[Janeytwo]

Hey All,

I have been wanting to "e-talk" as it were about the courthouse; about the experiences those two days. No particular order. I just need to share. I hope that's alright with everyone. Feel free to jump in and comment if you like or to say "good grief" and turn on the Wings/Penguins game instead. Can't say as I'd blame ya; sometimes my thoughts ramble and others don't necessarily want to ramble with me.


Anyhoo...I have noticed as the fog continues lifting that there were two strange occurences in my experiences at the courthouse both times.

One was that dang, accursed clock. There it was YET AGAIN that day I signed the papers re. my son; just as it had been when I'd gone to court re. my daughter. I was sitting once again on that same oak bench and I look up and there's that stupid clock. I remember thinking, "Oh. YOU again. Why don't you have the decency to fall off the wall and break or something".

I've since come to believe that little metal industrial clocks are fashioned in hell and then sent up on an elevator to the surface of the planet.

I mean...really...think about it. Where do you see those dang clocks? Prisons, welfare offices, police precincts.....the principal's office at the highschool....the dentist's office while you're waiting for your root canal, that skeezy diner at the top of the street where you go for a cheap breakfast and then regret it the rest of the day.

I'm telling you somewhere on those clocks it says, "Made in Hell with pride."

But the first time I sat under the little metal clock, I was so so young; not just in age but in spirit. I sat there by myself, watching the minutes go by thinking that any minute now a prince was going to come and rescue me from this nightmare. He was going to come in, get down on one knee and offer to take me and my daughters away to a paradise somewhere and we'd all live happily together.

That's what I WISHED would happen even though another part of my brain was saying, "Yeah okay Janey. Let us know when your mothership returns for ya."

Then the moment came to face the Referees. There were a bank of attorney's in that room with me. I mean at least 6 of them. They kept asking me if I was of sound mind and body and if I was being coerced into signing. Did anyone else have that happen? Was anyone else asked that?


What's weird is I don't remember anything after that. I know I must've taken the bus back because I took a bus there and I remember every sight, sound and smell of that bus ride to the courthouse. Yet I still can't remember anything after I signed my name. It's gone into the darkness; into the blank recesses of buried time and memory. I can remember picking up the pen and then 3 or 4 months pass and I realize I'm still breathing but my mind has cancelled out everything in between.


With my son, I didn't have illusions as I sat under that little clock. I was still young but not in spirit anymore. In spirit I was dead. I watched the minute hands go round on that clock. They were going around in my heart too, winding round it like a vise. I remember I remember looking up at that clock and then the next thing I remember, I'm walking to the courthouse doors to leave. I cannot say what happened to me in that time in between. I don't remember any of it. I have racked my brain until it's near to fried but I cannot CANNOT remember signing. I don't know who I spoke with in that courthouse. Who was in that courthouse. What was said. Nothing. I don't remember the bus ride to the courthouse. I only know that I "wake up" and I'm looking up at the clock and then some time later, I "wake up" again and I'm walking to the courthouse doors. My legs are heavy. The air seems like glue. There's a guy at the courthouse doors. There was something else after that which I will leave unprinted here. But I remember every second of every step I took from that courthouse door onward into the rest of my life but nothing leading up to that day I signed on my son.

Why? Why do I remember everything "before" with my daughter and nothing "after" for quite some time but with my son it's opposite. Why is that? (Sorry sort of talking too myself there out loud. Feel free to ignore if you like. Again, I wouldn't blame you.)

Has anyone else experienced these moments of "blankness" that I speak of here? Anyone else who went to court or to DSS or some legal entity. May I ask..........when you look back on it, is it for you like flashes of time with nothing in between?

I just thought maybe somebody could share their experiences at court and if they've lost some of what happened to them there.

I understand of course if this is not something people feel they can talk about openly. PM's are also much welcomed.

Thanks for listening!

[kakuehl]

I suspect we're talking PTSD here. Let's face it: this was major trauma for you both times. The second time going blank probably helped you go through it.

As I've told you, I didn't go to the courthouse. I signed some papers in the hospital and some in an office in Westminster MD. (It could have been an annex to the court house, but there was definitely not a judge or lawyer present. Just the social worker.)

