Well, I called. I only hmm'd and hawed for a couple of seconds and then just did it.
Bio mom answered and we talked for quite a while. Seems my last email to her was on the short side and she'd decided to wait to mail me back until I'd sent something more substantial. Not really knowing her it would be hard to say for sure, but I got the feeling her nose was a little out of joint. In her defense, seems she hadn't gotten around to reading the second short mail I'd sent asking her to please mail me because I was a little worried. In my own defense, I thought it was her that was due to reply with a longer mail, not me. And so it goes.
We actually talked for quite a while and the conversation was pleasant. I couldn't help but think about other parents and adoptees as I carefully chose my words, making quick decisions about what I should and shouldn't say in conversation, and how easy it would be to mess it all up.
Oh crap, did what I just say sound like I was judging her kids? Damn, did I just talk too much about myself? Uh oh, did I just make myself sound like an alcoholic? Oh no, does she think I'm a whiny bitch for complaining about my sister-in-law?
Prior to calling I had a most excellent visit on an outdoor patio with my oldest and dearest friend. The conversation flowed, words were spoken without fear, intimate details of our lives were exchanged with complete trust in one another. There would be no judgement, no betrayal of things said in confidence, no need to weigh every word prior to uttering them out of fear of offending each other. That's the way things are when you really know someone, have concrete history with them, and have nurtured a relationship for 40 years.
When we adoptees meet our biological people, we are doing just that. Meeting them. There is no mystical or automatic relationship, no instantaneous knowledge of each others' way of thinking or doing things by virtue of being genetically related.
I think sometimes we're all led down a garden path when it comes to genes and biological connections and get set up for disappointment and failure. Parents and their children have unrealistic expectations of what things should be like, and I don't just mean those of us who are in adoption situations.
Healthy, trusting familial relationships take dedication, time, and commitment, by both parties.
Of course in the beginning it's up to the parent, the adult, to do all the work but that's where the stage is set. It's not set prenatally by a mysterious primal connection, it's developed gradually through consistency and trust, familiarity and shared experiences.
Conceiving and giving birth has no real power without all the rest and I really think choosing to believe or rely on it having so much stand alone importance is sometimes where we all fall down.
Showing posts with label reunion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reunion. Show all posts
Friday
The great enemy of the truth is very often not the lie -- deliberate, contrived and dishonest -- but the myth -- persistent, persuasive and unrealistic.(Quote by - John F. Kennedy)
I don’t subscribe to the Primal Wound Theory as it's presented and the reason that I don’t is because I was adopted as an infant and I don’t have a primal wound. Not sure one could have a much more valid reason for being a non-believer. It’s basically the same as believing a primal wound exists because one has a primal wound. Except for, my experience negates Nancy Verrier’s declaration that a primal wound is inescapable, universal and that means something.
It means you don’t automatically have a primal wound if you were not raised by your biological mother. Phew, eh?
I am however a believer in adoptee rights.
I think you can be unwounded and still be concerned with discrimination against adopted persons when it comes to closed records of the adoptee’s own life.
I think you can be unwounded and still care about kids being born today to parents that aren’t going to raise them. I care very much about who ends up raising them and how they go about it. In fact, I care about how people are raising all kids, kept or not.
Something else I care about is biological parents’ feelings. Their fear, their shame. I believe their feelings should be taken into consideration when opening up records to adoptees. I really do. I’m well aware that the online community say repeatedly that parents, mainly mothers, were not, by law, guaranteed privacy, anonymity. I guess that’s most likely true, I’d be surprised to see a mother pull out documentation proving otherwise. They also say though that mothers weren’t even verbally made promises of confidentiality, not led to believe they’d never be found, led to believe that their secret would always remain a secret.
Don’t believe it.
As with the Primal Wound Theory not applying in my case, I am here to say that my biological mother did believe I’d never find her, that her secret would never be threatened. That it was up to her to decide who in her life would know about me, about what she did 48 years ago and me finding her was “never supposed to happen”. Yes, she was done a great disservice, a disservice I don’t think should be taken lightly.
I’m not sure what the answer is. I’m not sure any legislation will ever be fair to all parties, but I don’t think it does anyone any good to think it’s just adoption agencies and adoptive parents who don’t want open records.
Maybe if we could all just be honest about adoption and how it means different things to different people there could be some progress made.
Not every mother and father wants to be found, regrets having chosen adoption, dreams of the day they will meet their long lost son or daughter. It’s just not fair to perpetuate that type of myth, not fair to anyone, and most especially not fair to the adoptees who yearn to reunite and think it will make everything all better, just as myths and dishonesty are not helpful in achieving open records.
Even though I truly believe we’re the only ones who can make ourselves feel better, it would be nice to get some help along the way and I think a little honesty and a lot more realism would go very far in doing just that.
Wednesday
It's a privilege and an honour to make yer aquaintance, ma'am
Want to share a link to a really good post. Check out Amanda here
I think she really nailed it, this sense of obligation between parents and adoptees. I agree when she says the adoptee really doesn't owe anyone anything. It would be swell if everyone treated each other with kindness, respect, patience, and generosity but as far as the adoptee having an obligation to any of their parents? Well, I like how Amanda put it.
"Many first parents are fond of reminding us that we don't owe our adoptive parents loyalty..that we should not make the decision not to not reunite to save their feelings. But can't the same be said about natural parents? We shouldn't reunite just to satisfy their feelings. Just as I owe my adoptive parents nothing for adopting me, I owe my first parents nothing for giving me up."
Check out the rest.
