I know I promised part 3, but it's going slowly and painfully. It will come out soon - meaning I don't know when, but sometime before I die.
I have spent part of this weekend trying to get through to an expectant mother who is hell bent on placing her child for adoption. She feels this is the best solution for this, her third child. She has been offered help in many forms, but plays the "you all are bitter and negative" card at every opportunity whenever any of us mothers of loss try to reach her. She deleted the facts given to her - not just opinions or actual knowledge of the pitfalls from mothers, but the hard cold researched facts. At her young age, she knows everything. She is "brave". She is "selfless". She is a fool. If she would actually listen with an open mind, I would say this to her:
I'm way older than you. I went through a time in adoption history where girls were forced into a maternity home, drugged and restrained until you literally gave up in an emotional, drugged out heap. We lost our children to closed adoptions because we were young and unmarried. NOT because we were druggies or abusers - heck, I didn't even get to touch my son until he was 35. Nobody offered to help me. And I mean no one. Not even my parents, my own family.
You have complete strangers willing to help you financially and you spit in our faces. How lucky for you that you even have that choice. But, your pride will be your downfall in the end. You will realize your loss, regardless of whether your so-called "open" adoption remains open or not. And it will be too late. You will have lost your child, your flesh and blood. Your remaining children will have lost their sister. And your youngest will forever feel the pain of abandonment, of being "different". What will she be told? The old "your mother loved you so much she placed you"? Do you realize how damaging that is? No, you don't because you don't know. We know.
You've trotted out your little supporters. Good for you. They have also told us all we are mistaken, we know nothing, we are bitter, blah, blah, blah. But trust me when I say that when reality of what has happened gets a grip on you, these are the same people who will tell you that this was your choice, you signed the papers, or even the tired old "get over it" schtick. Then you are forever known as the bitch who gave her child away. No that's not rhetoric; it's truth. But you don't believe me because you know everything. OK, good for you.
For everyone of the "my brother's father-in-law's great aunt's grandmother's dog was adopted and is happy" stories you hear, I can produce an adoptee who has suffered abuse or neglect at the hands of the adoptive parents, identity issues, a longing for "home" that doesn't seem to be satisfied even in reunion (my apologies for speaking for adoptees; I just know what I've seen, heard and read). For every happy-dappy little beemommy you produce, probably via the vile Brave Love organization (#notabravelove, #notbravelove), I can show you a woman living her life in pain and torment, whether or not it was her idea to place or she was forced. And apparently, these are chances that you are willing to take. I have no idea why. You are playing the lottery with your life and, more importantly, your child's life. We all know the odds in the lottery aren't good.
If you met me, you would see a woman with a successful career, college educated, a 27 year marriage with a nice home (albeit modest), two dogs, 4 kids and two grandkids. A woman that enjoys knitting, reading, yoga, and music. You must think I sit around all day being depressed and "picking on" people like you. Sorry to disappoint you, but I live my life and love my life. Except for that whole adoption loss thing. That is a brain beater, a slow killer. I have to fight everyday to see the good side of my life and not let that pain overshadow my joy. Its a learned from years and years of loss. It is a huge part of me. And here is the rub: IT NEVER GOES AWAY. Once you either take that path willingly or are kicked in the butt down that path, you are never the same. But you know better. OK.
You need to know that we mothers of loss try to help because we don't want you going down that path. We don't want you making a decision because of money which is the WORST reason ever for placing your child. We want to see your family flourish and intact. We want to see your children grow and you grow as a mother and a person. We aren't just bitches sitting around pouncing on innocents. We aren't trying to make you "feel bad". We really do care. But you have chosen to disregard our collective years of experience (I personally have 38 years). All right then.
So, all I can say is this. I wish you peace and light. I hope this works out for you. I wish you well. But should you feel the need, we mothers are here for you, whether you decide to parent or not. I sincerely hope that your 15 minutes of fame will be worth it. Who am I to say it won't? Just somebody who knows. Nobody, really. Just another bitter "birth"mother.
Monday, May 25, 2015
Saturday, May 16, 2015
15 Hours: Nothing to you; EVERYTHING to me (Part 2)
I saw the psychologist two more times. We never discussed this again. I think he knew it was a shock for me to hear this, and I didn't wish to discuss it further at that time.
I decided there was no way I could really get the information I needed to make an adequate assessment of the situation. I was in reunion, I was happy, my son and I were building a relationship. In many ways, I felt freer than I had in years. I had to put the past in the past and let it go. Besides, what could I do about it? Absolutely nothing. It was 35 years ago.
That worked for a few months. I was happy, or so I thought. Anger began to creep in as I realized all I had lost over the years. Every time I thought about it, I always came back to the question - was I really drugged? I woke up one night from a sound sleep with the thought "you were drugged - you know it" and decided that I could not continue without learning the truth.
I didn't fax a request to the hospital again. This time I took my filled out request form in person to the records department of the hospital. I handed them to the woman who looked at them and said, "these records have likely been destroyed." I informed her that my friend's mother who was in the same home a decade earlier had received her records a few short months before, so I knew that wasn't true. And I wanted mine. "I'm not sure we can find them." My reply was polite, low key and respectful. I told her, "Look. I've requested this information twice before and received nothing. I know those records exist. I'm sure they are in some dark, dirty corner of a dusty file room in the lower bowels of this hospital. But, if I don't receive the records in a timely manner - let's say two weeks - I will come back with an attorney and demand the records be found. Now, neither one of us wants that. All that means is you will be embarrassed and I will be out money. Give it a try - please?" Long pause. "Would you like to pick them up?" Oh yes please. Just give me a call.
Better than that, a large envelope arrived about 5 days later. It had the hospital name on the outside and I knew what it was. I took the envelope, sat down, and opened it with shaking hands. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw on the top page. I was staring at a copy of my son's footprints. Tears. I was in tears. I was so completely thrown off, I had to stop and wipe my eyes. I had to adjust my glasses to realize what I was really looking at. It was the footprints of my newborn son who I had never held. The baby that existed, but didn't exist. The tiny prints of toes that I never got to count on little feet I never kissed. Never touched. Wasn't even allowed to see. It was too much for me. I got up, left the papers on the table and walked away.
Later, I returned, ready to face the past. I separated the papers into two stacks: records dealing with me and records dealing with my son. I began to read mine (it would be some time before I could look at his. When I did, it was devastating to me.) I found nothing remarkable. No mention of any drugs other than copious amounts of demerol and some codeine. Except for something called Tuinal* (how it appears on the records) with no doses listed.
All of the handwritten chart notes were positive, upbeat. I had a good night. I was sleeping now. Blah, blah, blah. No mention of any complaints, pain or anything really. I assumed I was the model little beemommy - even though I couldn't remember a thing. This was confusing to me. How could I have just rolled over like the proverbial dog and let this happen? Did I not fight? Did I not object? Did I not question? Nothing in the notes indicated I had. This made me feel worse about the situation. So, clearly I wasn't drugged. The psychologist was mistaken. I was just another one of many who rolled over and took it. Signed the papers. Gave up. OK, then. That's my story. Deal with it.
If it is possible, the guilt I now felt over relinquishment was more than it was before. I had given up. Surrendered. Ran the white flag up the pole, played the game, did the "right" thing. Never stood up. Never fought. I was a loser. A quitter. I hated myself for it.
Maybe my mother was right all along. It was my idea, but I didn't remember it that way. She insisted it was. I. Gave. My. Child. Away. What kind of person was I? I thought of suicide. A lot. But, I figured I would mess that up, too. Then I would get locked in the place with the plastic tableware and have to deal with THAT on top of everything else.
I had to move on. I didn't want to ruin my marriage, my career and my reunion because I felt so bad about myself. I had to deal with this and move on. Fortunately, I was entering my last year of college and I literally threw myself into that. My degree means more to me than just an education. As far as I'm concerned, it saved my life. We Mothers of Loss know that it is quite possible to disconnect from feelings, shut it away and not look at it, think about it. Is that healthy? Not at all. But the human mind can only take so much at one time. If we have learned anything it is to shut off that painful part of ourselves so that we may function in the everyday world. Or at least think we can.......
Over the next year or so, I concentrated on school. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, I had lots of group projects keeping me busy. That plus a full time job and classes helped to keep my mind off my troubles. I felt I made progress with acceptance of my past situation and I slowly began to feel more at peace with myself.
In August of 2014, I had the opportunity to meet up with my cousin with whom I had been very close growing up. She was the only person, besides my immediate family, that was around me when I was pregnant. We had grown up together, but because of life situations, we lost touch with each other over the years. She met my son for the first time and welcomed him with open arms. We realized how much we missed each other over the years and made plans for dinner the next day to reconnect and fill in each other on our lives.
We discussed our childhoods, our times together, family members and just life in general. At some point, the conversation turned to my son and his relinquishment. I told her that I was basically at peace with the situation - I had to be, since I couldn't alter the past. The one thing that still pained me, would always pain me, was that I could not remember being in labor. I felt it sad that I had a child and did not have the memories of labor, good or bad, that I had with my subsequent daughters.
"Well, that's probably because they were giving you the same stuff they gave you when you were drugged and restrained for 3 days."
"What? What did you just say?" I heard, but I needed to make sure I heard it right.
"You were drugged and restrained for three days? They probably gave you the same stuff."
Immediately, I started to cry. My cousin realized in that instant what she hadn't known all along:
"You didn't know?" Her eyes were huge. She teared up looking at me. She had in one second delivered the truth and a blow at the same time. And she knew it.
"I thought, I mean, I wondered, I mean, the psychologist said, I don't...................how do you know this?"
"I overheard a conversation Mom (my mother's sister) had with one of the other sisters (there were two others). I heard your name, I was worried about you, and I was trying to see if I could find out how you were. Mom told me to get out. So, like any rebellious teenager, I left, but hung out just outside the doorway. I heard her tell whoever was on the other end of the phone that you had changed your mind, you were throwing a fit to see your baby, and they had to drug you and restrain you to the bed. You kept it up for 3 days."
Sick. I was sick. Heartbroken. But wait.........."You mean, I fought? I fought them?" She said yes, apparently really hard. Hard enough to drug me into compliance.
I fought them. I wasn't a quitter. I didn't roll over and take it. I FOUGHT them. "Would you tell my son? I don't think I can right now, but could you? I want him to know I didn't give up - I fought. I tried." She said of course she would. I pulled out my phone.
