Showing posts sorted by relevance for query what i wish i had known. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query what i wish i had known. Sort by date Show all posts

August 17, 2012

Things I Wish I Had Known

I have a dream clouds
                                       © Photographer: Arneke | Agency: Dreamstime.com

 
Things I wish I had known:

   I didn't need to feel rejected as a child and young adult wondering HOW a mother could give her child away (ie. "place for adoption") because of "Love". 

I wish I had learned much earlier about the societal history of shame
(see Ann Fessler's book, The Girls Who Went Away),
and a financially driven, supply & demand based industry that explains the reason most babies become "available" for adoption.

My mother didn't "place" me because she loved me.
She certainly didn't reject me.
She surrendered her own motherhood/child because of a society that rejected her, and
only accepted me if I was removed from her and my original, true identity.

 I didn't have to be confused by the myth that it must be God's will for me to lose my mother, family, identity, and original life so I could be "chosen".
To gain my new family, life, love, and blessings.

I grew up trying to force this idea into my head & heart, but it was completely incongruent with life, truth, and the adoptee's reality.

I lived with emotions of extreme guilt for feeling disloyal, wondering how I could really love my adoptive family if I had feelings of loss and longing.

I was relieved to "wake up" and realize that, like Joseph, when he was reunited with his original family, I also concluded,
"What the ENEMY meant for evil (separation, loss), God eventually turned for good."

I didn't have to be fearful and distrusting of God anymore because it was impossible to understand (what adults tell most adoptees for their own benefit) how God PLANNED and WILLED for me to be adopted.
He didn't orchestrate it.

I once heard an eye-opening sermon by Pastor Dick Bernal ("Jubilee Christian Center"). 
 He was talking about scriptures in the New Testament that spoke of us being "adopted" as God's own children. After doing an in-depth study on the word translated into "adopted", he found that the original meaning in the Greek language more closely resembled "reunited" or "reinstated."

First John even uses the Greek word "sperma" to describe us as God's beloved children. The Prodigal Son certainly wasn't his Father's "adopted" son, he was his biological offspring. 

 It was comfort to this adoptee's soul to hear this revelation. 
 That God didn't NEED to "adopt" me as His child in the same sense "adoption" is used today.

The scriptures also teach that anything hidden in darkness and secrecy cannot be truly made whole.

Yet adoptees' records and birth certificates are sealed by laws which perpetuate this shame and injustice.
Even "open adoption" is not legally enforceable by law, and certainly doesn't negate the profound loss every adoptee experiences.

I wish I had known that, just like Wilbur Wilberforce, Susan B. Anthony, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Jean Patton,  
that it takes a lot of courage, fortitude, and perseverance to keep voicing an "unpopular" opinion, but a lived experience.

That I don't have to feel like the lone duck and the odd-one-out.
 I can stand up to criticism, with courage. That someday the cost will be worth it.

Until the monetary & marketing aspects in adoption are removed, and every adopted individual in America is restored their God-given right to own their original birth certificate and identity, adoption will continue to be simply an enterprise of human-selling.
Children who truly need loving homes will be overlooked and discarded.

Loving and capable Mothers will continue to be pressured to "do the right thing" and relinquish their precious offspring to those willing to pay.

And adopted individuals will continue to be seen as perpetual children in the eyes of the law and society, being treated with contempt and shame for wanting the same right as every other American citizen, for themselves and their children after them ~ simply to know their true genealogy, identity, medical history, and family line.

September 11, 2008

Found & Lost



(In memory of my nMother, Norma Carol, I would like to thank the Found & Lost On-line Support Group, started by a wonderful First Mother who searched and found that her son had passed away before she found him. I found my nMother 10 years after she passed away from breast cancer. She had been also been searching for me, but died thinking she had a son due to inaccurate information given to her after giving birth (1968), by the hospital staff and adoption attorney. No "mutual consent" registry would have been successful for us, because our information would have never "matched". I thank God that I found my nfamily and have known them now for many years. I thank God for groups like "Found & Lost Support" which reach out and offer support to those who have been affected by adoption and find a grave at the end of their search. You can "click" on the title of this post to go directly to this great website resource.)

ALL MY LIFE

All my life, I dreamed a dream
That was reachable, or so it seemed
I wanted so badly to meet my mother
Even though I was raised by another

In my mothers arms, I wanted to be
I knew she would set me free
For I knew that in her loving arms
She would always keep me safe from harm

But on that day back in June
My heartstrings played a different tune
I knew then it could never be
I wished then, that everyone could see

The pain in my heart that was so strong
That dream I dreamed for so long
Was gone now without a trace
I knew I would never see her face

I felt then that I would never be the same
Please, at least, could you tell me her name?
A name that was like a beautiful song
That name I had longed to hear for so long

A face I saw in the mirror everyday
I would never look at myself the same way
I see her chin, her cheeks, her hair
To finally see yourself, nothing can compare

I wanted to feel her loving embrace
Just once I wanted her to touch my face
As I'm sure she did many years ago
When she had to let her baby girl go

The pain she must have felt through the years
I wish I had been there to dry her tears
I know she is with me in everything I do
I hope she knows she is in my heart too

So I will go on and live everyday
Too the fullest I can because she paved the way
Because one day we will be together
And this time it will be forever

In loving Memory of my Mother

© ALL MY LIFE by Pamula Sumpter
an adoptee and member of Found and Lost Support

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Adoption/ My Psyche/ My Journey
By Pam Hewitt
http://www.foundandlostsupport.com/theadopteeperspective.html

Minnosota Adoptee born 1/31/67

It's only been in the last few years that I've begun thinking about how being adopted might have impacted me psychologically. I've always been shy and quiet, I had a small group of friends while I was growing up but still, I tended to be a loner. I remember my a-mom suggesting I see a therapist when I was about thirteen years old. I thought she was just trying to cure me of my shyness; I didn't see how talking to a therapist could help. The truth is I was afraid to go, going would be admitting something was wrong with me. Since she left the decision up to me, I decided I was fine and didn't pursue it. Thinking back, I wonder if she saw something in me, (a loneliness perhaps?), which prompted her to make the suggestion in the first place?

I've always known I was adopted but it never really meant much to me when I was younger. In my parents' eyes I was one hundred percent theirs and that's how they treated me. My being adopted wasn't a secret but it wasn't something we talked about much. It was just a part of me that I tucked away in the back of my psyche, unaware it would come crashing out of me later on in life. Whenever people asked me if I wanted to search for my "real" parents I said, "No." Back then I didn't have a desire to search, it didn't seem to matter but the truth was I knew, deep down, that someday I would.

Once I became an adult I was reminded about being adopted every time I needed to fill out my medical history at the doctors. I would simply tell them, "I don't know. I was adopted." However, the possible genetic predispositions I could have to diseases like diabetes, heart disease and cancer started to concern me.

When I was about eighteen years old my a-mom took me to the bank and handed me some papers she kept in her safety deposit box. These papers contained information about my birth and adoption, including my amended birth certificate with my true identity stripped away. There was also a type written page, prepared by the adoption agency, with a little information about my biological mother and father. This was the first time I had something tangible to remind me of the fact that I was different.