I think she really nailed it, this sense of obligation between parents and adoptees. I agree when she says the adoptee really doesn't owe anyone anything. It would be swell if everyone treated each other with kindness, respect, patience, and generosity but as far as the adoptee having an obligation to any of their parents? Well, I like how Amanda put it.
"Many first parents are fond of reminding us that we don't owe our adoptive parents loyalty..that we should not make the decision not to not reunite to save their feelings. But can't the same be said about natural parents? We shouldn't reunite just to satisfy their feelings. Just as I owe my adoptive parents nothing for adopting me, I owe my first parents nothing for giving me up."
Check out the rest.
Sunday
One mother's perspective on the right to search
I do not see it as a matter of rights, everyone and no-one have the "right" to search, or rather, both mothers and adoptees search, whether they have that right or not. That is not the question.
Some search, some do not. It is a deeply personal choice, from both sides. To adoptees (that feel nothing tells them more that they were loved than being searched for), mothers searching do not necessarily care more than mothers who wait to be found. Many of us who searched, and especially those like me who searched for young adoptees, did so out of our own needs as much as concern for the child.
I do not see myself as more noble or loving than mothers I know who were found but did not search, just more desperate at an earlier age. My son did not want to be found or to search. He was not pining for me, and it did nothing for him at the time, me showing up when he was too young.
Mothers who surrendered should search if they feel the need, but they should be aware not all adoptees are eager to be found any more than all birth mothers are. There are good reasons to search, and for some, good reasons not to. There is no "right" to search, it is a choice that should be made with clear vision and careful considerations of the pros and cons.
I am glad I found my son. I wish I had waited many more years to make contact. I cannot advise others to do as I have done, as I regret so much of it. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have the relationship with my son that I have now, in spite of all the mistakes.
Some search, some do not. It is a deeply personal choice, from both sides. To adoptees (that feel nothing tells them more that they were loved than being searched for), mothers searching do not necessarily care more than mothers who wait to be found. Many of us who searched, and especially those like me who searched for young adoptees, did so out of our own needs as much as concern for the child.
I do not see myself as more noble or loving than mothers I know who were found but did not search, just more desperate at an earlier age. My son did not want to be found or to search. He was not pining for me, and it did nothing for him at the time, me showing up when he was too young.
Mothers who surrendered should search if they feel the need, but they should be aware not all adoptees are eager to be found any more than all birth mothers are. There are good reasons to search, and for some, good reasons not to. There is no "right" to search, it is a choice that should be made with clear vision and careful considerations of the pros and cons.
I am glad I found my son. I wish I had waited many more years to make contact. I cannot advise others to do as I have done, as I regret so much of it. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have the relationship with my son that I have now, in spite of all the mistakes.
Saturday
I am still coming to grips with it all
In a recent post I talked about bringing up to my bio mom the possibility of her telling her family about me and have since done so through one of our regular emails. In this post I'm going to share an edited portion of my latest reply to her reply to me. I personally find it very interesting and insightful when I get the opportunity to read other people's reunion communication so I share this here with the hope that it may help someone else to see a different perspective and approach. Also, in including her brave and very honest words about how it feels as a woman who relinquished and did expect confidentiality, I am providing proof positive that this scenario does exist even though some first/birth/bio moms try and convince us all they do not.
I believe it's important to acknowledge all points of view, to think about the many ways people feel about adoption.
To deny those who feel differently is to deny our own unique feelings and experience.
My reply....
Morning (bio mom), thank you for this mail. It just feels so honest and real, and I appreciate that. I certainly appreciate your last sentence, "remember I traveled to _______ forty-eight years ago to keep this secret and expected it to remain that way. I am still coming to grips with it all."
It's easy for me to forget how we're both coming from different perspectives, perspectives we can empathize with each other about but never really truly relate or know how the other feels. I like to know how you're feeling and appreciate you telling me. I hope it's of interest to you to know how I feel too, and that it doesn't make you feel uncomfortable. I am encouraged to know that you haven't entirely ruled out telling your family and that it's possible given the "right" moment. Like I said in the other mail, I know for sure I'd want to know. Also, if you think about (bio mom's daughter's son) and (my son), they are both only children. I wonder if we have the right to keep secret the fact they have a first cousin in each other. Haha, it would be much more interesting as far as (bio mom's daughter#1) and (bio mom's daughter #2) are concerned if I were a "dude", that they'd have a brother and not another stinkin sister.
I won't badger you about telling your kids. As you know, I respect the position you are in in all this, and it's really your best interests and well being that are most important to me. I don't want to cause you extra stress or to worry.
You know what I think about it all so there's no need for me to bring it up again. Thank you for discussing it and if there's anything I can ever say or do to help you in coming to grips with it all, I hope you'll let me know.
For mothers who have lost a child
I just read a post over on Susie's blog. I commented but decided to write a post on the subject myself. I've talked about this before either in comments and/or posts, but whatever, I think it's important. You can take it, and I know you will, in whatever way you want. Some will be hurt, some will be offended, some will be triggered, and some might just hear and take what I have to say to heart.
Understand it's said with the best intentions, with your alive and present children's feelings in mind.
Here's what I said to Susie.
You know, what I've found in life Susie is that nothing ever stays the same. Yeah, it doesn't necessarily always get better but it also doesn't always get worse.
I guess what I would say to you is accept this less than rosy time, which you appear to be, and know that there will come a time, a day, a moment that will fill you with happiness or excitement or some other feeling that's good.
In the meant time, be careful not to let those you do have in your life, your raised kids, feel like they're less than Christopher. That they aren't enough to make their mom happy at Christmas. That the family you actually do have isn't good enough.
I'm sorry it's this way for you, and even sorrier for your kids if they know it.
