Thursday, October 27, 2011


Does it pay to be cruel to others, to force them to see your truth?  Does it really matter if my family understands how I feel, about being adopted?   It will make me feel better, but I honestly do not believe it matters to them.

I have shown them pictures of extended family members, they look and dont have much to say, but not one has asked to see any pictures of anyone.   We were discussing family when I got together with my mom, her sister (my awesome aunt) and my sister.   I chimed into the discussion, as they were talking about having any sort of American Indian in their blood.  I said I could be part of a tribe, my great-great grandmother is full blood.  Its not that far removed.  Oh really, they said, and changed the subject.

People that want to know about adoption, they are the people that listen.   My parents generation, and even my sister who is 51 years old, they dont seem to give a hoot about how I feel, my experience, and in my opinion, the most shocking, they could care less about who I look like.

They are forced into discussion if I choose to talk about who I look like, or who my children take after.  I dont bring it up myself, I'm forced into it while the rest of my family is discussing who my sisters son and daughter take after, etc.  I sit there like an idiot, have no place in the conversation, and will chime in when I feel the time is right.  Their response, blank faces, no emotion, no comments.  And if there is a comment, its usually a negative one.  Um, I understand you all dont like my birth family, but then again, we really were not discussing if we liked them, were we?  Because last I checked, we were talking about how my sisters son looks like my dad, and hey, nobody likes our dad!   And plenty of the other relatives from my mom and dads side we didnt like!  We were just saying who looks like who, and I realize this makes them very uncomfortable when I say my son looks like grandpa Leo, from my birth family.

My point is, why forcing them to discuss this?  They dont care, and dont want to be educated.  They continue in their ignorance with happiness.  When I do bring up the dreaded discussion, im greeted with uncomfortable silence, unhappy faces, and negative words, if any are spoken.

So if I feel the need to talk about it, I talk to the good husband.  I start a sentence, and he practically finishes it for me.  He understands my point of view, he really gets it.  And that, is enough for me, and the only soap box I wish to be on.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

I was right....the silence continues

I have not had a single response from birth mother since I contacted her.  Yes, she did respond to ME initially, but she has not contacted me on her own.   I am OK with this, because I dont feel the same about her as I used to.  I dont have the desire, but its interesting to see that I was right.  She was texting my aunt to get to me.  The texting has stopped.

My (adoptive) mom is still the same as well, this is just my lot in life.   I basically have no mom.  I call her mom, she acts as though she is my mom.  I am just some other woman's baby, that she has kept for 46 years.

A good example of this, was just last month when I was told at her birthday lunch with my sister.  She tells me, in this backwards sort of way, like she's terribly guilty of doing something wrong, and trying to tip toe around the subject.  She tells me that she went to an attorney to get her family trust fixed.  My dad was the first one on the list, but now that he's had a stroke and cannot speak, she has taken him off.  OK, I thought, this is a good idea.  Well here it comes.  She cleverly tells me that she drove all the way out to my town, and took my sister with her to see this attorney....oh, but your name is on the papers, it always was Cathy....     OK, so why in the heck did you not call me and tell me that you were coming all the way out to our neighborhood and why didnt you invite me to come along if you are saying I'm such an important part of this process?

I wonder if my mom has any idea how this makes me feel?  I have yet to tell her, but right now, writing this, I realize I have to call her out on it.  I'm 46 years old, not 9 years old.  And why am I not important enough to tell?  Better yet, why would they get together and not tell me, or invite me?  One can only think of one answer...and you know what that answer is, dont you!

I'm that baby, someone else's baby, she calls her daughter.  In reality, I'm just that.  I dont look like them, I am not important or trustworthy enough to be invited to attorney meetings to discuss my mothers trust.  My sister works all day long, so you know she planned this around her schedule.  Then why not at least invite me, let me know? 

So, that is the bottom line, I really feel this is true, regardless if mom never admits to it.  I'm someone else's baby, even though I am a grown woman, I am still treated like I am not quite as important as the birth sister and not trusted like her own child.  

Sad, really....

Monday, September 5, 2011

HOW DID I KNOW at age 5?

