I was watching “Teen Mom on MTV.” Despite my horrible taste in TV shows, it made me really sad.

There is a young couple, seniors in high school, who gave up their daughter for adoption. Now, they’re upset that they don’t know their daughter’s last name, or that they can’t visit her, even though it’s an open adoption. They had her foot and hand prints, along with her first name and birthday, tattooed on their bodies. Her stepdad gives her a lot of trouble for giving the baby away…as in “how could someone give their child away? It’s not a toy, it’s a baby. And you have a tattoo of a kid you don’t even have. You can afford that, why can’t you afford a child, maybe you should have used protection.” Maybe they should have. It’s a really crappy thing.

I started to think about my birth mother. I bet she doesn’t even remember. And I bet she doesn’t miss me or feel guilty. I bet she has a great life, with a new husband and kids, and that big horrible secret from 25 years ago is gone now, and just a shadow of her old life. I know she didn’t even want to see me, or hold me when I was born. She had already told some people, half a world away, that they could have me, months before. It’s not some nice Juno story. It’s more of a nightmare.  And to think that she might have gotten paid for it makes me even more upset.

I want to know what made me so different from this baby. Why did this kid get a set of teen parents that care. I don’t know how people can not care. I always wanted to know why she didn’t love me. That bullshit about people loving you so much to give you away is precisely that, and I don’t believe in it. It’s not that I don’t love my family, it’s that I want to know why I had to have a replacement one. I don’t care if I would have had a poorer quality of life. That was my life, or the life that was supposed to be mine. And someone decided to take it from me. Even if intentions were good, as they always are, they still took something from me I’ll never be able to have. And I hate that.