Since I'd refused to sign the final papers without seeing D again, what I mostly remember is being frustrated because the SW wouldn't leave the room for a few minutes at least. Maybe she thought I'd run with him. She stayed there while I held him and fed him and he fell asleep. She did finally let me have a couple minutes with him after I signed the final papers. I wish I had copies of those papers!

[quantum]

I definately have huge blank spots...
I remember seeing the social worker before court. My social worker had left with no goodbye, I had a new one who didn't pretend to give a crap about me, I remember telling her how the birthfather was giving me a hard time about something and she was far from sympathetic. I remember going into the closed courtroom. There was a judge, my social worker, maybe someone else? court clerk? I remember grey walls, grey carpet, big tables...I remember the judge asking me if I was coerced yada yada. That's all I remember. I don't remember going there, I don't remember coming home. I don't remember signing anything.

hugs to you all.

[Janeytwo]

Hey guys!

I agree with Kathy that it's definately got to be PTSD. It's just so strange how it manifested itself differently. You know it's scary to me how "gone" those memories are. Just gone....wiped cleaner than a blackboard.

Huh. Just now I remember a friend of mine whom I visited and helped several hours after she had an abortion. There was this look in her face....just a sort of lost insanity. That's the only way I can describe it.

I know it's not near the same of course but I've wondered if my face looked like that.

The "gone-ness" scares me because it's like a part of my only experience with my children has been obliterated by my own psyche. And it's so important to have all the pieces there. It's like a sort of testimony that I'm no longer in possession of.

Does that make sense?

[b]Kathy[b] I am thinking how much guts it took to make that demand at such a vulnerable moment!! Kudos to you on that!! And then that social worker hanging around like you were some sort of criminal or something! Good grief!!

Quantum I'm so sorry you were treated like that by those social workers. ((( Quantum )))

I didn't realize too that you were like me; alone at court without family or parents. You probably told me that at some point but I've blocked it out. Weird.

As stupid as this will sound, thank you for saying that a judge asked you if you were sane, etc. I was beginning to get a little paranoid.

I've just realized something too. At 17, I was considered old enough by the law to relinquish my parental rights without my own parents there to guard those rights. Yet I wasn't considered old enough to vote or to drink or what-have-you. Not that I would've drank anyway. I wasn't much for liquor even back then. Still....what kind of baloney is that?

Another thing you guys....why is it that the bdad's didn't have to be in court? They could come into the office and sign a piece of paper at CSS but they didn't have to go before a judge and a massive bank of attorney's and testify to their sanity. What's up with that?

[quantum]

I don't remember my parents being there, but they must have driven me? Or maybe I drove myself? I honestly don't remember.
I was barely 18 Janey, also not old enough to drink, but still old enough to make such an important decision without any sort of counseling.
The birthdad lived in another state, he just had to sign papers. He must have had to have them notarised?

Speaking of all of this, I'm seriously considering getting hypnotised. But it's a scary prospect. What would it bring back? The information I'm searching for? Would it be more healing or more harmful?
I'm still thinking. I haven't gotten an email back from the hypnotist yet, so we'll see.

hugs to all...

[JustPeachy]

They kept asking me if I was of sound mind and body and if I was being coerced into signing. Did anyone else have that happen? Was anyone else asked that?

I didn't have to go to court. My TPR was handled at the agency. I did have to sign a paper saying I was not coerced into signing over my rights.

What's weird is I don't remember anything after that. I know I must've taken the bus back because I took a bus there and I remember every sight, sound and smell of that bus ride to the courthouse. Yet I still can't remember anything after I signed my name. It's gone into the darkness; into the blank recesses of buried time and memory. I can remember picking up the pen and then 3 or 4 months pass and I realize I'm still breathing but my mind has cancelled out everything in between.

I don't remember a lot of the details, either, but I've always attributed it to age and the time that has elapsed since it happened. I do remember going by myself to sign the papers. I remember sitting in the room and saying "just get this over with." I felt defeated, I think, and just powerless. He was in foster care and I knew I couldn't just keep him there indefinitely. I was so undecided in a way, but I knew I couldn't handle parenting then and had no help or support, so I just had to do what I had to do.

