I waited for the better part of a week before I realized that The Kiddo’s parents weren’t likely to respond to my email back to them. I was okay with that, mostly. Originally, I was quite frustrated with the fact that I had responded, promptly, and received radio silence. I couldn’t quite understand the whole point of writing out a long diatribe like The Kiddo’s adoptive mother had, only to ignore my response to it. If we were having a face to face conversation, that’s like getting up and walking away in the middle of a conversation.
This game that we’re playing, whatever it is, I was done with it.
Of course, my stomach sank when I saw another email from the adoptive parents this week. I wondered as I scanned the contents, “Did they even read my letter?” It appeared as though they didn’t, or rather, didn’t feel it was important to address my concerns, or even respect the boundaries I laid out.
Like, for instance, I wrote that if we were to reopen the adoption, they and I needed to fix the issues between us first. That included, despite their determination that they aren’t at fault, all of us admitting where we had fallen short, the hurt that we may have caused, and listening to one another. I knew when I wrote it that the stakes were too high; I was telling them that they had to hear how they had hurt me, and take responsibility for their actions over the years.
They don’t want to do that, and I knew that even though my request was reasonable, it wasn’t going to be viewed as such on their end.
This letter told me that they would be sending pictures, and updates. Even though I told them I didn’t want them in my last letter. They even warned me, subtly, that my son may not even want future contact with me. A veiled threat of sorts, but for some unknown reason, they felt it necessary to share.
So I responded to tell them (again) that updates were not necessary, and that I would wait until he initiated contacted. Because, that’s been the plan of action since the adoption closed. Since the time they told me that this adoption and contact was based solely on what he wants, though they actively demonstrate hypocrisy on this line of thought. On one hand they wildly exclaim that this is all about him, and is his choice. However, on the other, they are pretty much threatening me with updates and contact because they want it that way.
It’s beyond infuriating for me to spell out exactly what I want and need in this scenario but have them trample that. If the tables were turned, and they had asked for no contact, this sort of behavior would have me being burned at the metaphorical Birthmother Stake. I would be accused of harassing them, and not respecting them as parents, of being selfish, and crazy. Yet, somehow, despite my multiple attempts to tell them to stop reading my blog, to stop stalking me online, to stop contacting me, and to not send me updates because I don’t want any from them, they can and do continue with no consequence.
This sick game is exhausting. I’ve questioned what their desired goal is from all of this back and forth. What are they after? They’ve demonstrated in the past that when it comes to a relationship between the three of us, there is no room for my voice, even when it has to do with my feelings. Maybe they are afraid of what The Kiddo will ask down the road when he sees how this plot twisted and deviated from it’s path. Our answers are clearly not going to match up. Maybe it’s something that is entirely out of my realm of thinking.
No matter which way I look at this, based on the history, and what information they have presented with me, I cannot see their endgame.
This constant contact from them actually takes an exceptional toll on me emotionally. I get angry, then I get disappointed, and then I get truly sad. In this last go around, I went from anger straight to depression because there is nothing as isolating as knowing that your voice means nothing to someone else. Ultimately, my feelings are of no concern to them, it seems, and they don’t want to admit that they may have actually played an active part in the demise of our relationship. These reminders they keep sending my way only serve to make me regret this adoption on a deeper level. It pulls me into a dark place that only a birth mother in an adoption gone wrong can understand.
I don’t want to give them that much power, because they have already taken so much from me, and refuse to account for that. The hurt, despite it’s scarring impact, is still just enough to make me realize how nonessential a relationship is with them. It’s solidified the very fact that I don’t need to have one with them now, or even in the future. Furthermore, I would never allow anyone else in my life to treat me with such blatant, consistent disrespect. Just because they have my son does not and will not make them an exception.
I fully recognize that at this point of time, they old all the cards. I respect that, even if I don’t respect how they keep rubbing it in my face.
I’m officially forfeiting the rest of this round; they can win.
But we know in any adoption story, this isn’t the final buzzer. I’ll just wait my turn.