Mother One vs. Mother Two - Part II
Thursday, May. 27, 2004, 9:54 p.m.

I have moved... visit my new site over at http://infertileme.typepad.com. However, you can still read today's entry below.

I received several emails last night inquiring about my insane relationship with L. It would really take me all summer to detail the ins and outs of the relationship that she and I shared.

I haven't spoken to L. since May of 1997. At that time, she had been a part of my life for over 10 years. My mother thinks that I should contact her... that I should make a way for us to mend the relationship and move on; for me, that is not possible. Every now and then I feel a little guilty that I have turned my back on her, but then I immediately come to my senses and realize that allowing her to be a part of my life would bring nothing but turmoil.

As I said yesterday, L. was not a stable woman. Looking back on it all, I think it was her goal to isolate me from everything I had known, and turn me into her daughter. She wanted to have her baby back and that was not going to happen. At 18, I had a mind of my own, something she clearly did not realize. When I moved into her home, we started off on steady ground. We enjoyed each others company and at times, I even called her mom. My sisters and I were getting along as well, and I loved my new cousins. As a 'family' we couldn't have appeared more tight-knit. I was so caught up in my new life, that I sadly did not find much time for my own mother. She would call and I would be out and about. By the time I returned home, it was too late to call her back. The next day, I'd run off and not even think about calling her. That would later come back to haunt me.

Let me back track a little... I was born in New Jersey and a great majority of my mother's family lives in New Jersey. Every summer we would go to NJ to spend time it with the family. Those were some of the best days of my life. Since I knew I was adopted (and from New Jersey), I would often walk around looking at people and wonder if they were related to me. "Is she my mother?" was often tied to every woman I saw. I also knew I was a bi-racial child, so that left everything wide open for me. I could (and did) connect myself to every woman who walked by me. When we went to NJ to meet L. and her family, we discovered that we were all practically neighbors. Her sister lived right down the street from one of my Aunts. Her brother shared a backyard with another Aunt of mine. My sister went to school with one of my cousins. L. herself lived on a street we drove up and down several times over. Talk about WIERD.

L. and I look just alike. Except, I look like a woman... a stunningly beautiful woman (not to brag) and she looks like she's my father. She not only looks manly, but she dresses like one as well. That was one of the clues that helped me realize that the lady living with her was more than just a friend. Everyone knew there was no truck driver boyfriend coming home "this weekend". I remember going to my younger sister K.'s school for a recital. L. told us all this was a big event and for us to wear our Sunday best. Well, shit, I am a girl from the 'burbs, so that to me meant to look really nice. As I was dressing K. in a nice outfit that I had bought her, L. comes out of her room dressed in a lime green suit. It was big and baggy. She had lime green shoes on with a matching P.I.M.P. Daddy hat. To make matters worse, the hat had a fucking feather in it. OMG! I nearly passed out at the sight of her. We headed over to the school, (I had put on a scarf and sunglasses to mask my identity a bit) and made our way into the auditorium. I was holding K.'s hand and people starting asking her if I L. and I were her mother and father. I kid you not. I had to take the scarf and glasses off so people could see I was a young girl. Once I did that, it really raised some eyebrows. I think people starting thinking I was a hooker and L. was my pimp. I had to get the hell away from her. Later on that evening, when we were back home, I was criticized for out-dressing everyone. No one mentioned the P.I.M.P. suit, so I kept quiet as well.

As time passed in NJ, I realized that as the "older sister" it didn't matter that I was not a part of their lives for 18 plus years. It was expected that I move in and pick up the role immediately. I was not very comfortable in this position. I didn't know them and they certainly did not know me. None of that mattered to them though. They all insisted on calling me by my birth-name which irritated the holy hell out of me. I could tell them 100 times a day that my name was Monique and it never fazed them. On top of that, as a complete stranger, I became a surrogate mother to my nieces and nephews. One of my sisters, who I'll call KK was a baby maker. She was having kid after kid after kid and the state was taking them away. After I moved in, she found herself pregnant again. She shared joint custody of one child and the rest were gone. Whenever her daughter came to visit, KK ignored her. It soon came to pass that the child started calling me mommy. The same thing happened with my brother�s daughter. I couldn't understand how someone could have a child and just not give a damn.

Once when my brother�s daughter came home she was crying a lot. No one could figure out what was wrong with her. Actually, no one cared. I went over to her and picked her up and she started screaming at the top of her lungs. This pissed my brother off greatly and he told me to put his child down. I told him that something was wrong with her, and we needed to find out what. He said no and sat her back down on the floor. After she continued to cry for another 10 - 15 minutes, I went and picked her up, took her in my room, and locked the door. I laid her on my bed and removed her clothes. I could see a little something around her waist so I removed her diaper as well. What I saw made me sick to my stomach. This baby had been burned and someone put Vaseline on it and then put tissue on it. No wonder she was screaming. As I was doing the search, my brother was pounding on the door yelling for me to let him in, so I did. I showed him the burn and he started screaming and crying about how he was going to kill the bitch. Huh? Yo!! Buddy!! Your kid has 3rd degree burns!!!

My brother proceeded to go out and share the news with the family while I dialed 911 for an ambulance. Now, in NJ getting the police or ambulance to come to your house is nearly impossible. You actually get put on hold and listen to music while you wait for someone. When I called, I was told to hold on, so I listened to music and tapped my foot. Someone finally came on, took my information and then informed me it would be about an hour and a half. I couldn't believe it. I dressed the baby and ran to the hospital. I kid you not.

I was at the hospital alone for hours while they examined her, called the police and got her a room. I was not her mother, but since no one else was there they allowed me to stay in the room with her. I was told that as soon as my brother or her mother arrived I would have to leave. No one showed up until the 3rd day and even then, they had no desire to stay with her. Not even L. It absolutely broke my heart. I ended up staying at the hospital for three weeks. I only left for about 2 hours every day so that I could go home and shower and grab something to eat and then I was right back at the hospital. After she was released from the hospital, she came home with me and I became her mother. We did everything together. It stayed that way for months until one day, her mother decided she wanted her back. As quickly as it all began, it ended. I fought to get her back, but no one would listen to me. The mother had some crazy bullshit story about an iron falling into the walker and how it was an accident. I guess DYFS was so overwhelmed with other cases that they let this one slip through the cracks. The hardest thing I ever had to do was drive over to that bitches house and hand her MY baby.

Several years later, I would receive a call from my brother asking me to take care of his child. By then I was married and about a year into my Baby-Making Quest. I knew that I would get caught up in her and she would be ripped from my arms, but it didn't matter. I felt I owed it to her.... After all, I was the one who put her back into whatever situation was causing them to call me (in Wisconsin) to rush to New Jersey. For years I had lived in guilt for not fighting harder for her. I owed her a chance at a normal life. The last thing on my mind was the hurt that would come from losing her all over again.

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