Welcome back to Blogville my friends. It is always wonderful to ‘see’ you. Welcome to any new friends that might be dropping by today. As I write this blog my tea is a berry flavoured one because I am seeing red right now. Trigger alert: infant abandonment (and ignorant people).

I literally was relaxing on a long weekend get away and scrolling through Facebook. I came upon a story about a new “infant surrender site” being opened here in Ontario. 

As you can imagine, I was feeling all the overwhelming emotions when thinking about a baby being placed in a bassinet by the person who is supposed to love them the most in the world. My imagination went to the last sounds of its mother that the infant might hear: rustling of paper as she picks up the package of support and rights pamphlets as well as forms, ie medical history (to complete and mail later); the rhythmic sound of her retreating footsteps; the echo of a door closing; and maybe, the sound of muffled sobs. Whether they remember it or not, this infant will know what abandonment sounds like.

So, I was busy feeling all the feels and empathizing as a now grown up version of a baby who was also abandoned following my birth; with the final sights and sounds of my own birth mother buried deeply and irretrievably somewhere in my psyche. Then, I started reading some of the comments and my despair turned to disgust, even anger. 

Following the article there were comments such as, “can I drop off my husband?” “…a drop off for kids people don’t want..like a pair of shoes..” “What do the firefighters do with the infants? Feed them to the Dalmatians?” “I’ll take one. Drop one off here.” “Why have a kid just to toss it in a box?”

These comments took my breath away. These are unwanted and abandoned babies we are talking about! Or perhaps wanted, but unable to keep, babies! The very idea that we need a ‘drop box’ for human babies should make one stop and think about the lack of resources in this country for birth parents and infants, not inspire smart-ass remarks. Everyone in this scenario is a vulnerable person and those remarks minimize their trauma. (Obviously triggering mine.)

The other triggering thing for me is the fact that I grew up with my government’s thumb on my identifying information. Birth fact information, personal medical history, birth family medical history, and my story between my birth (including details of my birth) and my placement for adoption all hidden from me by the non-disclosure rules of my own government. I was in my twenties and pregnant when I asked for at least some medical history. In response, the government threw me a bone, a skeleton of my birth family history. As laws changed throughout my life, more and more tidbits came my way but I was in my 60s before the government released my full file (still vetted of course) to me. I’m hoping this is why a medical form is provided in the bassinet.

I was triggered by the idea of an information package provided to the birth mother in trade for her infant. At the drop off there is a medical form in the bassinet for the birth mother to complete and return and she is even provided postage. In my mind, picturing a woman reaching into a bassinet, picking a form package, and placing her newborn in its place makes it feel like a sad and painful trade.  

The Facebook article stated, “The package has a medical form for the baby’s history and an addressed pre-paid envelope. The parent will also receive information about the local support available to them, how the process works and their rights if they change their mind.” I was relieved to read that she would have futher information about finding support for her decision, a decision that will last two lifetimes.

I sincerely hope the form seeks medical information on more than just the pregnancy and birth/life of a person only hours, weeks or months old. An infant’s birth history exclusively will not help adoptive parents watch for symptoms of FASD and/or the effects of other substance abuse during pregnancy nor to be aware of any potentially inheritable conditions or illnesses. So I hope that form includes questions about the birth mother and other birth family members’ medical histories as well. Then I worried: What if she never completes the form and mails it in? What if she cannot read/write? How does this form help her birth child then? Personally I think adding a confidential phone number might be helpful in this information package. 

I also hope the process includes requesting the infant’s date and time of birth before their birth mothers leave them at the “infant drop off”. Shouldn’t every child know their true date of birth? Perhaps the coordinators can, or already do, leave a small note pad in the bassinet with prompts for the birth mother to write her infant’s date of birth and leave a message for the baby. “What can she possibly write?” you are probably thinking. “Anything.” is my answer. 

As an attempt to prevent to abandonment of newborns in dumpsters, public washrooms, etc. an organization called Gems for Gems is responsible for creating the Hope’s Cradle program and they team up with fire departments to offer a safer option for desperate birth mothers. You can read more about Hope’s Cradle here www.gemsforgems.com
However, if you are a smart ass who thinks trying to save a human life is funny, please do not visit that site.