When I was about thirty years old I discovered there were organizations that could help reunite loved ones who have been separated by adoption. In addition, there were numerous web sites where you could enter your search criteria such as birth dates, city, state; I entered my information on a few registries and eventually started searching online. I spent many hours online looking through these registries and posting my own information hoping there would be a match. However, for these registries to make a match both parties must be looking.

I became intrigued by all I was learning, which made me think about contacting the adoption agency that handled my adoption. I wanted to know if any members of my birth family had inquired about me; they said no one had inquired into my file. So, I signed a release form allowing the agency to share my information should someone come looking for me. Plus, for a small fee, they sent me my updated Non-Identifying ID information. Non-Identifying ID is information they are legally allow to release about your biological mother and/or father, however it doesn't contain any information that could identify who they are or where they live.

This time I learned something new; I found out that my biological grandmother died when she was thirty-nine years old. The cause of death was listed as, unknown; I later found out she committed suicide. I also found out she left home when she was sixteen years old and was estranged from her family plus it listed information about her siblings and step-siblings. I'm amazed by all I've learned and for the first time it began to sink in....there were real people out there, somewhere, who were related to me. Around the same time I saw a girl who bore a striking resemblance to me, I felt compelled to stop her but of course I didn't and the opportunity passed. I found myself searching crowds for women with red hair (we both have red hair), who looked to be about the same age as my b-mom; whenever I saw someone I'd start to wonder if it could be her. I knew the odds of actually finding her that way were next to impossible but the thought still crossed my mind.

My online research led me to a Yahoo group dedicated to those in the adoption triad who were searching in Minnesota. I learned a lot from them about how to conduct a search; one thing I learned was I didn't have enough information to work with, plus the agency told me that my birth parents weren't from MN, so now I didn't know where to begin and my search lost it's momentum.

Then, a few years ago I decided to call the agency again, this time I wanted to find out how much it would cost for them to do a search & outreach for me; I was told it would be about $500, with no guarantees. Also, they warned me that if they found her she may refuse contact. I had to give all of this some heavy consideration; that was quite a bit of money to plunk down with no guarantee I'd have any more information than I already had.

I began to explore my reasons for wanting to search. One thing I knew was my birth mother wanted the pregnancy to be a secret. Was mere curiosity enough to disrupt her life? What if she rejected me? What if she was some looney-toon that would turn around and disrupt my life? How would my adoptive parents feel? Needless to say, I chose to put searching on the back burner.

I continued to be involved in the Reuniting MN group, which was also affiliated with a group that was trying to get MN legislation changed allowing adult adoptee's access to their original birth certificates. I decided to wait, to see if the legislation passed, if it did I'd begin to search again. However it didn't pass because of strong opposition from the adoption agencies.

I attended several legislative hearings on the subject to lend my support and for the first time I found myself surrounded by other adoptee's and birth mothers. Finally, I felt like I fit in somewhere. Proposing the bill into legislation was further delayed, the next proposal was scheduled for 2007. If it passed it wouldn't go into effect until 2008, however, there was no way of knowing if it would pass and I didn't want to wait that long.

Now, I'm immersed in this process and I found myself thinking about my adoption more frequently. I started to read books on the subject from the perspectives of all members of the triad, as well as psychologists who had done extensive research on the effects of adoption. I was most interested in reading about how other adoptee's felt and was happy to see my feelings being discribed on the pages before me; I realized I wasn't alone.

I learned that I have many things in common with other adoptee's, for example, I'm introverted, a loner, a people-pleaser, I have trouble with intimacy and relationships. I feel anonymous, disconnected from the world. I felt like I was "dropped from outer space," opposed to being born. I feel incomplete and live with a vague sense of longing. I'm ill at ease with others, driven to excel and I'm a perfectionist; all characteristics that seem to have a common thread among adoptee's.

I tend to observe rather than interact. Sometimes when I'm out in public I feel invisible or just partially materialized, so it surprises me if the focus suddenly turns to me, I realize I can be seen and heard by others. I take comfort in being alone and over the years I've built an invisible wall around myself. Therefore, I don't have many close friends; I need to get over my fears of rejection and reach out to people more but I think my inability to make friends is probably more of a personality flaw than something caused by being adopted.

Dwelling on my adoption was making me depressed. I started to think I was in the midst of a real identity crisis so, I contacted the agency again. They sent me the forms that would give them permission to attempt contact on my behalf but again I hesitated. I wasn't ready. At this point I told myself to stop dwelling on being adopted, but still, I continued to have unsettling feelings. I began to think that none of us were getting any younger. I knew if I waited too long it might be too late. Suddenly, one day in November 2006 I knew the time had arrived, I had to take a leap of faith. So, I signed the papers and put them in the mail before I could change my mind; I have not had a single regret since.

On Nov. 16, 2006 my social worker called to tell me she had some bad news, at first I thought she was going to tell me my b-mom had refused contact. Instead, she told me that my b-mom had passed away in 1990 of lung cancer, she was only forty-three years old. This was something I hadn't dared to contemplate but it didn't come as a complete surprise either...in my heart I knew she was already gone.

My social worker asked if I'd like to continue looking for other blood relatives; I told her I absolutely would. This meant she'd have to call my b-mom's husband back, however, she still couldn't tell him why she was calling, so, I feared he might react unfavorably and not give out any more information. Fortunately, he did share the name of my biological aunt; the agency called her next. As it turns out my b-mom didn't tell anyone about my birth, still, my aunt was open to having contact with me. I suppose I was a connection for her, maybe I was a way to bring her sister back to life.

I've subsequently had a face-to-face meeting with my aunt, my b-mom's husband, and my only sibling, a half-brother. This experience has finally put me on the road to becoming a whole person and it has facilitated some healing for my biological family as well.

Pam is a member of Found and Lost Support

April 4, 2013

"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

 




     

December 12, 2009

"The Primal Wound" Book Tour

Metal heart

                                    © Photographer: De-kay | Agency: Dreamstime.com

The Open Adoption Examiner is hosting an online "book tour" of "The Primal Wound" by Nancy Newton Verrier, a forerunner adoptive parent and psychologist. I've really enjoyed reading the questions/responses submitted by other bloggers and learn so much from them. Thank you for the opportunity to participate and learn! Here are some thoughts about the questions below:

There are a great deal of behavioral issues that Verrier attributes to the Primal Wound of being separated from ones birthmother and subsequently adopted. These range from acting out and testing the adoptive parents, to becoming detached, to future inabilities to maintain healthy relationships as an adult. To the adoptees, I'm curious if you identified with any of these traits. Further, if you answered "yes", do you think your adoptive parents would agree that you have these traits as well?

