The internet brings instant and constant access to opinions you didn’t even know existed. Issues you thought had only one side have three at a minimum. 140 characters from a stranger can lead to sleeplessness, loss of appetite and increased heart rate.

Prior to being involved in adoption, I thought the public consensus was it was a beautiful thing. And I still hope that’s the general pulse. However, I was introduced to the anti adoption group during National Adoption Awareness Month.

Comments on a single post shot to 123 in an hour. Birth parents who did comment where told they should have had abortions, adoptive parents were told God made them infertile for a reason or called them baby stealers.

I’ve gone back and forth on how specific to be when describing the posts made on my agencies page and by the group posting on my agency page. These comments were put on photos of brand new families, on graphics stating adoption awareness month and blog posts by both birth and adoptive mothers.

I decided to just share the bingo board of responses to anti adoption comments.

I worried about Maeve’s birth parents having access to the page and seeing the hate spewed. I went down the dark rabbit hole that is the internet, reading about specific groups, looking at individual facebook pages and searching for answers. I wanted to understand. I found nothing but more questions and more anger.

I couldn’t sleep.

I wonder if they had an open or closed adoption.

I wonder how old they were when they were adopted.

I wonder how old they were when they found out they were adopted.

I wondered if as babies they screamed “Eeeeee!”‘with excitement as M does when she hears my footsteps coming towards her room.

I wonder if they have photos as I do of both of M’s birthparents looking at her with such love and pain.

I wonder if they all just went to the aquarium together like we all did, without it feeling weird or forced in anyway.

I wonder if my beautiful experience now will continue to be as beautiful.

I wonder if one day M might feel like I’m not her real mom. I wonder if she’ll wish her life was different.

I still wonder. I think that wonder worry is motherhood.

My action plan is to use this blog to give my voice a venue. I don’t want to get into debates on the comments section of a picture of baby feet making a heart. That would probably just lead someone to an imaginary bingo. I do want to express myself in a way that does answer rather than create more questions.

To be constantly continued.