The tears began to flow freely as I waited for him to answer. I'm not a silent crier. I heave, I sob, can't talk, and sound like I'm gasping for air. When he answered, I was trying to ask him if he would talk to my cousin. But, I couldn't get it out. He kept saying "Mom - are you ok? Mom - what happened?" I finally told him my cousin had something to tell him.
She relayed the story. I couldn't watch. I walked away, lit a cigarette, and tried to control myself. I ventured back over just in time to see her crying, saying repeatedly, "I know. I'm so sorry. I know." That got me started again. She handed the phone back to me, and all I could say was "I DID fight. I DIDN'T quit. I DID fight." I tried to console him. It didn't work. We were both devastated.
The nightmares began that night. Dreams of hands on my throat, being unable to breath, unable to move. Waking in a sweat with my heart racing, crying, gasping for air. I was so incredibly angry at my parents I couldn't even think. I knew that I wouldn't be able to pass this off to the background of my life again. I would not be able to feel peace about a situation of which I had no choice. We are talking about drugging a person into submission. Stealing their child through force. Taking away the right to parent their child without any reason to do so. It was now a verified fact. My parents stood by and let their 17 year old daughter be drugged and restrained into making the decision they wanted. Maybe it was their idea to do it; maybe it was hospital protocol; maybe the adoption agency was so desperate for babies they justified it. I don't know. BUT, they knew it was going on - my mother was the one who told her sister. How could you allow that to happen to your daughter? How could you be so intent on ridding yourself of your own grandson that you could stand by while this happened? Oh yes, I forgot. You went to Mexico for a vacation, what, the day after he was born? Right. You weren't there to witness the atrocity or the aftermath. Out of sight; out of mind. Thanks mom and dad.
I knew what I had to do. I had to pull that paperwork out and really see it, not just look at it. I remembered what the psychologist said - don't look at what IS there; look at what ISN'T there based on your limited memory. I would get as far with this as I could. I had to - this is my life we are talking about. I wanted it back, nightmare free with a clearer understanding of what really happened. Painful or not, I had to begin again. I also felt a call to that adoption agency was most certainly in order. I wanted whatever else there was in that file or files that pertained to me.
I decided there was no way I could really get the information I needed to make an adequate assessment of the situation. I was in reunion, I was happy, my son and I were building a relationship. In many ways, I felt freer than I had in years. I had to put the past in the past and let it go. Besides, what could I do about it? Absolutely nothing. It was 35 years ago.
That worked for a few months. I was happy, or so I thought. Anger began to creep in as I realized all I had lost over the years. Every time I thought about it, I always came back to the question - was I really drugged? I woke up one night from a sound sleep with the thought "you were drugged - you know it" and decided that I could not continue without learning the truth.
I didn't fax a request to the hospital again. This time I took my filled out request form in person to the records department of the hospital. I handed them to the woman who looked at them and said, "these records have likely been destroyed." I informed her that my friend's mother who was in the same home a decade earlier had received her records a few short months before, so I knew that wasn't true. And I wanted mine. "I'm not sure we can find them." My reply was polite, low key and respectful. I told her, "Look. I've requested this information twice before and received nothing. I know those records exist. I'm sure they are in some dark, dirty corner of a dusty file room in the lower bowels of this hospital. But, if I don't receive the records in a timely manner - let's say two weeks - I will come back with an attorney and demand the records be found. Now, neither one of us wants that. All that means is you will be embarrassed and I will be out money. Give it a try - please?" Long pause. "Would you like to pick them up?" Oh yes please. Just give me a call.
Better than that, a large envelope arrived about 5 days later. It had the hospital name on the outside and I knew what it was. I took the envelope, sat down, and opened it with shaking hands. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw on the top page. I was staring at a copy of my son's footprints. Tears. I was in tears. I was so completely thrown off, I had to stop and wipe my eyes. I had to adjust my glasses to realize what I was really looking at. It was the footprints of my newborn son who I had never held. The baby that existed, but didn't exist. The tiny prints of toes that I never got to count on little feet I never kissed. Never touched. Wasn't even allowed to see. It was too much for me. I got up, left the papers on the table and walked away.
Later, I returned, ready to face the past. I separated the papers into two stacks: records dealing with me and records dealing with my son. I began to read mine (it would be some time before I could look at his. When I did, it was devastating to me.) I found nothing remarkable. No mention of any drugs other than copious amounts of demerol and some codeine. Except for something called Tuinal* (how it appears on the records) with no doses listed.
All of the handwritten chart notes were positive, upbeat. I had a good night. I was sleeping now. Blah, blah, blah. No mention of any complaints, pain or anything really. I assumed I was the model little beemommy - even though I couldn't remember a thing. This was confusing to me. How could I have just rolled over like the proverbial dog and let this happen? Did I not fight? Did I not object? Did I not question? Nothing in the notes indicated I had. This made me feel worse about the situation. So, clearly I wasn't drugged. The psychologist was mistaken. I was just another one of many who rolled over and took it. Signed the papers. Gave up. OK, then. That's my story. Deal with it.
If it is possible, the guilt I now felt over relinquishment was more than it was before. I had given up. Surrendered. Ran the white flag up the pole, played the game, did the "right" thing. Never stood up. Never fought. I was a loser. A quitter. I hated myself for it.
Maybe my mother was right all along. It was my idea, but I didn't remember it that way. She insisted it was. I. Gave. My. Child. Away. What kind of person was I? I thought of suicide. A lot. But, I figured I would mess that up, too. Then I would get locked in the place with the plastic tableware and have to deal with THAT on top of everything else.
I had to move on. I didn't want to ruin my marriage, my career and my reunion because I felt so bad about myself. I had to deal with this and move on. Fortunately, I was entering my last year of college and I literally threw myself into that. My degree means more to me than just an education. As far as I'm concerned, it saved my life. We Mothers of Loss know that it is quite possible to disconnect from feelings, shut it away and not look at it, think about it. Is that healthy? Not at all. But the human mind can only take so much at one time. If we have learned anything it is to shut off that painful part of ourselves so that we may function in the everyday world. Or at least think we can.......
Over the next year or so, I concentrated on school. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, I had lots of group projects keeping me busy. That plus a full time job and classes helped to keep my mind off my troubles. I felt I made progress with acceptance of my past situation and I slowly began to feel more at peace with myself.
In August of 2014, I had the opportunity to meet up with my cousin with whom I had been very close growing up. She was the only person, besides my immediate family, that was around me when I was pregnant. We had grown up together, but because of life situations, we lost touch with each other over the years. She met my son for the first time and welcomed him with open arms. We realized how much we missed each other over the years and made plans for dinner the next day to reconnect and fill in each other on our lives.
We discussed our childhoods, our times together, family members and just life in general. At some point, the conversation turned to my son and his relinquishment. I told her that I was basically at peace with the situation - I had to be, since I couldn't alter the past. The one thing that still pained me, would always pain me, was that I could not remember being in labor. I felt it sad that I had a child and did not have the memories of labor, good or bad, that I had with my subsequent daughters.
"Well, that's probably because they were giving you the same stuff they gave you when you were drugged and restrained for 3 days."
"What? What did you just say?" I heard, but I needed to make sure I heard it right.
"You were drugged and restrained for three days? They probably gave you the same stuff."
Immediately, I started to cry. My cousin realized in that instant what she hadn't known all along:
"You didn't know?" Her eyes were huge. She teared up looking at me. She had in one second delivered the truth and a blow at the same time. And she knew it.
"I thought, I mean, I wondered, I mean, the psychologist said, I don't...................how do you know this?"
"I overheard a conversation Mom (my mother's sister) had with one of the other sisters (there were two others). I heard your name, I was worried about you, and I was trying to see if I could find out how you were. Mom told me to get out. So, like any rebellious teenager, I left, but hung out just outside the doorway. I heard her tell whoever was on the other end of the phone that you had changed your mind, you were throwing a fit to see your baby, and they had to drug you and restrain you to the bed. You kept it up for 3 days."
Sick. I was sick. Heartbroken. But wait.........."You mean, I fought? I fought them?" She said yes, apparently really hard. Hard enough to drug me into compliance.
I fought them. I wasn't a quitter. I didn't roll over and take it. I FOUGHT them. "Would you tell my son? I don't think I can right now, but could you? I want him to know I didn't give up - I fought. I tried." She said of course she would. I pulled out my phone.
The tears began to flow freely as I waited for him to answer. I'm not a silent crier. I heave, I sob, can't talk, and sound like I'm gasping for air. When he answered, I was trying to ask him if he would talk to my cousin. But, I couldn't get it out. He kept saying "Mom - are you ok? Mom - what happened?" I finally told him my cousin had something to tell him.
She relayed the story. I couldn't watch. I walked away, lit a cigarette, and tried to control myself. I ventured back over just in time to see her crying, saying repeatedly, "I know. I'm so sorry. I know." That got me started again. She handed the phone back to me, and all I could say was "I DID fight. I DIDN'T quit. I DID fight." I tried to console him. It didn't work. We were both devastated.
The nightmares began that night. Dreams of hands on my throat, being unable to breath, unable to move. Waking in a sweat with my heart racing, crying, gasping for air. I was so incredibly angry at my parents I couldn't even think. I knew that I wouldn't be able to pass this off to the background of my life again. I would not be able to feel peace about a situation of which I had no choice. We are talking about drugging a person into submission. Stealing their child through force. Taking away the right to parent their child without any reason to do so. It was now a verified fact. My parents stood by and let their 17 year old daughter be drugged and restrained into making the decision they wanted. Maybe it was their idea to do it; maybe it was hospital protocol; maybe the adoption agency was so desperate for babies they justified it. I don't know. BUT, they knew it was going on - my mother was the one who told her sister. How could you allow that to happen to your daughter? How could you be so intent on ridding yourself of your own grandson that you could stand by while this happened? Oh yes, I forgot. You went to Mexico for a vacation, what, the day after he was born? Right. You weren't there to witness the atrocity or the aftermath. Out of sight; out of mind. Thanks mom and dad.
I knew what I had to do. I had to pull that paperwork out and really see it, not just look at it. I remembered what the psychologist said - don't look at what IS there; look at what ISN'T there based on your limited memory. I would get as far with this as I could. I had to - this is my life we are talking about. I wanted it back, nightmare free with a clearer understanding of what really happened. Painful or not, I had to begin again. I also felt a call to that adoption agency was most certainly in order. I wanted whatever else there was in that file or files that pertained to me.
