Adoption Under One Roof

How many of us are on a path because we chose to be on that path? How many of us dreamed of becoming some kind of incredible person, an actor, a dancer, a pilot, an artist, a writer, an athlete, etc. How many of us followed those childhood dreams?

Life appears to be a series of random choices, simples steps we take to move in one direction or another.

I myself wanted to be an actor, writer, comedian-type person. I took some steps to get involved with comedy improv but never really pursued that dream. I loved being on stage making others laugh, I loved the attention, but I turned my back on it when I married my first husband. Was that a bad decision? I was turning thirty and thought I’d better get married quickly, before it was too late. I was afraid of becoming the “spinster librarian”.

So I married a man/boy, non-drinking alcoholic who looked good. I had dated many alcoholics and decided a sober one in AA was better then a drinking one not in AA. I had a lot to learn.

 Continued from here:

What we had thought would be a new start was just another dead-end, a place where complete neglect and child abuse held an absolute presence.

The first night was the worst. It was the worst, not because of what happened, but because we were not yet used to what would keep happening. A cold night outside, and the only slightly heart-warming touch was that of my older brother as we were huddled together, lying on the splintering porch. All of us were lying side by side. All having the same thought: Why? Why must we be forced through so much? Why must there be so much cruelty in this world? Why must this be the world I live in? Why must this be the very opposite of "living"? Sleeping outside with an old rug found as our cover for the night, we were only able to sleep because of the completely wearying crying that had taken place only a day before.

As morning crept up there was a silence across the entire horizon in every direction. The quick realization of having had been put in a secluded area in the middle of nowhere came over me. As I woke up, I could find nothing to do but cry. My older brother was not asleep. It made me aware that we were living a nightmare. An old trailer filled with two hateful people that could, but would not, take care of me and my family.

I found myself completely unable to even consider them as my parents in any way.

I was not surprised to see that the U.S. has decided that they will not return a child who was abducted from her parents in Guatemala in 2008 and later adopted by a U.S. couple because the U.S. and Guatemala had yet to sign the Hague Abduction Convention. The child was in foster care for about a year in Guatemala and then adopted by an American family in Missouri. There is no indication that the adoptive parents had any inkling that their daughter had been abducted.

We're obviously deeply concerned about allegations regarding stolen children and inter-country adoptions wherever these cases come up," State Department spokeswoman Victoria Nuland said in a statement. "We consider the appropriate venue in the United States for pursuing this case is in the state courts. They're the competent organ for holding a full hearing on the merits and the best interests of the child.

A human rights group that has pursued the case in Guatemala's courts on behalf of the child's biological mother, Loyda Rodriguez, said the next step will be to find a U.S. law firm to file a civil suit charging immigration fraud.

This case has gained worldwide attention and opinions are all over the board. Here is my opinion for what it is worth. First, all the legal avenues must be followed (federal and state courts). Then (although I always want this to be first) the child’s best interest must be taken into consideration. Does this child have any memory of any life beyond her life in the U.S. with her adoptive parents? Ideally the adoptive parents would have open communication with the birth parents. This may need to be done through an intermediary. Hopefully this child will be able to travel to Guatemala to visit her birth parents, as many adoptees from Guatemala do today.

This is the story, in his own words, of 16 year old Chuy, a child adopted at age six from the foster care system. He and his siblings were very neglected and traumatized before being removed from their birthmother's care. Ten years ago, Chuy and his siblings were adopted by Cindy, a devoted single mom who has helped them to heal. You can read about his family here: http://thebodiebunch.blogspot.com/. Chuy’s story will be posted in a series of blogs.

Continued from here.

Waking up, I simply look at the wall beside me, then I stare at an unusual object above the bed. I look across the room to see my mother. I then ask her what it is, and get the memorable reply of "What? Oh that? That is the cross. The cross where a man died to save you. He is also the man that we named you after. Now come Jesus; come out of bed." A man who died to save me? This doesn't seem to make any sense, nor does it matter to me, as a few moments pass and the conversation is forgotten.

I hear a room filled with noise and too many distracting sounds. Getting up, I begin to see that whatever is happening seems to be quite exciting and is very attention-catching. As I enter the room my eyes widen; my body freezes. Horror unfolds as I listen to a very fierce argument between my mother, and the man that I have grown up thinking of as my father. Not knowing what the argument is about, I close my eyes.

I open them as I recognize familiar cries; my brothers and sister are in the corner together, crying and screaming at the two who are fighting. Stop, they cry. The fighters don’t look up even once.

The forceful pull of a man I don't know, and I am thrown against the wall that my brothers and sister are huddled against. An officer. An officer, who unknowingly, had come just a second too late. My little sister and little brother are behind my two older brothers, but they all face the corner as they cry with what seems to be no resistance. Looking up, I see the man who had pulled me to the wall beginning to yell at my parents, but with absolutely no meaning.

This is the story, in his own words, of 16 year old Chuy, a child adopted at age six from the foster care system. He and his siblings were very neglected and traumatized before being removed from their birthmother's care. Ten years ago, Chuy and his siblings were adopted by Cindy, a devoted single mom who has helped them to heal. You can read about his family here: http://thebodiebunch.blogspot.com/. Chuy’s story will be posted in a series of blogs.

I keep it all inside, never telling the full truth of the past, the true hurt and suffering that can't be told, but only experienced. Memories and experiences I suppress, but there are constant reminders even in my new, everyday life.

Memories come when I see a child with their mom; a child with their father; a brother and sister together; a brother and another brother; smiles on peoples' faces that appear to be genuine. Not reminded because I was used to seeing those sights, but because I was always neglected when I was small. Withheld from me - the joy of having someone truly care. I longed for the unexplainable comfort of a mother's arms…. the unfamiliar security of a father. Always seeing families together, yet not knowing what it is like to really have one. I was always feeling clueless when asked about who my parents are... or were.