Showing posts with label Primal Wound. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Primal Wound. Show all posts

January 26, 2015

Home




I stare at myself in pictures throughout a lifetime wondering who I am and where I belong.  Not here.  I am with people I call "family" but I am alone.  In a world of strangers.  
I feel no connection.  Nothing.  My soul in constant reach.  Unable to make contact.  
My people are across the sea.  In another time and place.  
Those around me fade into the background as I gaze into the distance.  
Always searching the horizon for something I know not of.  
Humanity in my bones.  They ache.  As a stranger in a foreign land.  
I wait.  For what.  I do not know.  
My son, please land somewhere grand.  God give us a home. 

March 16, 2014

Bitter-Sweet Surprises



(Originally published in 2009)


Since my Mom's fall and move to assisted living, I have been busy cleaning out her house ~ the same house I grew up in.
It is surreal to go back all these years later and revisit childhood memories.

I have found some sweet surprises in the midst of the clutter. One thing I found really made me smile. It was a small wallet-size photo album filled with pictures of me growing up.
Thinking it was my Mom or Grandmother's (Nanny), I started leafing through the pictures and surprisingly found my Aunt Kay's old AARP card in it. I realized it was hers and then pulled out a folded-up, yellowed paper. It was so neat to unwrap this small surprise and find a poem written in her own handwriting.

Aunt Kay passed away in 1984, when I was in the tenth grade. It was a traumatic three years watching my Nanny (her twin sister) walk right beside her as she battled cancer. Aunt Kay was a beautician and I spent many a day in her "shop" on Florence doing my nails and hearing her little gray-headed clients tell stories of yesteryear. She gave me my first hair-cut.
 
I so looked forward to her annual New Year's Party. If I try real hard, I can still smell the delicious appetizers, and feel the tickle of sparkling Cold Duck. I remember the low drone of football roaring from the living room tv. Uncle Olan would somehow make sure my favorite number #10 was the winning football team in the annual "pot" and every year I believed them when they exclaimed how "lucky" I was. Isn't it amazing what memories stay with you from childhood? 
 It saddens me that my son will know hardly anyone from my adoptive family.
Only his Grandma is left, and some wonderful cousins who live out of state. 

After my reunion, I marvelled at the fact my first Mother was ALWAYS within a few miles of me my whole childhood.

She adored all kinds of animals and always wanted to live in the open where she could enjoy many around her.  Little did I know (this little animal lovin' adoptee ~ remind me to write about my one and only detention in H.S., due to illegal posting of PETA posters on all the bulletin boards), that all the while I was a preteen, busy exploring (among other things) my Aunt Hazel and Uncle Dean's new acreage and homestead in Collinsville, that my first Mother was living just a few miles north in Ramona.

I spent a lot of time at my best friend's house by the elementary school we attended, never knowing that her Dad, L.D., worked at the carrier company my first grandfather, Papa Sid helped establish just a few blocks away. How many times did my first family and I pass each other on the old Admiral "traffic circle" over the years? Or were in the same store. The old TG&Y my Nanny managed or Borden's Cafeteria?

The first time I laid eyes on my Grandmother Carolyn (the first birth relative I met, my first Mother's mom), we had immediately decided to meet at that first phone call, and the closest place we could think of was the Grandy's where I had worked all through high school.   Never realizing she lived less than a mile away and frequented the restaurant regularly.  She also used to get her hair done at Aunt Kay's house occasionally.   

Finding out things about my first Mother gave me goose bumps ~ like how we shared the same favorite color, love for animals and writing, and we both attended "beauty school" (although my lame 11th grade vo-tech attempt only lasted a couple of days, when I found myself an official "beauty school drop-out" realizing real quick it was going to be a lot harder than learning how to "just cut hair" lol).  My First Mother's grandfather (my Great-Grandfather Ernie Terrell) owned a barber shop on Cherry Street and was friends with Uncle Olan (from my adoptive family) who owned Anchor Barber shop on Harvard. 

The "synchronicity" in adoption is truly amazing. Almost mind-blowing when you let yourself think about it. Treasured pieces of information that help define who I am. Yet having to wait until adulthood to find one tidbit here, another there, rationed over the years of my reunion.
No matter how much I learn, I still yearn for more.

I so wish I could sit down with my first family yet again (even 20 years in) and pour over every detail and morsel of their lives and mine.

This process of reunion is so painful that most of the time adoptees and first families take it in tiny increments and then back away emotionally, trying to integrate and survive the loss they experience, even in reunion. Like the waves of the sea, waxing and waning.

After finding out my first Mother passed away so young, another memory came back to me ~ attending a funeral in 6th grade of the mother of one of my girl scout friends. The most disturbing part of this vague memory is hearing the constant, judgmental criticism coming from some of the other Mothers about my friend and several other girls who apparently "had the nerve to 'play' at her own mother's funeral."  This little girl was coping the only way she knew how.

