(Birth) Moms ~ Search for Your (adult) Child!

from: Wild Women Sisterhood

FULL MOON PRAYER by Rumi

What in your life is Calling you,
When all the noise is silenced,
The meetings adjourned..
The lists laid aside,
And the Wild Iris blooms
By itself
In the dark forest...
What still pulls on your Soul?

Are you a mother who lost a child to adoption?  
Does your (now adult) child call out to your soul?  
Are you too afraid to answer that call?   
Please, PLEASE, do not give in to that fear.  
Yes, it is hard to face the loss and grief that has been buried for so very long.  
Yes, it is frightening to let the world know that which you were told to never speak of again.  

But.  
But...  
It is so very worth it!  

Your world may fall apart ~ only to find it's way back together again ~ this time whole. 
This time with no secrets.  This time with answers.  No more wondering, worrying.  No more fear.

For it's true,
The truth shall set you free. 


And.
And...
Your child deserves to know their answers.  Just as you do.
Deserves to see your face ~ if only once.  Just as you do to see theirs.

Most states do not give adoptees their birth information.  
No ~ the adoption agency lied.  They are not given their information when they turn 18.  
No ~ the adoption agency lied.  You will not be breaking the law by looking for them.

Do you feel the pull of your soul?
Do you yearn to know if your child is still alive?  Happy? Healthy?
Then search.  

If you can't search, make yourself "findable".
Register with ISSR
Register on adoption.com
Register with the adoption agency that facilitated your adoption.
Google your state, country, province and "adoption records", "reunion registry" to see your local laws and resources available.

Then go find healing, here are some ways to start:
Find other natural/first/birth moms online or in area support groups.  
Concerned United Birthparents
Read some books
Listen to some adoptee stories
Read some adoptee writings
Read some more books

Open your heart

Listen to the cries of your soul

Search

Leave A Trail ~ Be Found

Breathe

Step Into Your Feminine Power

I read a blog post tonight about stepping into your feminine power.  The title of the blog post is "Strong Like the Water". 

As I read this post, I found myself thinking that the authors words could be great inspiration for someone facing an unexpected pregnancy:

What is an empowered woman like?
I keep returning to this question and wondering. What is the nature of feminine power? Is it different from masculine power? Do we have any models?

What is more representative of the nature of feminine power than childbirth?  Is there anything that more differentiates feminine power from masculine power?  I think not. 

The author ponders on how to step more fully into her power, finding that answer in the element of water ~ from a small droplet to a raging waterfall:

Droplets of water were rolling from the soft moss into the lake. As I listened to their delicate music, I marveled at how these sweet droplets were made of the same stuff that filled the great lake, and which had, over millennia, carved the entire valley.

She goes on to compare that to the daily job of mothering:

I was put in mind of the daily tasks of mothering, which in themselves are so small, yet which add up to something great. ‘Take heart’, the droplets seemed to say. ‘Each sandwich made, each sock hung up to dry, each goodnight kiss is a droplet that partakes of the great lake of love, which has huge power.’ This put me in mind of Mother Theresa’s advice that we should not pursue “great deeds” but rather “small deeds with great love.”

It's Not About The Big Picture All At Once

Often a mother makes the mistake of going to an adoption agency or crisis pregnancy center when looking for advice and help while facing an unexpected pregnancy.  The problem with this is that they aren't there to offer help to that mom.  They aren't there to help her step into her power.  They are there to supply the adoption industry.  In order to do that they have to make the mother think that she isn't worthy of being a mother to her child.  One of the ways they frighten the mother into considering adoption is by having her look at the big picture of being a mother.  How much does it cost to raise a child?  How will you continue school/settle into your career/whatever while raising a child?  How will you work/go to school ~ do you want your child raised by a babysitter? And more...  Oh, so much more do they throw at you to make you feel unworthy...

It's About The Droplets Creating the Great Lake of Love

It's the love and care shown in the small every day tasks that put together has huge power.  It's the small deeds with great love.  You don't have to face the entire first 18 years of your child's life in the first day home from the hospital.  As quoted above ‘Take heart’, the droplets seemed to say. ‘Each sandwich made, each sock hung up to dry, each goodnight kiss is a droplet that partakes of the great lake of love, which has huge power.’


The selling of adoption makes you look at the big picture all at once in an attempt to take your power away. But it's the little pictures that matter. It's all the little pictures ~ taken one day at a time ~ that make up the big picture. The love given, the kisses goodnight, the diapers changed and the belly filled. The boo-boos kissed, the lessons taught.

       The joys of being a mother.

           The joys and privilege of living your feminine power.

                  Is there anything greater?

I think not

"The Strings of Life"

I stumbled onto the writing of Dabeshim a couple of days ago.  One of his poems caught me from the very first stanza.  I again am amazed at how the words of someone adopted can be so meaningful to me as a mother of adoption loss.  Below is the poem, interspersed with my own rambling thoughts brought to mind as I read the words. 

There once was a day

The winds were cold, darkness creped as far

As the inside, It had its say

We did as others wished

Serving them on a golden dish.

We knew no other way.

Like marionettes we lived,

Upon the Strings of Life.

Giving no thought at all.

