Adoption reunions are truly the most crazy rollercoaster ride of emotions you could ever embark upon...but when they lead to this...it is worth everything...

 

 

Notes and Perspectives

This Mothers Day I am overflowing with pride.  You, my son, have overcome so much, and brought more joy than you could ever imagine, in your first eight years on Earth. 

Eight years ago you graduated the NICU...after 98 days of fighting for your one-pound life.  Heart surgery, sepsis, transfusions, isolation...nothing stopped you, my little One.  Nothing. 

Today you graduated from your first-year "Sing & Play" piano class and played your first solo piano piece...only three notes, but mixed with your sweet voice, it was the most beautiful sound your Mommy's ears have ever heard. 

I wish I had the chance to explain to the other Mothers, but then again, I don't need to.  Don't judge, or even feel sorry for me when my son screamed out for HELLLP!" to find Middle C in the middle of the group piece, or when he wiggled right off his piano bench, and then pouted because he had to move from "the fancy black bench" to the piano with the sturdy white one...

Sweetheart, You FINISHED the class...you held yourself together through all that and more. More than most have experienced in their entire lifetime.  AND you make beautiful music. You are my hero, and I love you more than words can say.    

"The Sound of Hope" Book Tour

                                                                             

"A feeling of kinship instantly formed...we each unwittingly carried an ugly scar deep within our souls made on the day we were separated from our birth families ~ we suffered being cut off from our biological roots." ~ Anne Bauer, "The Sound of Hope"

As a fellow "reunited" adoptee, born in the 60's (a Wild World indeed), it was an amazing experience to read Anne Bauer's story in "The Sound of Hope."

I felt such a kinship, as my memories and emotions sailed along with her as she journeyed through the realization of being adopted (and all it entailed), her childhood memories and young adulthood... through search & reunion with her first family.

I cannot even begin to list the similarities in our life-stories...growing up as adopted kids, our "waking up" years after college, and reunion journey with our natural families (my first family also attended my wedding)...it is uncanny.  It was an honor and blessing to be able to walk with you through your story as a fellow adoptee.  You brought back so many memories and reflections of my own 20-plus year reunion...the ups and downs, the changes & growth, and the deep insights I've gained in becoming "real".  I so wish I had known other adoptees and could have learned from books like yours 20 years ago when I was walking the same journey.  What a blessing that would have been.  Now you are that voice for so many...and helping others find their voices as well.     

As I was reflecting on the power of your story, and the beautiful title of your book (I LOVED "The Sound of Music" growing up too), I thought of a lighthouse.  When the fog is so thick that ships lose their way and can't see the bright circling light... the low, mournful sound of a foghorn guides them to safety through the fearful and threatening waves.  You were vulnerable enough to share your journey so others can hear the sound of authenticity and find their way through the treacherous seas of search and reunion...out of the fog. 

I am honored to be part of this book tour and participate in Lori Holden's online book club...to meet so many amazing authors and glean from the thoughts and discussions of other bloggers.   

I'd like to highlight some of the quotes from Anne's book that really stood out to me, and share some thoughts and feelings they brought up.  I may even link some previous blog posts I've written through the years (click on the highlighted words throughout this post to see them), as I reminisced and reflected on the kinship journey we have taken as adoptees.

Like Anne, my childhood was very much influenced by my maternal grandmother.  In fact, we lived with her throughout most of my young life.  Our families shared some of the same dysfunctions and I especially related to the experience of having an adoptive mother who thought problems would just disappear if they were not addressed...it brought deep silence in my soul.  It took many years to finally "wake up" to my own needs and emotions, and not tip-toe around the needs of her and my grandmother.  In fact, I felt overly responsible for their emotional well-being, much like Anne did her parents. 

I, too, found that searching (even though emotionally treacherous at first) actually brought me closer to my adoptive family and brought about healthier relationships.  I could finally embrace myself and my families (both by birth and adoption) as a real person.   

I think alot of adoptees share this burden, because we are, indeed, "commodities" and our very identities and lives are amended to fulfill a role and needs of parents who often have unspoken (or sometimes loudly spoken) expectations and misinformation about adoption.  Children are not the benefactors in the adoption system.  Anne brought that point out with true grace.

                                                                         

             
Even the cover of "The Sound of Hope" was profound...the hand of a child being held by a shadowy, unknown figure.  To me, it seemed to pair nicely with some thoughts Anne expressed toward the end of her book.

"...birth parents are indeed present throughout an adoptee's childhood...they were real to me, and they became a part of who I was and am now. These phantom parents were with me every day, every minute, every second of my life."

"The existence of my other parents was a mere fact, and once divulged, it was supposed to be forgotten. But how does one ever forget such a thing as having another family, a mysterious family you know exists but that you're never allowed to see or even talk about? The whole adoption setup struck me as institutionalized brainwashing."