Looking back, I wonder how I knew at such a young age?   I never spoke of it, it was never discussed.  How did I know, it was February 1972.  I was 5 years old.  It was 6:00am.   I should have been confused being jolted out of sleep from a 6.6 earthquake.  But I wasnt.   I remember the sounds the earthquake made, that scared me more than the shaking.   My parents came into our room, my sister and I slept in twin beds in the same room.  They both went to my sister.  At that moment, while the earth was shaking, and making noise that sounded like a train was going to come ripping through my bedroom, time stood still.  I knew at age 6, during an earthquake that my parents were fighting about which one of them would come and comfort me.  I couldnt believe they were struggling, I was supposed to be their baby, and I thought it did not make a difference  they had my sister, and I was adopted.  At age 6, I knew what they were thinking, and why they did not want to come and comfort me during a 6.6 earthquake.  I wanted mom, but got dad, but the earthquake was over.   My mom did not come to me, I saw the look in both of their eyes, the look on their faces.  That was a defining moment for me, it was then I knew there was a difference, and that I was not loved the same way as my sister.

How did I know at age 5?  I may have known before that, but at this age I could reason a lot better, and make sense of things.  I knew that I wanted someone to come running to me during the earthquake.  I knew my parents didnt want to come and comfort and rescue me, and I knew what that meant after being told at age 2 that I was adopted.  Age 2 I knew I was different.... I was told I was special.  That my birth parents loved me so much, they gave me away.  That could be why I always hid under furniture, always feeling like I was waiting to be picked up?  Maybe I thought they were coming back for me, if they loved me so much.  The sadness I felt at age 2, is real, even if I did not understand why myself.  I didnt understand the concept of adoption at age 2, but at age 5, I knew perfectly well how I felt, and the consequences of adoption for me.

Thursday, September 1, 2011


I go back and forth when it comes to dealing with my adoption issues.  I know, I'm 46 years old and why dont I just get over it and move on.  Easier said than done.  If all was well, my birth mom, birth dad, mom, dad and sister were all in sync, then maybe, just maybe I would be able to move on.

This is a big cross to bear, managing all these people.  Im really OK, on a whole.  But when you get down to the nitty gritty, there are small issues, festering inside of me.  I realize they are there at times, when family members act stupid, or something is said about this or that.  Usually something un-kind or hurtful about our family, excluding me from the mix, you know what I mean, I've blogged about it before.

What to do with all these thoughts and feelings.  I dont like adoption.  I feel very passionate about keeping your child.  At the same time I know it happens, and I know its needed.  That does not mean I have to like it.  I've been to open adoption meetings in the past, where there was a young girl with her mom & boyfriend, planning on giving away her baby.  The mother said some very ignorant things in my opinion.  I mean, it would be a cold day in hell when I told my daughter that I did not want my grandchild, regardless of the situation.  People, it would never happen, ever.  I would take care of the baby, my husband would too.  This goes for my sons as well, I would help their girlfriends as well.

Would my opinion be different if my adoption situation was different?  NO.  Not when it comes to MY grand babies.  What in the heck is wrong with people?  Encouraging your child to GIVE AWAY YOUR GRAND CHILD?   Other peoples situations upset me too, I may have more understanding if the mother was old enough to make her own decision.   I doubt it.  But, if I did have a wonderful adoption experience, maybe I would be more tolerant?   You would think that because I have such rotten birth parents, I would be against keeping your child, right?  NO.   If I was kept, would I have made a difference in everyones lives?  YES.  My full brother would of had an older sister to help him, I was the wise child, I was born strong.   I dont mean I became strong, I was strong when I was born, at a young age.  I think I would have put everyone in their place, and things would have been different?  hard to know, but that is what I believe to be true.  I could be wrong people, I  admit that I could be totally wrong.

Was it my place to fix things?  who knows?  I hear about the oldest child in the family having their place,  etc.

Well, I really have a strong opinion about adoption.  It was my biggest fear when my son had a girlfriend in high school, that she would become pregnant, and give away my grandchild.  I know, ridiculous!  But I had a full nightmare one night about this.  This is what goes through the mind of an adult adoptee.  It had to be the worst nightmare and thoughts of my entire life, besides losing one of my children.  The thought that it was even possible freaked me out, put me in a total tail spin.

The worst part is, my family, my mom & sister, both felt that if this happened to one of my children, or if it happened to my sisters daughter, they would just give that baby away!  Another HUGE fight.  This made me almost literally sick to hear this come from my mother and my sister.  HOW COULD THEY SAY THIS?  After the hell I had been through?  How could they see it right to give away a grandchild?

