I wrote about getting the file, and the problems I had with LDSFS in the past. I wrote about the fact that I was treated like a criminal for even asking for my own records. A day later I got a mysterious phone call from the worker who actually “counselled” me in the adoption, but I didn’t speak to him, because I honestly didn’t want to play the games that I figured they were playing.
Much to my surprise, a couple of days later, I found a brown envelope in my mailbox with the address of the agency in Lethbridge. Which was surprising because my records would not have been located there, but nonetheless.
Nerves stopped me from opening them. I debated even opening it, as I was sure it would trigger some sort of memory that I wouldn’t want to remember. Finally, I shook it all off and I opened it.
I paged through my file, some of it I’d seen or had I photocopied before I turned it in. But a lot of it was new to me. I had expected my sessions to be notated by hand, but mysteriously, they were typed up. The hour long sessions were summed up in a sentence of two, hardly documenting much of what I went through to come to a discussion. In the first few sessions there was no mention of parenting, and in fact, it was notated that I had decided on adoption, long before I had been told adoption was my only option.
I noticed that my doctor had cleared me medically, including our discussion about my “drinking” before even the two weeks. I felt my blood pressure raise as I realized that The Kiddo’s diagnosis didn’t come from medical paperwork, but from a piece of paper that could have been falsified (and it was). Instead of using the medical documents, with doctor’s signatures on them, or coming to me, they used an agency booklet. Because it was easier, and just gloriously at their fingertips.
My file was cherry picked, there was paperwork missing from it, including the open adoption agreement. It was clear they had erased certain things and originally, I felt like I would fight for all of it. The government had assured me I had a case, and I had all the paperwork printed out. Yet, the idea of all of it? I felt completely nonchalant about the whole idea.
What am I looking for? Am I looking for more information that will prove that I was conned? By now, I know well enough that I will never be able to point that out, especially considering how unethical LDSFS was then, and still is now. Having these files? It won’t change the reality that I was signed up for an adoption that was sold to me as an “open” adoption, and that The Kiddo’s adoptive parents likely had no intent of ever extending the agreement, nor did they likely want to be open with me in the first place.
I keep thinking it will make me feel empowered, as though I am taking something back. It hasn’t. I mean, I’m proud of me for getting my files back, because it was a huge step for me to take. I just don’t feel like it’s done anything for me except infuriate myself regarding the entire process and just solidify how poorly I was treated, and how little resources I was actually given.
Perhaps, if I knew The Kiddo’s family were interested in re-evaluating his diagnosis, I would feel the urge to go after my hospital records. I can’t change what they’ve already set up for him, even if I think it’s entirely wrong. My files won’t change their mind that there is something wrong with “his brain”. So what’s the point of digging just so I can read these papers and feel complete regret and remorse regarding the whole situation.
Maybe this apathy will pass. Maybe I’ll feel inspired to get those files in the future. Right now? I think I had to prove to myself that I could ask for what was rightfully mine. That I have grown in the last ten years, and can recognize what rightfully belongs to me, instead of just lying down and believing that I don’t have any right to speak up and voice my concern.
Or maybe it’s just the fact that for now, I don’t want anything else. I’ve seen too much it seems like, and beyond being over stimulated by memories from when I relinquished The Kiddo ten years ago, I just don’t want to launch myself into a full fledged emotional breakdown. Maybe I’m still numb at the reality that I will not have much if any contact with The Kiddo in the coming years, and reading these files makes my remorse deeper and thicker. Maybe it’s a wondering if my requesting these files is what initially set The Kiddo’s parents off, and thus causing the fallout.
Either way, I got the file, and for now, I’ll be happy with that fact alone.