For some reason that really made an impact on me and bothered me a lot. But I didn't know why.
As an adult looking back on this, and now knowing that my own first Mother's funeral was literally taking place around this same time, right around the corner, it really hurts. 
These women had no idea what this young girl had gone through losing her mother so young and really shouldn't have gone on and on about her behavior, no matter what she was doing.

Maybe the reason this memory has bothered me so much, is that it finally hit me that, in a sense, adoptees are actually EXPECTED to "play" at our own Mother's funerals. Society gives us little freedom or validation to appropriately grieve losing that profound connection and how it permanently alters our very identity, emotions, childhood, and life-long experiences. Instead, we find ourselves in hiding, behind plastered-on-smiles at "Gotcha Day" PARTIES, complete with streamers, balloons, and cake.
 
All these memories came back to me after I carefully unfolded this tiny, yellowing paper tucked away in the photo book. It seems like God uses little reminders to guide me gently through bitter-sweet memories ~ even though I sometimes feel like a stranger in a foreign land.

Here are the beautiful words I read and continue to bring comfort: (Thank you, Aunt Kay)

"God is no stranger in a far away place.
He's as close as the wind that blows on my face.
It's true I can't see the wind as it blows,
But I feel it around me and my heart surely knows.
That God's mighty hand can be felt every minute
For there's nothing on earth that God isn't in it."
(Helen Steiner Rice)

January 15, 2012

The "Found" Book Tour



I'm so honored to be part of the Open Adoption Examiner's "Found" Book Tour. I haven't yet finished the entirety of "Found", Jennifer Lauck's amazing memoir, but wanted to attempt answers to some of the questions as a reunited adult adoptee. So many of the author's thoughts and feelings have resonated with me deeply. What a beautiful person and writer...thank you, Jennifer, for sharing your journey and your writing talent!

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

•I have noticed that adopted kids tend to mature and wise up ahead of their age... you think a lot before answering, you're not impulsive, you know how to keep your personal secrets and prefer to keep a lot from the rest of the world. I read that in this book, and 3 others by Jennifer Lauck. What can make adoptees this way?

I laughed when reading this question, because I remember so many teachers and adults telling my Mom, and even me, growing up, how "mature" I was. It's really pretty sad, because I believe this "maturity" is simply another layer of the adoptee's facade.

We so want to believe and appear to "have it all together" in order to survive in a world that seems to reject us unless we are given another's role/identity (even our birth certificates are changed to hide our truth).

Then, we are not given permission to acknowledge our loss or reality, because adoption is the "win-win" solution we are expected to embrace (to fulfill that role and appease those we must rely on), so we deny and squelch our true selves and feelings for this purpose.

What other choice do we have than to appear mature and rock solid? It's our only option. Inside, I felt the exact opposite, desperately trying to deny feelings of unworthiness and insecurity. We have to do something to make ourselves feel we have the right to exist, all the while, not believing we do.

•Jennifer Lauck wrote (page 34) “I felt dirty and bad” when told she was adopted. Why? was it because her brother mentioned the trash? or there was more?

See above, and this post, "Finding Me in the Bathroom Stall". Exact.Same.Concept.

•On pp 17-18, Jennifer talks about a baby searching for her mother after being born. How did this sensory-rich passage strike you? What thoughts did it trigger about the role you play in adoption?

Although adopted as an infant, even leaving the hospital with my adoptive parents, when Jennifer pointed out that a baby goes into shock when unable to find her mother, it made complete sense and sent shivers through my spine. As an "awakened" adoptee, I now realize I have been searching for my Mother from birth.

An infant has no sense of self for several months. She and her mother are essentially one. That's why adoptees feel numb, lost, and disconnected. We experience profound, life-long consequences from this early and disenfranchised separation from our mothers, and hence, ourselves.

As an adult adoptee and also the mother of a micro-preemie who had to exist separated from me the first 98 days of his life, I addressed the question more deeply in this post from "The Primal Wound" book tour a few years ago.

•My question is about Jennifer's early adoption narrative as "God's gift"...

If adoptee's are "God's gift", then God is a masochist.

No wonder many adoptees avoid church, with the erroneous message behind "Orphan Care" spouted from every street corner in America.

It is a slap in our face to assert we are somehow, "The Chosen Child". That is asking us to believe it was "God's will" to lose our mothers, families, identities, and birth heritage in order to "build a family"; that young, vulnerable mother's embrace the advice of an adoption industry to make the "unselfish, heroic" decision ~ sacrifice her own motherhood and "gift" her flesh & blood because another woman "longs for a child".