I dont understand this people.  Giving away your grandchild.  Encouraging it.  Sure, that child may be placed in a great family.  But what if they are not?  Then what?  You have given your own grandchild away to someone that could possibly not love her, abuse her and mistreat.

OK, I've said enough.

Sunday, August 28, 2011


Well I have been reading other peoples posts about adoption in general.  I find myself having quite an opinion about adoption, but feel almost scared to voice it.

There is so much controversy, I'm afraid to speak my mind.  I wonder how many adoptee's feel this way?   

Friday, August 19, 2011


I used to set myself up, have these ideas as to what I wanted her to say and do in any given situation.  When she did not perform, I would be crushed.  This has gone on for years, even as recent as July of 2011.

She tells me she will help me, 500%, and then disappears, and is nowhere to be found.  She is not true to her word.  So many broken promises, so much betrayal.  She is a good person, just not a good mom to me.

In just one month, I've been brutally honest with myself.  I have exposed the child with a great big  fantasy.  In doing so, I have felt sadness at times, and I've had to sit down to realize why I am sad.  Have you ever just felt sad and didnt know why?  Well, I would guess these stupid fantasies I have kept up for over 40 years are not easy to destroy.

What is it about adopted children that make them create this mommy fantasy?  Is it because we are taken away from our mother at birth?   At a very young age, as young as 2, I remember feeling sad, feelings of waiting to be picked up, like the kid waiting to be picked up after school, only to realize she has been forgotten.    This has to come from somewhere.  Well, I sure have done a whopper of a job creating this mommy that does not exist.  Multiple mommies, both birth and adoptive mommies.

Im feeling possibly a bit embarrassed.   Im not a little kid.  I'm a grown woman, and I should have exposed this a long time ago.  But wow, is this painful.  Having to accept and face the fact that I do not have a mom.  She is not coming for me, nor is she waiting around the corner to take me to get ice cream.  She will not take me shopping the way I take my daughter shopping, we will not enjoy moments together as I have hoped and dreamed we would.  She will never give me hugs and kisses as I had dreamed she would these 46 years.   She will never look into my eyes with adoration and true love, like I've wanted her to.   The bond I hoped for is not there.  I can barely face this, and its just devastating.  Why do I keep going back for more disappointment?   I know why, its this stupid fantasy, that has kept me emotionally, around 5 years old.   Why does this hurt so much for a girl to not have her mom?   Where do I put all of this disappointment?

She is not coming for me, and I have to face this reality.  I have to give mom her real personality,  she has to measure up to who she really is, and I have to accept that she has betrayed me, left me, abandoned me in the past and at the current time.

I guess, from what my husband tells me, that I have this gift of giving out fake personalities, that my mom has always been this way, and I seem to make her into something else, so I would have to guess this fantasy has officially been exposed, for everyone to see, at least that is how I feel this morning.  I am exposing Cathy, age 46, emotionally around age 5 regarding mommy fantasy.  I promise to stop pretending, and be honest about who my mommy really is.  I have to accept that she does not exist.

Monday, August 15, 2011

life goes on without mother

Throughout this journey of sorting through my secrets, secrets that I kept from myself, apparently for most of my adult life,  I have found that the world continues to spin, with or without mother.  I love my life, my husband and my children.

Having said this, I have to be honest and say, that without the searching, and sorting, and blogging, I would not be able to say that I am this person, the happy woman with the cute husband and great kids.  I wouldnt know that I was suffering, because I have hid this misery from myself for so many years.  I pretended that I was not hurt, abused, and  felt unloved by my family.   Now, I know it is possible, to be a jerk and not know it.  To be so confused inside that you dont know what your saying or doing.  Its not as easy as saying, "Im over it"    or "Your such a good person, and deserve better"  or any of that mumbo jumbo.  A light switch cannot be flipped, and all of a sudden you feel, OK.