Friday, May 15, 2015
15 Hours: Nothing to you, EVERYTHING to me (Part 1)
I am currently in the process of trying to break down and subsequently work through the time frame of the birth of my lostnowfound son. Received information has brought about more questions than answers. One of the things that really, really bothers me is what happened in the 15 hours prior to arriving at the hospital for his birth?
In 2007, I received my son's OBC, a newborn hospital picture, and a small piece of paper with the pertinent birth information: weight, length, etc. The agency associated with the unwed mother's home gave it to me. It was really quite unremarkable until I read one line: Duration of Labor: 18 hours. Eighteen hours? Seriously? I remember only about 3 or 4 things about the entire birth process, and my labor lasted 18 hours? With my second child, I was in labor 7 hours. The third? 2 hours. I realize I was young and it was my first delivery, but 18 hours?
At that point in my life, I wasn't ready to dive into the whys and the what fors of what really happened. It was the fog with a twist. I knew I was wronged, I knew I was forced, but I tried to put it out of my mind. We all know the impossibility of that. But, in 2007, I was just beginning to admit to myself that I was lied to, it didn't get better, you didn't forget and you have to live with the decision forced upon you for the rest of your life. I was just admitting that my mother orchestrated the whole thing, that she DIDN'T have my best interest at heart, and that subconsciously she had made me pay for my "mistake" for as many years as I could remember. I was finally discovering that I wasn't a waste of air space on the planet. I was in college and actually was very smart, made very good grades, and enjoyed it tremendously. So, the worm had started to turn, but I still wouldn't have had the emotional stability to deal with that which I have dealt in the last 3 years. If you could call me stable. I stumbled and fell many times, but I'm stilling standing. But, I digress.
To say it bothered me that I could not remember my labor would be like saying that I was slightly annoyed for being attacked by hornets. I wanted to remember. Upon reunion, I hoped that the memories would come back and I could find some precious moment where I could find love, or pain, or anything really. It didn't happen and I chalked it up to "emotion blocking". I couldn't remember or I wouldn't remember, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. I accepted it as what was and decided I might as well accept it.
My first stumble came when a psychologist described true emotional blocking. These aren't the exact words, but the conversation went something like this:
"So. You remember waking up in a room and having no idea why you were there, how you got there, or what was happening?"
Me: "That's right. I was in some room that kind of looked like a hospital room, but there was a desk with some chairs stacked on it, like it was being used for storage. I just remember waking up, looking around, and being afraid."
Him: "Then what happened?"
Me: "I don't know. I kind of feel like maybe I passed out? I just don't remember. Is that what emotional blocking is?"
He asked me about the other memories I had of labor and delivery. I told him what I could remember, and how I just felt like I was going in and out of consciousness. It was strange to have a very definite, prominent memory, then - blackness. It bothered me. I wanted to remember.
Me: "But, that's emotional blocking, right?"
He then asked what I remembered about the days following. Who visited me? How did I feel physically? How did I feel emotionally? What was I thinking? I told him that I didn't remember any visitors, or any feelings from that time. To be honest, I only remember one thing about it (which I told him) until the day I left the hospital and returned to the home. Most of that first day, and the 2 days following are just - blackness.
Me: "But that's normal, right? I'm hiding those feelings because it's too painful, right?"
Silence. Pen twirling. Note consulting. Pensive.
"Do you have your medical records from the hospital? Can you get them?"
Me: "I have tried twice, but never received anything."
Him: "You need to get those records. Go over them with a fine tooth comb. Look not only for what IS there, but for what's NOT there based on what little you remember."
Me: "So you think that will help me remember? Maybe shake it loose?"
Him: "Jackie, emotional blocking is when a person cannot admit an event happened. You not only admit it, you want to know exactly what happened complete with emotions and a time frame. That isn't the sign of someone refusing to acknowledge the situation. Have you ever considered that you might have been drugged? What you describe sounds more like a person who was heavily drugged and less like a person who just refuses to remember and is in denial."
If he had slapped me in the face, I wouldn't have been more surprised. And yet, I always wondered if that was a possibility. They wouldn't actually do something like that, would they? They don't really treat people like that, do they?
Shaking and nauseous, I thanked him. I'm not sure what for. Time was up. My head was pounding. I was sweating. I wasn't sure I could stand without assistance, but I did. I walked out of the office, zombie like, and got in my car. Even though it was summer and well into the 90's, I sat in my car with the windows rolled up and stared ahead. Then the tears came. I knew he was probably right. I didn't know how I knew, but I knew it. One thing I knew for sure - I had a lot of work to do. And I wasn't sure I was strong enough to survive it. And I needed a cigarette.
In 2007, I received my son's OBC, a newborn hospital picture, and a small piece of paper with the pertinent birth information: weight, length, etc. The agency associated with the unwed mother's home gave it to me. It was really quite unremarkable until I read one line: Duration of Labor: 18 hours. Eighteen hours? Seriously? I remember only about 3 or 4 things about the entire birth process, and my labor lasted 18 hours? With my second child, I was in labor 7 hours. The third? 2 hours. I realize I was young and it was my first delivery, but 18 hours?
At that point in my life, I wasn't ready to dive into the whys and the what fors of what really happened. It was the fog with a twist. I knew I was wronged, I knew I was forced, but I tried to put it out of my mind. We all know the impossibility of that. But, in 2007, I was just beginning to admit to myself that I was lied to, it didn't get better, you didn't forget and you have to live with the decision forced upon you for the rest of your life. I was just admitting that my mother orchestrated the whole thing, that she DIDN'T have my best interest at heart, and that subconsciously she had made me pay for my "mistake" for as many years as I could remember. I was finally discovering that I wasn't a waste of air space on the planet. I was in college and actually was very smart, made very good grades, and enjoyed it tremendously. So, the worm had started to turn, but I still wouldn't have had the emotional stability to deal with that which I have dealt in the last 3 years. If you could call me stable. I stumbled and fell many times, but I'm stilling standing. But, I digress.
To say it bothered me that I could not remember my labor would be like saying that I was slightly annoyed for being attacked by hornets. I wanted to remember. Upon reunion, I hoped that the memories would come back and I could find some precious moment where I could find love, or pain, or anything really. It didn't happen and I chalked it up to "emotion blocking". I couldn't remember or I wouldn't remember, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. I accepted it as what was and decided I might as well accept it.
My first stumble came when a psychologist described true emotional blocking. These aren't the exact words, but the conversation went something like this:
"So. You remember waking up in a room and having no idea why you were there, how you got there, or what was happening?"
Me: "That's right. I was in some room that kind of looked like a hospital room, but there was a desk with some chairs stacked on it, like it was being used for storage. I just remember waking up, looking around, and being afraid."
Him: "Then what happened?"
Me: "I don't know. I kind of feel like maybe I passed out? I just don't remember. Is that what emotional blocking is?"
He asked me about the other memories I had of labor and delivery. I told him what I could remember, and how I just felt like I was going in and out of consciousness. It was strange to have a very definite, prominent memory, then - blackness. It bothered me. I wanted to remember.
Me: "But, that's emotional blocking, right?"
He then asked what I remembered about the days following. Who visited me? How did I feel physically? How did I feel emotionally? What was I thinking? I told him that I didn't remember any visitors, or any feelings from that time. To be honest, I only remember one thing about it (which I told him) until the day I left the hospital and returned to the home. Most of that first day, and the 2 days following are just - blackness.
Me: "But that's normal, right? I'm hiding those feelings because it's too painful, right?"
Silence. Pen twirling. Note consulting. Pensive.
"Do you have your medical records from the hospital? Can you get them?"
Me: "I have tried twice, but never received anything."
Him: "You need to get those records. Go over them with a fine tooth comb. Look not only for what IS there, but for what's NOT there based on what little you remember."
Me: "So you think that will help me remember? Maybe shake it loose?"
Him: "Jackie, emotional blocking is when a person cannot admit an event happened. You not only admit it, you want to know exactly what happened complete with emotions and a time frame. That isn't the sign of someone refusing to acknowledge the situation. Have you ever considered that you might have been drugged? What you describe sounds more like a person who was heavily drugged and less like a person who just refuses to remember and is in denial."
If he had slapped me in the face, I wouldn't have been more surprised. And yet, I always wondered if that was a possibility. They wouldn't actually do something like that, would they? They don't really treat people like that, do they?
Shaking and nauseous, I thanked him. I'm not sure what for. Time was up. My head was pounding. I was sweating. I wasn't sure I could stand without assistance, but I did. I walked out of the office, zombie like, and got in my car. Even though it was summer and well into the 90's, I sat in my car with the windows rolled up and stared ahead. Then the tears came. I knew he was probably right. I didn't know how I knew, but I knew it. One thing I knew for sure - I had a lot of work to do. And I wasn't sure I was strong enough to survive it. And I needed a cigarette.
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Collateral Damage in Adoption - I'm so sorry
Coming out of the adoption fog is not always easy. Ok, it's NEVER easy. It hurts. It is painful. It is gut-wrenching. Harder still is the realization that people I have met in my life were affected by this "choice" made for me. I didn't understand that at the time. Sadly, these same people didn't have a clue as to what was wrong with me, why I acted the way I did. Neither did I. Let me explain.
I met a man who I will call Bill. Bill was younger than I, very kind, sweet and treated me like an absolute queen. I treated him terribly. I've thought about him throughout the years and would give anything if I could apologize and explain to him what was going on with me at that time in my life. Alas, that's not to be. I guess that's my penance to pay. So, right here, right now, I will say that which I will never get to say to him directly.
Dear Bill,
I was a bitch. I am very cognizant of the way I treated you. You were loving and kind; I was bitter and hateful. You offered me love; I laughed in your face. I really hate qualified apologies, but I feel I owe you an explanation. First, however, let me say that I am profoundly sorry for the way I treated you. You didn't deserve it - nobody does.