To continue to the next stop of this book tour, please visit the main list at The Open Adoption Examiner.

October 14, 2011

Restoring the Foundations

Danger
© Photographer: Raycan | Agency: Dreamstime.com

Psalm 11:3
"If the foundations are destroyed, what can a person do?"

Isaiah 58:12
"Those from among you
Shall build the old waste places;
You shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
And you shall be called the Repairer of the Breach
The Restorer of paths to rest in."

dis·in·te·grate
Function: verb

: to destroy the unity or integrity of : to break or separate
: to lose unity or integrity by or as if by breaking

Last night I had a dream...I was talking to a local lawmaker. He was "picking my brain" about issues, taking notes, and we were both talking freely about our personal lives, issues, and feelings ~ it was a wonderful two-way conversation. I felt connected, valued, and encouraged.

As we were beginning to leave, he asked if I happened to be related to another of his constituents and named her name...in total surprise, I said "yes", and "how did you know?". She was my cousin by birth...almost exactly my age, and whom I have known for several years due to my reunion with my family. He said he just had an intuition, and wanted to ask. Well, I was so amazed and in shock that he made that connection, that I felt compelled to explain my story. You see, up to this time in our conversation (dream) I hadn't even shared with him the most vital aspect of my being ~ my double-identity, shaped by birth, relinquishment, and adoption.

I began to share that "yes" she was my cousin, and that I have only known her for less than half my life, because I was adopted as an infant and found my family as an adult. It was at this point in my dream that everything changed. Instead of feeling safe and valued as a person, the demeanor of this lawmaker immediately dimmed, as well as the atmosphere in the room. His face contorted into a look of apathy, and he suddenly became hurried and very eager to leave. Like he was blowing me off and somehow judging me for being adopted and searching. Like my value & worth somehow "dis-integrated" before our very eyes. I woke up feeling very discouraged.

Then I realized...the dream was just a picture of how I feel (as probably many others) in real life, in every aspect and relationship of my existence. Almost like I am two people ~ or in hiding. I can share my "adoption experience" with only a trusted few who really understand. The others give me that "deer caught in headlights" look, start sweating, and make really stupid, invalidating statements.

It's almost like when I share my TRUE SELF ~ the one who came out of hiding ~ who no longer is "frozen" in the "good adopted" self-identity ~ the one who isn't afraid to feel, grieve, question, & "be" ~ that I kind of "dis-integrate" in the eyes of society. The same society who shunned my Mother when she was pregnant with me, who took me from her, and who CHANGED my very identity, so that I could fill a role in another family ("adoption builds families"), so that I could be acceptable.

Adoption "law" changed my entire identity with a piece of paper (falsified birth certificate) which gave me a new name, another lineage, new relationships, new connections. It sure tried, but it couldn't ERASE my original identity, existence, loss, lineage, connections, and self. It tried to eradicate, dis-integrate, and nullify my very being. It tore down my very foundation.

That is why it took YEARS to "unthaw" ~ through a journey of slow "dawning" and realization ~ beginning with "curiosity" & "longing", and gradual acknowledgement of the unspoken and stuffed emotions hidden inside my heart. Those emotions that adoption "professionals" like to call simple "curiosity" and leave it at that. But that is just the SURFACE of an adoptee's true self and experience.

It seems society and adoption law wants to keep us in a safe box of simple curiosity. When really we are much more complicated. We are desperately trying to find permission to be "real" ~ in a world created for us by a system based on supply & demand, relationships created by man-made law, and implied silence.

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?"

November 22, 2009

...Family Ties Tug


Adopted as infant, family ties tug at Villanova's Reynolds

By Marlen Garcia, USA TODAY

VILLANOVA, Pa. — Scottie Reynolds made the most dramatic play of last season's NCAA men's basketball tournament.
With a chance for Villanova to go to the Final Four, Reynolds weaved his way upcourt, dribbling until he released his winning shot with a half second left against Pittsburgh in a 78-76 win.

That secured his place in Villanova and tournament folklore, but there is more to Reynolds, 22, a senior point guard who seems capable of again leading Villanova (2-0) to the Final Four. It's his compelling life story that inspires strangers to stop Reynolds on the street to say thank you. He has spoken for years about being adopted and his desire to meet the birth mother who gave him up. Finding the right time to do it is complicated.

Born in Huntsville, Ala., Reynolds was adopted as an infant by Pam and Rick Reynolds, an Alabama couple who already had three biological children. The tight-knit, racially blended family has lived in Herndon, Va., for eight years. His parents and three older siblings are white. His younger brother and sister, both African American, also were adopted.

There are two chapters to his life, Reynolds says. The first embodies his adoptive parents, who are fixtures at his games and in everyday life. "My parents made me the young man I'm becoming today," he says.

