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Sunday, March 13, 2011
An adopted child’s perspective on life
Just wanted to thank you for all your efforts. My brother and I were born in 1961: twelve years before the holocaust began, to an un-wed, teenage girl, pregnant with twins! I have often thought how absolutely terrified she must have been to find herself in this condition and how she must have reviewed the options that were available to her at that time.. As you know, abortion was not a legal option in 1961. Abortions were available – just not legal. And I’m sure she spent many sleepless nights wishing and even praying to God that her pregnancy would disappear. That would be natural for someone in her circumstance and condition. We have never known the circumstances that brought about our conception. We don’t know if it was the result of a careless, teenage fling, a truly loving union, or rape. The fact is, we never knew her at all; not her relationship to our father, their financial situation or if her family supported her. We were adopted, and she is our hero.
Fifty years have passed and not a single day of it has gone by without me thinking of this remarkably brave young woman – our biological mother. I thank God every day, that she stuck it out those nine months with us, which must have seemed an eternity to her at the time. But nine months is such a small amount of time to invest in a life, that has survived fifty years. A drop in the bucket. I look at mine and my brother’s children and see how that drop has become many different rivers that carry with them wonderful achievements, joys and blessings that will continue to flow and flow. She is our hero.
I have had the good fortune to write and publish several books. But none of my works is more important than Unrequited. This has not been formally published as I have no intention of profiting from it. Just want to share an adopted child’s perspective on life. I hope my voice will speak louder than the voice of society who would have women believe that my life did not matter. We were unborn and unwanted. By todays standards and by todays laws those are the only requirements for killing an unborn child. I believe people should hear from the unborn among us. Here is Unrequited. You may reproduce this and use it where ever you see fit.
Thank you and God bless you,
Susan K. McMachan
By Susan K. McMachan
I am, I am, love unrequited.
I am here, though uninvited.
I live and love even though denied
the bloodline that I hide inside.
And I am among a dying breed,
whose father was a stranger’s seed:
Our mother’s womb, a holiday
that ended when we went away.
But we were born, we weren’t at risk.
We had the right to just exist.
The was no law or grand campaign
that said we couldn’t have a name.
No shame so great, no one disgrace,
could rob me of my infant face.
No privacy would dare withstand
to cut me out with human hands.
And precious was our life preserved,
and so transferred to a life deserved,
that delivered we, the adopted ones
as someone’s daughters and someone’s sons.
But then there came a shrewd debater
who challenged our very own Creator,
who said, our baby presence here
should not be looked upon as dear.
Not viable, our lives are viewed,
though we exist, just not like you.
And those holidays, so brief in season,
could terminate for any reason.
Could cancel out at any time:
The life designated to be mine.
But the hardest part to swallow still
are those who’ve swallowed this bitter pill.
They have turned the unborn child’s plight
to a new plateau of women’s rights.
A woman’s choice is what they call
an act not known to any animal.
And the plague of this insanity,
rages, reckless through our humanity.
It teaches all our little girls,
to grow up, their children’s murderer’s.
And our Creator weeps openly,
“How could you stray so far from me?”
But I say, “Lord, we can fight this war,
we millions strong that came before.”
We bear the faces, names and voices
of those who weren’t given choices.
And I hear every, tiny cry.
Up stairways of bloody steps charge I.
Where at the top, there is a door.
Through which unborn baby’s cry no more.
An entrance to their lives on earth;
You, women brave enough to give them birth!
And we, your children on grateful knees,
bless you, strange mothers, for the air we breathe,
and whatever caused you to resist
the law that says, we need not exist.
I am, I am, I am, don’t you see?
No matter how I came to be.
I am here, though uninvited,
I am, I am, love unrequited.