Seven years before I met you, I lost my son to a forced adoption. I was 17 years old. My parents made me give my son away - they couldn't be bothered to help. Yes, people can force you to do that. I was forced into an "unwed mothers" home. I was made to feel like the lowest of the low because of "what I had done." I was told I could not bring "that baby" home. If I tried, I would be homeless. Just to make sure it happened and the papers were signed, they stood by while I was drugged and restrained in the hospital for three days for begging to see and hold my own baby. Once the papers were signed, no one ever spoke of it again. In the past couple of years, I have learned that someone - I'm not sure who - was likely paid off by the father to make this happen. I suspect he was under threat of jail for being almost twice my age and he had the money to buy his way out. I don't know that for sure and I may never know for sure. But, I will keep trying to discover the truth until the day I die. This was in 1976, and no help was forthcoming. If there was help available to allow me to be a parent to my son, no one ever mentioned it. Much later I found out my only other "option" would have been to become a ward of the state because I was underage. My son would also have become a ward of the state and not likely placed with me. But, even that option wasn't presented to me; I learned this fact about 3 years ago.
My sense of self was completely shattered. I was made to feel like I was damaged goods, especially by my mother. I hated myself. I hated what I did to my family and I hated my family for what they did to me. Try to understand there was no outlet for this pain and hate as I was told to never speak of it. To act like it didn't happen. Which is lame, because it did happen and I still feel the effects of this some 38 years later.
When I met you, I had just divorced. Another good relationship destroyed by my toxic behavior. I hurt so bad and had no idea who I was or that there was anything left in me that was any good. Honestly, you scared me. You looked at me like I was some kind of angel. You treated me with the utmost respect and care. Quite simply, I couldn't deal with that. At the time, I could not have admitted the things I am now able to admit - the absolute mental and physical agony I suffered. In my eyes, you were suspect. Like maybe there was something wrong with YOU for feeling that way. I could never at the time have accepted your love. I was a walking, talking, breathing, disaster area. So, I latched onto, and subsequently managed to marry, a man that was even more messed up than I. That lasted 13 months. He was abusive. I guess you get what you pay for.
After my second divorce, you came back. I was even more messed up then than I was the first time. As I recall, I laughed in your face. That's the way I remember it. I'm ashamed of the way I treated you. You came back with your heart on your sleeve; I ripped it off, threw it on the ground and stomped on it. Yes, that makes me a horror of a human being. I am so sorry. I have no words.
I doubt you have sat around and pined for almost 30 years. I realize this might have been just a crush for you. You might not even remember me. I doubt your life was destroyed because of my rejection. Clearly, you have led a good life as best I can tell. I know you have been married long term and have children. I'm very happy for you! I am also extremely proud of your service to our country and I want to thank you for that. I'm sure your accolades were earned at great expense to yourself and your family. You have my utmost respect.
I think of you often and with love. I wish I had been together enough as a person to give our relationship a try. But, I wasn't. And for that and the hurt I caused you at the time, I am sincerely and regretfully sorry. Carry my love and respect for you in your heart. Know that I would give anything to turn back time and try again. I can only move forward with hope for my future, possibly for the first time in my life.
Every time I hear Don Henley sing "The Boys of Summer" I think of you. I wish you peace, blessings and light in your life. May you be continually blessed everyday.
"Thought I knew what love was - what did I know. Those days are gone forever, I should just let them go, but - I can see you. Your brown skin shining in the sun. I see you walking real slow and smiling at everyone. I can tell you my love for you will still be strong - after the boys of summer are gone." If I only knew then what I know now...................................
I met a man who I will call Bill. Bill was younger than I, very kind, sweet and treated me like an absolute queen. I treated him terribly. I've thought about him throughout the years and would give anything if I could apologize and explain to him what was going on with me at that time in my life. Alas, that's not to be. I guess that's my penance to pay. So, right here, right now, I will say that which I will never get to say to him directly.
Dear Bill,
I was a bitch. I am very cognizant of the way I treated you. You were loving and kind; I was bitter and hateful. You offered me love; I laughed in your face. I really hate qualified apologies, but I feel I owe you an explanation. First, however, let me say that I am profoundly sorry for the way I treated you. You didn't deserve it - nobody does.
Seven years before I met you, I lost my son to a forced adoption. I was 17 years old. My parents made me give my son away - they couldn't be bothered to help. Yes, people can force you to do that. I was forced into an "unwed mothers" home. I was made to feel like the lowest of the low because of "what I had done." I was told I could not bring "that baby" home. If I tried, I would be homeless. Just to make sure it happened and the papers were signed, they stood by while I was drugged and restrained in the hospital for three days for begging to see and hold my own baby. Once the papers were signed, no one ever spoke of it again. In the past couple of years, I have learned that someone - I'm not sure who - was likely paid off by the father to make this happen. I suspect he was under threat of jail for being almost twice my age and he had the money to buy his way out. I don't know that for sure and I may never know for sure. But, I will keep trying to discover the truth until the day I die. This was in 1976, and no help was forthcoming. If there was help available to allow me to be a parent to my son, no one ever mentioned it. Much later I found out my only other "option" would have been to become a ward of the state because I was underage. My son would also have become a ward of the state and not likely placed with me. But, even that option wasn't presented to me; I learned this fact about 3 years ago.
My sense of self was completely shattered. I was made to feel like I was damaged goods, especially by my mother. I hated myself. I hated what I did to my family and I hated my family for what they did to me. Try to understand there was no outlet for this pain and hate as I was told to never speak of it. To act like it didn't happen. Which is lame, because it did happen and I still feel the effects of this some 38 years later.
When I met you, I had just divorced. Another good relationship destroyed by my toxic behavior. I hurt so bad and had no idea who I was or that there was anything left in me that was any good. Honestly, you scared me. You looked at me like I was some kind of angel. You treated me with the utmost respect and care. Quite simply, I couldn't deal with that. At the time, I could not have admitted the things I am now able to admit - the absolute mental and physical agony I suffered. In my eyes, you were suspect. Like maybe there was something wrong with YOU for feeling that way. I could never at the time have accepted your love. I was a walking, talking, breathing, disaster area. So, I latched onto, and subsequently managed to marry, a man that was even more messed up than I. That lasted 13 months. He was abusive. I guess you get what you pay for.
After my second divorce, you came back. I was even more messed up then than I was the first time. As I recall, I laughed in your face. That's the way I remember it. I'm ashamed of the way I treated you. You came back with your heart on your sleeve; I ripped it off, threw it on the ground and stomped on it. Yes, that makes me a horror of a human being. I am so sorry. I have no words.
I doubt you have sat around and pined for almost 30 years. I realize this might have been just a crush for you. You might not even remember me. I doubt your life was destroyed because of my rejection. Clearly, you have led a good life as best I can tell. I know you have been married long term and have children. I'm very happy for you! I am also extremely proud of your service to our country and I want to thank you for that. I'm sure your accolades were earned at great expense to yourself and your family. You have my utmost respect.
I think of you often and with love. I wish I had been together enough as a person to give our relationship a try. But, I wasn't. And for that and the hurt I caused you at the time, I am sincerely and regretfully sorry. Carry my love and respect for you in your heart. Know that I would give anything to turn back time and try again. I can only move forward with hope for my future, possibly for the first time in my life.
Every time I hear Don Henley sing "The Boys of Summer" I think of you. I wish you peace, blessings and light in your life. May you be continually blessed everyday.
"Thought I knew what love was - what did I know. Those days are gone forever, I should just let them go, but - I can see you. Your brown skin shining in the sun. I see you walking real slow and smiling at everyone. I can tell you my love for you will still be strong - after the boys of summer are gone." If I only knew then what I know now...................................
Monday, March 16, 2015
Sir Elton, I DO love you, but you are so wrong
I have been an Elton John fan since God was a small child. I have defended his right to dress in crazy costumes, wear outlandish shoes and glasses and perform in any way he sees fit. I cried - CRIED - when I was 13 and the album Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy came out and was somewhat panned by the critics. I felt terrible. I loved that album. Still do. Some other albums of his I have purchased two records, 2 or 3 cassette tapes, and am on my 2nd CD (I stepped on several accidentally). I wore them out playing them. EJ is about the only performer that I will pay 200.00 a ticket to have the pleasure to see in person. Not once; not twice; but 3 times. And I would go again. I'm still trying to catch him at Madison Square Gardens and I live in Oklahoma. Yes, I would pay that much to be there, plane ticket and all. My youngest daughter and I made a pact that whichever of us dies first, we are to insist "Funeral For A Friend" is played at our service. I even do the "Bennie and the Jets" arm wave IN MY CAR with people staring at me like I've lost my mind. He's the greatest. I bored several people around me at his last concert I attended by telling them that his guitar player had been with him since dirt was invented. I drew the pictures from his album covers when I was a teenager; my theme songs are "The Bitch is Back" and "I'm Still Standing," and at one point I wore the same style glasses he did (they didn't look good on either of us). This isn't a passing phase in my life; I have literally been an Elton John fan for 40+ years.
I was happy for EJ when he married. I think if two people love each other, they should be able to publicly marry and live as happily as they can for the rest of their lives. Good for you! I think it is wonderful.
But - and it's a big one - I absolutely will not support you in your quest to boycott Dolce and Gabanna. You see, you are WRONG. ANYONE has the right to their opinion. It matters not to me if you are a gay couple, that's not the problem. But you so callously claim that IVF is ok and if a couple wants a child they should have one in any way they seek. This is utterly selfish. You HIRED and PAID a woman to have a child for you - two in fact. You PURCHASED her womb. That is vile and tragic. All of you need to be smacked upside your heads. What are you thinking?
Clearly, you aren't thinking about the children. Will they have the best money can buy? Yes. Will they travel, have things that the majority of people will never get? Yes. And, I'm sure you will love those children the best you can.
BUT - will they have their mother - their blood relatives. NO. And this is very wrong. They will undoubtedly look in the mirror one day and wonder - where's the other half of me? Have you not read stories that donor conceived children write? Do you not care? Or were you just so intent on having a child that it doesn't matter to you? Children who grow up without their natural families suffer whether they have the best of everything or not. They NEED that connection. It's vitally important. And you just blew it off and are trying to bring down those who disagree with you. You, Sir Elton, are not above reproach. You are just another baby-hungry person who wants what they want when they want it. I am so disappointed.
You have used your status and money in a way that many find extremely repulsive - me for one. What is it with you icons that you feel you should get away with whatever floats your boat? That you can do no wrong? Well, you blew it this time. BIG TIME.
I'm sad. I feel like I just lost my best friend from childhood. I guess I will take my Madison Square Garden money and buy a Dolce and Gabanna handbag or something. Anything to support people who say what they feel, mean it, and have the absolute right to say it. I am horribly disappointed in you. If you were one half of a heterosexual couple and said the things you did, I would feel the same way. So go stomp your foot and make your stand. We'll see exactly what tune you are singing in 20 years or so when your kids are grown and have minds of their own.