The second chapter — about his biological mother — has tugged at Reynolds since he was a child.

"I know that one day, both my mothers will be sitting together watching me play basketball," he says. "I think it will be one of the significant things in my life."

His biological mother gave him up and the records are sealed. She was located three years ago by a private investigator hired by his adoptive family. His birth mother doesn't know who he is, Reynolds says.

In interviews during the last two NCAA tournaments, Reynolds said he planned to contact his birth mom once the season ended. But after each season, Reynolds did not reach out to her.

"Last year, I just said it so people wouldn't ask me," he says. "I plan on it. But deep down, I was like, 'I don't know.' "

As a child, finding his birth mother became a mission. He recalls breaking down in tears after school in the fourth grade because of upsetting remarks his classmates made about adoption.

"I was like, 'I have to find her,' " he says. " 'I have to bring her to school.' I wanted to prove to everybody that I knew who my mother was."

He says he cried until midnight, and his mom wept with him as she consoled him. After that, he decided he would not cry again about it for fear of hurting his parents.

"They've done an unbelievable job," he says of his parents. "They were probably feeling bad about themselves. I was like, 'I can't make them feel bad.' "

The desire to meet his birth mother, however, never waned. His parents told him once he turned 18, they would search for identifying information for her in Alabama.

"If he needs that in his life, I want that for him," his mother says in an interview at her home. "I want him to be whole."

The family assumed Reynolds could seek the information at 18. Then they found out Alabama law requires adults be 19.

"Some people are like, 'I'm 18. I can smoke,' " Reynolds says. "I was like, 'I'm 18. I can find my mother.' When I found out I had to wait another year, it burst my bubble a little bit. It sucked."

At 19, as Reynolds started his freshman season, the private investigator located and contacted Reynolds' birth mother.

"She was like blown away," Reynolds says. "I know it was an emotional time for her."

He had waited for years to meet the woman, but after hearing this, Reynolds decided he would wait longer.

When an adopted child receives information about a biological parent, the child usually needs time to digest the information, says Eileen McQuade, president of American Adoption Congress. Putting off a reunion is not unusual, she adds.

"It's just a question of processing this stuff," McQuade says.

Asked whether it was difficult to delay his reunion, Reynolds doesn't answer but says: "I thought maybe I should just focus on college basketball. The biggest thing when I hit college was to be the best player I could be. I didn't want nothing to interfere with that."

Enduring the taunts

Reynolds has flourished in basketball — he is on pace to surpass 2,000 career points — despite enduring potshots on the road from opponents' fans over his adoption. Reynolds says at times he has been jeered with the title words of the punk rock song Scotty Doesn't Know.

"It's as bad as I've ever heard," Villanova coach Jay Wright says. "There are times I want to go after somebody, but Scottie sets the example."

Reynolds, he says, has never acknowledged the taunts, nor has he complained privately.

"It's never affected his play," Wright says. "It's amazing."

Some players might be tempted, in light of the harassment, to gloat after a victory or great play, but Reynolds doesn't play that way, the coach adds.

"I've talked to the team about it and said, 'You all hear it,' " Wright says. " 'We all feel for Scottie, but the way he handles it shows how strong he is and how strong we can be.' "

Reynolds says that in his sophomore year, he heard cracks in a game at Pittsburgh that he found especially mean-spirited.

"Some of the stuff I'd never heard before," he says. He listened for the first time to jabs about the biological father he assumes he will never know.

"That's the only time it really got to me," he says. He wanted to act out but instead went into the locker room to keep his cool.

Reynolds says he has learned to compartmentalize his emotions to keep them in check. He chooses his words carefully when he speaks and says his reactions are programmed.

"If I didn't have mental toughness and know how to turn it on and off, I probably would have cried at Pitt," he says. "For me to do that in a big game ... that's not going to help anybody."

The reunion question

Reynolds does not discuss the adoption with teammates. "If we're in class, and (adoption) is a subject, he feels open and talks about it," teammate Corey Stokes says. "He's proud of the parents he has. He's happy. I don't ever bring it up."

His impact on other adoptees is not lost on him. "There are so many people I meet on the street saying, 'I'm adopted; you've helped me with this,' " he says.

Some want to thank him; others want him to be a sounding board. Reynolds says he wants to lend an ear. "I'm in this position," he says. "Why not help?"

As a child, Reynolds says, he felt confused about the adoption. As a teen, he realized his birth mother made a brave decision to give him a chance at a better life.

Reynolds says he must personally thank his biological mother. "In the worst-case scenario, if she didn't want to have nothing to do with me, if she didn't want a hug, I could understand it," he says. "I would just shake her hand and say thank you. I have to get that off me."