I come at this from the point of view of an alive and present kid, albeit an adopted one who is in contact with her bio mom. I am also the daughter of a mother who has lost a child to death, her baby boy, someone whom I myself miss dearly. My little brother.
I know what it's like to be here and present and it just not be good enough.
My mom doesn't do it anymore. She doesn't make me feel this way, this frustrating mix of hurt and compassion. Compassion for a woman who has lost her child but yet hurt by a mom who can't be cheered, who doesn't embrace what she has left, can't be thankful for at least that.
When my mom did make me feel this way, I eventually told her. It was not when my brother initially died. I, being a mom myself, knew how devastating this was to my parents. I'm the one who had to tell them.
I've been there for my parents really forever and in this things were no different, but after a while it got to a point where it just felt wrong. I was here, my son was here, why were we now no longer enough to bring joy or pleasure? When would we become enough again, the way we were before my brother died? Maybe we just never were as important as he was but I'll be damned if I were going to carry on "being there" for someone who I wasn't good enough for. I missed my brother very much too!
I've come to realize that this conversation can evolve into a discussion on "what's worse", although in my mind there's no comparison. If you feel the need to go there, be my guest, but as a mother of one and the daughter of a parent who has lost a child to death, you'll never convince me it's worse to have a child alive and well that you don't see or talk to enough than to have a child that breathed his or her last breath. That there's no hope for reuniting, no hope for a hug or a touching of hands, no possibility of hearing their voice or even reading an email they've written.
That's not what this post is about though. It's about us, the kids that are still here. Your children who call, who visit, who care, who feel so badly for your loss. Who love you, are dedicated to you, and want you to be happy with what you have. Us.
We know that we can never be or do enough to take away the pain. That this person, who we may love and miss ourselves, holds a power to change the way things were, the way things should be, just by their very absence.
As a mom, I get it. I feel sick at the thought of losing my son. I don't even want to imagine what it would be like. I am so so very sorry for any parent who has lost a child.
As a daughter, I implore you to think about what you still have, and embrace it.
edited to supply this link
Understand it's said with the best intentions, with your alive and present children's feelings in mind.
Here's what I said to Susie.
You know, what I've found in life Susie is that nothing ever stays the same. Yeah, it doesn't necessarily always get better but it also doesn't always get worse.
I guess what I would say to you is accept this less than rosy time, which you appear to be, and know that there will come a time, a day, a moment that will fill you with happiness or excitement or some other feeling that's good.
In the meant time, be careful not to let those you do have in your life, your raised kids, feel like they're less than Christopher. That they aren't enough to make their mom happy at Christmas. That the family you actually do have isn't good enough.
I'm sorry it's this way for you, and even sorrier for your kids if they know it.
I come at this from the point of view of an alive and present kid, albeit an adopted one who is in contact with her bio mom. I am also the daughter of a mother who has lost a child to death, her baby boy, someone whom I myself miss dearly. My little brother.
I know what it's like to be here and present and it just not be good enough.
My mom doesn't do it anymore. She doesn't make me feel this way, this frustrating mix of hurt and compassion. Compassion for a woman who has lost her child but yet hurt by a mom who can't be cheered, who doesn't embrace what she has left, can't be thankful for at least that.
When my mom did make me feel this way, I eventually told her. It was not when my brother initially died. I, being a mom myself, knew how devastating this was to my parents. I'm the one who had to tell them.
I've been there for my parents really forever and in this things were no different, but after a while it got to a point where it just felt wrong. I was here, my son was here, why were we now no longer enough to bring joy or pleasure? When would we become enough again, the way we were before my brother died? Maybe we just never were as important as he was but I'll be damned if I were going to carry on "being there" for someone who I wasn't good enough for. I missed my brother very much too!
I've come to realize that this conversation can evolve into a discussion on "what's worse", although in my mind there's no comparison. If you feel the need to go there, be my guest, but as a mother of one and the daughter of a parent who has lost a child to death, you'll never convince me it's worse to have a child alive and well that you don't see or talk to enough than to have a child that breathed his or her last breath. That there's no hope for reuniting, no hope for a hug or a touching of hands, no possibility of hearing their voice or even reading an email they've written.
That's not what this post is about though. It's about us, the kids that are still here. Your children who call, who visit, who care, who feel so badly for your loss. Who love you, are dedicated to you, and want you to be happy with what you have. Us.
We know that we can never be or do enough to take away the pain. That this person, who we may love and miss ourselves, holds a power to change the way things were, the way things should be, just by their very absence.
As a mom, I get it. I feel sick at the thought of losing my son. I don't even want to imagine what it would be like. I am so so very sorry for any parent who has lost a child.
As a daughter, I implore you to think about what you still have, and embrace it.
edited to supply this link
Sunday
You haven't changed a bit
I'm writing this to keep my thoughts fresh, whether or when I actually post this remains to be seen, but I'll know when I know.
I liked my bio mom. She and her family seem to be my kind of people, which feels good to know, that I come from good people. I asked her if her parents were nice to which she replied an enthusiastic yes, they were great and her mom was especially good and kind, someone whom everyone adored. This makes me feel very good for some reason. Maybe because I'd imagined they were harsh, religious monsters who'd have been ashamed of her and resented me, or both. I was wrong.
They didn't know about me, but they could have been told. They would have helped my bio mom, in fact they did, just without knowledge of what was really going on.
My nerves pre meeting were extremely hard to control. As I sat and waited for her to appear in the lobby I called my son to just hear a normal voice, to assure myself I'd not entered the twilight zone. I pictured myself in my favorite ocean spot as I often do when I need to calm myself, took deep breaths, and focused.