I was happy for EJ when he married. I think if two people love each other, they should be able to publicly marry and live as happily as they can for the rest of their lives. Good for you! I think it is wonderful.
But - and it's a big one - I absolutely will not support you in your quest to boycott Dolce and Gabanna. You see, you are WRONG. ANYONE has the right to their opinion. It matters not to me if you are a gay couple, that's not the problem. But you so callously claim that IVF is ok and if a couple wants a child they should have one in any way they seek. This is utterly selfish. You HIRED and PAID a woman to have a child for you - two in fact. You PURCHASED her womb. That is vile and tragic. All of you need to be smacked upside your heads. What are you thinking?
Clearly, you aren't thinking about the children. Will they have the best money can buy? Yes. Will they travel, have things that the majority of people will never get? Yes. And, I'm sure you will love those children the best you can.
BUT - will they have their mother - their blood relatives. NO. And this is very wrong. They will undoubtedly look in the mirror one day and wonder - where's the other half of me? Have you not read stories that donor conceived children write? Do you not care? Or were you just so intent on having a child that it doesn't matter to you? Children who grow up without their natural families suffer whether they have the best of everything or not. They NEED that connection. It's vitally important. And you just blew it off and are trying to bring down those who disagree with you. You, Sir Elton, are not above reproach. You are just another baby-hungry person who wants what they want when they want it. I am so disappointed.
You have used your status and money in a way that many find extremely repulsive - me for one. What is it with you icons that you feel you should get away with whatever floats your boat? That you can do no wrong? Well, you blew it this time. BIG TIME.
I'm sad. I feel like I just lost my best friend from childhood. I guess I will take my Madison Square Garden money and buy a Dolce and Gabanna handbag or something. Anything to support people who say what they feel, mean it, and have the absolute right to say it. I am horribly disappointed in you. If you were one half of a heterosexual couple and said the things you did, I would feel the same way. So go stomp your foot and make your stand. We'll see exactly what tune you are singing in 20 years or so when your kids are grown and have minds of their own.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
To Adoptees: What Do You Really Want?
To start with, I am not an adoptee. I did not raise an adoptee. I have not walked in your shoes, or lived the life you have. I do not speak for adoptees. I can't. That would be disingenuous. The only adoptee I know and know well is my son who was taken from me through a drugged, forced, closed adoption. But, I still can't really speak for him because I didn't live his life. I am friends with many adoptees, but that doesn't mean I know everything about them. It means I try to be comforting and open minded. Sometimes what they say and what I feel don't jive. That's understandable since we are speaking from different places.
I am a Mother of Loss. Many adoptees do not have that experience (although some do), and I do not expect you to talk for me. I am quite capable of articulating what I feel and what I think. Sometimes, my thinking and what you want to hear don't jive. Sorry about that. My feelings are my feelings, and if you don't like them, asking me to be different probably isn't going to work.
No, sometimes we just have to agree to disagree and move along. Doesn't make either of us wrong; we just disagree. Life is like that. Not everybody walks the same path, nor should they.
Since that is out of the way, today I want to ask adoptees and Mothers of Loss one question: What is it you really want when you seek reunion? Do you even know? I want to give you a few of the things I have learned along the way. Some of these I've read; some I've lived; some I've heard of; some I've learned from my son. Maybe this hits home, maybe not. If not, like I stated above, let's just agree to disagree.
1. Finding my lost child will make my life whole.
While this sounds great, it isn't true. When I began a search, what I really wanted to know was whether he was dead or alive, what he looked like, and if he was ok. Having your child in your life can be a relief just knowing those things. Having him or her in your life on an ongoing basis is truly a blessing. But, it will not solve a failing marriage, help with addictions, or change your outlook and view of life. Only YOU can do that. If you have lived with the guilt and shame adoption often brings, this will intensify during reunion. In fact, a whole slew of feelings you didn't even know you had will come out. It is life changing, and if you are honest and forthright with yourself, it can be great. But, just the act of meeting your lost child won't fix your problems.
2. Finding my lost mother/father will make my life whole.
Also, not true. Yes, it will likely help to fill in the gaps, the blanks. It has the potential to enrich your life. You will know who you look like, why you like pasta so much, medical information, where you get your "quirks" (assuming you have some!) even the reason for your relinquishment. It won't solve bad relationships, the inability to hold a job, addictions or a host of other issues. Only YOU can do that. You will also likely have emotions and feelings come out that you didn't know you possessed that will need to be addressed. This can be life changing for you as well, but only if you are willing to do the hard work. It must come from inside you.
3. It is ok to keep my search a secret from my family/adoptive parents/father of my child.
This is false on so many levels. First of all, and you aren't going to like this, the father of the child needs to be told. I understand there are circumstances such as rape, incest or severe abuse that makes this impossible. I get it and wouldn't ask you to put yourself in harm's way for anything. But often, that isn't the case. He was just a man who walked for whatever reason. He made a mistake. Whether you like it or not or whether he likes it or not, he needs to know. Likely, your lost son or daughter will ask about their father. Wouldn't you? Wouldn't you rather the father be forewarned with the knowledge rather than getting it dropped on them like a bombshell? Forget the past, we are talking about the present now. We are talking about your CHILD here, shouldn't they know everything? The father may have been a true shit, but he still needs to know. And your lost son or daughter has the right to meet them and make up their own minds about the type of relationship they choose to have with their father (or not).
Your raised children need to know, too - if they don't already. Don't spring a sibling on them at the last moment. The biggest regret I now have in all of this is that I didn't speak openly about their lost brother throughout their lives. I waited until I instigated the search. I see the damage this caused, and I was wrong, wrong, wrong. Regardless of what my thought process was at the time, they had a right to know this information, too.
Adoptees, please tell your adoptive parents. You are not likely to be able to keep your first family a secret for long. If you try to do that, invariably reunion will fail - the pressure becomes too great. I have read and seen countless adoptees who are angry when first mothers try to maintain secrets, but say in practically the same sentence they never told their adoptive parents about their search. How is that right? Secrets destroy. Read some of my past posts if you don't believe that. You don't draw the "bye" card because you are an adoptee. You expect mothers to pony up info, but if you can't be honest with your adoptive family perhaps you should rethink searching. The number one reason listed for not telling adoptive parents is that you do not wish to hurt them in some way. Let me let you in on a little secret - they know you are adopted. They made the decision to adopt. At some point, they had to have thought about your first family. You might be surprised - some are actually very supportive of search and willing to assist. And then, some aren't. This shouldn't alter your decision. This is about you, not them.
4. My mother is probably the greatest person on the face of the earth (or, as I like to call it "Fairytale Syndrome").
Not likely. You may be meeting your mother for the first time when she is middle aged. She's likely a person who has lived life - you know, just like other people. She's made mistakes and struggled. She has loved and lost. She could be wrinkled, fat and old. She's just a person, not a princess. To you, she may seem like a princess once you get to know her - that's fine. But she is just an ordinary person who has lived her life the best way she can. As a mother of loss, she may have a certain mysteriousness about her because she has spent her adulthood learning NOT to talk and feel. It was her way to survive. It could take time to get to know her. That can also be true of adoptees who felt the need to hide their feelings about being adopted. Some mothers and adoptees are tough nuts to crack. That's ok. Try to remember you have the rest of your life to get to know each other - it's not going to happen overnight.
5. I just want medical information and that's it.
Really? You are a rare one indeed if you go through the emotions and possible expense of searching and expect that all you are going to get out of this is medical information. To be honest, you may be missing out on one of the greatest relationships of your life. Or are you afraid of rejection? You might be rejected - I don't know. And you don't know. But you might not. I am not discounting the need to know medical information, but I've seen too many adoptees be completely torn up because they claimed that's all they wanted, they got more, and couldn't handle it.
Remember my statement that I just wanted to know if my son was dead or alive and if he was ok? Do you not see that this was very guarded statement in case I was rejected? I do.
My son and I used to attend a support group together. On one occasion, a woman was there who wanted to begin a search, but wasn't sure if she should. She was almost my age, very lovely and well dressed, and adorned with more diamonds than a jewelry store. She started off the meeting by saying she just want medical information. I noticed, as did my son, that she spent a lot of time looking at the two of us together. He would talk, I would talk, we would joke with each other. We held hands. He put his arm around my shoulder at one point - a side hug kind of thing - when I related something painful. I patted his knee when he seemed to need some reassurance. He said something - I don't even remember what - and I told him in front of the whole group "I sure do love you." I looked up to see not a dry eye in the room, especially the woman. Silent tears were streaming down her face. At the end of the meeting, she stated she wanted to search. She wanted what my son and I had. That's quite a change of heart in one and a half hours.
6. As a Mother of Loss, I now have to make sure my found son/daughter has a good relationship with everybody in the family - siblings, cousins, etc.
From what I have seen, the age of the people meeting is huge on this one. It is possible he or she will be meeting siblings for the first time who are established adults. They may not feel the need to have a close personal relationship with a sibling who just now showed up at the party. If your raised children are young - mid-teen years or before - it seems you stand a better chance of having a captive audience who will only relate to this as "cool - I have a big brother or sister." As the mother, you can't make people like and spend time with each other. Everyone has their own opinion on adoption, search and reunion and may feel it's fine for you, but it's not for them. As a mother, you can't fix their feelings. Only THEY can fix their feelings, if they choose.
The best you can do is make family members available to your lost son or daughter. Give them opportunities to meet, spend time with them alone and talk. If the relationship develops - great! Everybody can use more love in their lives. If not, it isn't your fault. People are people and you really can't push or sway people to see things the way you do. Push too hard, and you alienate people.
And please, for the love of all things in the universe, don't bombard your found son or daughter with people early on in the reunion. It may be overwhelming to them to have just met you. Save the big reunion for later - much later - when and if the adoptee feels ready. You are excited and want to show them off, but the adoptee has a lot of things to process. They aren't puppies, you know.