He really has no timetable to reach out to her. "I'm more worried about her than me," he says.

In their interview with USA TODAY, Reynolds' parents expressed frustration at the publicity Reynolds gets about the adoption and the questions he faces, from reporters as well as friends, about reuniting with his biological mother. They fear he will feel rushed to meet her.

"He hasn't done it, and that ought to be a message," his mother says. "You know what? He may never contact her. And if he doesn't, that's fine."

Reynolds sometimes is definitive about a reunion. Other times, he uses the word "if."

"I can wait," he says. "Sometimes I wish both my mothers were in the stands watching me play for Villanova, but I don't really think about it that often."

If the reunion takes place, he'll finally release the emotions that for years he has kept bottled.

"The only time I'll ever cry again," he says, "is if and when I meet her."

October 1, 2009

After the Honeymoon

A rose in the rain
                                   © Photographer: Linqong | Agency: Dreamstime.com

 
"What's in a name?
That which we call a rose. By any other name would smell as sweet..."
Shakespeare
 
When I first started blogging back in '07, I made sure to use an email addy and name that would not show up on a search engine connected with my real name.

I was still worried about pleasing people and fearful of offending people.
I needed "approval", and sadly, I guess, still do.

As I've written out my feelings honestly, I've grown, and realized something.

To the people who care, it won't matter.
 
Somehow I think this blog now comes up in a search engine when my name is googled. I've tried to get it to disappear, but short of deleting the whole blog site, I don't know how to change it.
 
I've finally come to the point of not caring who reads this.
Yet caring immensely.

I have tried so hard to be positive about my entire "reunion" experience. Because it meant so much to me.
 
Unfortunately, I missed the whole "honeymoon" part; completely "numbed out and smiling", trying to be whatever everyone wanted me to be.
I missed those crucial years when my first family wanted to get to know me.
I couldn't open up enough to be real, or to really get to know them, either.
I just attended family functions and tried so hard to soak it all in.

I was slowly waking up to the real me, that could only be completed with truth of my origins and family connections. 

Finally having the courage to walk through the grief in my heart (I tear up just thinking about how dark those feelings are), I came out as a real person.

On my paternal side, my first grandparents really worked at including and knowing me. 
 
After my son was born my first father and I grew a lot closer.
 We spent more time together, and my son grew to love his "Papa" very much. It warmed my heart more than words can describe to see this, and feel it.
 
After 20 plus years, I have had the blessing of gaining insight into the family dynamics that are behind many of these issues. 
The truth really does set you free, but sometimes hurts.
 
After the "Welcome" parties 20 years ago, and the newness wears off,
 it seems as if the hypothesis of adoption holds true

When adoptees face our realness, our pain, our dual identities,
it scares people off.
 
We get the "deer in the headlights" look from people if we dare mention we are adopted, or searching, or God-forbid, would like to own our own birth records.
 
 Because of the secrecy and myth of "confidentiality" and "sealed records", all of society sees adoption as a secret, a hush-hush way of supplying "want to be parents" who can pay, with paper "orphans" (illegitimates) whose slates are wiped clean with "amended" names.

Reunions are set to fail, because everyone feels shame.
 
Adoptees, for wanting to search.
Birth families realizing they lost their own flesh and blood.
It causes shame just to look into our eyes, hear our voices, see our smiles, and realize they mask pain, like their own.
 
It is easier to block it out. Pretend we still don't exist,
just like the business of adoption promotes.
"Get on with our lives".

We were born in a difficult time,
and asked to fulfill another role and identity to be accepted within society.
 
If we try to "go back" and capture who we are; lost connections, it is a risk.
It hurts to our core. After the honeymoon.

I drove around last night with my cell phone in hand.
It was the first day in several that I felt well enough to leave the house, after fighting through the flu. It's hard to explain, but I had a "new lease" on life somehow, after being so sick and feel better again.
 
Tears were running down my face because I just wanted to talk. 
To family. 

Maybe I just needed this 20 year journey to realize who I am.
I've had the laughter and the shared times that somewhat healed my relinquished heart and taught me who I was in my family.
On both sides. Mother & Father.
That is so much more than most adoptees can fathom.
For that I am so thankful.
 
When I look in the mirror, I can see both my grandmothers. Easily.
Even my great-grandmother. I can hear their voices in mine.
I can feel my First mother's passion as I write.
I can even understand my own ambivalent ways and accept myself and my first  father because I see how much we are alike. It brings comfort.
But it also brings sadness. Because I miss him.
I miss my aunt and uncles and cousins.
I miss my sweet-faced brothers and their funny wit.

I miss my grandparents and the huge family gatherings I took for granted the first years of my reunion.
Those times sitting around their kitchen table filled with family and stories and missing pieces.
 