I don't remember how I got there. I know it was a weekday, but I don't remember if I worked or took the day off. I don't remember how I got home, I imagine I took the bus. I think I must have been pretty numb. I remember coming home around dinner time, my mom was home, and I felt miserable, but got no love from her. No emotional support, no nothing. I don't think it was even spoken about. I think she may have said something like "ok, so it's over now" and then proceeded to dish out dinner. I think that was really the worst of it. Not having that acknowledgement of how difficult this decision was and how much emotional pain I was in. How I had to do it alone. Thank god I had good counselors and a few supportive friends that I could talk to. No one in my family would talk about it, except my aunt, who, when I would get an update and show her his picture, would say "don't worry, Peachy, you will see him again, I just know it."

I think the worst of it was the silence and the expectation that we should just "get over it." So many of us were harmed by that, and although I think no matter what, it is still a painful thing to go through, it could have been so much less painful if we just had some acknowledgement, if our grief could have been validated, and if we had the emotional support of our families in particular.

[sstuart]

I did not go to court, but I remember very little now. I also thought it was the time lapse. But now that I see others who have forgotten large parts of the process, maybe it wasn't just time. The past to me is just a big blur at times. I think that being hypnotized would be neat, if it would work. I am somewhat a cynic. I wish it could bring me some information that would be helpful to DD if she ever wanted to find her bdad. I never thought I would forget--but I have. I know Q that you have even blocked out the name so I know what it means to you to try and remember. I say go for it and let me know if it works!!

[Janeytwo]

Hey All!

A lot of powerful stuff was said here after my last post. Awesome stuff!!

If you all don't mind, I'd like to sit with it a while and think on it all.

So much to say.

I'm going to go make my family their dinner and come back later to post more.

Man! You guys are helping me tremendously on this thread!!

I love you all more than words can say!!!

[RavenSong]

Like JustPeachy, I didn't go to court -- I signed the surrender and relinquishment papers at the county adoption agency. And like everyone else here, neither of my parents (heck, I didn't even know where my dad was!) accompanied me that day.

I gave birth to my baby on a Monday morning. We were supposed to both be discharged that Wednesday, but I started running a super high fever, and they kept me until Friday morning. (They discharged my son on Wednesday, but for some reason, the powers that be didn't think it important that I be informed about that -- I thought he was still in the nursery and didn't discover what had happened until I obtained our medical records 17 years later.) Anyhoo, I was discharged at 9am, and my mom came to pick me up and dropped me off at her house...she immediately returned to work. I called my juvenile probation officer (yes folks...I was one of "those" kids, a chronic runaway...or as those in the system referred to us, a "throwaway kid".) I told her that I wanted to sign the papers immediately, so my son could be placed ASAP into his new home. She picked me up on her lunch hour and drove me to the agency.

I remember sitting in the stupid waiting room, wondering why the walls were painted the same color as the walls in juvenile hall. I remember wondering why the receptionist wouldn't look me in the eye, why she kept giving me sideway glances. I remember the caseworker calling me into her office, and my P.O. asking me if I wanted her to go with me...I told her no because I was too embarrassed for her to know that I really, really needed someone's support, someone's affection. I wish she hadn't asked me first...I wish she had just gone in there with me.

The caseworker escorted me into her office (the same office that I would enter years later when reuniting with my son.) And then she said she had to go round up witnesses and get the department's attorney. I was sitting on one of those metal folding chairs, I remember that much. And then about six or seven people filed in the room and just stood there while the caseworker read out loud the legal language of the surrender and relinquishment forms. To be honest, I don't think I heard a single word she said. I doubt that I really understood the legal terminology, but I remember the caseworker asking me if I understood it and saying yes. I remember feeling like an insect under inspection as I looked around the room. No one would maintain eye contact with me...not one person in that room ever gave me as much as a smile or any sense of warmth. It was just business as usual to them, I guess.

I remember signing the forms with my full name...and thinking how I hated being referred to by both first and middle names because I was only called both names when I was in deep trouble with my mom and about to be physically punished. For some reason, it seemed to take me forever to sign my name -- I can still remember the feel of the pen in my hand as I slowly scrawled my signature across the forms. And then all the witnesses signed the papers, attesting that I had not been coerced into signing.

The caseworker stood up, shook my hand, and gave me a copy of the forms. I walked out to the waiting room, nodded at my P.O., and told her I wanted to get the heck out of there. We got into her car, and she drove me back to my mom's empty house. I remember sitting down in the living room and then....nothing. I do remember feeling this blanket of numbness come down over me, very much like the same numbness I would feel a few years later after being raped and beaten by three men. Looking back on it, I think I was in a state of shock both times. As I recall, my mother never said a word to me after she came home from work...nobody said a word to me. Nobody would talk to me about my baby...and I wanted so much to talk about him...I needed to talk about him. I needed someone to tell me that he was real, that I was real.