7. I must introduce my "birthmother" to my adoptive parents.
Please. Just. No. Not immediately. Maybe never. Understand that your mother may want to please you in any and all ways possible. She will likely agree to this, then dread it with every fiber of her being. This isn't about your adoptive parents. It's about the two of you forging a relationship, learning who you are and who you are to each other. Adoptive parents in reunion are like adoptive parents in the delivery room. Coercive, I feel. Unnecessary. They do not belong there. And they should respect you enough to give you the space and time you need to process this new relationship. Your mother will feel like she is being compared to them and may feel as if she doesn't measure up. Don't lay this on her early in reunion. It will just be another issue for her to overcome. She may never understand that they aren't better than her - just different.
8. I will accept whatever treatment I receive from my mother/lost son or daughter because I am afraid of losing them again.
No person should tolerate abuse from another person. Period. I don't care if it's your parent, boss, teacher, child or the lady in the checkout line behind you. I would never advocate for a person to be abused verbally, spiritually or physically. But, don't just shut the door. People are human, unfortunately, and this goes for your mother or lost son/daughter. Try to discuss the problem, like you would with anyone else. If you don't see some changes, back off for a while. Guilt is not a good precursor for a relationship.
I will say this too - one argument is not a relationship breaker. Just because you can't agree on one thing is not a good reason to call it quits. I've seen too many reunions broken up by petty arguments. On the other hand, I've seen too many go on in the face of extreme verbal abuse. Sometimes you have to draw your line in the sand and make that line known. If the line is continually crossed, it's time for a new conversation. Better to be estranged than miserable. I've had to fight this battle in my own family from time to time. If you can't or don't know how to draw that line - LEARN. You can learn that - I've had to learn it in the last 5 years, and I would classify myself as an old dog. I did learn new tricks.
9. I have no interest in meeting my mother/lost son or daughter. If found, I'm saying "no way."
I struggle with this. On the one hand, if that's the way you feel, that's the way you feel. Who am I to try and change your mind? On the other hand, I can't help but feel like anger and fear are the driving emotion behind a statement like this. I would like to say a couple of things about this, however. Again, this is my opinion and observation. I know this will tick a good many people off, and that's ok. I'm going to say it anyway. I'm not usually known for being the person who goes with the popular opinion on anything, let alone adoption. I'm used to adverse reactions. No problem there. So I'll say it. It's your choice whether you wish to read it or not.
Mothers: I don't know your situation. I don't know the reason you chose to continue your pregnancy and bring a baby into the world. I don't know - I care, but I don't know. Maybe you felt you would raise your child and then the adoption machine got to you. Maybe your family, like mine, threw you under the bus and insisted that you do this or you would have no home to go to. Maybe you were homeless and broke. Maybe your child was the product of rape or incest. Maybe you were an addict, in an abusive relationship, or any one of a hundred other reasons. Maybe you just didn't want to parent a child and truly did not want the baby. It's rare, but I'm sure it happens. You've likely been hurt by the relinquishment regardless of the circumstances. Hurt and pain go hand in hand with adoption - from all sides. BUT, you owe it to your child to at least give them a chance to meet you. They need to see you and hear from your mouth the whys and the reasons. They need to know their histories - who you are, who their father was, who their family is. Sorry, but we OWE them that. WE chose to bring them into the world. It is cruel to brush them aside with no answers, no honesty, no information. YOU are the person who holds the key to unlocking information that no one else can, or will, give them. If you feel that you cannot maintain a relationship because of your pain, anxiety or whatever reason, OK. I can't argue with you for that. But, give them a chance. At the very least, give them the information they crave. I read daily of adoptees who say they would gladly lose a limb for the chance to meet their mothers. Please, give them a chance.
Adoptees: I don't know your heart. I don't know how you feel about your adoption. I don't know if you feel rejected, abused, fearful, grateful, or just plain pissed of. I don't know. I care, but I don't know. There is a woman out there who thought enough of you to carry you to term and give birth to you. She has likely suffered because of the relinquishment. Many, many mothers of loss have spent their remaining years wondering about their children, loving them even though they wouldn't know them if they passed on the street. No matter what you have been told or what you have heard or what you have thought, your story lies with her. What you may have been told may not even be true. If she searched for you, she never gave up hope that the two of you would meet again someday. Please, give her the chance to see you with her own eyes. Let her tell your story so that you will know. You won't have to wonder anymore about it. True, it might not be pretty - probably isn't - but it's the truth and it's yours. You will have the answers to your questions. You will know your heritage and history. It may be painful for you to hear, but knowing and dealing with it is better than living in fantasy land. If you feel you cannot maintain a relationship because of your pain, anxiety or whatever reason, OK. I can't argue with you for that. But, give her a chance. Let her at least see you, talk to you. I can't really say to you that you OWE her this - after all, she made the choice to carry you to term and you had no choice in the matter of adoption. But the human, decent thing to do is at least meet her.
10. I know when I meet my mother/lost son or daughter, we will "click" instantly.
While, yes, you will find amazing and startling similarities, you may not feel you have much in common. You might feel a pull that this is what has been missing your whole life, or you might not. Take heart if you don't feel instantly connected. Reunions are not one moment; they are built from shared experiences. In the beginning, the only shared experience you have is one of pain. To get past this, you have to now forge your own new history. This isn't as hard as it sounds. By listening (and this is to adoptees and mothers alike), pick up on things they like that you aren't familiar with.
Maybe one mentions a food they really like that you have never had before. Make a date to go eat together. Try it - you might like it! Or you may not.......but the point is, you now have a shared experience (I'm so glad you introduced me to Thai food - I love it! OR Thai Food? Wasn't my favorite - let's get take out for you and I'll grab a cheeseburger). Point is, it was a shared experience.
As time goes by and you learn from each other, this can happen for you, too. Try not to make everything about adoption. Have other experiences. Enjoy other things together. You likely will find you react the same way to things even if you can't agree on everything. And no two people ever agree on everything. And that's ok. You can't force it. Only time and experiences will forge a relationship. Be open to each other and honest. (Honey, I don't really like football, but I know you do. OK, can I come and watch the game at your house? Of course, I'll knit and you watch football. OK, as long as we are together.)
Also, understand that just because your lost son/daughter does not react like your raised kids, or your mother doesn't react like your adoptive mother, that doesn't make anything WRONG. It's just different. It is part of the learning process. All people are different and react differently to different things. There are no right or wrong things here.
11. Possibly the hardest of all: Adoptive Mothers do not love like Natural Mothers do.
This is not going to be a popular viewpoint, I know. I am not suggesting that your adoptive mother doesn't love you - I'm sure she loves you as best she can. But, she doesn't have your blood coursing through her veins. I also know that some natural mothers can be very demanding for reasons I cannot fathom. But, all things remaining equal, the natural mother is much more accepting. I'm sorry, no matter how many adoptive parents tell me this is wrong, I know it to be true. I've seen it too many times to believe that it isn't true. I've seen the adoptee flourish under complete acceptance of their "flaws" that weren't really flaws at all - they were "quirks" if you will. Personality traits. It's the old "please stop acting just like me" syndrome that an adoptive mother would be clueless about. In fact, they might just be annoyed and think an adoptee is just doing something to bug them, not realizing that the very habit is ingrained in their child's DNA. It could be humming. Biting nails. Bad in Math. Being an introvert. Or a thousand other things. The natural mother understands these things to be inherent; the adoptive mother views them as misbehaving and punishment ensues. To the natural mother, they are endearing qualities; the adoptive mother views it as an annoyance. It may well be annoying, but the natural mother understands. The adoptive mother does not. She can't. She has no way of knowing. Not her fault really, but these things cause damage. Like you are supposed to change the very things that make you - you.
The unconditional love is hard for many adoptees to understand. It has been described to me as being almost uncomfortable like being placed on a pedestal for no reason at all. I find that very sad, but understandable. How could you know what it is like if you never experienced it? I suspect that when a person has spent their entire lives trying to figure out what pleases their parents, they have a hard time understanding that they don't have to do much of anything to please their natural mother. I realize this may not ring true for all, but I have heard this time and again from adoptees. I have also heard mothers of loss discuss how their lost ones just can't accept their love. Many of these mothers feel it is a loyalty issue. I think it is because the love is different and foreign to them. It takes time for them to understand how much they are loved just for being themselves. It's quite possible they haven't had that before.
So what is the take-away here? For search and reunion, you must be prepared to be honest and open. You must be willing to devote time to building a relationship, if you choose to do so. Be clear in what you want and your expectations. Don't try to hide from yourself. Be open-minded. For me, this journey has been the greatest, albeit most painful, experience of my life. But, I have learned tons in the last 3 years. I think my son would say the same thing.
I am a Mother of Loss. Many adoptees do not have that experience (although some do), and I do not expect you to talk for me. I am quite capable of articulating what I feel and what I think. Sometimes, my thinking and what you want to hear don't jive. Sorry about that. My feelings are my feelings, and if you don't like them, asking me to be different probably isn't going to work.
No, sometimes we just have to agree to disagree and move along. Doesn't make either of us wrong; we just disagree. Life is like that. Not everybody walks the same path, nor should they.
Since that is out of the way, today I want to ask adoptees and Mothers of Loss one question: What is it you really want when you seek reunion? Do you even know? I want to give you a few of the things I have learned along the way. Some of these I've read; some I've lived; some I've heard of; some I've learned from my son. Maybe this hits home, maybe not. If not, like I stated above, let's just agree to disagree.
1. Finding my lost child will make my life whole.
While this sounds great, it isn't true. When I began a search, what I really wanted to know was whether he was dead or alive, what he looked like, and if he was ok. Having your child in your life can be a relief just knowing those things. Having him or her in your life on an ongoing basis is truly a blessing. But, it will not solve a failing marriage, help with addictions, or change your outlook and view of life. Only YOU can do that. If you have lived with the guilt and shame adoption often brings, this will intensify during reunion. In fact, a whole slew of feelings you didn't even know you had will come out. It is life changing, and if you are honest and forthright with yourself, it can be great. But, just the act of meeting your lost child won't fix your problems.
2. Finding my lost mother/father will make my life whole.
Also, not true. Yes, it will likely help to fill in the gaps, the blanks. It has the potential to enrich your life. You will know who you look like, why you like pasta so much, medical information, where you get your "quirks" (assuming you have some!) even the reason for your relinquishment. It won't solve bad relationships, the inability to hold a job, addictions or a host of other issues. Only YOU can do that. You will also likely have emotions and feelings come out that you didn't know you possessed that will need to be addressed. This can be life changing for you as well, but only if you are willing to do the hard work. It must come from inside you.