Our experience of first sight was different for each of us. I had the luxury of having seen ahead what she looked like, having seen what her family looks like, their names and ages whereas she knew little of me and only knew what I'd looked like as an infant. I've changed a bit since then.
When I got up to walk over to greet her my sensitivity to her feelings kicked back in and my nerves dissolved. I knew though that wasn't the case for her so I said a warm hello and asked if she'd like to sit for a minute before we went to my car, that I'd been feeling nervous and wouldn't mind just sitting for a second to calm down. Her face appeared grateful as she said she was feeling very nervous as well.
We sat for a time kind of consoling each other, looking at each others faces for resemblances, me trying to see myself, her trying to see anyone and everyone.
I can see that I will look like her when I'm older, she can't see much familiar in me except for maybe her father's side of the family.
We had a great day and were together for 8 straight hours that really flew by. She likes to talk, which was good because I wanted to hear her talk. I talked too and this was when she was able to see herself in me, specifically how I look at family, the things I think are important to do and not do. This also made me feel good.
She was very open with me about what happened, something I imagine most adopted people wonder about. This made me feel good too.
I was supposed to call when I got home, we'd had a couple of beers over the day and she was concerned about me driving. When I arrived home I got caught up in telling my husband about the day and kind of forgot about calling. The words she and I had spoken as I was leaving seemed sort of final, unless she decided to be in touch at some point in the future, so I wasn't even so sure I was still supposed to call. As my husband and I talked, the phone rang and it was her, checking to see if I was home, reminding me I'd said I'd let her know.
Before I went to bed, I sent one last email to thank her for taking the time to, and for going through the trouble of, meeting me, to apologize for not having called, that I'd enjoyed our visit. To tell her to take care.
When I woke up this morning I thought to myself, well, it's happened. You've met your biological mother, you're still special, and you haven't changed a bit.
I liked my bio mom. She and her family seem to be my kind of people, which feels good to know, that I come from good people. I asked her if her parents were nice to which she replied an enthusiastic yes, they were great and her mom was especially good and kind, someone whom everyone adored. This makes me feel very good for some reason. Maybe because I'd imagined they were harsh, religious monsters who'd have been ashamed of her and resented me, or both. I was wrong.
They didn't know about me, but they could have been told. They would have helped my bio mom, in fact they did, just without knowledge of what was really going on.
My nerves pre meeting were extremely hard to control. As I sat and waited for her to appear in the lobby I called my son to just hear a normal voice, to assure myself I'd not entered the twilight zone. I pictured myself in my favorite ocean spot as I often do when I need to calm myself, took deep breaths, and focused.
Our experience of first sight was different for each of us. I had the luxury of having seen ahead what she looked like, having seen what her family looks like, their names and ages whereas she knew little of me and only knew what I'd looked like as an infant. I've changed a bit since then.
When I got up to walk over to greet her my sensitivity to her feelings kicked back in and my nerves dissolved. I knew though that wasn't the case for her so I said a warm hello and asked if she'd like to sit for a minute before we went to my car, that I'd been feeling nervous and wouldn't mind just sitting for a second to calm down. Her face appeared grateful as she said she was feeling very nervous as well.
We sat for a time kind of consoling each other, looking at each others faces for resemblances, me trying to see myself, her trying to see anyone and everyone.
I can see that I will look like her when I'm older, she can't see much familiar in me except for maybe her father's side of the family.
We had a great day and were together for 8 straight hours that really flew by. She likes to talk, which was good because I wanted to hear her talk. I talked too and this was when she was able to see herself in me, specifically how I look at family, the things I think are important to do and not do. This also made me feel good.
She was very open with me about what happened, something I imagine most adopted people wonder about. This made me feel good too.
I was supposed to call when I got home, we'd had a couple of beers over the day and she was concerned about me driving. When I arrived home I got caught up in telling my husband about the day and kind of forgot about calling. The words she and I had spoken as I was leaving seemed sort of final, unless she decided to be in touch at some point in the future, so I wasn't even so sure I was still supposed to call. As my husband and I talked, the phone rang and it was her, checking to see if I was home, reminding me I'd said I'd let her know.
Before I went to bed, I sent one last email to thank her for taking the time to, and for going through the trouble of, meeting me, to apologize for not having called, that I'd enjoyed our visit. To tell her to take care.
When I woke up this morning I thought to myself, well, it's happened. You've met your biological mother, you're still special, and you haven't changed a bit.
Open to interpretation
One of the things that drives me crazy in blog land is when a comment that I think is relevant and on point with the original blog post gets lost in the crossfire of subsequent comments that zero in on some aspect of the relevant comment that gets under somebody's skin. I'd be surprised if I've never been guilty of doing this myself so this post is not to be critical of anyone but rather to highlight an important comment I came across today. I've been given permission to post it here and if the author wishes to make herself known, she may do so in the comments section here.
The comment was in response to the question What does it mean to be a healthy birth mom?
I've linked to the post because the question as it stands alone does not convey the context in which it's being asked and I think the motive behind asking the question is an important thing to consider when reading the comment I've posted below.
There are many of us who have already lived the majority of our “birthmother lifespan” and have come to very different places 40 or so years after surrender. I know your interest is in open adoptions, but many of us from the closed system are still alive and hope to be for a while, and you may encounter us in your therapy career.
My story is not so typical as those in the excellent book “Girls Who Went Away”, but it is similar to a small subset of activist birthmothers who came out in the 70s and 80s and have remained involved in adoption reform. I was never in denial or really in the closet, and I joined adoption reform search groups as soon as I heard there was such a thing. My child was very young. I searched as soon as the opportunity presented itself. I was furiously angry, radical, hated adoption. I even had an actual “Adoption Sucks” tee shirt.