Let's see...ummm...yes, yes, and yes. As a child I hid feelings of differentness and insecurity, all the while putting on a smiling face to convince others and myself that I was "special" and "chosen" and therefore, almost superior to other kids. I HAD to make straight A's, be the teacher's pet, and make everybody like me, because inside, I didn't feel likeable. So I tried really hard. I said, "I love you" ALOT and made my Mom home-made cards for every conceivable holiday, always portraying the same message ~ "I'm so glad I have the BEST Mom in the whole wide world." Looking back I realize it was my way of not only trying to convince myself that I was perfectly happy being adopted, but also defending against my Mom's insecurities being my "Mother", loyally protecting her & myself.

I was the compliant adoptee for sure! The last thing I wanted was to "stick out" or be noticed in a crowd, because I didn't feel worthy of it. Yet, my Mom was SO proud of me, that she would make sure we were noticed. It truly humiliated me and caused me to go deeper into my shell. A shell which confounded my adoptive family. They couldn't understand the painful shyness (and did I mention, control) either. Yes, they would completely agree and I'm sure have much more to say than I. I just wish they had been given this book years ago, as I think it would have helped them understand my behavior a little better.

Becoming aware of these issues within myself is helping me become a better person, friend, daughter, spouse, and mother. Because my son deals with attachment issues of his own, my healing journey has provided the gift of "insight" into him, and will hopefully help him on his. I can allow him the freedom to rage and question and control, without the fear of being unaccepted, because I have walked through my own "ugliness" and learned to (a little better) accept myself.

It's hard to "admit" unsavory personality traits and relationship struggles because that brings up even more shame. The last thing I ever want is to "unknowingly" hurt those I love, or even knowingly do so through behavior that feels beyond my control. That's why I am so thankful for books that truly validate and educate, because they are a key that has the potential to unlock healing.

I still "numb out" and feel detached during times of stress. As a child I'd have reoccuring dreams where I'd be flying, feeling like my body and spirit was not grounded ~ searching for what? I did not know. But searching all the time. Restless.

Oh, and relationships. The same "detachment" can describe my relationships. Even my marriage of 19 years, as well as with long-time friends. I am the queen of "push/pull", always longing to feel close, but getting flighty and distracted when things get too close emotionally. Feeling alone alot, but it is getting better.

Even as an adult, before I read books like "The Primal Wound", I couldn't figure out WHY I was "the way I was". I remember going to a class at my church entitled "Boundaries" (great book by Cloud & Townsend) and discussing in the group how I "felt like a fake" but didn't know why. I didn't understand myself at all. All I got from the others, including the facilitator (interestingly enough, she was a social worker who worked for an adoption agency) was "your not fake, why would you feel that way?" I couldn't answer that. And felt even more isolated.

It wasn't until years after my "reunion" that I finally found some answers as to why I exhibited such contradictory emotions and perplexing behavior. On the outside, I seemed to have everything. An adoptive family who loved me immensely AND a first family who embraced me immediately. I remember telling others that I was "doubly blessed" because I had gained so much and lost nothing. Yet inside I fought feelings of extreme sadness that I couldn't explain. Why couldn't I just be happy, like my demeanor implied?

Then I happened across an "adoptee support group" on the web. I had NEVER known another adoptee, nor ever thought of myself as one, really. I had certainly NEVER thought of myself as an "orphan". It was like a slap in the face. I HAD a family. Yet I found myself weeping for days, literally. For the first time, I found books like "The Primal Wound" and felt validated, normal ~ what a huge relief. (Even through the intense crying and pain that made me feel like I was going to die.) It was like I "woke up" and became REAL. Thank God for books like "The Primal Wound", which finally put words to feelings that couldn't be explained. Truly pre-verbal. And so misunderstood.

I SO identify with the "false self" that Verrier describes. I mean, why wouldn't I feel "false" when my very birth certificate is false. We reap what we sow, even in adoption law. Which is sad. The only way my existence was validated or worthy was through a new identity, family, and "self" created to fill that role. My new "self" couldn't grieve the loss of my own mother or the "self" I was as connected to her. Because my adoption was a win-win situation that was joyously celebrated. What else was I to do? But create a "false self" that personified this new life, and deny that part within me that felt confused, undone, and unworthy. Or at least try.

"...the human child requires a period of a year after birth..to attain the degree of maturity that characterizes the young of most other mammals at birth...an uninterrupted continuum of being within the matrix of the mother is necessary in order for the infant to experience a rightness or wholeness of self from which to begin his separation or individuation process. The continuity and quality of this primal relationship is crucial, because it may set the tone for all subsequent relationships....the loss of the mother disallows the achievement of basic trust, the first milestone in the healthy development of a human being."

It is so hard to read or write about the question posed above. Not only do I identity with what is written, but I can see this so clearly in my own son. He was born three months premature, weighed 1.4 pounds, and was separated from me, alone, in a NICU incubator for four months. Emotions well up in me every time I take myself back to those days. The pain of leaving him there was almost too hard to bear. I could not only relate to his sense of complete and utter aloneness, nothingness, longing, but I could also relate to what my first mother must have felt with empty arms, and such strong hormones crying out to embrace and protect the one whom she carried and bonded with as her own flesh.

When I finally got to bring him home, I would hold and rock him close for hours on end, crying through whispered prayers for God to somehow heal his pain and help him feel secure in my love and His. As a toddler, he would anxiously resist touch and hugs; everything had to be on his terms. He is still very controlling and "jumpy", but is finally exhibiting improved affect and sensory regulation and even spontaneous joy.

My son will be five years old in just a few weeks and his latest milestone brings complete joy to my heart, just like every milestone has up till now. His new favorite word is "Why?" and it is like music to my ears. Interestingly, as his language has increased, his anxieties have become more clear. Not only did he endure early separation from his Mother, along with a premature nervous system, but he has also had four surgeries in his four years of life. This year is our first with no surgeries. Thank you, Jesus!

"Are the nurses coming today, Momma?" "Why did the nurses 'poke' me, Momma?"
No matter how much explaining I do, he seems to always come back with this:
"But Why?"

Me: "You had to come out of Mommy's tummy early and I'm so sorry, Honey. I wish you could have lived in Mommy's tummy longer. The doctors had to give you medicine to make you feel better. I'm so sorry they had to 'poke' you. Were you scared?" Yes, he was scared.

"But Jesus healed us and we got to be together again. I'm so glad we are together now..." This conversation has been repeated numerous times, because Andrew asks to hear it over and over. I think it is his way of trying to process his early experiences. And maybe his way of reaching out in trust, the trust he has had to work so hard to build, even with me, his own Mother. Tears.

He's learning about birthdays and "celebration", and loves his favorite video of the baby dinosaur being "born" out of the egg. So he comes over to me and says, "I want to be born, Mommy." We'll "act out" his birth over & over again. He'll hide his little head under my shirt on my stomach while I gush over how very much I love him. Then he POPS out and says "I'm born!" ~ we clap and cheer and sing "Happy Birthday". He loves it. Again, and again.

