I had a baby boy when I was very young, 17. He was eventually adopted, as I didn’t know what I was doing and had no right testing out on him. He was beautiful. And I have missed him everyday that he has been gone. His adoptive parents and I had created a spoken agreement, of what each of us wanted and needed in order to proceed with the adoption. For a while all things were heeded, but eventually they tapered and then there would be years in between phone calls and letters.
Last year I called. I broke down and called because I couldn’t handle the not knowing any longer. He was in trouble, a lot of trouble. I suppose some would say that might be perceived as a mother’s intuition. Who knows? He was having a lot of behavioral issues, which seemed to coincide with the birth of his adoptive parents’ twin boys; he was 10 at the time. In the years to follow he would have some serious issues in school and at home. I was encouraged by the care in his adoptive mothers voice and candor that they were working on it and were sure that things would get better.
Almost another year went by.
He was in more trouble, big trouble. The adoptive parents no longer have custody of this boy. He is now “property” of the state in which they live. She provided me with vague details and said that they were trying to get him back – but in the event that they did he would not be able to live in their home. He is currently living in a boy’s home – not a juvenile detention center or anything so severe. But he has no home. He lives with other boys tossed to the side, discarded. Does this make him think that he is without value? His birth mother tossed him aside, and now the people that chose to be his parents, those that chose him over all others – have done the same.
Is he destroyed?
Is he lost?
Is he broken?
Have I created this?
I am destroyed, lost and broken for him.