I’m angry with. When my big girl screams she wishes she was dead, its you I’m angry with. I’m angry with you that baby girl feels such fear for men, I’m angry with you that big girl is so anxious all of the time that the gaps in her learning have stayed the same. I’m angry with you that middle girl is unable to sleep at night, anxious and terrified of the world she lives in.
I’m angry with you that they feel so much shame that they’re unable to talk about anything ‘real’. I’m angry with you that they don’t think they are worthy of love or happiness and constantly push and push and push convinced eventually that we’ll also hurt them. I’m angry with you that the losses they’ve suffered in their short lives already has left them reluctant to form meaningful relationships with anyone, even their peers. I’m angry that even now you are unable to put them first by being truthful about the things that happened back then. I’m angry that they have scars they have no explanations for. I’m angry that you have a human right to privacy meaning we cannot access files that may answer some of those questions, yet you gave these children no consideration for their human rights. I’m angry that you joke with social workers about visiting the area that you think we live in and wonder if you’ll bump in to us, I have news for you, your about 50 miles off course so good luck with that!
I’m angry that you get to sit at home with your new little family and not have to deal with the daily effects of the trauma that you created inside their hearts and heads, I’m angry that you still harp on to social services about what a victim you are, whilst the real victims are left struggling every day in a world that doesn’t understand what happened to them or the lasting effects that’s having. I’m angry that you can pretend to social services that your unable to read and write so that they will not only remind you, but they come and help you write your contact letters to my girls, whilst we as a family have no support with writing letters to you or even managing the fall out from the crappy letters you send once a year, even though your free to write to them as often as you choose, funny how you are both able to manage Facebook accounts without support though isn’t it! I’m angry that my girls are not the only victims you created, their siblings each face their own struggles from foster care.
I think of you when they scream at me, when they’re unable to look me in the eye and when the shame they feel inside shows on their faces. I think of you when they fail a school test, get in trouble with their teacher or loose another friend. I think of you when they cry because someone in their class moved schools, or a teacher went on maternity leave or a dinner lady left. I think of you when they gorge themselves or steal food in an attempt to fill that hole you left inside them, I think of you when they hurt themselves and tell me how bad they think they are. I think of you when I see and feel their hurt and sadness, when their loss and trauma becomes too much for them to contain and they fall apart, yes, I think of you then.
But when my big girl looks deep in to my eyes and tells me she wishes she’d grown in my tummy, I don’t think of you then, because that look that she’s giving me, that moment she’s sharing with me, that’s all ours.
And when my middle girl smiles at me and for a second she allows herself to believe that I love her, I don’t think of you then, because that moment that we share, as small as it may be, that’s all ours.
And when my baby girl squeezes me tight and tells me that I’m the best mom ever, I don’t think of you then, those moments are all ours.
I wont think of you when they take their driving test, get married or even when they create their own families, because those special moments that we’ll all treasure, they will also be all ours.
You may have given them life but then you let them down, you hurt them and left them feeling frightened and alone.
I may not have given them life but I will give them a life. I will help repair the damage you caused, I will hold them whilst they grieve, I will help them make sense of their feelings, I will try and fill some of the gaps in their memories, I will continue to pick up the pieces of trauma and fill those holes you created within them, I will always put their needs first, I will support them and love them and I will never give up on them because I am their mom and that’s what mom’s do!
I’ve linked this post up over at The Adoption Social for their 101st Weekly Adoption Shout Out #WASO