The Florence Crittenton building was a big, old brick building. Dark. Cold. Always. Not the temperature, it was the atmosphere in that building…

I did only as they wished. As society expected of me. I made sure to let them all know that I wasn’t “one of those girls”. I really was a good girl, not a crack-whore. I really did love my baby, I really only wanted the best for him ~ It wasn’t at all that I didn’t want to be a mom, it wasn’t that I wanted to have a life full of fun instead of responsibility. I proved that I really did love my baby, loved him even more than I loved myself. I served my son up to the adoption industry on a golden dish…

What a good marionette I was, right in line being the good birthmother without any further convincing necessary. I already knew that there was no way I would raise a child in the way I was living. I knew that the only way I would be able to raise my child would be to move out of the house, and that would have been impossible on my own. I gave no thought towards the future, only to finishing what I had started by becoming pregnant while unmarried and young. No thought was given to what it would actually be like to give birth to my child, much less live without him. No thought was given to the fact that I couldn’t really ensure that my child would have a better life. No thought was given to what an adoptees life was like, how their life was affected by adoption. I was just following along with what was expected of me, like a marionette I lived…

I returned to school that fall unable to really be myself. I was sure that any classmates who knew of my pregnancy thought of me as either the classic whore or as a heartless person who gave her child away. I never breathed a word of my son to anyone afterwards, losing the freedom to be myself. Always fearful that someone would find out the truth. In addition, without even realizing it, my heart was locked up tight in order to not fully feel the loss of my son. How heavy was the weight of that prison I imposed on myself…

For our own freedom, our own call.

Now after so many years

I awoke to see that the power to live is

In you and in me.

We could be

Light as the air

With the wind through your hair

Free to move, here and there.

There and here, everywhere.

Now that we are no longer tied to the loom.

We can go from room to room.

We are Free at last,

no more strings of life to hold us down,

making us like clowns

In the moment of reading the first emails telling me that my son was looking for me, I awoke. I awoke from 30 years of denial and felt the power, the freedom, of living in my truth. I felt as light as air ~ the weight of that self-imposed prison was lifted. Once I had the chance to bask in the joy and treasure this new life that now included my first born son, I wanted to share the news with everyone. Christopher himself told me that I could go stand on the sandhills of Nebraska and yell the news out to the world. I was no longer tied to the loom that was labeled birthmother. The loom of shame. Shame that wasn’t mine to take on, but that I willingly accepted from the judgment of our society. The loom of despair and grief from the loss of my son ~ loss that I wasn’t even allowed to speak of. Loss that nobody in society sees, much less understands to have any empathy for. (Except for the others who live with the loss of adoption that is)

In talking to the search angel who matched our profiles, I felt as though I had beaten the system. Even though deep down I knew it wasn't true, the remnants of former beliefs were still there. I had believed the social worker when she told me it would be against the law to ever look for my son. Taking on that lie, it tied me further to the loom of adoption loss. Now here I was, being told by an angel named Kim that my son had been searching for me for a while, was very excited and waiting to finally hear from me. Just as I had been tied to the loom of adoption, so had he. In the finding, we were both freed from the looms, we were free to go from the room of secrecy into the room of truth.

The past is the in the past

None of that matter anymore

Yesterday is out the door

Let’s make the most of now

Since time doesn’t last

We made our own many mistakes

Sacrificed the best of ourselves at the stake

Yet we are free now to move every which way

To say what we want to say

no more strings of life to tie us down

making us look just  like clowns

Yes ~ the past is in the past. I can’t get back those lost years with Christopher. I made my mistakes. Many mistakes were made in the years after I lost Christopher to adoption. My biggest wish is that I had been strong enough to live my truth, instead of hiding from it.  For I wasn't really hiding from it.  It was always there, just under the surface, just out of reach of my conscious being.  I not only sacrificed my son, I sacrificed my authentic self. Being silent after the loss of my son to adoption only allowed the myths to continue. Being silent gave the impression that losing my son to adoption was ok. Being silent kept the tremendous loss and grief hidden. Did another mother go on to choose adoption because she saw that my life did seem to go on as before after losing my son to adoption? I will never know. But I do feel that I fed the adoption industry with my silence. The strings tying me down are gone, I am free now to speak of my experience. I am free to speak of the child, now a grown man, forever lost to adoption. There are no self or society imposed strings keeping me silent now. I speak out of the truth of adoption loss on my life. I speak out not because it can change anything for us ~ but maybe I can change something for another mother, for the children of that mother. I speak out now to help another living with the loss of adoption to free themselves from their own loom, to no longer be a marionette of the adoption industry.

We are as light as the air

With the wind through your hair

We have no more cares

That will hold us and keep us,

From ourselves,

like marionettes up on the shelves.

Oh you must believe me!

Oh can you see me?

Can you hear this song I sing?

It brings me here to you!

The strings of life have all disappeared

The strife we lived, sheared and blown away

We are free now to move every which way

To say what we want to say

no more strings of life to tie us down

lifting us high above the ground

We are free now to just be. The strings of adoption no longer control us as though we are only marionettes. I am his mother, he is my son. I love Christopher no less than the children I raised. The strings of adoption could take away my legal rights, but could never take away my love for him.

Oh come with me

And Fly! You will see

The music is playing, the choir is saying

We are Light as the air

The wind through your hair

Free to move, here and there.

There and here, everywhere.

With no more ties

Gone are The Strings of Life.

………………………………

© 2012 Dabeshim

Thank you for sharing these beautiful, yet haunting, words Dabeshim. Thank you for allowing me to ramble on and write of how the words touched my heart.

"The Strings of Life" by Dabeshim at http://anunrequitedlife.wordpress.com/2012/02/22/the-strings-of-life/ 

Letting Go

From this quote at the very beginning of the blog post on Metta Drum, I was intrigued...

We only become what we are by the radical and deep-seated refusal of that which others have made of us.

Jean-Paul Sartre

The following is my rambling brain trying to talk my way through the meaning of Daniel's post (which is in the brown all-caps text) in regards to my life.   This post is just a rambling mess, as are my thoughts...

Lately I've been exploring this idea of transformation as letting go. Letting go of what I no longer resonate with, and nurturing the deeper "me" underneath all that, instead of trying to patch myself up in an attempt to become something new and improved. 

I did let go of that confused, scared, all-alone-in-the-world 15 year old girl who had to give her son up for adoption.