"Mommy, will you always take care of me?" is another sentence I hear a lot. "Yes, Honey, I love you and will always take care of you." All this is so good to hear, because I know he is building trust and feeling more secure. The insecure attachment is lessening, and he isn't quite as anxious when we go new places. The frustration and anger towards himself is lessening too. He still sometimes prefers my husband over me, though, which is a heartbreaking confession. It is usually when I have been away for awhile. When I come back, he still sometimes screams for me to "go away, Mommy" and our reunions (even after short separations) are very distraught with negativity. But even those are getting better. He's becoming a "Mommy's boy", and I'm so happy, not only for myself, but more for him. It means he is learning to trust!

Another interesting behavior I see in my son, which makes me completely identify with "The Primal Wound" is his misuse of pronouns. He gets them all mixed up, especially when talking to me. He will call me "I" and himself "you". And alot of the time it is simply "we". Like his little mind and spirit can't distinguish between himself and me, his Mother. When he was younger, if I got upset or cried or even shed one tear, he would literally come undone. He looked to me for his "ok-ness" and if I wasn't "ok" he was at a complete loss in total panic. I could see it all over his face, as he frantically wiped my tears away while holding in his own. He still won't hardly cry. Ever. He's the "bravest" child I've ever seen, but I so wish he didn't have to be. My Mom says "he's independent, just like you used to be."

It reminds me of my "pre-awakening" days versus "post-awakening" regarding my true "self". Before, I tried to "appear" confident, overly "useful", and "strong". It was easier to focus on helping others (all the while hiding behind a little bit of hidden judgement) than to look within (too painful) and work on myself. It wasn't until I allowed the fearful, abandoned child in me to "wake up" and feel, that I became extremely vulnerable. But, not only did I finally acknowledge overwhelming grief; walking through it also enabled me to truly feel and embrace the joy and the love in my life. With both my families. Another benefit has been the ability to feel deeper compassion for myself and others.

Almost nothing, however, has been more healing for me than having my own child. He is my only "flesh & blood" relative I have the privilege of living life with in a natural family relationship. I find that he is the only person I can totally "let go" emotionally with and embrace with abandon. I don't find myself "pulling back" like I do with other people, even those who I am close to. I think we are both helping each other, actually, learn to trust nature and fold ourselves into each other, the way a mother/child relationship is intended at birth. That may sound strange, but I am learning that which I lost and never experienced, and I'm so thankful. Not that I don't still battle fear of loss. It overshadows everything. But I'll never give up contending for wholeness, for healing.

My son just woke up from a four hour nap. He is very active, more so than most kids. But he also needs alot of sleep, which he sometimes fights. He seems always on alert, needing extra reassurances and expending a lot of energy dealing with these anxieties. As an adoptee, I'm completely exhausted just writing this post. So I know a touch of how he feels.

"A recurring message throughout the book is that adoption should be in the best interest of the child and not the adults, something that I think very few people would argue against. But should the adoptees feelings always trump everyone else's in the triad, even when that adoptee is a grown up?"

If the above question was hard to address, this one is even harder, especially just coming down from watching 48 Hours last night, "The Lost Children." Until adoption becomes what it is intended to be, adoptee's feelings are not only disrespected, but their rights are too. Completely.

The very reason we even need books like "The Primal Wound" is because of the unethical and abusive practices against humans we call "adoption" in America. If even the medical field of neonatology recognizes and changes their practices based on knowledge now readily available and accepted regarding the "primal" damage done to humans infants by early separation from their mothers, then adoptees should not have to spend one more minute having to defend themselves or their right to own their history, feelings, or experience.

We should not have to wince every time we see mind-boggling "advertisements" recruiting pregnant mothers. Friends, adoption is a business, with HUMAN-BEINGS being bought and sold as products. "Owned". It's run by the principles of "supply & demand" and rakes in billions of dollars every year. All the while, adoption agencies and attorneys ("professionals") FAIL their "clients" by dismissing "The Primal Wound" as being unfounded and extreme. Something is wrong with this picture. Why is there so much "controversy" about this theory? Because it threatens the business, the abuse, the laws. As it should.

Until adoption does not involve ONE PENNY exchanged for the transfer of a human-being; until "Dear Burfmother (incubator), give ME "the" baby (no worries, I promise you can still see it) Letters" are deemed illegal (marketing for infants); until adoption is considered a last resort and not touted as "just another way to build a family", and mothers and children are encouraged and supported to remain together, instead of recruited for "options counseling" by agencies whose "business" it is to procure "available" children for their clients (PAP's) ~ adoption is unethical.

Individual states deem it "financially unfeasible" to even keep an accurate count of adoptions, making adoption the largest "unregulated" business in America. DA's hands are tied when attempting to fully investigate complaints, because attorneys and agencies are legally permitted to hide misdeeds and coercion through handy "sealed records" statutes.

Until there are no longer "amended" (falsified) Certificates of Live Birth or "sealed records" and EVERY adult adoptee is guaranteed the same right as all American citizens to their original (and accurate) birth certificate ~ "adoption" is just another word for child-trafficking.

I so hope for change, and am thankful for people like Nancy Verrier who had the courage to not only acknowledge the issue, but also to write a classic. A book which finally validates millions of "adaptees". It has helped us find our voices and has brought some much needed healing. We deserve better. We deserve our truth, our history, our records, as well as our feelings, without being dictated "how to" process or explain our adoptions through politically-correct "positive" adoption language. More questions we need to be asking are "Who does adoption truly serve?" and "Exactly whose records are they?"

May 28, 2010

Brother & Birthday Blessings

Birthday cake
© Photographer: Chepko | Agency: Dreamstime.com

I've known my half-brothers since first being reunited in 1990.
I so wish I had known HOW to grow close to them at that time, because it was then they were more open. The relationship was new and exciting, but I was shell-shocked and unprepared, and was scared they didn't really want to know me, even with the clues they gave otherwise.

It is now 20 years later and I am ready to be close, but they don't seem as interested now.
I still try, though, and my youngest brother had a birthday yesterday. We had just seen each other at a family gathering a few days earlier. In person we always seem to hit it off but just don't seem to go any farther with communication or closeness.

Anyway, he had mentioned something about how he wished his life could count for more at his age and even appeared a little discouraged. I took the opportunity to write a him a short email on his birthday about how he is an asset to everyone who knows him because of his sweet personality and character and how I am so glad to know him.
He emailed me right back (unusual) and said how much he appreciated that. He even called me "Sis"! Wow! What a beautiful gift he gave me on HIS birthday!

It reminded me of a few years ago when he had given me the sweetest card on my birthday ~ one for "Sister". My heart melted and still melts. I just so wish we could spend more time together and actually have those every day moments we lost as brother and sister. Lord, help me to keep taking the risks and reach out. Give us these moments of time and closeness.

This goes to show how in reunion we can never give up on building these connections, even through the years. I'm glad I kept trying, even though it was (is) such an emotional rollercoaster. There have been several times I've thought about just giving up.  

I am convinced that the emotions of reunion are so deep that it causes everyone involved to do the "two steps forward, one step back" dance their entire lives. Many reunions become casualties because of it. I'm so thankful for books and healing, because it wasn't until I faced my own disenfranchised grief and walked through it, that I could become a real person and actually accept myself.

