I know we have a lot of strength left

This entry has been haunting me for weeks.  I don't really want to write it but it's sort of taken me over.  I tossed and turned in bed and finally got up, knowing it's got to come out.

"Give me these moments back..."

I'm already crying.

Friday, April 8 will mark the one year anniversary of the suicide of Cindy Jordan.

"I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking..."

I'm a member of several online adoption communities.  One of them is private.  To me, it is sacred.  It is a powerful group of women, birthmothers and adoptive mothers together.  A group of spiritual women, sharing their joys and their sorrows.  Cindy was a member of this group.

Cindy was a birthmother in a private adoption.  By the current definition, it was open.  Cindy had "matched" on the internet.  The adoptive couple made vague promises about visits in the future, about Cindy's teenage son being able to visit his soon to be born baby sister.  They helped her financially, they engaged her, they befriended her.  They assured her over and over that they would not disappear.

Cindy was not a naive 16-year-old.  She had two sons.  One of them lived with his father.  After her death, a family member of hers told me she couldn't have raised her daughter.  She thought she was doing the right thing.

Not too long after the adoption, Cindy was told by her daughter's adoptive mother that there would be no visits.  Her husband, the adoptive father, had not been clear, perhaps... maybe it was that Cindy's son had misunderstood.  But there would be no visits.  And the phone calls dried up.  One time Cindy e-mailed this woman to ask her if she could send her daughter a dress.  The adoptive mother's response?  "That's not necessary.  We are her parents now.  We purchase her clothes."  Cindy was told she would receive pictures twice a year.  April and October.  All the promises of friendship, of ongoing contact just sort of... disappeared.  The pictures did arrive, mostly on time.  Three or four at a time, some of them fuzzy.  Crumbs tossed to a starving woman.

In time, Cindy discovered that her daughter's adoptive mother had written a book about adoption.  Cindy got a copy of that book and was distraught to learn that the adoptive parents had essentially created an "action plan" for future adoptive parents.  The book described ways to smooth the path for adoption.  Cindy had been an experiment to them.   And it worked. 

I remember Cindy from the public group we were a part of.  I remember the cease-and-desist letter she got from the adoptive parents of her daughter, after they discovered her non-identifying entries on the public forum.  I remember her leaving the public group.

"All the things I should've said that I didn't say..."

I "saw" Cindy again in January of 2004, when I joined a private group, called TDKOL.  Soon after I joined the group, I posted my story as an introduction.  Cindy's response was immediate:  she wished that her daughter's adoptive mother could share something so intimate with her.  I immediately printed my story and sent it to Sweet Pea's birthmom.  Cindy and I e-mailed, briefly discussing getting coffee, since she was living on the north side of Atlanta.

In re-reading Cindy's posts now, I can see that in spite of everything her daughter's amom did, Cindy still believed in that woman's goodness.  Actually, Cindy saw everyone's goodness.  It was one of the things that made her so special.  Need a cheerleader?  Making a career change, having a bad day?  Cindy was there, known as "Jordanmode", with her distinctive blue font and her rainbow signatures.

"Oh, darling, make it go away..."

On April 9, 2004, I logged on to my computer at work.  As was my habit, the first thing I did was check in with TDKOL.  There was a new thread, titled 'Suicide'.  I opened it and... Cindy was gone.  Just like that.  She had died the day before.  The smart, beautiful, sensitive, passionate, troubled soul, just... gone.  Her teenage son found her body.

The outpouring of grief was intense.  We blamed the woman who adopted Cindy's daughter.  We just couldn't get a handle on it.  I guess that's what happens with suicide, isn't it?  The people left behind just wonder why, and what they could have done differently.

I remember calling *S*, our group's leader.  I woke her up after she had been up all night crying, but I didn't know what else to do.  I kept thinking, "I should have gone for coffee with her," but to think that that would have stopped her is probably grandiose thinking on my part.

"Give me your hand..."

Our group changed at that point.  We became closer than ever, a natural reaction to a shared tragedy.  But I have noticed in the last couple of months that activity has slowed.  I think everyone is thinking the same thing, but not saying it:  How can we feel this again?  How could this have happened?  How could we not have seen and why, Cindy?  Why?  Your children needed you.  Your family needed you.  We needed you. 

We still occasionally blame adoption.  Those of us who still participate in public forums are harsher with preadoptive parents who make light of a birthparents' pain, who contemplate closing adoptions.  We have seen firsthand the devastation behind unkept promises and broken hearts.  We learned our lesson well.

There is a website for Cindy, with a guestbook.  Read it, if you like.  www.rememberingcindy.com

So on this anniversary, I'd like to send a valentine, of sorts, to the women of TDKOL.  Because Cindy wouldn't want the group to fall by the wayside.  And I know we have a lot of strength left.

(press the 'play' arrow on the left)

Comments

[Lisa]

Oh Stacy, I remember this being discussed at the adoption.com forums and how upsetting it was. I'm so sorry for the loss of your friend.

What that people did is wrong, wrong, wrong. How can they sleep at night? I wish I still had some contact with Mia's birthmother, but I understand why she made the decision she did.

I think about her every single day and say a little prayer that she is happy and healthy and doing okay. But I still miss her and wish I could just say hello once in a while. She was my friend, you know?

A special prayer for Cindy.
xo,
Lisa

[Jensboys]

We all loved the same woman, we all grieve the same friend. We all feel the same loss, and sadly, the same guilt.

Cindy Jordan, may you rest in piece.

Thank You Stacy.

[Elizabeth]

You are all in my thoughts. What a terrible loss for so many... Bless you.

[Monique]

Thank you for this, Stacy. You said it so well.

The world is not the same without Cindy.

[cluttergirl]

What a very sad story. My brother committed suicide. He had invited my mother to the party at his place the night he died, but she hadn't accepted the invitation. Do I think he would still be here if she had gone? I don't know. Maybe he would have killed himself a week later. Or maybe he'd still be alive today. I suspect one reason Cindy couldn't parent her daughter according to her family member is because she was fragile like this. She left one son, who is to say she wouldn't have left the son and the daughter if she hadn't made an adoption plan. Or even if she had remained included in the adoptive family. No one knows. Having depression in my family, I know small things can unhinge a mind (a missed phone call, a card with grainy pictures), but also, even the most wonderful things in a time of depression are discounted and fail to raise spirits and love of life. To blame Cindy's daughter's adoptive parents is very sad, though an understandable reflex. Did they adopt in order to "use her as an experiment" to write a book? Very very unlikely. Did they write about their experience and hope to help others? Very likely. Do people lie and betray promises in adoption? Yes, as they do in marriage, parenting, friendship. Is that a horrid despicable thing? Yes it is. I would not condone reneging on agreements with birth parents. Do some birth parents become stalkers? I am sure they do, as do ex-husbands etc. Anyways, I am so sorry for Cindy, her friends and family, having lost my dear brother. May she rest in peace, and may her friends find peace among each other.