Now I want to let go the wanting more.  I know that there IS no more to be had.  In order to have the more that my heart and soul search for, I would have had to raised my son. In order to have more, my son would also want to have more.

I want to let go of the hurt.  Is there a way to heal the hurts of losing a child to adoption?  Not to just accept it, but to heal it?

I feel that I am a new and improved version of myself ~ having come out of the adoption closet, out of the denial, I've gotten rid of the false beliefs.  But is there more than that?  Can I get to the deeper “me” underneath all of that?

Scraping the layers of paint and dirt off of the mirror, so to speak.

I think we lose sight of who we are when we find ourselves identifying with the paint and the dirt. We think all those layers of "stuff" define us, and then we feel defective. So we try to become less of this, and more of that.

In this way, we continually create a distorted, unsatisfying sense of Self.

You won't find any long-term solutions in the less of this, more of that approach. Instead, consider the idea that the You you've been searching for is already present within you, just waiting for conscious connection. Let go of the idea that you need fixing, because deep down, you aren't really broken. 

Am I really not broken?  I'm Christopher's mother ~ I gave birth to him.  Yet I didn't raise him.  Yet my heart and soul feel him as my son.  Yet...  It's an endless circle.

The truth of the matter is that I gave birth to a son who is not in my life as my soul yearns for him to be.  Is the conscious connection that needs to be made just the "knowing" that I am indeed a mother to my firstborn child?  That I'm not just a "birthmother"  (God, I HATE that word!)  I think I have scraped some of the layers off ~ I no longer look at myself as a "birthmother", I now know that I was always much more than the egg donor and incubator I believed I was.

Is it that the me I've been searching for is already present in me ~ just the knowledge and belief that I am and was always his mother, despite signing those damn papers?

Is the idea that  I need Christopher to truly be a part of my life in order to be "fixed" a false idea?  In writing out all of my pondering here, the answer to that is yes.  In the creating and giving birth to him I am his mother.  No, not in the way that I wish with all of my heart that I could have been, but signing a piece of paper didn't unbirth him from me.  It didn't take away my motherhood, it took away my parenthood.

You've only taken on layers of concepts, habits and dogmas that aren't serving you, and certain basic needs have gone unmet for awhile.

So begin to strip away those layers that you've built up over the course of your lifetime and discover the truth of who you are.

While I know I am so much more than a mother who lost her son to adoption, it is the biggest part of me.  Isn’t it?  I feel that it is.  It effects everything I do, everything I think, everything I am…

For example: Instead of trying to be less argumentative and more understanding of the viewpoints of others, simply let go of the need to always be right, the need to win. Underneath that, you may discover a fear that you aren't being heard, a fear of being invisible and unimportant. This fear may reveal the need for a very specific type of self-love — and once you understand where nurturing and healing are needed, you can begin your work of letting go at the source.

In being less argumentative and more understanding of the viewpoints of others in adoption, should I let go of the need to speak out of the truth of adoption loss for the mothers and adoptees?  To me it doesn’t feel like a need to always be right, it feels as though it’s a truth that needs to be told and understood.

I DO fear that I’m not being heard.  I do have the fear of being invisible and unimportant.  It’s not really a fear though...  I feel that it’s just the truth.  As far as being a mother of adoption loss, we are not listened to.  The loss that I live with every minute of every day is unimportant to anyone who believes or needs to believe in the institution of adoption.  The rainbows and sunshine of adoption are so prevalent, so deeply engrained in everything/everyone.  Except those who live with the loss of adoption.

I will admit that I do have a fear of being invisible and unimportant ~ To Christopher.  So what does that fear reveal?  What kind of self-love is even possible to overcome that?  Where do I let in the nurturing and healing for that?  What is the source of that?  How do I begin the work of letting go at the source if the source is the very soul of me, of my motherhood?

That's just one example, but it illustrates the process of letting go of the outermost layers of "stuff" and revealing the deeper issues underneath, where you can discover your root needs and begin to nurture them. This is where true healing and transformation take place. This is where your higher Self is waiting to emerge.

My root needs...  to have my son in my life.  Which he is.  Kinda.  I know where he is.  I know of his life.  And I am so very thankful for that.

The problem there is that my heart, soul, and every cell of my body feels for him as a son.  No differently than the sons I raised.  I didn't raise Christopher though...  so our relationship is...  less than?  Less than I want it to be, less than I need it to be.  Maybe that's what I have to finally accept?  That it will never, can never be, what I want/need it to be? To be completely honest with myself, right now I don't even know if what we have now is a relationship at all...

This will not be a comfortable process. You may stir up some scary, negative stuff. You may experience some very unpleasant awakenings that shake you to your core. But on the other side of this discomfort and this work, enlightenment and healing are possible. 

I have never really grieved the loss of my son.  I live with the grief, but I haven't experienced the grief.  I'm scared to allow myself to face it.  That deep, dark hole of despair.  As I referred to in another post, I'm scared of facing it because I'm scared that I won't be able to come out of it.  I fear that it's going to envelope me completely instead of just chewing me up and spitting me out. 

It won't be easy, no. But it will be worth it.

Begin the process of letting go of what you are not, and uncovering your neglected/abandoned needs. Nurture and clarify your true Self in this way. The process of transformation is really a process of discovery and refinement of who you truly are.

Today, you are not asked to change in order to become a better version of yourself. You are free to simply let go of what isn’t You. Free to let go of what isn’t magnificent and beautiful. Free to delight in the nakedness of You. The beauty and excellence of You. The fullness of You. 

Let go of what isn't me...  Let go of what isn't magnificent and beautiful...  Writing and contemplating on this entire post, I come up with two things that I need to let go of. 

The grief and loss that are trapped inside of me, unable to be expressed. 

The expectations of having "more" with Christopher. 