I didn't think I belonged there for the longest time. But as I look back, I belonged from day one. They tried so hard to show me that.
But I didn't know who I was, so I couldn't understand or feel the primal identity or connection with those of my own.

A rose belongs on the vine. Even though crushed, it's still a rose.
 
Thank you, God, for my reunion.
Like a flower opening ever so slowly, I can finally recognize my own scent.
As I sit here I can smell the clean scent of light rain falling outside my window, and hear distant rolling thunder as it passes over.
Lord, thank you for your cleansing mercy, making everything new.
Even crushed flowers can bloom again.

Thank you for the voice of my son calling me to come play.
For my faithful husband who loves me. For giving us this life and this journey, and helping me grow. Even in the midst of loss and loneliness, help me not to miss or take for granted the friendships and love all around me.
Help me to open my heart. Even when it hurts. So that I can feel to the full. Your Love.

*post script ~ Writing this post was cathartic, even though difficult. 
 I found myself reaching out again this evening. 
 My aunt, my (first) mother's sister, whom I grew closest to in the early part of my reunion, was home tonight. 
 
 We had a wonderfully familiar "catch up" conversation, reminding me of the warm feeling of family (again). Also spoke with my Mom (adoptive) who is sounding more and more like her self, optimistic and finally "at home" in her new senior housing. What a relief, after many months of struggle for her health. I'm so overwhelmed by God's mercy and grace. He's helping me learn to trust. And for that I'm most grateful.

December 9, 2008

Love = Loss?

Loss
© Photographer: Goodynewshoes | Agency: Dreamstime.com
Nancy Verrier is an awesome woman. As an adoptive Mother as well as a psychologist, she wrote a book which FINALLY validates the experience of millions of Americans "touched" by adoption. "The Primal Wound" describes the pre-verbal, primal LOSS that every adopted child experiences, no matter how young they are placed into their new adoptive home.

I was adopted at just a few days old, and never thought adoption affected me. Until I grew up. Partially. I say "partially" because I truly feel as if my "real" self wasn't given permission to feel or grow beginning the day my birth certificate was amended to represent a new person. The old person died, or stagnated. And a new "false" self was born. I believe that is what "sealed" records do to adoptees. Because I experienced it.

I was so terrified of loss that my old "real" self went into hiding in order to survive in this new life that was created for me. The hidden grief, confusion, loss, and emotions were "stunted" ~ until I became an adult who was "curious" about my origins and searched. It awoke my "true" self, only to find a broken, fearful, vulnerable child with what Nancy Verrier so aptly coined as a "primal wound".

The reason I share these thoughts is because once I started to really "feel" those buried emotions, it truly felt like death. And then a re-birth. Each level of grief was a confusing, emotional rollercoaster, because adoptees are not given societal (or personal) "permission" to grieve their "lost" selves, families, mothers, heritage, culture, place. We are conditioned from "Gotcha Day" to celebrate a profound loss ~ how screwed up is that?

When I had my son almost 4 years ago he was born extremely pre-mature and small. I also suffered severe physical, long-term complications from the traumatic birth. This alone was enough. But ADD on top of that my adoption issues of motherhood, abandonment, loss and trust ~ and it is a true miracle that I am able to sit here and finally begin to blog about these events. The whole traumatic experience ~ my 1.4 pound son, him being hospitalized for many months, my inability to hold him and comfort him, and having to watch him suffer ~ caused my adoptee heart to "freeze" again. Each trauma or loss (even threatened loss) is like a re-awakening of that original, profound loss, resulting in the feeling of death or nothingness to an adoptee. My heart can only take so much. I had to emotionally numb myself to get through those first couple of years and also allow myself to begin to grieve for my son's prematurity and experience.

Before my son was born I saw my aMom through many years of health problems, including a fight against the same type of cancer that took my nMother's life (before we were reunited), a bone marrow transplant, chemo, radiation, two broken hips (you get the picture). I forgot to mention that when my son was 2 yrs old (just 2 yrs ago, right before Christmas), Mom ended up in ICU for a week due to a severe concussion from a fall. Before all this I also had to put my aGrandmother (Nanny) in a nursing home in her old age, when I was not able to care for her and my aMom both at the same time. This was hard on me emotionally and physically. Especially right after my reunion and finding my nMother was dead. Holy Cow. Just re-writing all this makes me cringe. I truly believe that the grace of God is what brought me through.

Anyway, I write all this to say...I feel like I am finally coming out of yet another "fog" of dealing with the trauma of my son's birth. After 4 surgeries in his 4 years of life, he is now healthy and developing more on track. That is a huge relief in itself. Especially after a couple of years of almost no sleep due to his sensory issues and the way it affected his sleep patterns. This is the first year I feel like I can breathe again, and feel. Thank you, God.

