One of my favorite new truisms is one that came to mind a few days ago. To quote myself, " the windshield was never the bug's original destination." Another fact that bears noting is that the bug doesn't hit the windshield. The windshield hits the bug.
Down here in FL we have a bi-yearly plague of little black monsters, so noxious that even the birds and dragonflies won't eat them. They leave purple stains on your pants if you happen to sit on one. Their corpses are corrosive and will eat through the paint on the front of your car, where they often are killed en masse, just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They bear a slight resemblance to fireflies but without the pretty phosphorescent tail. Their only objective is to mate and die, and many die before the job is done. They are called "Love Bugs."
Drive across a bridge over a lake or slow-moving river, like the St. John's, and you will encounter clouds of midges, non-biting mosquitoes, that sound like sleet hitting your windshield. They, too, have emerged from the waters to reproduce. They are, like the (eeeeewwww) Love Bugs, just doing what they were born to do.
So there these little aviators are, just doing their thing, looking for a mate or enjoying the purpose of their existence, when along comes this big, fast, shiny thing and Bam! Bye bye, Buggsy. The driver usually mutters a curse or two, turns on the windshield washer, and keeps rushing to whatever destination they are so bent on reaching.
Now isn't that a slice of life straight from the land of the exiled mother? We were just minding our own business, giving and hoping to receive the love of our fellas and bang! Out of the blue comes this behemoth of an industry, and we are smashed flat, dispossessed of our infants and left to wave feeble limbs in the breeze.
A couple of days ago, a number of us, at the invitation of the National Council For Adoption (the NCFA) who says they love to hear from (natural) mothers, posted our stories and our opinions at their Facebook page. Bug, meet Windshield. It only took them about 36 hours to remove some of the discussion comments, ban some of us from posting and make their page safe again for the entitled and the brainwashed. Wonder what they were afraid of? They invited us and we mothers and some adoptees, tired of the arrogance of this organization in presuming to speak for us, took them up on it.
Just yesterday, a very clever and witty woman decided it was time for the Bug to become the Windshield. There is now a Facebook page entitled "The National Council For Adoption Sucks." There is a lot of satire, sarcasm and timely truth to be read at that site. If the truth is not allowed at warm, fuzzy NCFA-Land, then we will tell it where we can. We have our blogs, our groups and now we have NCFAS. One way or another, we are going to be heard.
There was a time when I believed that this nation suffered from selective hearing. But the truth is that it also suffers from selective information. There is that which is allowed and that which isn't. Only the "good" beemommies with the party line etched into their brains are allowed to speak at the NCFA site.
There was this pearl of wisdom that really sent me into a choking fit, straight from the NCFA. They claim that "most (natural) mothers and adoptees are highly satisfied by their adoption experience." Yeah, right. And the Stepford wives loved being replaced by androids. There is so much truth denied in that one specious statement that I can't even begin to list the inaccuracies. It is an insult to every mother who ever mourned her lost child and every adopted person who felt a part of them was missing.
I think it is time that the industry, the NCFA, the Evan B. Donaldson Institute and the government of the US of A realized that the bug is morphing into one mother of a windshield. The more they try to discredit us, the more they try to speak for us rather than listening to what we have to say, the more we are going to press the issue.
I think the season of the windshield is upon us.