I knew her, intimately. What’s funny is that I never did. A young woman took her own life, she lived in another country, I never once emailed nor corresponded with her, ever. But, I knew her. Her blogs have haunted me since I first read them. One in particular Death by Adoption, as I read it, I knew. She was me and others like me. We are what is left over after adoption. We are the waste that is left over when this “wonderous” gifting happens. We walk around a shell of ourselves, bleeding to death and not one person sees us. We are told that we will move on and forget. How do you forget your own child? How do you move on after your chld is stolen from you and sold to people deemed more worthy than you? They are imprinted into our dna and our hearts. This is one thing adoption could never take as the adopters did not give birth to our children. One child is replaceable by another for an adopter, but not for the woman that bore them.
I feel the pain of Kristy’s loss of her daughter the same as I feel mine. She was coerced out of her daughter, like me. I wish she did not end her pain but I understand more than most of society, there is no way to heal the pain of losing your child by forced adoption. I feel like I’m walking in a living hell. Some days it is bearable, but most days it isn’t.
It has been more than 22 years for me. I have been in email contact with my daughter for 3 years. This last year it has gotten less and less. I have been told that I am a stranger to her so why would I expect a relationship with her. I know her though. To my core, I know her and long for her. I have not held my daughter since she was 4 days old. Yes, I did hold out that long in the hospital before I gave in. As time goes on, I doubt I will ever hold her again. She has become more and more distant to me. I know how Kristy felt. I dream of the nothingness of death too, but , I always hold out hope that one day I will get to hold her again. Unlike Kristy, I don’t seek death but it is not an unwelcome guest to me. To no longer have the pain is like a dream.
Rest in peace Kristy and all the other mothers who could not bear the pain.
I knew her by vampporcupine is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.