3. It is ok to keep my search a secret from my family/adoptive parents/father of my child.
This is false on so many levels. First of all, and you aren't going to like this, the father of the child needs to be told. I understand there are circumstances such as rape, incest or severe abuse that makes this impossible. I get it and wouldn't ask you to put yourself in harm's way for anything. But often, that isn't the case. He was just a man who walked for whatever reason. He made a mistake. Whether you like it or not or whether he likes it or not, he needs to know. Likely, your lost son or daughter will ask about their father. Wouldn't you? Wouldn't you rather the father be forewarned with the knowledge rather than getting it dropped on them like a bombshell? Forget the past, we are talking about the present now. We are talking about your CHILD here, shouldn't they know everything? The father may have been a true shit, but he still needs to know. And your lost son or daughter has the right to meet them and make up their own minds about the type of relationship they choose to have with their father (or not).
Your raised children need to know, too - if they don't already. Don't spring a sibling on them at the last moment. The biggest regret I now have in all of this is that I didn't speak openly about their lost brother throughout their lives. I waited until I instigated the search. I see the damage this caused, and I was wrong, wrong, wrong. Regardless of what my thought process was at the time, they had a right to know this information, too.
Adoptees, please tell your adoptive parents. You are not likely to be able to keep your first family a secret for long. If you try to do that, invariably reunion will fail - the pressure becomes too great. I have read and seen countless adoptees who are angry when first mothers try to maintain secrets, but say in practically the same sentence they never told their adoptive parents about their search. How is that right? Secrets destroy. Read some of my past posts if you don't believe that. You don't draw the "bye" card because you are an adoptee. You expect mothers to pony up info, but if you can't be honest with your adoptive family perhaps you should rethink searching. The number one reason listed for not telling adoptive parents is that you do not wish to hurt them in some way. Let me let you in on a little secret - they know you are adopted. They made the decision to adopt. At some point, they had to have thought about your first family. You might be surprised - some are actually very supportive of search and willing to assist. And then, some aren't. This shouldn't alter your decision. This is about you, not them.
4. My mother is probably the greatest person on the face of the earth (or, as I like to call it "Fairytale Syndrome").
Not likely. You may be meeting your mother for the first time when she is middle aged. She's likely a person who has lived life - you know, just like other people. She's made mistakes and struggled. She has loved and lost. She could be wrinkled, fat and old. She's just a person, not a princess. To you, she may seem like a princess once you get to know her - that's fine. But she is just an ordinary person who has lived her life the best way she can. As a mother of loss, she may have a certain mysteriousness about her because she has spent her adulthood learning NOT to talk and feel. It was her way to survive. It could take time to get to know her. That can also be true of adoptees who felt the need to hide their feelings about being adopted. Some mothers and adoptees are tough nuts to crack. That's ok. Try to remember you have the rest of your life to get to know each other - it's not going to happen overnight.
5. I just want medical information and that's it.
Really? You are a rare one indeed if you go through the emotions and possible expense of searching and expect that all you are going to get out of this is medical information. To be honest, you may be missing out on one of the greatest relationships of your life. Or are you afraid of rejection? You might be rejected - I don't know. And you don't know. But you might not. I am not discounting the need to know medical information, but I've seen too many adoptees be completely torn up because they claimed that's all they wanted, they got more, and couldn't handle it.
Remember my statement that I just wanted to know if my son was dead or alive and if he was ok? Do you not see that this was very guarded statement in case I was rejected? I do.
My son and I used to attend a support group together. On one occasion, a woman was there who wanted to begin a search, but wasn't sure if she should. She was almost my age, very lovely and well dressed, and adorned with more diamonds than a jewelry store. She started off the meeting by saying she just want medical information. I noticed, as did my son, that she spent a lot of time looking at the two of us together. He would talk, I would talk, we would joke with each other. We held hands. He put his arm around my shoulder at one point - a side hug kind of thing - when I related something painful. I patted his knee when he seemed to need some reassurance. He said something - I don't even remember what - and I told him in front of the whole group "I sure do love you." I looked up to see not a dry eye in the room, especially the woman. Silent tears were streaming down her face. At the end of the meeting, she stated she wanted to search. She wanted what my son and I had. That's quite a change of heart in one and a half hours.
6. As a Mother of Loss, I now have to make sure my found son/daughter has a good relationship with everybody in the family - siblings, cousins, etc.
From what I have seen, the age of the people meeting is huge on this one. It is possible he or she will be meeting siblings for the first time who are established adults. They may not feel the need to have a close personal relationship with a sibling who just now showed up at the party. If your raised children are young - mid-teen years or before - it seems you stand a better chance of having a captive audience who will only relate to this as "cool - I have a big brother or sister." As the mother, you can't make people like and spend time with each other. Everyone has their own opinion on adoption, search and reunion and may feel it's fine for you, but it's not for them. As a mother, you can't fix their feelings. Only THEY can fix their feelings, if they choose.
The best you can do is make family members available to your lost son or daughter. Give them opportunities to meet, spend time with them alone and talk. If the relationship develops - great! Everybody can use more love in their lives. If not, it isn't your fault. People are people and you really can't push or sway people to see things the way you do. Push too hard, and you alienate people.
And please, for the love of all things in the universe, don't bombard your found son or daughter with people early on in the reunion. It may be overwhelming to them to have just met you. Save the big reunion for later - much later - when and if the adoptee feels ready. You are excited and want to show them off, but the adoptee has a lot of things to process. They aren't puppies, you know.
7. I must introduce my "birthmother" to my adoptive parents.
Please. Just. No. Not immediately. Maybe never. Understand that your mother may want to please you in any and all ways possible. She will likely agree to this, then dread it with every fiber of her being. This isn't about your adoptive parents. It's about the two of you forging a relationship, learning who you are and who you are to each other. Adoptive parents in reunion are like adoptive parents in the delivery room. Coercive, I feel. Unnecessary. They do not belong there. And they should respect you enough to give you the space and time you need to process this new relationship. Your mother will feel like she is being compared to them and may feel as if she doesn't measure up. Don't lay this on her early in reunion. It will just be another issue for her to overcome. She may never understand that they aren't better than her - just different.
8. I will accept whatever treatment I receive from my mother/lost son or daughter because I am afraid of losing them again.
No person should tolerate abuse from another person. Period. I don't care if it's your parent, boss, teacher, child or the lady in the checkout line behind you. I would never advocate for a person to be abused verbally, spiritually or physically. But, don't just shut the door. People are human, unfortunately, and this goes for your mother or lost son/daughter. Try to discuss the problem, like you would with anyone else. If you don't see some changes, back off for a while. Guilt is not a good precursor for a relationship.
I will say this too - one argument is not a relationship breaker. Just because you can't agree on one thing is not a good reason to call it quits. I've seen too many reunions broken up by petty arguments. On the other hand, I've seen too many go on in the face of extreme verbal abuse. Sometimes you have to draw your line in the sand and make that line known. If the line is continually crossed, it's time for a new conversation. Better to be estranged than miserable. I've had to fight this battle in my own family from time to time. If you can't or don't know how to draw that line - LEARN. You can learn that - I've had to learn it in the last 5 years, and I would classify myself as an old dog. I did learn new tricks.
9. I have no interest in meeting my mother/lost son or daughter. If found, I'm saying "no way."
I struggle with this. On the one hand, if that's the way you feel, that's the way you feel. Who am I to try and change your mind? On the other hand, I can't help but feel like anger and fear are the driving emotion behind a statement like this. I would like to say a couple of things about this, however. Again, this is my opinion and observation. I know this will tick a good many people off, and that's ok. I'm going to say it anyway. I'm not usually known for being the person who goes with the popular opinion on anything, let alone adoption. I'm used to adverse reactions. No problem there. So I'll say it. It's your choice whether you wish to read it or not.
Mothers: I don't know your situation. I don't know the reason you chose to continue your pregnancy and bring a baby into the world. I don't know - I care, but I don't know. Maybe you felt you would raise your child and then the adoption machine got to you. Maybe your family, like mine, threw you under the bus and insisted that you do this or you would have no home to go to. Maybe you were homeless and broke. Maybe your child was the product of rape or incest. Maybe you were an addict, in an abusive relationship, or any one of a hundred other reasons. Maybe you just didn't want to parent a child and truly did not want the baby. It's rare, but I'm sure it happens. You've likely been hurt by the relinquishment regardless of the circumstances. Hurt and pain go hand in hand with adoption - from all sides. BUT, you owe it to your child to at least give them a chance to meet you. They need to see you and hear from your mouth the whys and the reasons. They need to know their histories - who you are, who their father was, who their family is. Sorry, but we OWE them that. WE chose to bring them into the world. It is cruel to brush them aside with no answers, no honesty, no information. YOU are the person who holds the key to unlocking information that no one else can, or will, give them. If you feel that you cannot maintain a relationship because of your pain, anxiety or whatever reason, OK. I can't argue with you for that. But, give them a chance. At the very least, give them the information they crave. I read daily of adoptees who say they would gladly lose a limb for the chance to meet their mothers. Please, give them a chance.
Adoptees: I don't know your heart. I don't know how you feel about your adoption. I don't know if you feel rejected, abused, fearful, grateful, or just plain pissed of. I don't know. I care, but I don't know. There is a woman out there who thought enough of you to carry you to term and give birth to you. She has likely suffered because of the relinquishment. Many, many mothers of loss have spent their remaining years wondering about their children, loving them even though they wouldn't know them if they passed on the street. No matter what you have been told or what you have heard or what you have thought, your story lies with her. What you may have been told may not even be true. If she searched for you, she never gave up hope that the two of you would meet again someday. Please, give her the chance to see you with her own eyes. Let her tell your story so that you will know. You won't have to wonder anymore about it. True, it might not be pretty - probably isn't - but it's the truth and it's yours. You will have the answers to your questions. You will know your heritage and history. It may be painful for you to hear, but knowing and dealing with it is better than living in fantasy land. If you feel you cannot maintain a relationship because of your pain, anxiety or whatever reason, OK. I can't argue with you for that. But, give her a chance. Let her at least see you, talk to you. I can't really say to you that you OWE her this - after all, she made the choice to carry you to term and you had no choice in the matter of adoption. But the human, decent thing to do is at least meet her.