I'm also profoundly thankful for knowing my beautiful families with all their (and my own) quirks, pain, humanity, and joy. Twenty years of slowly soaking it in has done wonders for me, even through the tears. I know who I am and where I came from.

I think my little brother needed someone to reach out to him and if I could have done that in younger years (instead I was so fearful of rejection that I was a people-pleaser and didn't really let anybody get to know me - probably because I didn't even know myself), my brothers and I could possibly be closer now.

I'm so thankful that adoption and reunion is being explored more and talked about. It will help so many as we navigate these unchartered waters, these overwhelming feelings, and these beautiful opportunities.

July 28, 2008

Mother Lode



The average mother (is there really such a thing?) puts in a 92-hour work week, performing at least 10 jobs. If mothers were paid what they are worth on the open market they'd earn about $140,000 a year, according to Salary.com, a Washington D.C. based firm specializing in compensation determination. Even mothers who work full-time jobs outside the home put in $85,939 of work as mothers. Bottom-line? There's lots of room for no-salary career advancement!

I feel so blessed to have just landed a part-time job working at a non-profit agency who trains and matches "family mentors" with other families of preemies. It is something very close to my heart and the hours are flexible, which is something I really need right now with my son. I'm so thankful for the opportunity to work in an area that I am so passionate about and be able to feel productive and professional, and like I am at least bringing in a minuscule amount of money again.

I so wish I had known just ONE Mother of a preemie back when I gave birth to my son. I felt so alone and confused and unable to even articulate my emotions and fear. I remember thinking that my chapped and bleeding hands might never recover from the hours and hours of "scrubbing in" at the NICU and being insanely "germ phobic" for months and months ~ after watching my son fight a hospital-induced staph infection, himself weighing less than two pounds and so vulnerable. I should have bought stock in Lysol and hand sanitizer with how many bottles I went through his first two years of life!

If I could have done just ONE thing differently, I would have held him more in the hospital. I was SO scared of hurting him, with the dozens of tubes and wires he had attached to him, that I chose many days just to leave him laying in the incubator, rather than risk his harm. What I know NOW is that holding my son would have been the BEST medicine for him. He so needed my warmth and closeness at that vulnerable time. Not a stressed out, fearful mother who was obsessed with germs! But truly, unless you have been through such an experience, it is IMPOSSIBLE to fully grasp the trauma and emotional roller-coaster of having a micro-preemie. And it certainly doesn't end the day you leave the hospital ~ it is just the beginning.

I thank God for my son! I thank God for recovery! I thank God for restoration!

In fact, exactly a year later, on my son's 1st Birthday we were able to put an offer on a new house, and happened to close on the house on February 14th, 2006 ~ exactly one year to the day of the day my son had to go back on the "vent" to assist his breathing (due to a staph infection he contracted in the NICU on the day he turned one month old). He was the first baby at this particular hospital who was given Zyvox, a relatively new antibiotic for highly resistant infections. That alone was enough to send me into a panic. But who would have known that exactly ONE YEAR LATER God would remind us of His promises through being able to close on a new house just as my son was turning a year old! It still amazes me just thinking about it.

"I will restore the years the enemy has taken"...God is so FOR US and not against us. It isn't Him that brings trouble and hurt to our lives ~ it is HIM who brings healing and restoration, if we can only trust and believe in His goodness and love for us. He gets blamed for so much that He truly isn't the author of in life.

Thank you, Father God, for all that you have done and are doing for us every day.

May 11, 2007

Birthdays

Let's party
© Photographer: Brebca | Agency: Dreamstime.com
Ever have one of those days that you know is a "pinnacle" moment, but you just can't "feel" it because of being shut-down emotionally for so long? Yesterday was one of those.

Usually my Birthday is spent trying to squash down feelings of saddness, conflict, grief - telling myself that Birthdays are supposed to be celebration and esteem, validation, etc. After many years of this, it is totally different to be able to feel true fulfillment, connection, validation and happiness about being born. But it came after a million tears, allowing myself to feel the pain that had been locked up and fearful that it would completely consume. It didn't. Thank God. It still hurts to even think about the walk of grief that unlocked my feelings as an adoptee. It almost brings flashbacks of pain that are so scary I try to avoid even thinking about - post trauma. But I'm glad I walked through it. I'm still trying to completely unravel and make sense out of it - birth, loss, adoptive family, natural family, identity - at 39 years of age.

But yesterday was truly the best Birthday I've ever had. I finally let myself enjoy and embrace the showing of love from my family - all sides. Usually I'm so busy feeling guilty on all fronts that I can't receive it. I felt guilty for yearning for my natural family, when my adoptive family tried so hard. I felt guilty for wanting more than they could give me. I felt like their possession - faking it to be happy, but with inner conflict and turmoil.

Even after "reunion" I would not let myself break away from making my adoptive family happy and do what I truly wanted to do - be with my natural family on that day. But YESTERDAY I did. WITHOUT the guilt. And man, it felt GOOD. Freedom. Freedom. Glorious. I don't know why it took so many years to get to, but I'm glad I finally got to experience it on my Birthday.

I didn't feel guilty when my aMom came over early in the day to wish me a Happy Birthday, and fishing for my "plans" for the rest of the day. She has even let go alittle, realizing that I am not controlled by her. She has had to grieve instead of using me to fill that void she so held on to - and me too. I love her so much.

Last night my husband and son and I met my natural father at a restaurant and had a casual dinner, and then went down the street to a park - just hung out, climbed, slid down slides, swung, and played. We just played. I finally got to just play. With my own parent. And my son got to play with his Papa. We walked arm in arm and talked. His stature and flesh felt so comforting to my arm as I embraced his shoulder and back and walked, and talked. No other feeling in the world - just right. I finally felt "right" in the world. With my own. I guess it doesn't make sense, unless you've lived your whole life without it. Off kilter. Disconnect. Realizing how much so, once you find it again. Bitter sweet. But, oh so sweet.

Mind you, I've known my natural father since 1990. But it took that long for me to unthaw, open up, feel emotion, embrace him and myself as part of my true, natural family. Because it hurt like hell. Because hell had attacked it from my conception, and taken away the Heaven that it was supposed to provide. The natural order of self.

My aMom will always be my Mom - but REALITY is that she was my substitute. That doesn't diminish what we experienced. It just acknowledges the truth - that I had lived without and suffered with - not acknowledging my own reality, my own truth - to please others. It hurt. It brought turmoil and self-hate, because I couldn't succeed at it. Sure, on the outside it looked perfect, I looked like I was pulling it off perfectly - but inside I was seething. If an adoptee can't acknowledge their truth - they turn it inside and hate themselves. Thanks, adoption industry. For your abuse. Your slavery. Your dishonesty and invalidation. Your coercion, buying and selling, your agreement with lies.
It hurts everyone. Adoptive parents, adoptees, natural families - can only hold on for so long - and then the pain comes. For adoptees it is a criminal act against us. From our birth. Happy Birthday to you. Yep. Adoption should NEVER be in the same context with celebration, balloons, festivity - it is more like a funeral. Without the coffin. It is asking adoptees to celebrate their own funeral of self - put our birth certificate in the coffin - might as well. Cut off an arm and put it in a coffin - and then go celebrate with "Gotcha Day". And then wonder where the anger comes from? It lives in the children - perfectly hidden and disguised with all the "Best Mom in the World" pictures they create. It is trying to find relief in those.

