Being Found - For AdopteeAmy - At her Request

As we age, many of the events which we experienced in years past, meld and blur and if we remember them at all, they may be hazy, indistinct memories. However, some life-altering events stay crisp and clear and can be recalled in a flash with such exquisite clarity that as we allow ourselves to recall them we almost transport ourselves back to that place and time. Each detail is etched into our brains and even to begin to go back to that time can fill us with powerful emotions. The days surrounding my son's relinquishment, though quite distant in time, and most fairly fuzzy in my memory, evoke some very distinct memories. There is a also a great deal about that time, that perhaps mercifully is still buried, and may never surface. It was bar none the most painfully excruciating time in my life - nothing else comes close. For me, the night I heard that my son was searching for me was also one of those rare and powerful moments. One warm California evening, as I walked in the back door to our home, my husband shoved a phone into my hand announcing, "It's for you". From the second I took the phone, I had an unexplained, but uneasy feeling about the call. A soft, gentle matronly voice came on the phone and began with, "You don't know me, but, I am calling from _____(the city where the adoption agency my son was relinguished to was located)". I felt my chest constrict and I nearly gasped as I stiffened and fear began to pump through me. Next, she asked me if my maiden name was____. "Yes," I slowly replied with a question in my voice. Then, she told me why she was calling. "I am a social worker and your son is searching for you." Okay, I did say that I remembered the event with great clarity, but, I have to tell you I do not recall what I said after that. Actually, I don't think I said anything. I was so stunned, I hadn't a clue what to say. Sarah, the SW just kept talking I believe. "Write down my name and phone number" she instructed me. Then she told me that while he wanted to be in touch with me; it was my decision. She suggested that I take a few days to think about what I wanted to do and then call her back and let her know what I had decided. I finally found my voice and firmly said, "No, I will call you back tomorrow." As our phone call progressed, I walked into our bedroom and sat on the end of the bed so that we could talk privately. After our call was completed, I hung up the phone and just sat on the bed for a few minutes almost frozen and numb. This may be hard for Amy to hear, but, I had spent a lifetime worrying about someone "finding out" that I had another son, a son that I had given away and not raised. "Given away" is no longer the politically correct term, but, that was how I experienced it, that's how it felt to me. I was deeply ashamed that I had not kept my son and raised him. No one was ever supposed to know what I had done. In nearly 32 years, I had never told a solitary soul - children- husbands, no one. I toyed with the idea of telling a few people that I had become close to over the years, but, I couldn't bear to take the risk. The fear of how they would see me - with certain loathing and disgust - was such a scary proposition. So, I kept all my feeling buried about my son and his adoption. Allowed myself to think of him as seldom as possible. To survive his loss, it was the only way that I knew how, not to think of him. Until the night I was found. Still mute and resting nearly frozen on the end of our bed I sat, then suddenly, I had a desperate need to move, to do something, anything. Needed to somehow try to normalize my current situation. I jumped up and slowly plodded across the grass and walked up the steps to my garden. On my way out of the house, my husband caught a glance at my ashen face and asked me if everything was okay. I lied and said that it was. Once I reached the garden, I grabbed the hose and began watering, it was a "normal" nightly activity for me and I thought it might help bring me back to reality. I couldn't think, I was in shock and felt almost disoriented as in a trance. After about 2 minutes, my composure shattered and I knew this was not destined to be a "normal" summer evening for me. It was anything but "normal" or usual. And then, I knew that I couldn't hold all those years of buried love and longing for my son in for an instant longer. As I threw down the hose and headed back across the lawn, the tears were by now streaming down my cheeks in a torrent. I walked into the house and found my husband and told him that I had something to tell him and that he'd probably hate me after I told him. By now, I was sobbing, choking and barely coherent as I began to explain what the phone call had been all about. I blurted out, "I had another son many years ago and I gave up him for adoption". Still sobbing, my husband reached over and took me in his arms and told me that it was okay, that I was very young when it had happened and that we would get through this. Next, he asked me what I wanted to do and I said that I had to be in touch with my son. There was no question in my mind - I felt that I had failed him once so many years ago and now no matter what, if he wanted or needed to know me now, I could not refuse his request. And finally, I knew too that being in touch with him was also what I wanted and needed. After my husband had been told, I explained to him that I needed some time to think. Then, I began to allow all those feelings that had been so buried for so many years to surface. Actually, I didn't really have much control, no control really, the emotions just all began to bubble up. Like a shaken champagne bottle suddenly uncorked - my buried feelings