Other countries offer safe sites for birth mothers to anonymously surrender their infants and their parental rights. This act preserves the confidentiality of the birth mother while offering the opportunity for that infant to be adopted. This is likely a life-saving program that Canada is starting to participate in. I’m just saddened that it is needed.

Recognizing that it was probably difficult for my birth mother to have attended a ‘home for unwed mothers’ during her pregnancy with me, I do wonder if she would have simply used a less inconvenient option for my relinquishment instead had one been available. If so, would I ever have the incredible opportunity to find and meet my birth father or any or all of my paternal and maternal birth half-siblings as I was lucky enough to do? 

This was a tough one, thank you for stopping by to join me for a tea in Blogville. As ever, your comments are welcome here where others may see and benefit from them, or you can email them to me privately at [email protected] 

Hello my Blogville friends. Welcome back and thank you for joining me with a cup of tea, today is a Chai Tea for me. I have to warn you, this one is hurting me to write. I’m not sure how it will feel to read it. (Trigger warning: grief and loss.) Mother’s Day has always been a bit hard for me, but now, as the second one without my mom approaches, it feels even harder. Then, I happened upon a Facebook page that was reminding folks that National Birth Mother’s Day in the United States is on the Saturday before Mother’s Day, and has been recognized since 1990. I could only find this day recognized as a National Day in the United States (perhaps other countries note it as well, but I could not find anything). I’ll admit I struggled with the concept of a National day celebrating birth mothers of adoptees.


As I continued scrolling on Facebook I noticed that one of my birth sisters had posted some pictures from what would have been her parents’ wedding anniversary (if her mother was still living). My birth mother and her husband would have been married 64 years this year according to the post. On their anniversary date I will be exactly 65 years, 7 months, and 8 days old. I don’t know why this hit me, but it did, maybe it was related to reading about National Birth Mother’s Day. When my birth mother got married, I had been with my adoptive parents for 10 of my 19 months of life. I was one year, seven months, and eight days old on her wedding day. Her first child, my maternal half sister, was four years, seven months, and sixteen days old on our birth mother’s wedding day. I cannot help but wonder if my half-sister and I were present in her mind on that date? Our birth mother looks content in the posted pictures but I could not help but wonder if any thoughts or memories of us walked down that aisle with her?


The pictures of my birth mother and her new husband made me think about things. It made me happy that it looked like she found peace in her decision to have let us go. I find some peace in the knowledge that letting us go had eventually led to a long and happy marriage with four beautiful daughters born to her and her husband. I know it may sound weird but there is a part of me that is very happy that she had a good life while there is a part of me that wonders about my role in her life. I had a role after all, I was born to her. She chose life for me, even if she did not include herself in my life, or try to plan for a future together. I hope that she imagined a ‘happily every after’ adoption story for me when she thought of me, that is, if she ever thought of me. I wondered if she thought of my half-sister and I when she looked into the face of her first newborn daughter. The first one that she could keep and raise, that is.


Mother’s Day also makes me think about the fact that my birth half-sister and I had our fair share of mothers, or mother figures, while we awaited adoption planning, and even once we were adopted. Though I do not remember them, I know that the ‘mothering’ I received from the nursing staff at the home for unwed mothers was positive as I demonstrated imprinting when I was hospitalized months later. I was cared for by those nurses for many weeks before a worker was free to travel and discharge me from their care. My file reveals less positive caring with my initial foster care placements, but that all changed once I was placed with my final foster parents. As you know, I have written a blog about searching for, and finally meeting that foster mother and how special that meeting was, not only for me, but for her as well. From the bottom of my heart, I wish Lena a Happy Mother’s Day from her “Marie”.


At this point in my thoughts, I would like to offer a little shout out to foster mothers. Taking in and caring for children who have suffered is truly a calling. My professional work with foster parents repeatedly demonstrated a selflessness that is unique to foster mothers. I want foster parents to know that it is not a ‘thankless job’, we are grateful you were/are there for us and on behalf of myself, and all others who needed or still need you I say, “Thank You!” Especially on Mother’s Day.