I don't have many memories at all for the next six months or so. I do remember, though, always being aware of how old my baby was, of counting the days and hours. I don't think that the counting stopped until he was about 5 years old.

The last time I ever spoke with the caseworker was around the time my son turned six months old. I called her, asking if everything was okay, wanting to make sure his adoption was finalized. The caseworker was not happy that I called her...she sounded scared for some reason. She told me she didn't know if the adoption had been finalized yet, but that she was sure everything was fine. She then told me that I should get on with my life and forget...as if.

Some days I feel like I'm frozen in time, back in that stupid waiting room...waiting, waiting, waiting. I remember counting down the minutes that Friday afternoon in March 1972...five more minutes and I'm still his mother, four more minutes and he's still my baby, three more minutes and we still are mother and child --well, you get the picture. And Janey -- there was one of those stupid industrial clocks in the waiting room, just like you saw. I remember sitting there, watching the second hand go around and around the clock. I think those clocks should be outlawed...

[quantum]

It's so interesting.
I don't think I've ever spoken to anyone else and never outloud about the actual relinquishment. Until now.

I do remember that summer, I was at my parents house, deep in the middle of no-where woods. They'd moved there right before I started college so I only knew the immediate next door neighbours. I was so alone. I remember sitting in the middle of the woods for hours at a time, getting lost in a book and my parents not even noticing I was gone.
That and working out. It was very 'important' that I get 'in shape'. One of the first things my dad said when I told them I was pregnant (I was 6 months along at the time) was 'well at least you are not getting fat.'


The hypnotist hasn't answered my email. I'm trying to get the courage up to call. One of the funky things is that she categorises her regression therapy with 'past life' hypnotism. LOL. Maybe I'll find out who I REALLY am.

[-maggie]

As I think back to that day in court, I am reminded how much the adoption has changed me. Remembering what my life was like before just makes me so sad for all that I have lost. Not just DD, but myself.

The day I went to the courthouse is a blur. I remember leaving my home and mom asking me where I was going. That was the last time the adoption was mentioned. I don’t remember the ride there and I don’t remember the ride after. I met my caseworker outside the courthouse and we walked up all those stairs making our way inside and sitting in the hall, waiting. I remember that bench well. I felt like I was glued to it. I remember how everyone was so professional and seemed to have absolutely no emotion. It was very hard to get up from that bench when it was time. I don’t remember if they asked me anything and I don’t remember signing.

I really don’t remember much. The stairs and the bench….

[-maggie]

I remembered something else about the courthouse.... I remember the judge. The judge spoke to me after we were through. He told me that he was proud of me for being mature enough to make a decision that was in the best interest of my daughter. He said that I should be proud of myself for loving her enough to let her go.

I was told by the caseworker that that judge NEVER speaks to anyone. She was very surprised at his remarks.

I have never ever talked about that day before now. It was one of the most heart breaking days of my life.

[quantum]

(((((maggie))))))

[Janeytwo]

Hey All!

Sorry it took me so long to get back in here on this thread. I think I was sort of avoiding it or something. Strange....

Anyway, I thought I'd do this in two parts. Answer everyone's wonderful posts back to me. And then post some more in the next frame. Thanks for walking with me my friends. It means a lot to me.



Quantum

Speaking of all of this, I'm seriously considering getting hypnotised. But it's a scary prospect. What would it bring back?

That's actually a very interesting idea. It is scary though. Opening the flood gates. I can't call it opening Pandora's Box. Shoot that birds sang, ya know?

My fear would be that I'll go blank all over again. Dead Janey will return to plod along; a walking set of legs with lungs that work. Terrifying thought.

One of the first things my dad said when I told them I was pregnant (I was 6 months along at the time) was 'well at least you are not getting fat.'

Shaking my head at this that your dad said. There just aren't any words.



JustPeachy

I remember sitting in the room and saying "just get this over with." I felt defeated, I think, and just powerless. He was in foster care and I knew I couldn't just keep him there indefinitely. I was so undecided in a way, but I knew I couldn't handle parenting then and had no help or support, so I just had to do what I had to do.