What if in finally allowing myself to acknowledge, feel, and express the deeply buried grief I sink into the despair, never to find my way out of the depths?
How do I let go of Christopher?  Again?  This silence is killing me.  Because I am wanting more.  So, do I just accept that there is nothing more to have, walk away and hope that one day he will again come into my life?  Do I just let go and let God?  Just as before when I went back to my life before I gave birth and gave away my first born son?  Shall I now just try to go back to my life before reading those emails on January 16th 3 years ago?  Walking away from my son again?  Is it walking away if he doesn't want me to be a part of his life? 

I thought that working through this post of Daniel's, it could help me work through some of my confusion.  I'm still confused...  Do I write Christopher a letter asking him what he wants out of this relationship?  Do I force a visit on him to discuss it in person?  Do I just go into silence as he has? 

Do I walk away from all things adoption?  The forum, the blogs...   In order to try to get back to life before reunion, I would have to.  To accept my life without keeping that adoption wound open, I would have to.  Or not?  Even if I don't keep picking at that scab, will it ever heal? 

Putting Up Walls

I had some comments on my last post that I was going to reply to, but decided to write a new post instead. 

First, about comparing reunions.  

I was generalizing in my thoughts about the different things I read at FMF.  There are many who do not fall into the "worst case scenario" when it comes to reunion, but there are many who do.  I want any expectant mother considering adoption who may stumble onto my blog to know the possibilities of "what may be" if they allow adoption into their lives.  They are not giving up their motherhood for only 18 years, it may be forever.  Reunion isn't a sure thing.  Growing a loving relationship after reunion isn't a sure thing. 

Isn't that part of what is so hard in navigating through a reunion?  There is nothing to compare to.  There are also no "rules" to follow.  When there are no rules or nothing to compare your reunion to, there is no real way to go into reunion except with trial and error.  Hopefully the error isn't enough to completely de-rail the reunion.  What works for one person will horribly fail for another.  All we can hope for is that all parties are in it for the best, and are willing to get to know each other despite ourselves.

Now for the part that has really been bothering me.

Putting up walls.

Linda said... I love the "I took the baby I gave up for adoption out of the day" comment. Once I let go of the baby who was given up for adoption (me) it really helped me. I cannot change what my Mother went through, and I cannot change what was done to me. It's taken me 45 years to get to this point.

I don't remember who it was that gave me that advice.  To take the baby I gave up out of my reunion with Christopher.  It was the best advice I received, and was a tremendous help to me when I was first navigating through reunion.  It helped me be happy to get to know the young man who Christopher is, instead of only being sad about the baby who grew up without me.  It didn't always help, there were and still are times it is impossible to take the baby out of the equation.  I love Linda's words "I cannot change what my Mother went through, and I cannot change what was done to me" ~ substitute son for mother, and it's taken me 48 years to get to this point!

lolokey said... I wasn't sure, so I went back and checked. When you met your son for your first f2f he told you one of the conditions was that you couldn't cry! Maybe you put that wall up at his request, not yours? (which by the way is a very maternal thing to do!)

Yes, that was his one condition to meeting that October day last year.  He said I couldn't cry.  Which I didn't think was going to be a problem, as I have been unable to cry in front of anyone for years.  I had become an expert at putting up the walls and not letting out my emotions.  So having Christopher put that request out there only made it more necessary for me to put and keep that wall up.  It became necessary to me to completely take that baby out of the day, in order to make it through meeting the wonderful young man without tears for the baby I lost. 

The thing that really bothers me though is that I have become so good at burying the emotions.  I feel as though it's emotionally unhealthy for me, it makes me angry at myself, it just plain drives me crazy that I don't/can't cry over all of this.  Or is it?  Am I mental (quit nodding), or is it something else?

lolokey said...I struggle with putting walls up as well. Maybe the most important thing is that we allow ourselves to feel the emotions, not beat ourselves up about when we do (or don't) feel them. Maybe we can start to learn to see our walls as a place to lean on when we need support and not use them to protect ourselves.

Is my lack of crying because I buried the tears?  Or have I actually come to a place of.... acceptance?  Maybe I need to quit beating myself up for what I think is not feeling the emotions.  I do feel love, fear, worry, etc. for Christopher, for all the loved ones in my life.  Have I been leaning on my walls, not hiding behind them?  This all sounds so stupid when I go back and read these last words.  I so wish that I was able to get the swirling thoughts out of my head and into a sentence that makes sense when written!!  I guess what I need to do is take lolokey's advice and not beat myself up for not feeling the emotions.  Because maybe that's not what's going on after all. 

*sigh*

I wish there was a guide book for all of this...

Susie

Thoughts from First Mother Forum

Over at First Mother Forum there have been some great posts about adoption reunion.  If any of you reading here don't know about this wonderful blog, you need to go check it out, it's one of my favorites.  The blog posts are great, the comments on them are just as good.  Several things on these recent posts had me wanting to comment, so I thought I would just write about them here. 

We natural mothers long for a kind of normalcy with our reunited daughters and sons that we cannot have. What has gone on before will not allow it.

Oh how I long for "normalcy".  Even though I know normalcy is unrealistic ~adoption takes away any sense of normal.  Adoption is not normal...

A comment from Von:  I think we all long for normalcy, but for many adoptees, most if not all, it is not possible, never will be because of the loss which reunion never 'cures', makes up for or deletes.  How to trust someone who walked out on us?

I hope that Christopher trusts me.  I hope he believes my promise to only be honest with him, no matter what he may ask.  I hope he knows that I won't ever walk out on him again.  (Just had a thought ~ maybe he thinks it isn't a good thing that he will never be rid of me!  Poor kid is stuck with me forever!)

Kristie says: I don't believe that adoptees go "in and out", "advance and retreat". We just live as we always have, not knowing where exactly we belong, trying to protect ourselves all along the way.