Happiness and self love, and all that good stuff is attainable, through hard work.  If you are an analytical person like I am,  I think it may cause a little bit more suffering, and possible heartache.  I always want an answer, an explanation, better understanding, of pretty much everything.  I have found that not everyone is like me.  But I am me, and this is how I work.   So, you wanna get together for Christmas dinner and then make a nasty joke about some bastard kid, and adopted kid?  Hmmm.....I'm going to have to figure out why you'd choose such a joke on Christmas, in front of me.  I wont say anything, but I will be busy thinking, and wondering, are you just that stupid, or are you trying to diss me?  Or are you just not really thinking about the fact that I am that bastard adopted kid, that struggled so many years to feel like she fit into this family?  Maybe you just think of me as one of you, and see no difference?  However, then why has it been asked, "Who is your mother, anyhow" --- by one of my teen relatives, who's name I will not mention. Lets just say she is my niece.  Or better yet, during a family gathering, asking me to take a picture of 3 generations of women in the family, myself excluded?  WTF?  Oh, well, so be it.  I get it, I dont look like you guys, but wait a minute, dont be such an ass hole about it.  What else could it mean, excluding me?  Did you forget I was the sister, the daughter, the aunt?  

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Is my heart still beating, am I still breathing?

I usually dont speak of my birth mom.  Sad to say that my mom seems to be the topic of discussion these past few weeks.

Is a mothers love and affection so drastically different from mom to mom?  Or is it really about the way they feel about the child?

Isnt there some unwritten law,  some  code which mothers have to live by?  Us moms give the best bite to our children, you know when you have an amazing sandwich, or great piece of pie, or theres only one piece left, our children always get it.  We take the worst piece of chicken, or none at all if there isnt enough.

I may need to be hit over the head with a frying pan to understand and comprehend that some mothers just dont live by this code.   Is this some sort of a sick joke, or some test that I have yet to pass?  I have come to the conclusion that God is testing me.  What I'd like to know is, have I passed?  And if not, how much longer will this continue?  Can I be given notice beforehand, so I can pass?  Just to stop this cruel reminder that I am not loved and cared about the same as my counterpart.

Adopted, or not, should not matter, right?  If you answered "doesnt matter" then try to explain how and why an adoptive mom "mom" could turn her head to the adopted child, and not her birth child.  Help the birth child, and not the adopted child, when in all honesty, both children are good moms, good people in general.  What I'm saying is, the adopted child isnt some reject, or felon, or drug addict standing on the street corner, nor is she a thief,  or taken advantage of her parents and has always been there to help both parents in sickness, etc.

I have to stop caring, which I doubt will happen, or I have to stop talking to her as much as I do.  I have to re-think my actions.  I have to remind myself that she is not now, nor has she ever been the mother I wanted or needed.  Maybe this is the test?  To be able to tolerate this woman, accept what I will never receive from her, and be OK about it.  To somehow not be painfully hurt every time she turns her back in my time of need.  But, does this still make her my mother?  If she doesnt follow this unspoken code that us mothers follow?  Or is she just a woman, who has someone elses baby, that she was unable to fully love the same as her own?   I have to be clear about this, so I can choose the right path and stop being crushed every time she disappoints me.  My husband is certain she is just that, a woman who calls herself my mother, but doesnt feel the same way about me as she does my counterpart, her birth child.  I have to point out this is not my counterparts fault.  Is it anyones fault, really?  Adoption has failed me, as I'm sure it has failed many others.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011


How and why did I end up with this birth mom?  WHY?  I'm going to be 46 years old next month, and I still cant understand how I was born to this woman.  How is it possible?   It will be a cold day in hell when I betray any of my children.

Sure, I'm not perfect.  I make mistakes.  I've not been the perfect mother, friend, wife.  But who is talking about perfect?  Not me.  I'm merely saying this woman is like someone out of a horror flick.   How does she plot and plan against her own child?  What could be going through this woman's brain?

Friends ask me, "How did you end up so normal" --well, I answer,  "Maybe I'm not as normal as you think I am"  --Its taken me all these years to be able to not be spinning in circles, chasing my tail after learning what she has done, again.  I feel calm, but full of regret for even having any type of hope.

Monday, May 16, 2011


I sit here this morning,  with regret pouring from every crevice.  I should not have sent that e-card for Mothers Day.  That opened the trenches for revenge.   I'm always filled with hope, that people will change, see their wrong, and do right.  But this morning I'm filled with sadness, and regret.  I regret having that hope, and I'm angry with myself for allowing my heart to lead.