                                             Isaiah 11:6 ~ Secrecy is (truly) a burden.

"...this realization (the true meaning of being adopted) entered like a charging bull, taking hold of my naive preconceptions and throwing them to the wind. It left me feeling half naked, as if I was missing some part of myself. But the lasting impression was clear...I was different from everyone else...adopted."

When finding the courage to begin my own search, I too, shared Anne's deep fears and saw the irony ..."it felt so devious...but then again, it was my own information."

When Anne's co-workers asked her the ever familiar question of how her search "...affected her mother?", instead of sharing her own deep anguish, she said, "I smiled."

That's what we adoptees do. We are programmed to be forever concerned about other's feelings, and get weary of explaining, being misunderstood, and seen as "ungrateful" betrayers.  Like Anne's fiance, even those closest to us have a hard time understanding. It seems everyone is most concerned about the feelings of our parents. "How are THEY taking this?...Matthew's words stung."

"I just can't understand why you need to find somebody who's a stranger to you."..."She isn't a stranger; she's my mother."

 I relate so deeply with Anne when she said, "It hurt that he didn't even ask how I was doing..." Yes, we adoptees can feel isolated and alone, even when around others - for this very reason.

And then there are those adoptee dreams...Anne shared a dream she had of a shadowy, veiled building housing herself and her mother before relinquishment, in which...

..."The baby screamed and screamed while the girl cried softly along.  It was my birth mother.  She was devastated, and her pain came rushing in like a fast-moving flame and burned from the inside out, devouring me."  I believe adoptees carry within our bodies the silenced pain of our mothers.  We are forever connected.  

In Chapter 22 "First Encounter", Anne describes an "unnatural" social awkwardness when first meeting her (birth) Mother...."I was mortified of my reaction and wished I'd given her a hug or at least looked into her eyes and said hello." 

I so related to Anne's feelings.  I, too, felt very unnatural.  Here I had searched and found them, yet I was not able to express the elation I felt inside...only jittery nervousness and profound worry about what they thought of me.  I was terrified that their warm reception was only out of obligation and not sincere.  I couldn't receive acceptance because I was so numb.   

I was relieved to hear Anne later write that her first Mother "...didn't appear affected by my awkwardness...she continued to stare at me with a broad smile." 

My family members did the same...as if they somehow understood, and weren't judging me.   I was the "lost child" in the equation.   I so wish I had been easier on myself and less critical of my every move.  Adoptees feel very foreign, even to ourselves.  It took me many years to feel comfortable in my own skin, even AFTER reunion.

Like Anne, ..."There were no words to express my astonishment at finally seeing someone I resembled."  CONNECTION to the human race.  Connection to ourselves, finally!   

"The Letter" (Chapter 23)

"I never saw you with my eyes, but I know you with my heart."  ~ what a beautiful gift Anne was given in the letter from her (first) Mother.

This sentence of the book brought my first tear...and then they wouldn't stop.  When I found that my first Mother had registered with ALMA before she died, I quickly called them, so hoping that she had left me a letter or personal message....anything.  The ALMA volunteer was ecstatic that she found "a match", but she was met with my profound disappointment when asked if there was any type of personal message left by my Mother.  Nothing.  I don't think she felt she had the "right". 

Knowing my Mother searched for me and registered with ALMA (as early as the late 70's) has given me much needed validation.  Her brother reassured me again and again, of the yearning to find her only child, even mentioning me right before she died.  Tears. 

I have received several cards over the years from my first Father, who, like Anne's first Father, is also Jewish (extremely interesting article), that have brought further healing to my soul...cards to "My Daughter" with beautiful sentiments that seemed to say exactly what I longed to hear.    

So happy that Anne was given this gift of "The Letter" from her first Mother...I know how very special it feels.  And also, the grief it unlocks. 

"I was unable to move.  Her words tore through my flesh and sunk deep within the very core of my body where they mingled with the essence of my being, and for a split second - where time seemed to stand still - every emotion she had felt and the twenty-three-year void rippled through my body.  She'd been completely heartbroken, and I ached from the pain.  None of it was fair."

In Chapter 26, during a visit to her first family's home, Anne comments about feeling "so comfortable and right at home..."  Then her eyes are drawn to a family portrait on the wall. 

"You all look great," I said softly.  My own voice startled me.  There was a hint of envy laced in my tone when I realized I wasn't part of their family portrait.  Their smiles in the photograph, frozen in time, taunted me as if saying I'd lost my chance.  I was too late to be a part of their family."

                      "I was so swamped with sorrow that it was difficult to breathe." 

Even after 20 years,  when I read memoir's, such as Anne's, I find myself breathing shallow and having to lay the book aside at times, overwhelmed with layer after layer of emotion that well back up...feelings so familiar, that I, too, have lived and experienced, as a fellow adoptee in reunion.