 So how exactly does any reunion go smoothly? If both of us are trying to protect ourselves along the way?  How do we get "beyond" that?  God, what I wouldn't give to be able to sit down with Christopher and have an honest to goodness "heart to heart" and just get it all out there without either of us taking anything the wrong way, without either of us hearing something in a hurtful way when it's not meant to be hurtful. Maybe one day...

Kristi says: But the reality is that .... For you, we are that missing part of yourself that was ripped from your body. To us, you are a curiosity - "who, what, why, when, how and where" is what we really want to know. 

This is something I wish that every expectant mother considering adoption could know, I mean really and truly KNOW.  I wish that I could have known this before reunion, before my heart went all out crazy thinking I had my son fully back in my life.  Not all adoptees feel this way, but many do.  Then there are the adoptees who do not feel this way, but will never let us know differently out of fear of being rejected again.  Or out of fear of being unloyal to the mothers who raised them.  This is a possibility that we must be ready for though ~ we may only be to our sons and daughters the answers to long wondered questions.  They already have a mom who they love and who fully loves our sons and daughters in return.  Our sons and daughters may never have had, may never have, a need for a mother/son mother/daughter relationship with us.  I've touched on this topic before ~ I'm not saying it's "wrong" for an adopted person to feel this way, it's just a possible truth in adoption.

 "We cannot sustain a loving heart in a constant state of confusion and imbalance. We start setting up our own protective walls."

I have done that. Built the walls. Again. The love I feel for Christopher, that I can't express, because some don't understand ~ and worse, the others who don't care to try to understand. It's just too much sometimes to deal with ~ it's easier if I push it down, bury it, keep it hidden behind those protective walls. I wish that it could be like it was when first in reunion again...  I find myself hiding the depths of my feelings from Christopher himself.  Sadly, I think I started building up the walls at a time that most people would begin tearing them down.  On the day that we were finally going to meet in person for the first time.  The only way I knew I would be able to make it without crying is if I wouldn't let the reality of the moment sink in.  So I buried it.  Made the meeting "less than" in my mind.  And heart.  I didn't allow myself to think about the past, I took the baby I gave up for adoption out of the day.  I was simply meeting the young man I had been happily getting to know through many emails.  I hate that I did that.  I hate that my "survival mode" is so strong that it could take over such a huge moment in my life.  I hate to admit this to myself, much less put it out there in writing.  (I will be surprised if I don't erase this last bit before posting!)

 From a comment, which sums this all up so very well (my emphasis): 

..This, I believe, is not intentional on most people's parts. It is part of the dysfunction of adoption. What happened to us was so incredibly unnatural. In more civilized societies, children and parents would never be legally banned from knowing each other even if other people are doing the upbringing of the child. The inhumanity is damaging and reunification is anything but simple.

-Mara

Smashing Fun House Mirrors

I often find myself identifying with the words of other first moms.  It used to be such a surprise to me that someone else felt the way I did about or because of adoption loss.  I am no longer surprised when I read the words of my heart and soul expressed by another mother.

I am often surprised though when I read the words of an adoptee and find myself identifying with something they have written regarding adoptions effects on them.  Kevin Hofmann's latest post "Smashing Fun House Mirrors" had me surprised again.  Kevin is speaking about his experience as a panel member at a camp for teen adoptees.

As another panel member was speaking, Kevin found his mind wandering ~

 I was still part of the conversation but preoccupied with other thoughts.

 About 10-12 beautiful adoptees sat in front of me ranging from ages 13-17,  and mostly female.  The thought that keep bouncing around in my head made me sad and very reflective.  I wondered if the kids knew just how beautiful and special they all were.  Churning over and over in my head was the thought of myself at their age.  That split from my first mother played itself out over and over and over in friendships and relationships in ways that I was blinded to at their age but in ways that are so clear to me today.  The fracture of the very first relationship I ever had tilted every other relationship since then.

After I gave birth to my firstborn son and walked out of that hospital alone, I felt as though I was a different person.  A broken and fractured person who would never be whole again.  The split from my son played itself out over and over again later in my own life as a parenting mother.  I was blinded to it when my children were young, but now that I have "come out of the fog" of my adoption loss, I see it.  I see many places where the fracture of the very first maternal relationship I ever had tilted my relationships with not only my raised children, but with most of the people in my life.
  

The subtle whispering that crept through my thoughts convinced me of a picture of myself far different than was actually there.  It was as if I stood in front of a fun house mirror everyday and the image that reflected back to me was distorted.  It was this image that I took with me everyday that told me I wasn’t good enough; I wasn’t worthy.  This image and subliminal understanding affected how I interacted with people.  It created an invisible line that I rarely would cross.  My relationships and friendships were superficial and kept at a safe distance.  This protected me from the rejection that I feared and came accustomed to expect.  If I only waded in to relationships, I couldn’t be drowned by the rejection that was sure to follow.  So I stood back, and watched as others formed deeper relationships and wondered why I couldn’t do the same.  I wondered why my emotional roots only went down so far and others had deep strong giant oak-like roots that drew people in and hugged them.  

From the very moment I gave birth, when my son was no longer "of me", I felt exactly as Kevin wrote above.  Kevin is speaking from the break with his mother, but his words also speak for me from the break with my firstborn child.

I did not realize how much the loss of Christopher effected my life until we were reunited.  The day I read the emails from the search angel and Christopher changed my life.  For the first time in almost 30 years my heart was flooded with love.  It was as though my heart opened wide and was finally able to fully accept love from others and also fully give my love to others.  I was finally able to acknowledge the deep and never ending love I felt for the child I gave up, the child that society told me I should have been able to forget.  I felt as though my heart was too big to stay contained within my chest.  I realized that I had even been holding myself back from fully loving or being loved by my husband and children.