10. I know when I meet my mother/lost son or daughter, we will "click" instantly.
While, yes, you will find amazing and startling similarities, you may not feel you have much in common. You might feel a pull that this is what has been missing your whole life, or you might not. Take heart if you don't feel instantly connected. Reunions are not one moment; they are built from shared experiences. In the beginning, the only shared experience you have is one of pain. To get past this, you have to now forge your own new history. This isn't as hard as it sounds. By listening (and this is to adoptees and mothers alike), pick up on things they like that you aren't familiar with.
Maybe one mentions a food they really like that you have never had before. Make a date to go eat together. Try it - you might like it! Or you may not.......but the point is, you now have a shared experience (I'm so glad you introduced me to Thai food - I love it! OR Thai Food? Wasn't my favorite - let's get take out for you and I'll grab a cheeseburger). Point is, it was a shared experience.
As time goes by and you learn from each other, this can happen for you, too. Try not to make everything about adoption. Have other experiences. Enjoy other things together. You likely will find you react the same way to things even if you can't agree on everything. And no two people ever agree on everything. And that's ok. You can't force it. Only time and experiences will forge a relationship. Be open to each other and honest. (Honey, I don't really like football, but I know you do. OK, can I come and watch the game at your house? Of course, I'll knit and you watch football. OK, as long as we are together.)
Also, understand that just because your lost son/daughter does not react like your raised kids, or your mother doesn't react like your adoptive mother, that doesn't make anything WRONG. It's just different. It is part of the learning process. All people are different and react differently to different things. There are no right or wrong things here.
11. Possibly the hardest of all: Adoptive Mothers do not love like Natural Mothers do.
This is not going to be a popular viewpoint, I know. I am not suggesting that your adoptive mother doesn't love you - I'm sure she loves you as best she can. But, she doesn't have your blood coursing through her veins. I also know that some natural mothers can be very demanding for reasons I cannot fathom. But, all things remaining equal, the natural mother is much more accepting. I'm sorry, no matter how many adoptive parents tell me this is wrong, I know it to be true. I've seen it too many times to believe that it isn't true. I've seen the adoptee flourish under complete acceptance of their "flaws" that weren't really flaws at all - they were "quirks" if you will. Personality traits. It's the old "please stop acting just like me" syndrome that an adoptive mother would be clueless about. In fact, they might just be annoyed and think an adoptee is just doing something to bug them, not realizing that the very habit is ingrained in their child's DNA. It could be humming. Biting nails. Bad in Math. Being an introvert. Or a thousand other things. The natural mother understands these things to be inherent; the adoptive mother views them as misbehaving and punishment ensues. To the natural mother, they are endearing qualities; the adoptive mother views it as an annoyance. It may well be annoying, but the natural mother understands. The adoptive mother does not. She can't. She has no way of knowing. Not her fault really, but these things cause damage. Like you are supposed to change the very things that make you - you.
The unconditional love is hard for many adoptees to understand. It has been described to me as being almost uncomfortable like being placed on a pedestal for no reason at all. I find that very sad, but understandable. How could you know what it is like if you never experienced it? I suspect that when a person has spent their entire lives trying to figure out what pleases their parents, they have a hard time understanding that they don't have to do much of anything to please their natural mother. I realize this may not ring true for all, but I have heard this time and again from adoptees. I have also heard mothers of loss discuss how their lost ones just can't accept their love. Many of these mothers feel it is a loyalty issue. I think it is because the love is different and foreign to them. It takes time for them to understand how much they are loved just for being themselves. It's quite possible they haven't had that before.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
FEAR - Too Afraid to Know the Truth?
OK. Try to follow me here.
In my search for truth surrounding the loss of my son, I have spent a couple of months constructing a list of questions surrounding the loss of my son I want to ask family members.I am all about the truth in adoption - secrets and lies have destroyed so many lives. I wake up in the morning firm in my resolve - I WILL ask my questions and I WILL get answers! I deserve the truth. I often feel that I have gone as far as I can in my attempt to heal until I have these answers, and I am trying to fill in blanks. I know the answers will be hard for me to hear, but I really need to know. Then, my resolve crumbles as I pick up the phone to call and set a time to talk, I make an excuse to myself of something that I have to do, and the day progresses without the call being completed.
Because of barbituates used during my labor and postnatal care, I have many voids in my memory. What I do remember doesn't add up to the stories and outright gaslighting I have received from family members. For years, I DID think I was crazy. I thought I got it all wrong. I thought I was only remembering what I wanted to remember. I thought maybe these thoughts, flashbacks and remembered conversations were being taken out of context. How could I think those things? Once I entered reunion with my son, I decided that I had emotional amnesia. I had blocked it out. But, when a trusted source told me that she knew I had been drugged and restrained for 3 days after delivery, it made so much sense. In the days following delivery, I remembered little. And, I remember nothing of going into labor and very little about an 18 hour labor. Eighteen hours? And I remember next to nothing?
And yet, knowing I had been drugged instead of just suspecting it brought up more questions. Who authorized that? When was that decision made? What else happened to me in the days I remember nothing? Who of my family knew about this and did nothing? What shot was I given to "dry up my breast milk"? DES? How come my son's APGAR score on the non-identifying information was a 9, but on the hospital medical records it was a 3? Why is Tuinal and Darvocette listed on my medical records with an asterisk indicating "unable to reconcile to medication chart"? Where is the medical chart showing what I was given in the 10 days following birth that I was required to stay at the unwed mother's home? Do you mean to tell me that I had an 18 hour labor and was given no pain medication - not even a Tylenol - after the first day? Where are the medical consent forms - the ones that would have had to be signed by my parents for treatment other than the actual labor, delivery and care of my son? Or did they just have me declared legally incompetent like so many others have been? Who contacted the father? Why did he retain an attorney - because he was twice my age and I was only 16 at the time? Did someone threaten him with statutory rape? Why did his attorney lie and say he had no siblings when I have been able to find evidence of a sister? And, given that he was a person of some fame (and potentially in danger of being labeled a sex offender), did somebody pay off my parents or the agency for their "trouble" if they could make sure this adoption happened?
I asked the agency some of these question about 2 months ago. The only thing I got was chirping crickets. In fairness to them, they had been cooperative about a good many things. But, when I started asking some of the above questions, I got silence. And no more paperwork or cooperation whatsoever. Now, they won't even accept my calls. Guilty.
Information I have gathered from the hospital, people who were around at that time, and the agency have so many lies - and I have a limited amount of information.
I want answers. I want to confront the hospital and tell them what I think about their shoddy records. I want to walk into that agency and announce to them that I know what they did, and if I can ever prove half of what I know I will own and subsequently shut them down. I want to hear from the mouths of my own family members that these things happened. I want truth. I want to find out who that attorney was my son's father hired and play a little verbal poker about what I know. I want to be able to fill in the holes in the story and try to come to some semblance of closure so I can move forward in reunion. I deserve answers! I deserve the truth! I deserve to know what happened to me (and my son) behind the scenes that I was not privy to in 1976. I expect, no DEMAND this.
But first, I have to make that phone call..........Can't..........Scared.............
In my search for truth surrounding the loss of my son, I have spent a couple of months constructing a list of questions surrounding the loss of my son I want to ask family members.I am all about the truth in adoption - secrets and lies have destroyed so many lives. I wake up in the morning firm in my resolve - I WILL ask my questions and I WILL get answers! I deserve the truth. I often feel that I have gone as far as I can in my attempt to heal until I have these answers, and I am trying to fill in blanks. I know the answers will be hard for me to hear, but I really need to know. Then, my resolve crumbles as I pick up the phone to call and set a time to talk, I make an excuse to myself of something that I have to do, and the day progresses without the call being completed.
Because of barbituates used during my labor and postnatal care, I have many voids in my memory. What I do remember doesn't add up to the stories and outright gaslighting I have received from family members. For years, I DID think I was crazy. I thought I got it all wrong. I thought I was only remembering what I wanted to remember. I thought maybe these thoughts, flashbacks and remembered conversations were being taken out of context. How could I think those things? Once I entered reunion with my son, I decided that I had emotional amnesia. I had blocked it out. But, when a trusted source told me that she knew I had been drugged and restrained for 3 days after delivery, it made so much sense. In the days following delivery, I remembered little. And, I remember nothing of going into labor and very little about an 18 hour labor. Eighteen hours? And I remember next to nothing?
And yet, knowing I had been drugged instead of just suspecting it brought up more questions. Who authorized that? When was that decision made? What else happened to me in the days I remember nothing? Who of my family knew about this and did nothing? What shot was I given to "dry up my breast milk"? DES? How come my son's APGAR score on the non-identifying information was a 9, but on the hospital medical records it was a 3? Why is Tuinal and Darvocette listed on my medical records with an asterisk indicating "unable to reconcile to medication chart"? Where is the medical chart showing what I was given in the 10 days following birth that I was required to stay at the unwed mother's home? Do you mean to tell me that I had an 18 hour labor and was given no pain medication - not even a Tylenol - after the first day? Where are the medical consent forms - the ones that would have had to be signed by my parents for treatment other than the actual labor, delivery and care of my son? Or did they just have me declared legally incompetent like so many others have been? Who contacted the father? Why did he retain an attorney - because he was twice my age and I was only 16 at the time? Did someone threaten him with statutory rape? Why did his attorney lie and say he had no siblings when I have been able to find evidence of a sister? And, given that he was a person of some fame (and potentially in danger of being labeled a sex offender), did somebody pay off my parents or the agency for their "trouble" if they could make sure this adoption happened?
I asked the agency some of these question about 2 months ago. The only thing I got was chirping crickets. In fairness to them, they had been cooperative about a good many things. But, when I started asking some of the above questions, I got silence. And no more paperwork or cooperation whatsoever. Now, they won't even accept my calls. Guilty.
Information I have gathered from the hospital, people who were around at that time, and the agency have so many lies - and I have a limited amount of information.
I want answers. I want to confront the hospital and tell them what I think about their shoddy records. I want to walk into that agency and announce to them that I know what they did, and if I can ever prove half of what I know I will own and subsequently shut them down. I want to hear from the mouths of my own family members that these things happened. I want truth. I want to find out who that attorney was my son's father hired and play a little verbal poker about what I know. I want to be able to fill in the holes in the story and try to come to some semblance of closure so I can move forward in reunion. I deserve answers! I deserve the truth! I deserve to know what happened to me (and my son) behind the scenes that I was not privy to in 1976. I expect, no DEMAND this.
But first, I have to make that phone call..........Can't..........Scared.............
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| How I feel when confronting others - like the little dog..... |
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