The only way out, is through.  Anne Bauer...your strength and spunk is an inspiration.  And I'm so blessed to have been introduced to "The Sound of Hope" through this book tour.

To visit the next leg of this book tour, please visit the main list at  http://lavenderluz.com/2013/04/adoptlit-sound-of-hope-book-tour.html

 




     

Sacred Journeys

 “There's a story behind everything..but behind all your stories is always your mother's story..because hers is where yours begins.”
~ Mitch Albom, For One More Day

 

In her book, "The Sound of Hope", Anne Bauer wrote...

 

"The day I found out I had two mothers I was cut in half. One half of myself resided here with my family, and the other half was lost, lost to a shadowy woman floating somewhere out there...You see, I'm adopted."

 

Growing up, I never let myself even think about my natural mother, so when I began dreaming about her as an adult ~ well, that began a whole new journey. With the blessing of my family, I searched and found her in my early 20's.
It was her mother, my Grandmother Carolyn, who shared the devastating news that my mother had passed away while also searching for me. Her name was Norma Carol.

 I was born Baby Girl Lowe, during the 60's when young, unwed mothers endured great shame ~ "The Baby Scoop Era".  They were told that giving up their babies for adoption would somehow redeem them...and us as well. They were supposed to "forget" and "move on" but most never could, including my Mother.

On her death bed, she made her family promise to "never forget" her only child, she knew would someday return. She wasn't allowed to see or hold me after giving birth and was led to believe she had given birth to a boy. But it was me, a daughter, who did come back, ten years too late.

I spent most of my 20's numb; stuffing disenfranchised grief.   Especially after my Mom who raised me was diagnosed with the same type of cancer that took Norma's life. Suddenly I was terrified of losing both my Mothers to this horrid disease.

Mom not only endured months of chemo and radiation, but also a bone marrow transplant...never losing faith and teaching me important lessons in perseverance and trust. We just celebrated her 82nd birthday, and 15 years as a survivor.

Finally, in my 30's, I could breathe again. I connected with other adoptees and first Mom's and began to hear their stories...and finally began dreaming of my Mother.

One of those dreams is so special...

I found myself in Norma's living room looking out her window, and there to my surprise, was the familiar site of my childhood neighborhood.

Overcome, I turned and realized my Mother had been with me all along.  As she reached out, took me in her arms and held me...she whispered words in my ears.  Words that empowered me, preparing me for life.

Then she said..."You know, Samantha, I can't complete you..." and her voice trailed off.  At this, my heart sank as she pulled away, picked up her things and walked out the door. The little girl in me stood there sobbing, helpless....trying so hard to somehow "wish" her back.

Her embrace remained a part of me. I felt stronger, bigger...even through the unbearable sadness of watching her go. It was then that I noticed...there, on the table, she had left her keys. For me.  I knew I would someday see her again, even if in eternity.

 

She had given me my life, my name, and a confidence that would never be lost again.

It is interesting that, even though I'm now a Mother myself, I am still seen as a perpetual child in the eyes of adoption law.  Adoptees are the only US citizens denied access to their original record of birth. 

Like a fellow adoptee named Moses, hiding in the desert;  this dream was, for me, truly a "burning bush" experience.

 When Moses asked God, "Who am I?", God said, "I AM the God of YOUR fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob." He restored his identity and his lineage. 

 

Then God said, "Take off your shoes...(mine even had names ~ Fear and Shame)...for the ground YOU stand on IS Holy. 

 

Our journeys are sacred, and that makes our very lives, and those we journey with, sacred as well.

Moses found his destiny wrapped up in both his families...a purpose, only fulfilled as he journeyed back to the place of his birth.

My Uncle Ronnie says that my son reminds him a lot of Norma Carol. Life somehow has a way of coming full circle.

 

I am whole...no longer cut in half.  So thankful for Motherhood, and very blessed to be on this journey with all of you. 

Shame & Secrets

This video highlights the life-long issues of "secrets" whether they are linked to an abortion, an adoption, or other traumatic separation. Very telling to hear the experiences of these women.

First Mothers have written their experiences about these same feelings of pain and numbing. 

"Sealed records" laws in adoption perpetuate this life-long shame for both First Mothers and adoptees.  It has been found that First Mothers were never legally promised, nor asked for, perpetual anonimity.  They were told searching would "ruin" their child's life. 

Several US states have passed legislation, supported by The Child Welfare League of America, restoring the right of adult adoptees to access their original birth certificates.  In states that have passed this legislation, it has been found that abortion rates do not increase.

Sadly, many "crisis pregnancy centers" are adoption agencies, who claim they are there to "help" pregnant women, when in fact, their agenda to is "help themselves" to her baby. 
 