In those days before the internet, we had in-person groups and lots of phone contact, as well as print newsletters. The peer pressure then was to find and contact your child as soon as possible, There was good reason for this, some found kids in dire circumstances and at least one in our local groups was just given back at age 12 because the adoptive father and stepmom did not want him! Some of these early contacts worked well, but others did not, like mine when my son was 16. This made me doubly angry at the adoption system, adoptive parents, the world, and most of all myself. There is a lot of self-destructive behavior among surrendering mothers, and I was right up there with that.
Then along came internet groups, and a new group of mothers who surrendered who had been in the closet woke up and came out. There was a disconnect between these lists and the earlier groups like CUB, and a lot of reinventing the wheel and ignorance of the history of adoption reform. As you say, there are definite camps with rigid ideology and a lot of peer pressure to conform or get out. On one side are the young “happy birthmothers” who are often shilling for agencies, on the other side, the anti-adoption groups, who see all adoption as one of the world’s greatest evils that needs to be eradicated. A real problem in these groups is the “Pain Olympics” where extreme suffering and pathology after surrender is seen as a virtue and proof that you really love your child. There is now a fad to claim Post traumatic stress disorder as a result of surrender, self-diagnosed and proudly proclaimed. It is way too easy to get stuck in a downward spiral in a lot of these groups that claim to be “empowering” but are actually taking power and healthy response away.
My personal journey I think got stuck in bitterness and anger for too many years, and this was reinforced by the groups I was in or associated with. There is a strong thread of “you can never get over surrender”, even a little, and it is seen as disloyal to your child or in denial if you do experience some healing or joy. Ambivalence? Yes, lots, and that is life-long, but I have also found a bit of peace when my son finally started communicating with me and I knew he was OK. Reunion really did help me a lot, although that is heresy to say in some circles. After so many years I am no longer grieving, the grief went on too long. My son is alive and well, not to be grieved. I will always regret giving him up, but I also take responsibility for my part in surrender. For me that was pivotal, to stop blaming everything on others and step up to the plate about my part. It did not kill me to do this, as some mothers seem to feel, but made me stronger.
In counseling mothers who surrendered, one size does not fit all, despite what some online groups would have you think. Really listen to the details of the individual mother and her story. It may indeed change over a lifetime, and probably that is healthiest, Some of the happy young birthmothers will become unhappy when they look closer, and some of the bitter old birthmothers will become more accepting and at peace as time passes and circumstances change. There is a saying “I have been through hell but don’t have to live there”. I feel I have indeed been through hell as a surrendering mother, but am no longer intent on staying there. I am now regarded as a traitor by some for not being anti-adoption, but would not be welcomed by the “rah rah adoption is great” moms either, because it most definitely has not been for me.
I do believe mothers are very different individuals, and that some truly do not want to parent and are content with the choice to surrender. I do not feel I can know another person’s true feelings or gainsay what they say about how they feel today. But there does need to be an openness to change, in either direction, and a respect for individual rather than lumping us all into a class and branding those who do not fit as “in denial,” “drank the koolaid” etc.
The comment was in response to the question What does it mean to be a healthy birth mom?
I've linked to the post because the question as it stands alone does not convey the context in which it's being asked and I think the motive behind asking the question is an important thing to consider when reading the comment I've posted below.
There are many of us who have already lived the majority of our “birthmother lifespan” and have come to very different places 40 or so years after surrender. I know your interest is in open adoptions, but many of us from the closed system are still alive and hope to be for a while, and you may encounter us in your therapy career.
My story is not so typical as those in the excellent book “Girls Who Went Away”, but it is similar to a small subset of activist birthmothers who came out in the 70s and 80s and have remained involved in adoption reform. I was never in denial or really in the closet, and I joined adoption reform search groups as soon as I heard there was such a thing. My child was very young. I searched as soon as the opportunity presented itself. I was furiously angry, radical, hated adoption. I even had an actual “Adoption Sucks” tee shirt.
In those days before the internet, we had in-person groups and lots of phone contact, as well as print newsletters. The peer pressure then was to find and contact your child as soon as possible, There was good reason for this, some found kids in dire circumstances and at least one in our local groups was just given back at age 12 because the adoptive father and stepmom did not want him! Some of these early contacts worked well, but others did not, like mine when my son was 16. This made me doubly angry at the adoption system, adoptive parents, the world, and most of all myself. There is a lot of self-destructive behavior among surrendering mothers, and I was right up there with that.
Then along came internet groups, and a new group of mothers who surrendered who had been in the closet woke up and came out. There was a disconnect between these lists and the earlier groups like CUB, and a lot of reinventing the wheel and ignorance of the history of adoption reform. As you say, there are definite camps with rigid ideology and a lot of peer pressure to conform or get out. On one side are the young “happy birthmothers” who are often shilling for agencies, on the other side, the anti-adoption groups, who see all adoption as one of the world’s greatest evils that needs to be eradicated. A real problem in these groups is the “Pain Olympics” where extreme suffering and pathology after surrender is seen as a virtue and proof that you really love your child. There is now a fad to claim Post traumatic stress disorder as a result of surrender, self-diagnosed and proudly proclaimed. It is way too easy to get stuck in a downward spiral in a lot of these groups that claim to be “empowering” but are actually taking power and healthy response away.