then spewed out. Comparing my emotions to an erupting volcano is also appropriate. On that night, my son suddenly became "real" to me - "my son" - I hadn't even allowed myself to think of him in that way. He was someone else's son - I thought he had been delivered to them as a blank slate - and would take on their traits and personality - and be theirs, exclusively, not mine in any way. I believed that - needed to. I knew nothing about his life from the time I left the hospital when he was days old. And now, nearly 32 years later, a stranger pronounced that he was "my son". I began to go back in time and all the corresponding feelings came back too - the good and the bad. First, I recalled how deliriously happy I had been when I was pregnant with him and how much I loved my son as he grew inside my expanding stomach. I remembered how excited and eager I was to be a mother again and how much I was looking forward to my baby being born. All babies have always been dear to me, but, none more so than my own. I looked forward to cuddling and rocking and enjoying my new little one. It was not to be. Next, I remembered being in the hospital and being afraid to even see my son, worried that I wouldn't be able to go through with giving him up. And last, I remembered being back at home after my son was born - without him. So, on the night I was found, all those feelings came rushing back - the love I had felt for my son - the eagerness to be his mother and care for him - the devastation of leaving the hospital without him - and all the dark days afterwards when I knew that I did not have my baby with me and would probably never see him again. My son is 36 years old now and the tears still flow when I remember that time. Tears are falling even now as I type and remember. That is just how significant losing a baby is - we don't forget, get over it or ever completely heal - our loss is too profound - like none other. We can and do go on and some of us manage to lead full and happy lives - but there is always something that lingers to remind us from time to time - and it is dark, horrible and exceedingly painful beyond belief when it comes to us. Never in one night have I had a wider range of varying emotions to deal with - and in the days to follow, there was more of the same and other new emotions erupted as well. As that evening continued, I was taken aback by the love for my son that came flowing back into my consciousness. I thought I had snuffed it out - I wanted to, it hurt too much to acknowledge it or that he was really my son. One phone call undid all my efforts to sever our bond and pretend that it did not matter. And then, I "got it" - I finally understood what losing my son really meant - how significant it was - and I knew it mattered more than I had ever been able to admit to myself. The hardest part of the whole evening was when it finally hit me - he was my beloved son - I gave him away - and I loved him so much that I should have found a way to have kept him. I finally understood that the bond between a mother and child is so sacred, strong and everlasting - that it should never be broken unless it is an absolute necessity. That overwhelming revelation finally sank it and all that I have discovered from other mothers who have lost children to adoption only cements my opinion about the harm that severing that bond causes. That maternal bond matters and yet we dismiss it way too easily and allow it to be severed and disregarded. And for what? To fill the hole another woman has. Makes no sense to me any longer. As that solitary night wore on, with the stunning guilt and grief also came excitement and joy at the thought of finally getting to know my son. After I began to believe and accept that he was my son - and always had been, I became eager and joyous at the thought of being in touch with him. What did he look like? Where was he? Was he happy? Was he married? What would he think of me? What would be be like. Most of all, I hoped that he had his father's heart. On that first night, when I was told that my son was searching, I felt bountiful joy, profound sadness, deep regret, self-loathing, high excitement, powerful fear, terror, numbness, confusion, love, longing - and I am certain that there are probably others I have missed. Enough conflicting feelings to dramatically affect even the strongest of people. That entire night was surreal to me. Everything else that had occurred in my life up to that point paled in comparision - that single night was nearly as dramatic as originally losing my son had been. It began my healing though - and as hard as that night was - and the first few years of my healing as we reconnected - finally getting to know my son has been one of the best experiences of my life. Ever since he found me, I wake up thankful that I can finally love and know him and let him know that I love him - always have and always will. I needed to be found and luckily my son was courageous enough and wise enough to find me and let me into his life and heart. Too many women do not understand how much peace reunion can add to their hearts and lives. They see only the disruption to their lives and the chore that building a relationship may be. Reunion is not for the weak; it is an enormous challenge. However, I feel grave sadness for women unable to take the risk. A life without the burden of all those lies and secrets is so much lighter. Releasing your demons is freeing. And above all else, living a life build on truth is a real life, not a facade of a life which masks pain, sadness and regret. Reunion is no magic panacea, but, it is a good beginning and I feel the best way for someone in a closed adoption to begin to heal and find some peace.