They claim they are "saving" babies from abortion, but it has been found that most women who
"chose" adoption would have never even considered abortion.  They felt unsupported and "shamed" into the decision.   

When will society see behind the veil and realize that the adoption industry is based on economic principles of supply & demand.  Money and marketing breed conflict of interest and unethical practices ~ all to get the babies needed for those willing to pay. 

Shame and secrecy will never set people free. 

Broken Teapots

© Photographer: Venakr | Agency: Dreamstime.com
Thank you, God, for teaching me through everything that you really are faithful and trustworthy, even when I'm not. That your love is real and unconditional. Not based on my performance. Thank you, God. I asked you to teach me how to trust you. And I'm still learning.

It amazes me how the fog does lift and the sun does come back out, even when it feels hopeless. The confusion of reunion is like living in a veil of darkness. It colors everything, everyday. Like living out of sheer know-how, but not able to take anything in, really.

And then one day, after the rain, the floods, the tornados, drought, and weariness ~ the sun comes out. And life comes.

In my 18th year of "reunion" I can finally say I feel like a full-fledged member of my natural family. Before I was just floating in mid-air looking down but not able to land, anywhere. Trying but not able. Watching from a distance ~ life. Trying to please so hard. But knowing it wasn't making me real or worthy.

Upon reunion I grew close to my natural mother's sister. She is only ten years older than I am, and we grew close over the years. Her house felt like home, and her kids grew up close to my heart. I thought we'd be like that forever.

But then, she backed away. She became angry when I failed to tell her of my pregnancy ~ even though I didn't tell anyone. I didn't want to tell my a-Mom and felt guilty and disloyal if I were to tell anyone else ~ so I didn't. Even though I really wanted to. Since I had my baby so early, I missed out on telling anyone. I know. Hard to believe. But true. It made making those phone-calls from the hospital that much harder.

It made her angry. And she back off for several painful years. Years that I truly needed her. I can't trust her again, like I did before, ever. Because I can't risk being hurt again. But I missed her alot.

Well, tonight I got to spend the evening at her house for a family get-together. And it felt like old times. Amazing. Singing songs, being silly, talking, enjoying her kids, now all grown up. The sun came out again. Even though I thought it never would in this case. Never give up hope.

I would have never dreamed it, but during those few years we weren't close, I actually became much closer with the other side of my natural family ~ my natural father. My son begs to see "Papa" all the time, because they have shared a special relationship these past 3 years. Even though it isn't as often as I would like, my natural father has made an effort to keep in contact and it thrills my heart for my son, and for me. For him to know his Papa means the world to me. Thank you, God.

Now I just pray that he will grow as close to Aunt Patty. Most of our relatives by adoption have passed on, unfortunately. I am thankful for reunion. More than words can express. I am now real. I am a full-fledged member of the family I lost.

I don't know why things happened the way they did. Maybe someday I'll know all the answers. It's too tiring to analyze it now. Forty years of analyzing numbs one's brain.

I just know that being relinquished, displaced, and adopted was very challenging to my self-esteem, identity, coping ability, and emotions.

Now that I have allowed myself to take the journey of discovery, grief, and acceptance, I enjoy much greater self-esteem and identity. I like who I am (alittle more readily) because I KNOW who I am and have grieved the years I lost, the family I lost, and the place I lost.

My aMom and family have given me so much ~ childhood history, family relationships, love, and loyalty. And I thank God for that. I felt so disloyal being "through the roof" excited about my natural family and wanting to know them and be close to them in reunion. But I now realize, it was to know and become close to myself, for the first time in my life.

At my aunt's house tonight my son BROKE her favorite teapot. It feels amazing to know that broken teapot does not mean the end of the world, the end of my worth or family-tie. I don't have to perform anymore to earn the right to exist. I am a full-fledged member of my natural family and can receive their unconditional love. Finally. I'm not a stranger to myself or a balled-up beggar of emotionless pleasing. I can love them, and my a-family because I can finally let myself off the hook and love who I am, because I know who I am and have let it sink in. It took almost 2 decades after reunion. It took years of unsureness, confusion, pain, rejection, elation, hoping, judging, rejecting, reaching out again, grieving, sharing, connecting, and accepting ~ myself ~ before I could become REAL ~ and accept and love them ~ my FAMILY. Both by birth & by adoption.

I prematurely brought them together at the beginning of my reunion, and regret it now. It was too much too soon. I needed to find me in the midst of them, before bringing the two families together in the flesh. It shouldn't have been done. Lessons learned the hard way, years and years and years of growing and dying and living and holding my breath and breathing again.

Thank you, Jesus, for broken teapots and broken hearts being mended again. For broken families being mended and amended birth certificates and identities being replaced with original birth certificates & realness. For healing from the pain that feels like it will kill. For tonight.

A Right to Know: the fight for adoptee access