(((( Peachy ))))


Those moments in life; when we pick up a pen and change the way things will be - not just for our lives but for others. How does a person describe that to other souls? I think there is this "place" one goes to in those moments; a place of powerful, yet quiet resolve. A moment of clarity when all strength of will and spirit fuse and then we do what we feel we must. And there's no voice echoing back to us from the future that this way there be shadows.

You know what I reckon it to? Signing a DNR. I mean, not in equal form of course; no way. Signing on a DNR has got to be the single most legally solemn paper a person executes. Still, those who sign a DNR on a loved one. Surely they spend some moment of their life knowing they did what they thought was best but still wondering..........did I do the right thing. An endless doubt only laid to rest in the long sleep.


JustPeachy

I imagine I took the bus. I think I must have been pretty numb. I remember coming home around dinner time, my mom was home, and I felt miserable, but got no love from her. No emotional support, no nothing. I don't think it was even spoken about. I think she may have said something like "ok, so it's over now" and then proceeded to dish out dinner. I think that was really the worst of it. Not having that acknowledgement of how difficult this decision was and how much emotional pain I was in. How I had to do it alone.

Raven

As I recall, my mother never said a word to me after she came home from work...nobody said a word to me. Nobody would talk to me about my baby...and I wanted so much to talk about him...I needed to talk about him. I needed someone to tell me that he was real, that I was real.

There seems to be a common bond here of women whose mothers basically turned their backs at the worst moment possible. Sigh....our parents' generation. I wonder how much of themselves they had to put away just to walk the path as it were. I have worked hard at making peace with my mom within my own heart. I can't say it's been easy but I know there were extenuating circumstances for her just as there were for me.

I guess I've come to embrace her humanity; the desparation and fear in her life. Still....there are quiet moments when it hurts; the rustling of bittersweet leaves against my soul.

My hubby said to me a few months ago when we went up to my mother's house to visit that he notices everytime I go to leave, mom stands by the door waving til I'm out of sight. He said, "She doesn't do that for the rest of your brother's and sisters, Janey. Heck, she doesn't even walk them to the door."

There is something terribly sad about that. I wish he wouldn't have pointed it out.


Raven

and my P.O. asking me if I wanted her to go with me...I told her no because I was too embarrassed for her to know that I really, really needed someone's support, someone's affection. I wish she hadn't asked me first...I wish she had just gone in there with me.

She dang well should've gone in there with you and I think adults ask questions like that because they already know a kid will say, "nahh...that's okay" so that they can skate on their responsibilities towards the kid in question. It should've be, "I'm going with you end of story."

You know this thing that the adults in ours lives did? Emotionally running like rats from a ship, leaving minors to swim for their own lives or die trying? From our parents to the power assigned to protect us.....they failed miserably. It's almost criminal.


Maggie

As I think back to that day in court, I am reminded how much the adoption has changed me. Remembering what my life was like before just makes me so sad for all that I have lost. Not just DD, but myself.

((( Maggie ))) I wanted to add something but your words are perfect - IMO -as they sit.

[Janeytwo]

I never felt safe inside the courtroom. Not that I felt personally threatened in any way. I just felt.....nonexistent. Like some spec of sand in the big vasty universe. Unknown, unnoticed. And if a strong wind blew through the door, it would blow me out the other side with it.

A tiny 85 lb. ghost of a girl made of paper flesh; the everyday business of law for company.

Typewriters clacked, phones rang, people coughed in hallways. A surreal weigh station resplendent with wooden bench, indifferent clock and shiny lawyer's shoes.

A few women came in and glanced my way. I couldn't tell what they were thinking but then, I could barely tell what I was thinking. A few men came by. They winked at me which was unsettling.

There was a tickertape message rolling through my brain. "Don't think. Don't feel. Don't see. Don't move. Don't run. Don't hope."

Through the seconds; the minutes that made up one hellish hour my brain flashed on my babies faces; the small moments I'd had with them. Those moments would have to sustain me.....the court referee was calling my name.



After I signed, I expected..........I dunno.........something. Thunder booming in the background maybe? Somebody running in with my baby saying, "There's been a mistake....here you go sweetheart."

But those were the thoughts of a very young woman named Janey.

That young girl is gone now; passed into history like so many others. Sentenced to three decades of silence with the ink of a pen.