Closed Adoptions, Closed Hearts and Minds

Hmm, this whole blog deal is a really interesting concept. I'd already decided that my next entry would include some gripes that I have about some adoptive parents I've encountered recently. However, a comment on my last entry from an adoptee mentioned that she was from a closed adoption has sidetracked me. Not to worry, I'll get back to my beefs with those adoptive parents later. You'll be waiting with bated breath, right? At any rate, she expressed the thought that she "disagreed that all adopted parents need to discuss the adoption and keep that in the forefront". Hmm, while I didn't actually say I felt that it needed to be kept in the forefront, actually, I do believe that it should be a frequent topic in any household that includes adopted children. I also feel strongly that in most cases birth families should also be a topic of conversation, even in a closed adoptions. Apparently, there are some who believe that closed adoptions in which neither adoption nor birth families are discussed are fine and dandy. That is quite contrary to what I currently believe. I never used to question the whole idea of closed adoptions much, actually not at all, until my own reunion with my son. Only when I finally dealt with my own adoption issues and met other triad members did the light suddenly flash on in my head. But, come to think of it, I did not even think of adoption much really until reunion. I had an extreme need NOT to think about adoption or the son that I had relinquished. It was just too painful to allow my mind to even go there, so I spent a great deal of energy trying not to. Actually, I was a quite adept at thinking about adoption and my son as infrequently as I possibly could. There is a concept called "denial" that I was positively masterful at. Eek, I said that nasty "D" word, so many people loathe! But, I know I was heavily into it and I will own it. Heck, I was so barricaded into that safe "birth mother" closet, it's a wonder, that it didn't take an entire army to drag me out of there kicking and screaming. All it took for me though, was the simple words, "You son has been searching for you". I burst out of my closet of denial so abruptly that it was like a gigantic and sudden explosion. One minute I was in safe denial, the next I was a whimpering, pathetic mass of nothing but raw feelings - out of the closet and totally exposed. No more safe closet. Sheer absolute reality stared me directly in the face and it was terrifying. I had another son and could not deny him any longer. But I digress, I'm talking about closed adoptions now, not reunion. After I popped out of the closet at reunion, the sheer horror of living for years without my son, smacked me like a speeding freight train. I had pretended that it did not matter - my son was not real to me - I didn't know his name or what he looked like or where he was. And, I thought that was the way it was supposed to be and that it was okay. And then suddenly I knew in a heartbeat, it wasn't okay any more. It wasn't all right that I'd lived for so long not knowing my son. Meeting other birth parents and adoptees who had experienced reunion and suddenly were faced with the stunning significance of their losses reinforced my own growing awareness of the folly of closed adoptions. I struggled for answers during those first few years or reunion - I needed to understand. So, I read, surfed the net, got therapy, went to support groups - totally immersed myself into the world of adoption. I desperately needed to make sense of closed adoptions. My final conclusion - there is no making sense of closed adoptions. There is no rational logical reason why they are necessary (in most cases) , nor do I believe them to be humane or moral. In fact, I now believe that closed adoptions are cruel, detrimental to the mental health of and not in the best interests of most children or their parents. I would venture to say that some adoptive parents might prefer closed adoptions and that the subject of adoption or birth family never come up. To "kill off" the birth family used to be standard procedure - sometimes stories were literally made up about them dying in car accidents. Mostly no one acknowledged that we existed. We were the mysterious unknown. I do understand that that not discussing adoption or birth families was most likely the norm during the closed adoptions of the 50s, 60s and 70s and that social workers led adoptive parents to believe that was the best course of action. So, for adoptive parents like my son's, I certainly harbor no ill will towards them or blame them because they probably did not talk much about adoption. Plus, in the closed adoptions of the past, adoptive parents had little if any information about birth families. Sometimes I think adoptees get a tad defensive when I say that I believe adoptive parents should discuss adoption if their adoptive parents did not do so. They try to assure me that it was okay that they didn't. Maybe it was, maybe not. I personally believe that it is generally healthier if adoptees (children or adults) are able to discuss both adoption and birth families with their adoptive families. On the other hand, I do not blame adoptive parents who did not know any better and just followed the dictates of the time period in which they were raising their children. Who can blame them if they followed the "best practices" of the day? Fact is though some of those "best practices" were little more than hare-brained idiotic ideas. Mostly adoptive parents in decades past though received little education about raising their children and some of what they were told was rubbish in my opinion. For instance, "treat them as they were your own and they will be fine". Hmm, pretend that raising an adopted child does not present any different issues? A very bad idea. I believe many adoptive parents eventually felt they had somehow failed when their children weren't always "fine", wanted to know about their "past" or birth families, weren't carbon copies of them, but, perhaps more like birth family and/or experienced entirely normal adoption related issues. And then, heaven forbid when their children started searching! That act has caused many an adoptive parent to wonder what on earth they did "wrong". Luckily, some adoptive parents, even from my son's generation knew that curiosity