My aMom is still alive and kicking at the age of 78 (in a couple of months). She uses a walker to ambulate and is on a myriad of prescription pain medication for chronic pain & arthritis. Her doctor wants her to have back fusion surgery, but so far she can still (barely) get up and down from chairs, and she refuses to go through yet another surgery (especially one that is so debilitating). I think she also (sadly) realizes that I am no longer available to jump up and spend all my emotional & physical energies on taking care of her.

What is very hard on me emotionally is watching my Mom make unhealthy decisions which affect her health. During one part of this journey I went through an anger stage because I felt like I was the one who was responsible for taking care of her, when she wouldn't take care of herself. She overworked herself taking care of her controlling Mother and I didn't want to be a repeat of this. But for way more than a decade, I was. The past four years I have been physically & emotionally unable to help her alot. I feel somewhat guilty for this, because I know she could use it. But I also know that I am incapable. My body is in pain much of the time, and just trying to allow myself time to recover and heal has been a challenge in itself. My son goes to a special pre-school now which allows me the time to take a stretching class. I've learned by experiences that when you are "going through" a hard time, your body and mind is being fueled by adrenaline. But it is AFTER the battle that the weakness and vulnerability really hit. Having my son awakened in me a fierce ability to love like never before. And with that came extreme vulnerability.

I also appreciate my aMom so much more. I have SO much admiration & love for her as a woman who has never given up. She loves me and would do anything in the world for me. And it's only been since grieving my adoption issues that I have been able to embrace that emotionally.

Finally coming out of the "fog" of journeying through shock, anger, saddness regarding my whole adoptive status. Being relinquished by a young, unmarried mother who literally was given no other choice, and being "bought" by my parents who thought I would be a blank slate and the replacement for the child they couldn't conceive. Finding all this out as an adoptee is staggering alone ~ when we find our story, our search, our identity, and our reunion. Needless to say I've been in "reunion" for over 17 years and I'm still on this journey and forever will be.

I so wish my aMom would move into assisted living. She will stubbornly not ask for help from others (except me, from which she expects it). She still has to go down steps into her garage in order to do her laundry, which is very hard on her back. YET she volunteers for an agency that works with older people, and one of their services is "in home" support, doing laundry for their clients. She WILL NOT let the office-staff know that she herself desperately needs assistance in this area. These people care about her a lot. I know that they would help her if they knew she was in need. When she was in the hospital two years ago I got a flood of calls from caring people who were worried about her, and sadly, I felt like a a horrible daughter because they acted as if she was without help from her "family" (me alone). I tried to explain to them that she needed more help than I could give her. But she recovered (miraculously) and went right back to taking care of others to mask her own needs.

Tonight I tried to call my Mom and her phone was busy for about 3 hours. This isn't completely unusual, as she loves to talk on the phone to her friends that her life now revolves around, since I had to distance myself in taking care of my son and self. I finally decided to call the operator to check to see if there was "conversation on the line". It brought back memories of the past years I was terrified of losing my Mom and feeling like I was completely responsible for her well-being. What a trip. Anyway, the operator came back on the line saying she could not hear any conversation. My emotions have thawed out sufficiently enough in the past few months to actually be able to FEEL again. And I immediately felt FEAR. I was so scared that my Mom was laying in her house unable to get the help she needed. Just last week I begged her for the umpteenth time to get one of those "emergency assistance" contraptions that she could wear around her neck and push a button for help. As she was sitting in my living room "dozing" in the chair while my son watched Barney, I asked her (again) to talk to her doctor about a sleep study. When I have spent the night with her over the years I can hardly sleep because of listening to her literally gasp for breath all night long. She has severe sleep apnea. But refuses to get help for it. Such an easy treatment.

I don't want to lose her. Even though she infuriates and annoys me to no end. I love her so much. At the age of 77 she still has a strong sense of humor and a "never give up" attitude that I am so thankful to have "inherited" from her, and my Nanny. It was like growing up with the "Golden Girls" or something. And I'm one of them too. Probably way before my time.

My dear Husband (who I am so thankful for) drove quickly to her house (yet again) to check on her. The whole time I am having flash-backs of the near-disastrous things she has been through and praying for just "one more chance" to "get it right" (loving). Please God.

I began this post that night, when I couldn't sleep from the familiar dread of loss, orphanhood. It has "sat" in the "non-published" column for about a week now ~ because I couldn't finish it ~ too raw. I used to just sit down here and spew out a real post in real time with real feelings as they came. It was amazingly therapeutic. Especially when the adoption shit was hitting the fan, so to speak. lol I thank God for the fact this post took a week to finish because real life got in the way. It means that I was actually LIVING real life, without being overwhelmed with such deep-seated grief and pain that it was impossible to really function, and finding myself having to WRITE & cry to get it out of me. The beginning months/years of this blog was a God-given tool for healing, I believe. As well as meeting and embracing other adoptees & first mothers in their healing journeys (both on the internet and in face-to-face life).