My personal journey I think got stuck in bitterness and anger for too many years, and this was reinforced by the groups I was in or associated with. There is a strong thread of “you can never get over surrender”, even a little, and it is seen as disloyal to your child or in denial if you do experience some healing or joy. Ambivalence? Yes, lots, and that is life-long, but I have also found a bit of peace when my son finally started communicating with me and I knew he was OK. Reunion really did help me a lot, although that is heresy to say in some circles. After so many years I am no longer grieving, the grief went on too long. My son is alive and well, not to be grieved. I will always regret giving him up, but I also take responsibility for my part in surrender. For me that was pivotal, to stop blaming everything on others and step up to the plate about my part. It did not kill me to do this, as some mothers seem to feel, but made me stronger.
In counseling mothers who surrendered, one size does not fit all, despite what some online groups would have you think. Really listen to the details of the individual mother and her story. It may indeed change over a lifetime, and probably that is healthiest, Some of the happy young birthmothers will become unhappy when they look closer, and some of the bitter old birthmothers will become more accepting and at peace as time passes and circumstances change. There is a saying “I have been through hell but don’t have to live there”. I feel I have indeed been through hell as a surrendering mother, but am no longer intent on staying there. I am now regarded as a traitor by some for not being anti-adoption, but would not be welcomed by the “rah rah adoption is great” moms either, because it most definitely has not been for me.
I do believe mothers are very different individuals, and that some truly do not want to parent and are content with the choice to surrender. I do not feel I can know another person’s true feelings or gainsay what they say about how they feel today. But there does need to be an openness to change, in either direction, and a respect for individual rather than lumping us all into a class and branding those who do not fit as “in denial,” “drank the koolaid” etc.
Thursday
Sunny sky for our fair weather daughter
So, in the spirit of being honest, I'd like to share a recent search event. For the record, being honest is something I take seriously whereas fun and interesting I'm aware is a matter of personal taste. Call me boring, but don't accuse me of being dishonest.
So in another rare moment of being alone in my home Monday I decided to try calling my biological mother's phone number again. It wasn't quite as frightening this time, mainly I think because I didn't expect her to answer. She did. It went quite smoothly actually. She let me know she was on the other line to which I replied I wouldn't keep her long, that I was just wondering if she'd received any of my messages. Turns out she had received my very first Christmas card and note and had replied via email, back in January. For whatever reason, who ever really knows what happens in cyberspace sometimes, I didn't receive the email.
To my surprise, she told me that she was planning a trip in the fall and had been considering stopping in my city, if it could work out that way. Huh...what?!?!? To say this surprised me would be an understatement. I replied that although that might be interesting, wow, she didn't HAVE to do that, meeting her wasn't what I was after, that I really just wanted to have some communication and some questions answered, to let her know I had no intention of outing her to her family or of showing up some day on her doorstep, that I'd done quite a bit of digging around on the internet and had found pictures, obituaries and other various online morsels of information about her and her family. Having not really expected her to even answer the phone you can imagine how the mention of meeting up out of the blue would be freaky...yes, *blush*, I think I used that word on the phone...sigh.
Ironically, I thinks it's irony, when I said I'd let her get back to her call, she told me it had been her daughter on the other line and that she'd hung up now. I gave her my email address again and she said she'd try it and I could mail her back if I got her email, which I quickly did saying I'd send another longer one shortly.
I wrote a mail outlining my attitude toward our whole situation, relayed some of the things I'd be interested in knowing, thanked her for making contact and described what a relief it was to me to no longer worry that she was worrying about me disrupting her life. I was happy to have been given the opportunity to explain my motive in initiating contact. I explained in a bit more detail what I'd found out about her on my own and told her that although I was surprised at the possibility of meeting her so soon, I think it's something I'd be ok doing.
So, there are the facts. I'd like to add a couple of things to this post, the first being she made it clear again in her short mail that nobody ever knew about me except for her deceased husband and she would like to keep it that way for now, although if her husband were still alive, things might be different. I reassured her that I have no problem with this and told her I have genuine compassion for her situation.
The second thing I'd like to mention is that when I sent her the second, longer email, I didn't hear back immediately. This left me wondering if she'd gotten either reply email. I waited two days to see if I'd hear back and when I didn't I sent a very short mail asking her to please let me know if she'd received them when she had a minute. I heard back almost immediately that she had and that's all her email said.
I see much written about mis-communication between reuniting biological parents and their grown children. I think it's important to give each other the benefit of the doubt. It's important to realize methods of communication (email, voice mail, snail mail) can fail and that we don't know each other in the slightest. We don't know each others habits or thought processes, each others moods or life experiences.
My plan is to remain patient, respectful, compassionate, realistic and honest. Is that interesting or fun? Not so much, I know, but hopefully it will serve me well in my journey as an adopted person who's possibly been given the opportunity to have my curiosity satisfied and perhaps meet the person who gave birth to me.
So in another rare moment of being alone in my home Monday I decided to try calling my biological mother's phone number again. It wasn't quite as frightening this time, mainly I think because I didn't expect her to answer. She did. It went quite smoothly actually. She let me know she was on the other line to which I replied I wouldn't keep her long, that I was just wondering if she'd received any of my messages. Turns out she had received my very first Christmas card and note and had replied via email, back in January. For whatever reason, who ever really knows what happens in cyberspace sometimes, I didn't receive the email.
To my surprise, she told me that she was planning a trip in the fall and had been considering stopping in my city, if it could work out that way. Huh...what?!?!? To say this surprised me would be an understatement. I replied that although that might be interesting, wow, she didn't HAVE to do that, meeting her wasn't what I was after, that I really just wanted to have some communication and some questions answered, to let her know I had no intention of outing her to her family or of showing up some day on her doorstep, that I'd done quite a bit of digging around on the internet and had found pictures, obituaries and other various online morsels of information about her and her family. Having not really expected her to even answer the phone you can imagine how the mention of meeting up out of the blue would be freaky...yes, *blush*, I think I used that word on the phone...sigh.
Ironically, I thinks it's irony, when I said I'd let her get back to her call, she told me it had been her daughter on the other line and that she'd hung up now. I gave her my email address again and she said she'd try it and I could mail her back if I got her email, which I quickly did saying I'd send another longer one shortly.
I wrote a mail outlining my attitude toward our whole situation, relayed some of the things I'd be interested in knowing, thanked her for making contact and described what a relief it was to me to no longer worry that she was worrying about me disrupting her life. I was happy to have been given the opportunity to explain my motive in initiating contact. I explained in a bit more detail what I'd found out about her on my own and told her that although I was surprised at the possibility of meeting her so soon, I think it's something I'd be ok doing.
So, there are the facts. I'd like to add a couple of things to this post, the first being she made it clear again in her short mail that nobody ever knew about me except for her deceased husband and she would like to keep it that way for now, although if her husband were still alive, things might be different. I reassured her that I have no problem with this and told her I have genuine compassion for her situation.
The second thing I'd like to mention is that when I sent her the second, longer email, I didn't hear back immediately. This left me wondering if she'd gotten either reply email. I waited two days to see if I'd hear back and when I didn't I sent a very short mail asking her to please let me know if she'd received them when she had a minute. I heard back almost immediately that she had and that's all her email said.
I see much written about mis-communication between reuniting biological parents and their grown children. I think it's important to give each other the benefit of the doubt. It's important to realize methods of communication (email, voice mail, snail mail) can fail and that we don't know each other in the slightest. We don't know each others habits or thought processes, each others moods or life experiences.
My plan is to remain patient, respectful, compassionate, realistic and honest. Is that interesting or fun? Not so much, I know, but hopefully it will serve me well in my journey as an adopted person who's possibly been given the opportunity to have my curiosity satisfied and perhaps meet the person who gave birth to me.
Wednesday
Fair weather daughter
I've decided to share a search experience. It's important to understand my intent in sharing so I'll first explain that.
I believe that adopted people think about how it would feel to find their biological people. They wonder if it's what they really want. I think the search itself can become a challenge, a quest. That the ramifications of success are impossible to know. Results are unpredictable, as are the ultimate feelings and effects on the adopted person's life as they know it.
So, the intent of this post is to share my feelings and reaction in an attempt to supply a known. To offer one small experience that was enlightening to me. There is no need to read into this post as what I plan to say is what I felt and am feeling, nothing hidden, nothing deeper.
The day before yesterday I was alone in my home. I got thinking what a perfect time it would be to call my biological mother (yes, I have her phone number as well as her address) so after writing a list of what was important to me to say to her, I started trying to call. I say "trying" as I must have partially dialed the number about 10 times and hung up before actually connecting to her number.
As I made these failed attempts I asked myself why. After much thought, I decided it was fear but first I debated with myself about why I'm afraid. Am I struggling because I don't really want to call? Because I'm worried about someone else answering? Am I afraid she'll be mean? I decided it was just plain fear, that I did want to try calling but was afraid. Knowing this gave me courage and I dialed the whole number and let it ring.
When I got the answering machine I was a little surprised as in my mental preparation for the phone call this likely scenario had eluded me. Out of instinct I left my first name and number asking her to call me when she had time. That's it. That's all, it was done. -Side note, she sounded younger than I'd expected.
But, now I'd left a message for her to call. And, I needed a shower as I had an appointment in a couple of hours. Ok, off to the shower I go, phone within reach. As I wash I contemplate what I'll do if she returns my call with my head full of soap, how it will be better if she calls while I'm on the conditioner stage. I ponder if she was really home and had decided not to answer, had screened my call and was listening to my message. What would she think I sounded like? I think I'd sounded upbeat and normal. I thought about how I'd forgotten to add to my written list of things I wanted to say that I was fine with her keeping me a secret, that physically meeting wasn't that important to me. That correspondence via email was perfectly acceptable as was snail mail although I'm really, really bad at mailing real letters.
Ok, out of the shower and ready to dry my hair. Will I hear the phone ring while my blow dryer is running? I stand the phone up so I'll see it ring, just in case. Hopefully she doesn't call before I'm done though as it will certainly be a bad hair day if I don't get it dried enough before she calls.
Ok, I'm all ready, but now I have to leave in a few minutes. I enter her name and number in my phone so that if she calls while I'm out and my husband is back from golfing he'll see the name and not ignore the call thinking it's just another long distance call from some phone center.
Off I go to take care of my errands, the last one being meeting my mom at her apartment to take care of some travel arrangements for my nieces. All thoughts of bio mom calling back are gone for the majority of the time I'm out, although I did check my voice mail at home once while I waited for my mom to meet me.
The travel arrangements and errands I took care of that day were a real load off my mind so I returned home quite pleased with myself and enjoyed the coffee my husband had ready for me when I got there. I listened to him talk about his day, he listened to me talk about how relieved I was to have gotten these "chores" done.
Eventually I check my call history and see there's been no return call as it was obvious no message had been left in my absence. There's a bit of thought about this, of course. Did she get the message? Is she maybe out of town? Has she not had a good time to call back yet? Ahhh, who knows, but what I do know is I want to just stretch out, watch tv, maybe have a nap, and relax. My brain is little fried from all the travel planning and it'll be great to do nothing for the evening.
As I veg out on my bed, flipping through channels, half dozing, the phone rings. Damn! Oh crap, I hope it's not her, I don't feel like talking on the phone. I grab the phone and check the call display and it's my mom, but not the bio one. I'm slightly relieved because since I'd just spent three hours with my mom that afternoon I felt no guilt in not answering, opting instead to check the message she'll leave just to make sure this time it's not something important.