I want to post the words in the card my natural father gave me yesterday. Reading them was like being re-born and validated and loved and celebrated and embraced and allowed me to embrace my birth and self. I'll post soon!

December 12, 2008

Adoption: A Different Kind of Love

http://www.smh.com.au/news/lifeandstyle/lifematters/adoption-a-different-kind-of-love/2008/12/10/1228584888901.html

Adoption: a different kind of love
Do parents feel the same affection for a child they have adopted as a
birth child?

"If something tragic happened to my adopted daughter, I'd be
devastated but I wouldn't die. If something happened to either of my
two boys who I gave birth to, I feel I would die," says Tina Pattie.
"I don't love my daughter any less but it's a different kind of love.
With my sons, my love is set in stone. It's that 'die for you love'
that would never change, no matter what. With Cheri, it's a love that
develops and grows. It's more of a process than an absolute."

Ask most adoptive parents whether they think their love for their
children is any different than it would be if they had their own
offspring and you can generally expect a resounding no. Very likely,
they'll be offended it even crossed your mind.

But in families such as Tina Pattie's - where there are both
biological and non-biological children - it's a question that is put
to the test. It's a question that gets to the very heart of what it
means to be a parent.

"I don't care how close you are to your adopted son or beloved
stepdaughter, the love you have for your non-biological child isn't
the same as the love you have for your own flesh and blood," wrote
Rebecca Walker, the estranged daughter of the prize-winning author
Alice Walker in her book, Baby Love. "Yes, I would do anything for my
first [non-biological] son, within reason. But I would do anything at
all for my second [biological] child without reason, without a doubt."

Her comment attracted much controversy last year but Tina relates to
it. She had always wanted three children, so when she was told it
could jeopardise her health to have a third baby naturally, she
persuaded her husband to adopt. Her preference was for a baby but none
was available and they were offered a little girl five weeks off her
fourth birthday.

"I was totally and absolutely shocked to find that in the early years,
I felt no love at all for her," recalls Tina. "It didn't even feel
right to say she was my daughter. The word 'daughter' describes a
relationship, a connection - things we didn't have."

There was no one point at which Tina began to love Cheri, now 17. "It
was a drip, drip, drip kind of process. Now, I love her a lot. I'm
really proud of her and close to her but it has taken time," she says.

Tina has spent a lot of time "unpacking" the disparity in her feelings
for her children. "I think there are several things going on. First,
she wasn't a newborn baby, like my sons had been. There's nothing
quite like a newborn baby. Second, when you get a stranger in your
house, you're not going to love them straight away, you're just not.

"Then there was the fact that Cheri was a hugely damaged and difficult
child. Even now, I wonder that if she'd been sweet and easy instead of
angry and violent whether it would have been different. Instead, I
turned from a calm, patient mother into a monster. I'd never felt rage
like that, ever. But even in the blackest moments, when there was no
connection between us at all, there was never a question that I would
give up."

Mary Cooper did adopt a newborn baby but she too found it difficult to
use the word "daughter" in the early days. "This was 37 years ago,
when I was a psychiatric social worker and had my own three-year-old
son," she says. "It was assumed I'd know it all but I was not prepared
for the difference between giving birth and adopting. You don't have
nine months to prepare, you don't go through the birth and you don't
breastfeed. I was completely a nurture not a nature person - I didn't
think nature mattered - but I've changed my mind. I wasn't aware of
the differences that I would feel or that Louise would feel as a
result of us not sharing any genes. With my son, there was an instant
bond. With Louise, there wasn't and every way you turned, it seemed
she was different to us. If we had brown sugar, she wanted white. If I
cooked something, she wanted (an instant microwave meal).

"Even now, if my son comes to stay, we have plenty to talk about. It's
natural and easy. With Louise, we have much less in common. I don't
love either of my children more than the other but the nature of the
relationship is poles apart."

Unfortunately, Louise did not interpret it this way as she was growing
up. "I felt like my brother was the golden boy and that I was the
black sheep and I felt less loved than him because of it," she says.

"In fact, it wasn't until I was 27 that I told anyone I was adopted. I
was ashamed of it before then. But then I started thinking about
finding my real mother, which I did, and somehow that journey made me
realise that my parents didn't love me less, just differently."

Nancy Verrier, author and publisher of The Primal Wound: Understanding
The Adopted Child, believes all children who are separated from their
mother suffer a trauma that will affect their bond with their new
parents, regardless of the age at which they enter that new family. "I
wouldn't say that I love my adopted daughter or my biological daughter
differently - I would do just about anything for either of them - but
I would definitely say the bond is different and I know now that is
inevitable," she says. "An adopted child has had their bond with their
mother broken once, so they're not going to let it happen again."

For many children, this manifests itself in testing-out behaviour, she
says. Even if this type of child is adopted as a baby, they tend to
keep a psychological distance. Because they never quite fold into the
new mother when she cuddles them, the phenomenon has become known as
the stiff-arm baby. At the other end of the spectrum is what's known
as the Velcro baby. These children react to the fear of their new
mother leaving by being very clingy.

If anyone had told Nancy when she brought home her three-day-old
daughter that rearing an adopted child would be different from rearing
a biological child, she says she would have laughed at them.

"I thought; 'Of course it won't be different! What can a tiny baby
know?' Now I know it's nonsense for anyone to suggest the bond can be
the same. We are tuned in hormonally to what our natural children
want. Psychologically, the mother and child are still at one for some
time even when the umbilical cord is cut. Genes continue to play a
major part in the relationship throughout life. The way you cock an
eyebrow, how you stand or walk, gestures you make - all these are
things that make children feel as if they belong. But because a lot of
people don't expect adoption to be different, they can feel shock,
hurt and resentment when their adopted child doesn't react to them in
the way they'd like them to."

Some parents try to compensate for this loss. Bill Aldridge, who has
three adopted and two natural children in their 20s and 30s, says:
"There was always a sense for us that our adopted children required
additional love to make up for the extra challenges they'd faced. I
wouldn't say we loved them more but our feelings for them were
combined with an overriding desire to make everything all right."

Bella Ibik, who grew up in a family of five birth children and four
adopted children, says her parents also went out of their way to make
the adopted ones feel special. "We were made to feel chosen, as
opposed to the others who just came along - to the point that one of
their biological children grew up with a bit of a chip on her
shoulder," she says.

Bella, now 41, says she still feels surprised by how much her mother
loves her and still has a need from time to time to examine the
differences in her mother's feelings for all her children. "Yesterday
we commemorated the 23rd anniversary of my brother's death. He was one
of her blood children and I often wondered whether she'd have
preferred it had it not been one of her birth children. We talk about
everything, so I asked her and she answered as honestly and
diplomatically as she could. She said that no mother would ever wish
death on any of her children but that when I saw her cradling his head
and talking to him when he was in his coffin - a childhood image I
will never forget - she was thinking of him having grown inside her
and she was thinking of giving birth to him."

