Last night I learned that my ex-husband and his wife are adopting another baby.
They got married within months of my ex and I divorcing and immediately started pressing me to terminate my parental rights because they believed that Captain Knuckle was entitled “to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity” (Kind of ironic considering how they hooked up, don’t you think???). So, I was now single, due in large part to my ex not honoring his marital vows to me because he was messing around with her. My single parent status was used as a battering ram by them to try to convince me that it was in Captain Knuckle’s “best interest” that I terminate my rights and let her adopt my son so he could be raised in a two-parent home.
Whatev’ people.
Fast forward a couple of years and miscarriages later. My then 5-year old son comes home from a weekend visit and tells me that his dad and other mom are going to adopt a baby from “a mommy who didn’t want her baby, just like you didn’t want your first baby.” After I picked up my heart from the floor and shoved it back into my chest, I asked him who told him I didn’t want my first baby. He told me that his other mother had said it. This led to a long and frank discussion with Captain Knuckle about adoption and first moms and the fact that I desperately loved you and thought I was doing the “right thing.” Then I tucked him into bed and stomped around the house, as angry as I had ever been at those two people I had to share my son with. Didn’t want my first baby?
Whatev’ people.
Fast forward a few more years. I had been married to Mr. Amazing Man for about two years and had recently found out I was pregnant with the Good Professor. Captain Knuckle gets off the phone with me one night and tells me, “Oh, I have a new sister. My other mom and dad were there when she was born and my other mom was the first person to hold her.” Ugh. Double ugh. Obviously a case of pre-birth matching. Captain Knuckle has since told me that they send his sister’s first mom a letter once a year. Yeah. Pre-birth matching and a nearly closed adoption. Give it a few years and they will cut her out completely. Well done.
Whatev’ people.
I have tried to be friends with Captain Knuckle’s step-mom but she has always been highly resistant to any sort of friendly overture. For the past five or six years, it has been full on alienation and psychological warfare from her end of things. I understand why – after all, by virtue of the fact I have produced four lovely children, I am a powerful, threatening figure in her imagination. I am what she fears most in her life – I am the scary birth mother monster lurking under her bed. My heart breaks for them – they have lost so many pregnancies, most recently a set of twins at 16 weeks. My mother’s heart is devastated for them….but. BUT. It doesn’t entitle them to other people’s children. It doesn’t entitle her to not allow my son to call me “Mom” when he is at their house. When he was younger, she would spank him if he called me “Mom.” I was Melynda, his birth mother. (Yes, she taught him that lovely turn of phrase. Cute, eh?) I tried to talk to my ex-husband about it but his response was, “I can’t control what my wife does.”
Whatev’ people.
So like I said earlier, last night I learned they are adopting another little girl. This time it is through the foster care system there in UT. She’s a newborn who was born addicted to meth. The picture they sent Captain Knuckle of her first day at home with them is just heartbreaking – she is on oxygen and you can see the remnants of IVs and feeding tubes. But she is lovely. Captain Knuckle doesn’t know anything more about her, other than they don’t like her name so they are going to change it.
Whatev’ people.
Perhaps this is one of those rare circumstances when infant adoption is a needful thing. I also have to say I am glad they are adopting out of foster care instead of using pre-birth matching. That being said, it doesn’t surprise me they would wait for a white baby girl before deciding to adopt from foster care. I bet they feel like they have won the lottery for more reasons than one. Adopting a baby in Utah whose drug addicted mom won’t be harassing them with those pesky yearly contact letters? Sweet!
Needless to say, my ex and his wife’s adoption awareness begins and ends with fulfilling their needs.
Whatev’ people.