When will I learn?  She will never change, and her revenge and betrayal continue.  Its a game to her, just a mere game.  She has to win, I guess.  But when will she figure out that she has lost, so much.  A wonderful daughter with a spectacular husband and three beautiful grandchildren that are grown now, she has missed out on so much.

Fantasy birth mom, has definitely died.  And she does, only exist, in my mind.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Still struggling, after all these years...

I love my parents, I would do anything for them.  

My sister is not adopted.  My parents, my sister, and my sisters children all look very muck alike.  As they should.

At a young age I realized I was different, and I'm not talking about just the way I look.  The feelings are  much deeper than face value.

I loved my grandma, my dads mother.  I remember that she loved me and would hold onto me as if I really was hers.

I have to be clear.   I did have some affection from my dad.  Until the age of about 4.   My mom tried very hard to be loving, and she was.  I knew she loved me, and I wanted her love and deep affection.  I craved it so badly, I'd guess more than the average child.  I believe I was overly needy, could even be pegged as being downright demanding of love.   I did not like her to leave me alone with dad.   When I was old enough to talk, I would cry and grieve when she would get ready to leave for work on the weekends.  I would watch her car drive away, and head straight for the living room where I would deposit myself under the coffee table or side table.

Dad has not been mentally well most of his life.  However, it was not talked about or dealt with.  He did see a doctor who prescribed him valium.  Stupid doctor.  He was addicted, I later found out.  It was like a puzzle, later in life I had to put the pieces back together.    He did not take the valium on the weekends, do the math.  My life was hell, and as I got older it got worse.

This is somewhat of a controversy amongst the family.  Or maybe its just one of those clean sweeps, right under the carpet.  Regardless, its not something anyone likes to talk about.  And honestly, I dont sit around and talk about it.  My life does not revolve around this.  It is just a story now, of how I got to this point in my life.    It almost does not seem real, somewhat of a storyline of a movie.   But, it is part of my life, and its taken most of my life to be able to put it all together so it makes some sort of sense.

You should know this, while reading my blog.  My dad was afraid of adopting a child that was not his blood, or possibly it was his mother who felt this way and planted this seed in his mind.   Ironic that his mom is the one I felt true love from, she really adored me.  He did want a girl.  My parents brought home another baby, but mom could not keep her, she did not have that special feeling for this baby.  Then I became available.  I was a mess, and I was not pretty.   My tongue protruded from my mouth, and I think mom thought I was sickly.

As I became my own person, dad did not quite favor me.  He tolerated me, at times.  Most of the time he was distant.   But he was distant with everyone, and abusive verbally.  I was a child, and I was not thinking about everyone else, just myself.

As I got older, dad got worse.  Mom got quiet and distant too,  she was afraid of him as well.  Im not sure when her drinking started?  She was weak and did not know how to fight back.  She turned to wine, and lots of it.  I dont think she planned this, it just hapened.    She left me, alone with dad and did not protect me.  Because of that seed planted in his mind, I was the target of his cruelty, his verbal incontinence.  His punching bag.

When I met my birth mother, who ironically searched and found me at age 19, the abuse was out of control.  I'd assume my dad thought I had betrayed them by meeting my birth family.   Who really knows, because my parents lacked one quality, the ability to communicate effectively.

The rest are stories, of cruel words and physical abuse that continued, for years.  The physical abuse stopped,  when I was strong enough to fight back.  But the verbal abuse continued until I was about 35.  I went through my pregnancies, Holiday's in some type of fog.  I look at video's from Christmas of 1990, pregnant with my daughter, and I have no idea who that woman is.

Age 45, I know who I am.  I have moments of struggle, doubt, and weakness.  I question if I belong.  I belong to my husband, and my 3 children.  This I am sure of.   I know who I am, but do they know who I really am?   Can they accept that when we get together as a family, that I'm thinking about the birth family I have lost, do not see, have unwillingly excluded from my quote, unquote, family?  I know the answer,  its "NO".   It is not their loss.  It is mine.

Dad had a stroke in 2009.  Everything changed.  I stayed by his side, mom & I took turns watching him 24 hours while stroking.  They caught it too late and could not stop it.  Sister was taking her daughter to  her first year of college, something that could not be put on hold.   Dad knew mom, but me, I was another story.  He looked at me with fear in his eyes.  He grabbed my shirt and punched me, knew just the right things to say to make me coward.  He couldnt speak, but somehow he was able to speak when he saw me.   Wow, that was a tough time.  I stayed, and took care of him, but I ran out of the room many times sobbing.  The nurses all told me it was normal, while having a stroke.  But why just me did he attack?