This post by Kevin really hit me hard.  It has taken me several days of pondering to even attempt to write about.  Not only because of the parallels that it held for me in my life as a first mom, but also because of the raw emotions it brought to me regarding the children we gave up.

It is so hard to know that what I chose as the "best thing" for my son could have caused such deep problems instead.  It cuts me to the quick when I learn of an adoptee who has the deep wound of feeling unworthy because their mother gave them up for adoption.  For I am "one of them" ~ the mothers who caused those wounds.

As I continued to read, I became inspired by Kevin's words.  By his realization of the teens' altered self-images and the fact that he wanted to share with them the truth of their images.

The fun house mirror that I constantly struggle with is making house calls to generations behind me and I wanted to stand up and tell one adoptee at a time that the reduced image of themselves was altered.  The image that I see of them stands taller, is more capable, is funnier, kinder, more powerful, and their REAL potential is so bright it was burning my corneas.
I wanted to shout down the whispers that began at that initial separation from their first mother that says they are not good enough.  I wanted to summon all the strength I’ve gained from my own powerful introspection and use it to strangle the exterior coy messages that support those whispers.

“They are better than the image they see,” 

What a wonderful message Kevin.  I wish that all of the teens in your groups, that all adoptees struggling because of the loss of their natural families could know that.

I think this is also a great message for mothers considering adoption ~ if they could see their true image then perhaps it would keep an infant with their image intact. 

If you aren't a reader of Kevin's blog "My Mind On Paper", please go read this entire post, you won't be disappointed.

Susie

Looking For Moms Who Chose Adoption While Parenting Older Children

I follow the blog "wsbirthmom".  The blog is written by a mom who is raising an elementary aged daughter and chose adoption for her son born earlier this year.  She is looking for other mothers of adoption loss who are raising their older children. 

I just thought I would help her spread the word!  

Looking for birthmothers who are parenting older children

Susie

I was reading the words of an adoptee the other day, I read these words and found myself nodding in agreement:

No one believes me that my mother is an ordinary woman. An ordinary person who cares for her children. But that can’t be true, because she gave me up. So she loved me enough to give me up but not enough to keep me – yet she’s “okay” because she kept her other children – but because she kept her other children and didn’t keep me, she’s seen as an abnormal woman.

She gave me up and kept two others, so there is something wrong with her. She didn’t love me enough, she loved me selflessly, she loves me but just not as much as her other children, she was foolish for not being able to take care of me, etc etc.

 It took me a few days of reading and re-reading this post to figure out what exactly had me going back to it.

It's no wonder that the average Joe has these beliefs about mothers who have given a child up for adoption.  I myself believed these things for many years.  I didn't think I was "good enough" when parenting my raised children because after all, I had given my firstborn child away.  There was something wrong with me because I was stupid enough to get pregnant so young in the first place, then to top it off I gave him up for adoption ~ making my "mistake" even worse.  How could anyone look at me as an "ordinary woman" when I had failed my firstborn son so badly??  How could I ever be considered to be a good mom to my raised children when I had failed my firstborn so badly??  I doomed him to be an illegitimate child, to life as an adoptee.  I told myself that I chose adoption out of love for him ~ but if I really loved him, wouldn't I have done everything possible to raise him?  I didn't even know if he really did get that "better life", if he really did have great parents who were better than I could have been.  How could I have put such blind trust in complete strangers? Is there anything less "ordinary" than that for a mother? 

I still found myself going back to Mei-Ling's post with an unsettled feeling.  I went back to read the post yet again, and saw it this time:

Granted, when I see the statement “a mother kept one child but gave up the other[s]“, it does make me wonder. All the intellect in the world doesn’t matter when semantics come into play. And oh lord, does it ever make me hurt for the day the relinquished child will discover their mother kept siblings. Because I know how it feels, and it can be excruciatingly painful to witness that, to have to live with the knowledge that you were given up but your siblings weren’t, so you’re automatically deemed as less worthy. I know how it feels to be an outcast, to be fed crumbs and know you only get those crumbs out of pity.

…..

Case in point: If my mother woke up tomorrow and got in a traffic accident on her way to work and ended up in a hospital overnight with a severe brain injury, how would I know?

Quite simple: I wouldn’t. Because I was relinquished and I’m not part of the “real” family over there in the way my kept and raised siblings have been.

…..

Because a mother who has given up a child and who ultimately kept her other children, is not worthy. Our brains give us all the legitimate, politically correct terms the whole wide world has to offer, but at the heart of it all, the raw truth is that it translates to:

Your mother didn’t care enough.

 
That was it.  The fear I had about reunion.  The fear that my son would one day find out I had gone on and raised three children after I gave him up.  I was so very fearful that he would be angry about that.  So fearful that he would hate me for that. I was terrified that Christopher would think that I didn't care enough. 

This one single post of Mei-Ling's touched on so many things for me.  So many of the beliefs I had for so many years after giving my son up, beliefs that changed dramatically after we were reunited. 

And so this gives free rein to the stereotypes, the misconceptions. This gives others the mindset that they can say whatever they want, no matter how true or false or exaggerated it may be. Because all they see is:

Mother gave up her child and kept the other children.

And they think:

Who does that?!

No one cares to know, either.

Because the truth, intellect doesn’t matter. No amount of intellectual explanation matters. The law says she didn’t have enough money. The law says she didn’t have any support. The law says “You need to realize not all parents can care for their kids.” The law says “We shouldn’t have to give a damn about parents who end up in situations where they can’t care for their kids.” The law says “That’s your explanation, we found good parents for you, so what’s your problem? Your mother couldn’t care for you. Not our fault.”

Christopher did get great parents, he did have a great childhood ~ so what's my problem? 

And then, coincidentally, the law says “Other people wish to become parents. Other people want a child to love.” That’s the explanation.