I can happily report that my Mom was/is fine. The phone was simply off the hook. I don't think I'm off the hook, nor is she (lol), but that was the excuse of the night!
Once again, my heart could start beating again as I let out yet another prayer of thanks. Just finishing this post right now, however, is reminding me of how vulnerable I feel. I don't want to continually worry about her. About loss.

Adoptees equate love with loss. It is painful to love. What a sad commentary on the "gift" we've been given.

September 5, 2008

Adoption: Trauma that Lasts a Lifetime


All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.

As You Like It Act 2, scene 7, 139–143 (Shakespeare)

In all of us there is a hunger, marrow deep, to know our heritage—to know who we are and where we came from. Without this enriching knowledge, there is a hollow yearning. No matter what our attainments in life, there is still a vacuum, an emptiness, and the most disquieting loneliness.
—Alex Haley, author of "Roots"

Adoption: Trauma that Last a Life Time

Vicki M. Rummig

June 11, 1996

They just cannot understand. The perfect child Mr. & Mrs. Smith adopted 15 years ago is now skipping school, talking back, experimenting with drugs, and is involved in a sexual relationship with her 20-year-old drug addicted boyfriend. Until a year ago she always had good grades and enjoyed spending time with her parents; she was the ideal child. They have sought treatment from a family therapist. Nevertheless, they just cannot seem to get through to her. There have been no new stressors in the household. What could be the problem?

For many years adoption has been viewed as a perfect arrangement for all involved. What has not been taken into account are the emotional effects adoption has on all members involved, most specifically, for the purpose of this paper, the adoptee. These effects, or issues, can be managed as long as they are recognized and acknowledged. Adoptees’ psychological issues need to be addressed by mental health professionals in order to recognize and effectively treat symptoms of low self-esteem, lack of trust, and dissociation.

The adoptees’ trauma begins the moment she is separated from her birth mother. Some psychologists believe that an infant is not able to differentiate her mother until at least two months of age. At the same time they believe that the infant does not know she is her own entity (Kaplan, 1978). What do mental health professionals believe the infant thinks for these first two months? They will suggest that she is in some type of limbo, that she does not have the capacity to think or know until two months of age. Yet, she somehow knows to cry when she is uncomfortable and how to ingest her food. Psychologists will call this instinct, but we should also look at the possibility of the newborn instinctively knowing who her mother is. After all, they were connected for 40 weeks.

Since an infant does not see herself as a separate entity, we must believe that she sees herself as part of the person she was physically attached and bonded to for 40 weeks (Verrier, 1993, chap. 2). When separated from the one thing to which she has connected, the infant will feel she has lost part of herself.

Many doctors and psychologists now understand that bonding doesn’t begin at birth, but is a continuum of physiological, psychological, and spiritual events which begin in utero and continue throughout the postnatal bonding period. When this natural evolution is interrupted by a postnatal separation from the biological mother, the resultant experience of abandonment and loss is indelibly imprinted upon the unconscious minds of these children, causing that which I call the “primal wound.” (Verrier, 1993, p. 1)
When the adoptee is separated from her birth mother, she undergoes extensive trauma. She will not remember this trauma, but it will stay in her subconscious as she lived it (Verrier, 1993). An event from a person’s infancy can and will stay with them through life. An example of the subconscious effect of an early experience would be Marc. Marc was in an orphanage for the first year of his life. Because of the lack of human touch, he would rock himself in his crib. Marc is now 42 years old and still rocks himself whenever he is watching television, listening to music, or sitting on a park bench. He does not remember rocking himself as an infant, but this practice has stayed with him through his subconscious his entire life.

The adoptee will always carry this issue of abandonment with her wherever she goes. It is no different from when a husband leaves a wife. She may remarry to a wonderful man, but will always wonder if her new husband is also going to leave her. She must work through the abandonment issue to regain trust. The abandonment issue has to be acknowledged, before it can be resolved.

Even if the “primal wound” as described above was not a factor in the adoptees’ emotional well being, the knowledge of abandonment will always be there. She may have been told she was “chosen” by the adoptive parents but it will not be long until she figures out she was abandoned by the first set of parents. Julie P. responded to a question on the Adoptees Internet Mailing List (an Internet support group that consists of approximately 1000 members) about the feeling of being adopted, “No, I am not depressed, miserable, angry, or negative...but I have always felt second best. Sure I was told that I was the (chosen) one, but first I was rejected.” