Throughout my entire pregnancy with The Kiddo, I was told that my “destiny” was to end up pregnant with him, so I could find him the “right” family. Yes, god, who hates premarital sex, had determined that he would make it my destiny to become with child, so I could be taught a lesson. When I did find The Kiddo’s parents, the circumstances only proved to everyone else, even including myself that it was meant to be. I was just the vessel in which he would find his “real” family. I was never even considered to be his real family, not even for a short second.
I bought it all. Even when my gut questioned why they were a better family when they would have their own biological child a short three months after he was relinquished to them. Even when I wondered how it would impact the way he bonded, or didn’t bond with his family. All of those worries, those concerns, I pushed to the side, because I was sure that everyone else was right. God had intended for me to become knocked up, and had intended for me to hand my first born child over to a more worthy family. It was drilled into my head, that adoption was essentially, the only way to make good with any higher power and even my own family. It was the sacrifice I had to make, if I wanted to repent for my sins.
Because, I was told, I was not good enough to be a family. It was my destiny to become a “birthmother”. I was a hero, an answer to a prayer, and my child was meant for anyone else but me.
And I believed it. Because, they said it with such conviction. Because I wouldn’t be able to maturely articulate how I felt used, and completely negated by the idea that I was nothing more then a womb for that baby, my baby.
The idea that young women who end up pregnant are part of a greater destiny filled purpose is rubbish. Pure and simple, it’s a manipulative tactic employed by the agencies, and those who promote adoption practices, to undermine their confidence to parent their own child, in this world. When you attach the words, “destiny”, “hero” , then add the element of a desperate to be parents couple, you have the perfect storm where any girl with a heart will think, “Oh, well, look at my unfortunate circumstances and how I can help them.” Most of us, are programmed to think of others before ourselves, and to want to help those who are less fortunate than we are. Thus begins the self-deprecating journey that leads a woman, who may have been an amazing mother, down the “I’m not good enough, but I would love to be a hero”, road.
For years, I would wear my birthmother badge like it was an honor. I spoke to pregnant woman, and told them the joys of adoption, how fabulous it felt to make someone else’s dream come true. I sold the marketable idea of destiny, because it’s shiny, it’s beautiful, and no one ever wants to see a heartbroken mother who wishes she hadn’t been duped by the destiny. No one wants to hear how the so-called destiny means you are isolated to the corner, sometimes with no contact, with no way to explain why you heart so bad, except that your child is gone, and you wish someone had told you that adoption was not the only option.
Sure, my life would be very different had I chose to parent The Kiddo. Sure I may not be in this very spot, right now, typing these very words, but none of my adoption was destiny. I ended up pregnant, like even those in committed relationships do, even with the use of birth control. If I had not chosen The Kiddo’s family, or if they had refused, there would have been another family, in line waiting. That is not destiny- that is business. I was not a hero, I was a part of an elaborate business plan, which had no destiny attached to it. There would have been family after family waiting to take my child, and if my child was no longer available, those families would no longer be there.
When you submit that women who relinquish, even those who did so willingly, are just simply a small piece of a dream for someone else, you discount our humanity. You fail to realize that beyond that womb, there is a woman, a woman with her own dreams, with her own life, and her own abilities, even the ability to mother, and parent that child. Could this mentality perhaps be the exact reason why we have adoptive families who redact their openness agreement upon realizing that the “womb” exists beyond the birth of the baby, and requires a relationship, even respect?
My destiny in this adoption constellation has been anything but inspiring for me. It’s been of little benefit to myself. My destiny has included heartache, many tears, anxiety, trust issues, and lots of figuring out how to be me, when the old me, the me before relinquishment no longer exists. Nothing in my life, adoption related or not, is not due to destiny. It’s due to choices made at each impasse during my life, and that realistically leads me to another choice, on another day, another week. None of that is destiny, it’s just the way life works. Sometimes, I find myself in situations where I wonder how I made it to such a place, but I never relate it to anything other then circumstance or happenstance.
My son was not anyone’s destiny. Not mine, not his adoptive families. He was a baby who was conceived in circumstance that were not ideal. But they were not his destiny. The only part of this equation that I believe was destiny?
That he was mine, and I was his.