Adoption narrative: The law says “We shouldn’t have to give a damn about parents who end up in situations where they can’t care for their kids.” -> And then, coincidentally, the law says “Other people wish to become parents.”

I hope and pray that through this blog a mother facing an unexpected pregnancy may find the information to make a TRULY and FULLY informed decision for or against adoption.  I hope and pray that these mothers will find the resources to learn about how adoption will really effect herself and the precious child she is carrying, that she can be directed to the support she needs to keep her family intact.  It is not only the natural parents who are deceived by the adoption industry, it is also the adoptive parents who are not told the truths of adoption.  I hope that people can come to realize that the adoption industry and our laws regarding domestic infant adoption in the U.S. are not about a mother, about the family, needing to be cherished and preserved.  DIA has become about the attorneys and agencies ensuring their multi-billion dollar incomes through the women and men who want to add a child to their family through adoption. 

After seeing what I have seen on the blogosphere, and the amount of discussion pertaining to the intellectual and semantic conflicts in adoption, the question is no longer: If my mother loved me, why did she give me up?

I know my mother loved me. I looked her in the eye and I knew she loved me, without any outside influence.

The question is now:

My mother loved me. So why wasn’t she supported to keep me?

I hope and pray that Christopher does truly know how much

I always have and always will love him.

Susie

 

"You Haven't Seen The Last Of Me"

I LOVE the movie Burlesque!  I was listening to the soundtrack this morning as I was getting ready for work. 

As I listened to the song "You Haven't Seen The Last of Me", I immediately thought of a friend from an on-line forum I belong to.  She has taken a break from the forum, as the happy-dappy adoption attitudes and the ap's who like to label us as "bitter birthmoms" have taken their toll on her.   I then thought of all of us strong women who are surviving adoption loss ~ the moms and the adoptees.  For I believe that we ARE strong, even when we are feeling weak.   And that is why I am so very thankful for all of the on-line friends I have met in adoption blog-land.  When I am feeling weak, feeling brought down to my knees and past the point of breaking, all of them, all of you lift me back up again ~ you are my strength until I can stand up on my own again! 

"You Haven't Seen The Last Of Me"

Feeling broken
Barely holding on
But just there's something so strong
Somewhere inside me.
And I am down, but I'll get up again.
Don't count me out just yet

I've been brought down to my knees
And I've been pushed right past the point of breaking,
But I can take it.
I'll be back -
Back on my feet
This is far from over
You haven't seen the last of me.
You haven't seen the last of me.

They can
Say that
I won't stay around
But I'm gonna stand my ground
You're not gonna stop me.
You don't know me, you don't know who I am.
Don't count me out so fast.

I've been brought down to my knees
And I've been pushed
right past the point of breaking,
But I can take it.
I'll be back -
Back on my feet
This is far from over
You haven't seen the last of me.
There will be no fade-out
This is not the end
I'm down now
But I'll be standing on top again.
Times are hard but
I was built tough.
I'm gonna show you all what I'm made of.

I've been brought down to my knees
I've been pushed
right past the point of breaking,
But I can take it.
I'll be back -
Back on my feet
This is far from over

I am far from over...

You haven't seen the last of me.

No, no,
I'm not going nowhere.
I'm staying right here!
Oh no,
You won't see me beg
I'm not taking my bow
Can't stop me
It's not the end
You haven't seen the last of me
Oh no
You haven't seen the last of me
You haven't seen the last of me

(Doll ~ I'm so thankful for FaceBook ~ I wasn't ready to see the last of you!)

Susie

Alone ~ Words of Anguish

A friend of mine from a forum for moms wrote a beautifully haunting post the other day.  I can't get it out of my head.  I asked her for permission to post it here, as I think it is something that needs to be read by many.

My opinions on adoption loss, as well as my stance on family preservation are often said to be irrelevant.  My opinion, the opinions of other mothers who lost children to adoption decades ago, are dismissed as not relevant because "adoption is different" now.  That is a whole different post though.  This post is about the loss experienced by "new" mothers of adoption loss being no different than those of us who have lived with it for decades.  It is painful, it is agonizing.  How anyone can dismiss the grief of another is beyond me.

Here are the words of a mother who lost her child to adoption just over two years ago.

I feel so alone now,
The days pass by so slowly.
I feel I have been left behind,
Forgotten and pushed to the back of your mind,
The gift I gave you,
Has taken a huge toll
On my mind, body, spirit, and soul.
I alone paid the price,
Made the ultimate sacrifice.
And you were the only ones with something to gain,
I'm the one left with the pain.
The days drag on,
Until each one combines into the next one.

And I feel so alone, 

I feel so alone...

How do the adoptive parents make you feel?

As a mother who placed, how do the adoptive parents make you feel?

This question was asked on a forum I belong to recently.  Normally I ignore most of the adoption questions there, but for some reason this one keeps coming back to me.  When an idea or thought gets stuck in my head, it usually means it is something that I need to deal with for some reason.

One of the reasons I started to write and blog about my adoption story was because I was having such a hard time putting my thoughts and feelings into words.  I often felt like I just had a bunch of random words and bits of thoughts swirling like a tornado in my brain.  When I would try to put them into a cohesive thought or sentence, I couldn't.  It's like I had spent so many years, decades, hiding from the thoughts and feelings about my son and his adoption, it became all but impossible to finally face them and put words to them.   This blog has helped me with that so much.  It helped me to come fully out of the fog and finally know and accept the effects of adoption loss on my life.  I finally put an end to the constant tornado.

I had all but forgotten that feeling of the swirling thoughts that wouldn't settle down no matter how hard I tried.  Trying to put thoughts or words together to describe how Christopher's parents make me feel have brought it right back.  I am going to attempt to answer that question, hoping that by writing it out I will figure it out.