about us, the other family, was entirely normal and not a reflection on their parenting or their children's love for them. In the current climate, however, I do not feel particularly tolerant towards those adoptive parents who still want closed adoptions, no contact, no mention of adoption or birth family. Past generations may not have known any better. Currently, there is too much available information that indicates the archaic practices of the past were flawed and should be cast aside. Closed adoptions were a failed experiment and many of us are now living with its painful by-products. I know some adoptees say that they think it was better for them not to know their birth families until they became adults, and maybe in some rare cases that may be true. And some adoptees defend their parents and say that they are glad that no one mentioned that they were adopted because then they didn't feel "different". Fact is though, the reality was, that they were "different" - their genetic make-up was not the same as the family who raised them. Different does not mean less or not as good as though. We are not all the same - that is not necessarily a negative. Bottom line, I think closed adoptions are barbaric, inhumane and cruel - and above all else - do not serve the best interests of our children - whose interests should always be paramount. Perhaps there are some situations when an adoption needs to be closed, but, I believe those instances to be rare. Soooo, that leads us then to open adoptions....a whole 'nother can of worms....a discussion for another time.

Adoptive Parents - How I Feel About Them

I know this will come up soon - so, I'm going to tackle this issue right now. Before I even say much and get angry comments from adoptive parents implying that I hate all adoptive parents. Honestly, I know it is inevitable. Here's my position on adoptive parents - right up front. There are some good ones and some horrible ones - just like birth parents - we are not all woven from the same cloth. I do not hate all adoptive parents or believe that they are all baby-snatching, evil beings. As a matter of fact, one of my closest friends is an adoptive mom and she's a very decent person. And, I have nothing but much love, respect and admiration for my son's adoptive mom. I suspect she feels the same about me. She encourages my adoption reform work and praises me for my efforts. We've met only once - a year or two ago, but, we stay in touch via email - and have never had a cross word pass between us. I know her to be a kind and loving person. She is pleased for our son and I that we have reconnected. Our son's adoption was a closed one, so it took over 30 years for us to meet though. I understand those with open adoptions may have a more difficult relationship with adoptive parents. Though I do sometimes have harsh words for adoptive parents, I am tough on birth parents too at times. Here's the deal, I love children and have been involved with them in various ways my entire life. In addition to having raised two children, I've taught pre-school and Sunday school, been a Brownie Leader and been involved in various volunteer groups that help children. So, I care deeply and passionately about children. Therefore, I jump on adoptive parents at times when they do not acknowledge that adopted children may have some unique issues to deal with. For instance, adoptive parents that don't encourage conversations about birth family and adoption, that do not tell their children that they are adopted from day one, that do not encourage their children to have contact with or search for birth family - all those actions are big no-no's in my world. And the reason that they are is not because I am a birth parent, but, because I am an advocate for children. Note my buddy, Wraith's blog, and read his Recommendations for Adoptive Parents. http://wraithsblog.blogspot.com/ He knows what growing up adopted feels like. Didn't have a horrible miserable time growing up or a terrible adoptive family, but, he knows that adoption has and does affect his life. I also take birth parents to task at times too - when I feel that their behavior is not what is best for their children. When either birth or adoptive parents do not live up to their commitments in open adoptions, I feel strongly that it hurts the children. Maybe I sound like I am harder on adoptive parents, but, they have the power, the child to raise, and yes, I believe they should be in a position to have some extra compassion for the birth family. Birth mothers particularly have a tough time in open adoptions at times because honoring their commitments to their child often becomes extremely painful. I understand that and keep that in mind. So, keep in mind if you are an adoptive parent reading my blog, I do not hate all adoptive parents, but I do hate how some handle the subject of adoption with their children. I hate when I hear that adoptive parents close adoptions, guilt their children into not searching or having contact with birth family - because I think those acts are bad for the adoptees - as children or adults. And, I have seen first hand by meeting adoptees whose parents have not handled their adoptions well how it has affected them - and it hurts me and makes me angry. Just as it makes adoptive parents angry or hurt to see how some birth families abuse or treat their children poorly. Maybe I haven't sufficient tolerance for bad, thoughtless, uneducated or any practices which I believe are harmful to either adopted children or adults. Actually though, I am glad that injustices still stir my soul and inspire me to work to make changes for the better. I'm not going to jump all over the place defending myself every time an adoptive parents take offense at my words. So, that's where I am coming from - just so you know. For my birth mom buds, I agree with you more than not, but, the softest spot in my heart is for adoptees and I will defend their positions more vigorously than any other position in the triad. Being relinquished was not their choice and I feel that entitles them to more leeway, tolerance, compassion and understanding that anyone else in the triad. Ominous sounding for adoptive parents? Not my intent, but, I do have some gripes about some adoptive parents that I want to address soon. So, that's why I wanted to set the record straight before I begin.

