My daughter and my blog

Not that this is a very active blog, but six months after starting it, i finally told my daughter about it. Don't know why I hadn't told her about it before. Well, she was positive about it, and said she liked it. She said she thought it was a good place for me to post my writings. But she did then give me a serious look and ask if I really did feel like roadkill. I said yes, I do. I really do. As my friend A. says, "They killed us inside, left us the walking dead when they took our babies." I can watch extreme horror films without flinching, as that type of horror -- that type of living death and dismemberment -- is what they did to my soul the moment they took my child from me. I face that horror, live with it, every single day, the moment i look inside myself.

As a friend of mine, Vicki, once said,

"I have never lost a child to death other than miscarriages, so I may not know what I am speaking of, but I feel no-one comes close to our grief but the woman whose child was taken by a stranger. They are in the same limbo, dead or alive? Remember, when my child was taken there was no such thing as reunions. No reunion shows on TV or in the paper. No slip of paper was offered to me to sign in case my child comes to the adoption agency and wants to find me 20 years later. ... He was gone, just gone. Gone forever. ... forever ... I still went to fairs, etc. to sit on the bench to look at babies, toddlers, kids, to look and see if I thought I saw my baby ... They wrecked my life. They killed me that day. They just didn't bury me. That was their mistake."