Bella isn't convinced that whether her siblings were adopted or not is
the be-all-and-end-all in the nature of their relationship with their
mother. "Evie, her youngest, is her absolute golden child who can do
no wrong. I'm sure that's because she came along just after my mother
had been very ill and she sees her as her anchor in the storm. My
point is that sometimes I think it's impossible to pull out adoption
as being the only reason for a parent feeling differently towards her
children."

Because today's adoptions often involve older children who come from
backgrounds of neglect or abuse, they require what Jonathan Pearce,
the director of Adoption UK, calls therapeutic parenting. "Of course,
this is different to raising a biological child, just as it is
different to raising an adopted child 30 or 40 years ago. It's a
parenting that I think should include ongoing training - just as you
have with any other demanding job," he says. "Does that mean the
feelings are any different? Yes, they are. Is the love any different?
I just don't know. It will vary from one family to the next."

Carol Burniston, a consultant clinical child psychologist, believes
the requirement for adopters to parent therapeutically gives a tiny
minority of them a psychological get-out clause, which again affects
the nature of their relationship with their children.

"I worked with one adoptive mother who was suffering from a
problematic home life who said: 'If it comes to it, I'll keep my
children and let my marriage go.' You would expect a parent of a
biological child to say that but for an adopter there was something
very powerful about it. With a small number of adopters, there is
something going on in the back of their minds that if they can't bear
it any longer, they will give these children up."

For Lisa Bentley, who adopted a troubled 14-year-old when she already
had four birth children, there was never a moment when she thought
about giving up. "In fact, I'd say that the love I have for her is
strong and powerful - more so in a way than for my birth children -
because there's nothing taken for granted about it," she says. "It's
come from getting through enormous battles and from an undying
commitment."

Angela Maddox believes the relationship between parents and non-
biological children has more chance of being positive if any birth
children arrive later. "We adopted three boys, now aged 22, 20 and 19,
and when we later had two birth children unexpectedly - now aged 16
and 11 - the feeling of almost knowing your child before it's born
took me by surprise. But I think the fact that the boys were already
in our family helped them feel more secure than if it was the other
way round. They had us first."

Angela says that while her husband relates to Rebecca Walker's
philosophy, she doesn't. "My love is endless for all my children. You
can love any child as your own. There was the different feeling around
the birth but that's all."

A few parents even believe that giving birth is irrelevant in the
bonding process. Unusually, Molly Morris - who has given birth to five
children and adopted two - says, "I've never been able to make a
distinction between children born to us and those we adopted. It's the
nursing and handling, not the giving birth, that has given me the bond
with my children."

Pam Hall disagrees. "There's something almost beyond words about the
attachment you feel for your own baby. That's not to say you can't
love another baby or child but it's quite a different quality of love.
I think parents who have given birth already are usually - although
not always - better placed to work at a relationship with a non-
biological child because they've been through that. They don't go
through life longing for it," says Pam, who has two birth children and
an adopted child in their late 30s.

Pam, who has worked with adoptive families as a psychiatric social
worker and an analytical psychotherapist, explains that parents who
have had birth children tend to have a different motivation for
adopting than those who haven't. "They generally aren't starting the
process of adoption from a position of infertility, looking for a
substitute for their own baby."

That's not to say it's always an easy ride. "I've worked with adopters
who have been racked with guilt that they didn't have the same
feelings for their adopted child. But that's all the more reason that
we should stop this pretence that adopting is the same as having your
own children. I'm not suggesting anyone should outline every detail of
that difference to their children. That would be dire. But they do
need to own the feeling and be OK with it."

Lucy Hoole, a 25-year-old adoptee, agrees. "There is something quite
taboo about suggesting that parents feel differently to non-biological
children. But I'm OK with that difference and see it as part of my
life story that's made me who I am."

* Some names have been changed.

December 31, 2013

The Six Little Words



                                                   

                                                     ...that hit a nerve.

As an adopted person as well as a former foster parent I joined an online group of local foster/adoptive families.  I had never commented on a thread before this one.  Needless to say, I was shocked when doing so generated such fire.

It all started when a woman questioned the group about changing a foster child's name upon adoption, and I responded with this simple question...

"Why change a child's birth name?" 

That prompted several commenters responding with passionate reasons as to why they changed their child's entire name. Although I respectfully agreed that in some instances it may be necessary to change a child's name for safety reasons, I offered the perspective that honoring a child's name may actually honor a child. 

I was angrily accused of asking parents to honor a (nothing but trash) birth family who was responsible for the reason these children need foster care/adoption in the first place.  I made the point that a child is very much defined by their name and by honoring their name alone, it *may* be the best way in which to honor the child.  Honoring a child's heritage, by finding something good in the child's family line for the child to embrace and be proud of as who they are biologically, will honor and increase a child's self-esteem.

I offered a differing perspective of how an adopted person *may* process a name change as feeling that their very personhood is so "shameful" that they need to be somehow "amended" in order to be accepted or cared for.   

It only got worse from there.  Did I not realize that domestic adoption cannot be compared to foster adoption IN ANY WAY?  Among other things, I was told I was being self-righteous and "angry" and to "find a therapist". 

"THEY were the ones who needed to be honored because they were the ones who were sacrificing to take in and love the children who society throws away."   

Shell shocked, I reached out to an adoptee friend for moral support and she said something very profound. 

"Adoptees have no rights, and everyone knows it"

Why I was expecting to be treated like an equal in this discussion rather than reprimanded like a perpetual child, I have no clue.  I should have known when one commenter (adoptive mother and therapist) asserted during this unbelievable discussion, "We can only hope, with the right upbringing and home environment, OUR children will 'make the right choices'.

Since also being accused of only wanting to perpetuate an "agenda" and "get more material" for my blog, and finding this seems to be a much safer place to share differing perspectives on adoption, I guess I'll oblige. 

Here are a few of the best of 159 comments these six words sparked.  It felt reminiscent of the diner scene in Lee Daniel's The Butler.  Between throwing stones, the commenters revealed quite a bit about the prejudices of some who adopt.
Coupled with the fact our state has one of the highest adoption rates in the nation and the revenue this generates, these comments made me seriously question the pre- and post-adoption services our system is providing, and the effects it may be having on the children we serve.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"For us we are considering it because of the direct threats to kidnap the children after adoption. This would make it harder for them to find them in a school .. their names are quite unique and our daughters name is most definitely a strippers name..."

"We feel names hold significant meaning and our daughter was named after an aunt who was killed at 2 years old from physical abuse.  Her mother was a product of foster care as well.  I wanted to sever the backgrounds and by choosing a name and praying extensively and continuing to pray for our daughter not to be affected by the generational sins of the prior family my hope is that she won't be affected by her biological background."