And then it hits me. After all my trepidation, curiosity, speculation, anticipation and excitement, when it came down to it, I had dreaded the call when it wasn't convenient for me. When I didn't feel like being curious, didn't feel like talking, her call became just as much of an annoyance as anyone else's would if I wasn't in the mood for a chat.
This experience has been enlightening, a validation of the concern that my curiosity is fair weather. That my consideration of her circumstance is warranted. That my decision to value her privacy is a good one. That for me it would be selfish to push things further than I have because what I want is frivolous in comparison to what she doesn't want.
I still wonder, don't get me wrong. I wonder how she can not call back, because I'd not be able to resist. I wonder and worry if she walks around in a constant state of dread or fear, because I think if I were her I would. I wonder who my paternal people are, because I don't know. I wonder what she's thinking, because I always wonder what everyone is thinking.
Thing is, I only wonder when I feel like it, and to me, that's not enough to alter other people's realities forever.
I believe that adopted people think about how it would feel to find their biological people. They wonder if it's what they really want. I think the search itself can become a challenge, a quest. That the ramifications of success are impossible to know. Results are unpredictable, as are the ultimate feelings and effects on the adopted person's life as they know it.
So, the intent of this post is to share my feelings and reaction in an attempt to supply a known. To offer one small experience that was enlightening to me. There is no need to read into this post as what I plan to say is what I felt and am feeling, nothing hidden, nothing deeper.
The day before yesterday I was alone in my home. I got thinking what a perfect time it would be to call my biological mother (yes, I have her phone number as well as her address) so after writing a list of what was important to me to say to her, I started trying to call. I say "trying" as I must have partially dialed the number about 10 times and hung up before actually connecting to her number.
As I made these failed attempts I asked myself why. After much thought, I decided it was fear but first I debated with myself about why I'm afraid. Am I struggling because I don't really want to call? Because I'm worried about someone else answering? Am I afraid she'll be mean? I decided it was just plain fear, that I did want to try calling but was afraid. Knowing this gave me courage and I dialed the whole number and let it ring.
When I got the answering machine I was a little surprised as in my mental preparation for the phone call this likely scenario had eluded me. Out of instinct I left my first name and number asking her to call me when she had time. That's it. That's all, it was done. -Side note, she sounded younger than I'd expected.
But, now I'd left a message for her to call. And, I needed a shower as I had an appointment in a couple of hours. Ok, off to the shower I go, phone within reach. As I wash I contemplate what I'll do if she returns my call with my head full of soap, how it will be better if she calls while I'm on the conditioner stage. I ponder if she was really home and had decided not to answer, had screened my call and was listening to my message. What would she think I sounded like? I think I'd sounded upbeat and normal. I thought about how I'd forgotten to add to my written list of things I wanted to say that I was fine with her keeping me a secret, that physically meeting wasn't that important to me. That correspondence via email was perfectly acceptable as was snail mail although I'm really, really bad at mailing real letters.
Ok, out of the shower and ready to dry my hair. Will I hear the phone ring while my blow dryer is running? I stand the phone up so I'll see it ring, just in case. Hopefully she doesn't call before I'm done though as it will certainly be a bad hair day if I don't get it dried enough before she calls.
Ok, I'm all ready, but now I have to leave in a few minutes. I enter her name and number in my phone so that if she calls while I'm out and my husband is back from golfing he'll see the name and not ignore the call thinking it's just another long distance call from some phone center.
Off I go to take care of my errands, the last one being meeting my mom at her apartment to take care of some travel arrangements for my nieces. All thoughts of bio mom calling back are gone for the majority of the time I'm out, although I did check my voice mail at home once while I waited for my mom to meet me.
The travel arrangements and errands I took care of that day were a real load off my mind so I returned home quite pleased with myself and enjoyed the coffee my husband had ready for me when I got there. I listened to him talk about his day, he listened to me talk about how relieved I was to have gotten these "chores" done.
Eventually I check my call history and see there's been no return call as it was obvious no message had been left in my absence. There's a bit of thought about this, of course. Did she get the message? Is she maybe out of town? Has she not had a good time to call back yet? Ahhh, who knows, but what I do know is I want to just stretch out, watch tv, maybe have a nap, and relax. My brain is little fried from all the travel planning and it'll be great to do nothing for the evening.
As I veg out on my bed, flipping through channels, half dozing, the phone rings. Damn! Oh crap, I hope it's not her, I don't feel like talking on the phone. I grab the phone and check the call display and it's my mom, but not the bio one. I'm slightly relieved because since I'd just spent three hours with my mom that afternoon I felt no guilt in not answering, opting instead to check the message she'll leave just to make sure this time it's not something important.
And then it hits me. After all my trepidation, curiosity, speculation, anticipation and excitement, when it came down to it, I had dreaded the call when it wasn't convenient for me. When I didn't feel like being curious, didn't feel like talking, her call became just as much of an annoyance as anyone else's would if I wasn't in the mood for a chat.
This experience has been enlightening, a validation of the concern that my curiosity is fair weather. That my consideration of her circumstance is warranted. That my decision to value her privacy is a good one. That for me it would be selfish to push things further than I have because what I want is frivolous in comparison to what she doesn't want.
I still wonder, don't get me wrong. I wonder how she can not call back, because I'd not be able to resist. I wonder and worry if she walks around in a constant state of dread or fear, because I think if I were her I would. I wonder who my paternal people are, because I don't know. I wonder what she's thinking, because I always wonder what everyone is thinking.
Thing is, I only wonder when I feel like it, and to me, that's not enough to alter other people's realities forever.
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