Cookie's Crumbs - Adoption Talk

Here goes, the birth of another blog - written by a mother who relinquished a child to adoption. I nearly called myself a "birth mom", but, changed my mind. Yeah, I know "a mother who relinquished a child to adoption" is pretty verbose, but come to think of it, that just makes it all the more appropriate for me. I do tend to be pretty long-winded at times - especially when I am talking about adoption. Sometimes I do use the term "birth mom" as two words to describe the type of mother I am to the son I relinquished so many years ago. As two words, one is describing a type of mother. The term "birthmother" however, I avoid like the plague. In my head, it sounds too much like some kind of a mysterious entity, not a mother of any kind, but, a "babymaker", someone whose role in life is not to parent children, but, merely to create them for others to raise. Doesn't fit for me - maybe for some it does. I've toyed with all the other possibilities at times - "first" mom, "natural" mom, "life" mom or "bio" mom. None really seemed to fit for me, but, hey, I figure that we can all call ourselves whatever we want. And, I do get a tad testy when people try to impose their "correct" terms on me. There's actually alot in adoption that I get testy about. You'll see! Oh, for the record, I am a reunited mom. And before anyone wants to chastise me for hunting down my kid, that's not how we came to reconnect. He found me. Actually, after forking over $500 to the agency that handled his adoption, THEY found me. Don't get the wrong idea, you'll find no one who is a biggger advocate of search and reunion than I am. That's mainly due to the fact that I know enough adoptees who would be thrilled to be found. So, I routinely encourage either adoptees or birth family members to search and reunite if possible. Reunion has the potential to be a really positive experience and I think it is worth the risks. Lately, I have been lurking around and reading other blogs by mothers who relinquished children to adoption ("MWRACTA"). And, last Saturday, I had the pleasure of meeting Faux Cloud off-line, in the flesh, at an adoption conference. (We had gotten to know each other a bit first on-line.) I walked into the conference site, glanced around, saw this beautiful young woman with a great smile and next thing I knew we were hugging. Okay, to be honest, we did exchange photos before hand. Though I think just describing our hair to each other would have been enough. We both have somewhat unique hair I would say. She rocks - I like her alot and enjoy her writing! Earlier as I was reading another MWRACTA blog, someone (was it Kim?) mentioned how the blogging moms express themselves in different ways. Some discuss their personal experiences, some focus on adoption reform, and many do both. About two years ago, a friend of mine invited me to speak to her college ethics class about adoption. Before we headed over to her classroom, she introduced me to someone in her office and said that I was an adoption reform activist. It startled me - the label - but, the more I thought about it, I realized that hmm, she was right! Didn't set out to become an activist, and being that I am a grandma, I'm a bit old for the role, but, somehow, life does at times take unexpected paths. So, I'm warning you, I have lots of strong opinions about adoption and will share many of them here. Sheesh, that sounds ominous, I'm not a raving lunatic, just blunt at times and very vocal. I have been super active in the adoption community for only a couple of years. Prior to that, I was still in the safe confines of my "birth mother closet". Now that I am out though, I have come out in a BIG way and have been very public about my status as a birth mother. Looking forward to getting to know many of you other MWRACTAs (birth/natural/first moms, that is)!