My paternal half-siblings are very lucky to still have their mother, and they enjoy a positive relationship with her. My birth father did not know about me or my birth until he was no longer in a relationship with their mother so she and I have no real connection. However, I can say that she raised very caring, considerate and successful children who were very accepting of me from the moment they found out I existed. I sincerely wish her a happy Mother’s Day. As well, my maternal half-sisters have a step-mother who has been very welcoming and kind to me whenever I have visited with she and her husband at their home. I wish her a very Happy Mother’s Day. 

​Now, to my own role as a mother. As you may or may not know, I have four adult children who were born to, and raised by, my husband and I. Being a mother to them has been my greatest role in my life. I think back to all the fears and insecurities I had when I became a mother, and now recognize that I did some things right and some things wrong but my motivation was always pure, and in my children’s best interest. One example of a parental learning curve was that I had read that babies will usually say “Dada” first before “Mama”. There are a few theories about why that is, such as that babies don’t identify their mothers as separate from themselves so they say Dada first, while other theories speculate that it is simply because the ‘d’ sound is easier to say than the ‘m’ sound.  As a result, with our firstborn, I preferred it if people referred to my husband as Daddy and to me as Mama. I mean it kind of worked, my oldest daughter did say Mama first but the downside was that it then took forever for her to say Dada. Needless to say, I later dropped that ‘don’t say Dada’ rule so naturally, all the other children said Dada first.


I think I did ok as a mom. I know that many times I wondered if some of my parenting errors, were due to having been adopted. I was unable to consult with my mom about stuff because she would remind me that she never had a newborn. I think she may have even been grateful for that fact on the day I asked her to clip and remove my cesarean surgery stitches for me because they were driving me over the edge. I’m just kidding, my mom would have put up with anything to have given birth to a baby. The fact that she repeatedly reminded me of this did make me a little sad, often feeling like a consolation prize instead of first prize. She did not mean it that way, but it was certainly the underlying message I received. 


So, I could not really consult her on baby, toddler stuff, but I could talk to her about other parenting insecurities that I think all new mothers feel. Luckily, I could talk with my mother-in-law about much of the other baby-care and developmental type stuff. Only my children can really speak for how I did as a mom but, like most children, I think they mostly remember when I said, “No” or when I failed them in some way. I read somewhere that when the negative memories stand out it is because they are an anomaly among so many more positive memories. I’m going to go with that theory because it is in my favour. Plus I have evidence of good parenting in photos and videos.


When I became a grandmother, suddenly I was the mother of a mother! Now that was overwhelming. There is something about your daughter becoming a mother that makes one reflect on their own role in life. When I met my first grandchild (actually they were twin boys so I met my second grandchild only minutes later) I cannot truly express how overwhelmed I was when I thought about my birth mother’s own mother. Though I understood the ‘times’ and the ‘shame’ of my birth mother finding herself pregnant but I could not for the life of me understand how she could turn her back on her grandchild, her own flesh and blood. How could a grandmother behave as if that grandchild was never born? How could she make her daughter behave like that too? When I looked at my two grandchildren in their little hospital cots I felt a great sense of loss on behalf of the babies my birth half-sister and I had been, and how we could not be our birth mother’s children, nor our birth grandmother’s grandchildren. We were nobody’s babies.


As a grandmother, I hope that I modelled good parenting. I also hope that my grandchildren like me and enjoy spending time with me. I am truly grateful that I live in a world where the mothers of ‘unmarried’ mothers can help and support their daughters to become mothers and are no longer forced to support society’s historically dim view of single parenting. So, I wish a Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers, foster mothers, birth mothers, adoptive mothers, kinship mothers, Customary Care mothers, grandmothers, and any other mother roles I may have neglected to mention!


Thank you for stopping by! Remember, I love reading your comments whether you comment here publicly or reach out to me via my email [email protected]. I hope to see you in two weeks in Blogville with your cup of tea in hand.