After his stroke, he was very sweet to me.  I dont know why?  I still cant explain it.  I know mom told him afterwards that I was there, taking care of him.  Maybe this was the reason why he has changed towards me?  My husband still cant believe how sweet he is to me.   He lost his speech center, is not able to talk much or understand.  But he does communicate with me on paper.

Well, enough said today.  Life has been complicated for me.  Its amazing that I've made it through in one piece.  Thanks to my husband who has always been my strength on those terrible family get togethers that leave me sad and crying.  He is the reason why I have made it.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Who am I anyhow?

Ask yourself this.  If you were an adopted daughter,  and you had met your birth family, what would you do with all of this newfound information?

I dont resemble my adoptive family, not exactly.  And they all say it does not matter.  But does it?  How would you feel if you knew your adoptive family was not genetically the same?

Would you feel as if this did not matter, even if you found out an overwhelming amount of genetic information that is hard for anyone to believe?

Would you be excited to show your adoptive family the pictures of this new found birth family?  Wouldnt you expect them to be just as excited.  After all, you did not choose this fate, you had no voice when you were born.  This extraordinary situation is just that.  Extra ordinary.  Yet the adoptive family seems to shy away, and sweep the issues under the carpet, almost pretending these "People" do not exist.

Isnt it funny, the entire reason these people exist is due to the fact that your adoptive parents "Chose" adoption.

I cant change who my birth parents are, my heritage.  How would you feel if you were asked to pretend they really dont matter, to just forget them?   We are who we are, arent we?   Just as my sister is a product of my adoptive parents, she is genetically matched, and her heritage is the same as theirs.  What if looking at family photos you could not say, "Wow, I look just like great grandma" or "Wow, my son looks just like uncle Jim"  --what then?  Would you feel comfortable keeping quiet, pretending that YOUR son and daughter DO NOT look just like YOUR genetic grandma from Lebanon?

So who am I anyhow?  Am I expected to pretend Im someone other than I am?  Genetically?  How would you feel if you were expected to feel as though you were hatched from an egg, dropped off by the stork?

Lets not compare those born to their birth mom & dad.  Try to figure out how you would really feel.  Honestly.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

All seems fine and then....

I dont speak with my birth mom, at all.   Last year we spoke for the first time in years and I had to stop all communication, again.  Its funny, we've been in reunion since 1984, but during those years, she's been missing in action most of the time, or I have chosen to stay away from her.   I have not seen her on Holiday's, she hates them all.  She has never really sent my kids birthday cards and has not been involved with them over the years.  She has chosen to be absent from our lives all these years.

Anyhow, the one and only person on both sides of my birth family that I speak with is my aunt.  she is my birth dads sister.    She was informed by my birth mom that my brother was in the hospital after sinus surgery, bleeding.  She originally told her it was sinus, but I found a pic on line that showed he was recently punched in the who knows the truth.  Seems my birth mom can never tell the truth to save her own life.   Anyhow, she contacts my aunt, even though she has nothing nice to say about her.   Well, she has nothing nice to say about anyone!   This makes me believe she has nobody else to call?  She is alone.

I feel sorry for them.  No, I cant go to their aid.  I cant call them.  I cant trust them.  I wish it were different. I wish, I wish their kooky problems and craziness was somewhat "Normal" -- and I mean "Normal" in the sense there is NO pornography, selling drugs, trying to date underage girls....  Their lives are totally spun out of control.  They both live on the edge, just a couple breaths away from being in jail.   My grown son is scared of my brother, thinks he has tried killing/harming him.

My life is good, fairly calm, and I am happier than I've ever been my entire life.  I think its because I made the choice to keep them out of my life.  Its is sad, and it is a loss.  But life goes on, and as it does, the pain gets less and less.

Close, but yet so far away

My fantasy mom is slowly disappearing.  It takes time, and support, from those around me that really understand and love me.

She is still alive, she has not died, but the reality is, she has.  She will never be.  She never existed, only in my mind.

This will take a lifetime, its a slow process.  You have to be strong, clear about your expectations.  If you cant get anything back in return, what is the point?

Fantasy birth mom will eventually be just that.