"We chose to rename to give them a fresh start. The oldest was 5...
It was quite easy, done on the day of adoption.  Smooth, no problems.
For me, I didn't want them to have anything else from their parents..."
"My son will learn to pray for his bio family. He will learn compassion and the need for volunteerism in our community. He will learn to forgive. He will learn that he is adored, safe, nurtured, loved and protected. He will learn all of these things with the name his father and I chose for him on his adoption day and I assure you that he will be no worse the wear for it. His bio parents do not qualify for honor and please do not assume that just because they are blood that they do."
"I have never fostered or adopted. I have raised a stepdaughter from the age of 4, and I have been a Child Welfare worker for the past 14 years (approximately). I have seen many joyful adoptions of custody children. Most chose to change the names. More emphasis should be on honoring these wonderful adoptive parents who have helped save these children."
My comment:  "I wonder if a child in the system somehow receives the prevailing message that they are more valuable if they get a "forever family"...considering they are attending adoption "parties"?  Could it be that they will take on a new name to avoid further perceived rejection or to please?"
"Not sure of what you mean of the child feeling more valuable. I can tell you from my and my children's experience they do feel more love than they did with their bio parents. We got to know them and picked their names individually for them. I'm sure to them that is valuable and important."
 
"My husband and I labored over choosing each of our children's names. Part of changing a name is to signify an event that changes the course of someone's life (Abraham, Paul, etc.). Our son's names cast a vision for their futures. When my Heavenly Father adopted me through His Son He changed my name. God identifies me as His now. I don't own my son but I have made a commitment to provide for and to protect him in front of a judge. It's a big deal."
"I think you have successfully ticked off some very amazing men and women. Long-suffering men and women. It has been rude and inappropriate. Please do not continue to belittle the sacrifices made to love our children.  What a sad life you must have lived to be so antagonistic towards adoptive parents. I pray you find peace."
"Obviously, we all know that children can question things, be abrasive, search for biological roots, etc. All any of us can hope for is that as parents, they provided the right environment, proper encouragement, unconditional love and support, etc. for those children to make the correct choices..."
"How exactly do YOU suggest I handle telling my three children what happened to them?? Or maybe I never should, maybe I should let them forever glorify their "wonderful" family line that no one wanted...and gave away like unwanted trash. What wise words of wisdom do YOU suggest?"
My response: "Maybe do a complete family history for your boys and find things you can honor and that your child can embrace as part of their amazing selves. Even if it has to go back several generations. They got something that you love from it.  If they perceive that you consider their family line as monsters or trash they will perceive themselves that way as well no matter how you work to cut the ties and hope they identify with you."

"OKDHS does a very thorough history on each child. That is given (redacted to comply with federal and state laws) to the adoptive parents prior to adoption. The possibility of going back generations is not feasible for foster children. Most of that information is not available. Further, it would be imprudent to use state resources in such a way."

"To answer your question "Is their identity as connected with their biological heritage so horrible that they need to be amended somehow as well?"  Yes, sometimes it is. And most of us here believe in redemption.  It changes their family connections as well. 

When you get in the trenches with us and do what we do then come back and let us know if you changed your child's name from "Mercedes Satin Dancer" to Jane Doe.  I pray you know the redeeming love of Jesus."
My response:  "I personally would embrace Mercedes Satin Dancer and show her that she, her name, and her blood line are not something she needs to severe herself from to be embraced and loved as she is."
"Not sure what you wanted out of this but I hope your intentions were not bad. I would hope that you are not suggesting that we keep the child's name and build up their bio parents so the child feels some sort of connection to the sickos who abused them."
"My family fosters. My only siblings are adopted. I have seen all sides to this. My sisters want nothing to do with a family that did not love them. They only wish for medical history. "Honoring" the family that was responsible for their lot in life is not on anyone's agenda. These kids' worth is not in many generations of abuse and sin. It is in the love they now have. The family they now have."
"I have preserved a copy of my sons original birth certificate for him but I haven't seen the new one so I'm not sure how it reads yet. I guess the old one is more important though, since his whole life with a family who adores him is nothing more than indentured servitude wrapped in a ribbon of lies."

My response:  "The love is not a lie, but the birth certificate he lives with is.  I personally feel that every child should have the right to their original identity and it may be more truthful and loving to keep their obc intact and issue a certificate of adoption, rather than amending the birth certificate.  It might actually help children process their losses more honestly, not having the added complexity of identity and loyalty issues." 
"As a therapist, I've frequently helped in name changes. Many of us honor the children by changing their names. We may even pass down names from our family to them. This is a way of attaching and bonding.  Sometimes the most therapeutic thing that can be told a child is YOU ARE NOT YOUR NAME.  You can be different."

"We are adopting a 10 year old and a 21 month old. .. Have had them for over a year. ...I wanted to change their name .... But realized it was about my feelings. .. The 10 year old had always known her 21 month old brother as his birth name. ....I had to give up my feelings of wanting to name him because she values his birth name. ... Each situation is different" 

Response from therapist:  "Did you discuss name changes with the 10-year-old?  She might have some suggestions that would work beautifully.  I can't help but remind us of the long Biblical tradition of changing names when a new life was started. Even Christ himself both changed Saul to Paul and is know himself by different names.  We embrace the chance of something new."
"That's a great reference to the Bible, also Abram/Abraham! We changed our adopted children's names...and yes, their new birth certificate looks exactly like my bio kids' and doesn't even denote that they are adopted.  A new birth certificate is required by Federal law."
"We have the new birth certificate and it just shows me as mother and my husband as father. It doesn't say "adopted mother", just "mother". I agree that he should have access to his original birth certificate, but that is not my decision. The state of Oklahoma seals it. Not every state does, but ours does. There's nothing I can do about that. I just think all the banter here is crazy. I feel honored to fill in the roll as Mother and I cried when I saw my name on his birth certificate."
18 year old adoptee:  "When you sit there and tell an entire group of parents that they need to "honor" the biological families, that's where you messed up. My baby brother whom we just adopted, had his name changed because he was a third generation of his name. We changed his name because we didn't want him to be constantly reminded of his father.  By keeping his name as the third, we were making him a branch off his father whom is a failure, psychologically that would put him in a state of self fulfilling prophecy and could make him feel like he must be like his father since he shares his name. I know this is the case because I myself feel like I'm just as worthless as my biological mom because we share the same blood.  The only worth I have is from my adoptive parents and two years of counseling...The only ones who should be honored are the foster/adoptive parents who fix us screwed up kids. Until you have a foster kid, and the state won't work with you to do what's best for the kid and you have to fight with everything you have to be able to keep the kid in your custody and then you finally are able to adopt them and give them the family and love they deserve, than I think you should keep your mouth shut about the topic."
My response:  "So appreciate you sharing and I'm so sorry for the experiences you have dealt with.  As I've tried to explain, I am not suggesting we honor abusive parents.  I was simply trying to say that we as adoptees are honored if we can find and embrace (and our adoptive parents acknowledge) ourselves as whole persons wonderfully a part of all our heritages, even though people's choices can be cruel.  I am sorry you feel worthless because you came from your mother.  You got worth and beauty from your entire heritage and it made you into the beautiful person your adoptive parents know and love."