The very first and most simple thought/feeling that comes to mind when thinking about them is gratefulness.  It seems... wrong somehow?  to want to express my thanks to them for being wonderful parents to Christopher though.  I don't know why it feels wrong, but it does.  Maybe because of the hurt I felt when I read his mothers words of thanks to me for my "selfless decision".  The thanks were meant completely out of love and gratefulness, and I did read them as loving words, but it later felt like a kick in the stomach, a "thanks for living with life-long grief and loss that is unimaginable by anyone who has not lived the life of a mother without her child".  Maybe I feel ambivalent about saying that I feel grateful to his parents because to them it could be seen as hurtful, not with the love that I mean it in; but since I am not an adoptive parent I don't realize how those words could be perceived as hurtful.  (Those were some rambling sentences ~ I hope that they make at least a little sense!)

So.  Overall, how do Christopher's parents make me feel?  ... Confused?  Intrusive?  Sad?  I guess that since I have no idea how they feel about me, about me being in their son's life, it just leaves me wondering. 

After I gave Christopher up, I often fantasized that I was somehow able to write to his mom.  I used to actually write the letters, but had nowhere to mail them to.  I imagined that I was able to become pen-pals of sorts with her.  I dreamed that I was able to KNOW, not hope, how he was doing as he grew up.   I was able to learn the funny things he said and did as he was growing up.  I got to read about when he started to walk and talk, ride a bike, start school...  I was able to learn how her life was changed as a mother to a son.  I was able to see photos of him, of them, as Christopher grew up so I could stop looking at every little boy his age and wonder if it could have been him.  I wanted her to know how my life was going too.  I wanted her to know the milestones that happened in my life.  I guess I mostly hoped that she cared how I was doing.  I felt a bond of sorts between us ~ two mothers with a deep and profound love for the same child.  I still feel that bond, even though we have never met, even though we have never become the "pen-pals" that I dreamed of.

I guess how his parents make me feel is wanting.  Wanting to know them, wanting to act on that bond I feel with his mother.  Wanting to be a part of their family and for them to be a part of mine.  Wanting to have a relationship in real-life, not just in my heart.

Susie

 

I received a comment on old post the other day.  It has me thinking about open adoption, as well as adoption in general. 

Open adoption is "sold" as better for those adopted as well as the natural families.  But.  Is it?? 

It would have been so wonderful to have been able to know that Christopher was alive and well, healthy and happy.  I used to fantasize often that I had been able to find his parents and write letters back and forth with them.  I often wished that I could have seen him throughout the years ~ been a bug on the wall to see what he looked like, to hear him laugh and talk.  However, for myself, I really don't think I could have participated in a fully open adoption.  I wanted to be a mom to my son.  Since that wasn't possible, I had to completely shut myself off from my motherhood to survive life without him.  If I had been told that I could not choose adoption without it being fully open, I would have chosen to raise my son.  There is no way I could have been a part of his life yet not fully be his mother.  A fully open adoption would have been like rubbing salt in an open wound.  I can't imagine how much worse my anger at my parents would have been ~ to see the son whose life I was missing out on because I refused to raise him in that house.  To have it in my face what my life could have been like (as a mother) if I had received one ounce of love or support (emotional, not financial) from my family.  Of course, I will never know what the reality of open adoption would have been ~ maybe it would have been better...   Who knows...

I can't speak for the adoptee side of open adoption.  Chris' comments make me think about the reality of open adoption on the child growing up.  Just as with everything in life, people react differently in similar situations.  While I know there are some children thriving in their open adoption situations, there are also other children suffering, as in the case that sparked my post "First Family and Forever Family".  There are probably just as many possible downfalls to open adoption as there are benefits for those adopted.  There are just so many variances in experiences, so many differences in the natural and adoptive families, so many things that can change the effects of one open adoption to another.   Open adoption is only as good as the natural and adoptive families work together to make it.  And yet, (this post) shows that even with great relationships between the families the reality can be painful for the child. 

I don't think the question of open adoption being better or worse for the child growing up will ever really be answered.  The problem isn't about which is better.  I think the question needs to be "Is adoption truly necessary in this case?"  Before it even gets to the point that a decision for open or closed adoption is necessary, every effort should be made to first help keep the original family intact.  If a child is being born into a loving family safe from abuse or neglect, they don't need another family ~ they already have one.  Adoption should not be looked at as an answer to temporary problems.  Adoption should not be sold as "a loving choice" to mothers who love their child deeply and would give their right arm to raise her child, but is made to feel "less than" because of age, money, marital status, etc.  "First Family and Forever Family" is a great example of adoption being a permanent solution to a temporary problem. 

I'm not the only one blogging about open adoption today.  For an adoptee's view on open adoption, go visit Amanda.  

***************

 
I had a moment of panic when I first saw the comment from Chris.  I still worry that my son may find this blog one day and think that I have this horribly depressing life because he was born.  That is far from the reality of my life.  I do not write here because my life is all "woe is me, I gave my son up for adoption".  I write here now mostly to advocate for family preservation.  In advocating for family preservation, I am not saying that I would deny my son one moment of the life he has lived.  I am so very lucky that he has had a great life with a wonderful and loving family.   I probably laugh much more in the course of one day than I am saddened by adoption loss in an entire month.  The only place I "talk" about the effects of adoption in my life is here on this blog, and in the blogging/adoption forums.  So of course if you only know me by this blog, you would think that adoption loss is my life.  It is not.  Despite having adoption in it, I have a wonderful life ~ with more blessings than I can count.   

I never dreamed that anyone would want to read my rambling thoughts, my "therapy" of getting all of this out of my head.  The therapy part of writing about adoption in my life was the main reason for starting this blog, but I also want this blog to be a place where an expectant mother considering adoption can find information regarding the truth of adoption loss and family preservation so she can make a fully informed decision for or against adoption.  

Susie