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Published Sunday October 11th, 2009 at 5:45am

Original Article by Amanda

I haven't written anything in a while. I couldn't say why. It's not forlack of things to say, not at all. Plenty of adoption things have beengoing on. My birthmother has revealed that she is terminally ill, Ifought with her over the new discovery of my half sister, as she feelsI went "over her head" and was angry that I didn't ask her permissionto contact one of her children.

I contacted my sister 6 monthsago. I offered my sister a chance to contact my birthmother (who hadhad little bits of contact in the past with her …years ago) and mysister declined. She said she wanted " one person at a time." She saidthat she wasn't ready. So I waited. When she finally requested to knowour birthmother, I made it happen.

I went over my birthmothershead on purpose…duh. Because she's crazy. And because I wouldnever expose my sister to her without my sister‘s consent. Because Ihate her. Because she had the courage to accuse me of being ungrateful.Because she had the courage to tell me "I am the mother, you owe me

Andit was in that moment, as I struggled with everything in me not toSCREAM, that I realized that I do not matter. I've never mattered. Myadoption was never about me, at least no on her part. Not really.Decades later, it's still about her.

"Why should I apologize forhaving found my sister?" I asked my birthmother, crying at this point (she would hang up on me a few minutes later, with the excuse that shecouldn't listen to me cry.) "Why should I say that I'm sorry when I'mnot… just because I'm adopted, I don't deserve to know my sister? Idon't have the right, as an adult, to have a relationship with anotheradult without your permission? My feelings don't matter?"

"Youhave a right, "said my birthmother, " but I'M the mother. This isn'tabout you, or your sister, or any of my children. It's about ME."

Iowe my birthmother respect because she is another human being on thisplanet. Because at one time she made a decision for my life that turnedout well. But my mother? No. I will not grant her that. I will notallow the adoption industry to tell me who MY mother is. There is somuch pressure on adoptees to simply… love their birthparents. Toacknowledge them as the natural, the right, the "real" parents.

I'mangry. Furious, even. I simply do not matter. I am forever a child tomy birthmother, a commodity to be traded for extra years of the easylife, another notch on her maternal belt.

I know why mybirthmother was so angry. I know , at least now, what made her fly offthe handle. I know, but I don't care. She has made her mistakes, shehas made her bed. Her 9 children are growing up now- and they'repissed. They have a lot of questions.

Why did you give us away?Why did you leave us? Why did you have more children after you failedas OUR mother? Why did you do all the awful things that you'vedone?….My birthmother, our birthmother, will never answer us. She willdisplace blame, she will shift it as far away fro her as possible. Shewill shirk from her responsibilities, she will turn her face from us,her children- beseeching.

Adoption is the most wretched partof my existence. I wish I could purge myself of it, I wish, sometimes,that it didn't exist. That I was born into the family I was raisedwith. That I didn't have to look into the eyes of blood strangers andfeel that I am supposed to love, that I am supposed to feel grateful.

IAM grateful. I love my family. My birthparents gave me away, and thiswas the result. This beautiful, extraordinary, amazing life that Ilove. But that is where our roads part. I'd waited for them for solong… to know them, to understand them. Now they wait for me to comeback, to rejoin their family as if nothing happened- but they can stopwaiting, I've already gone.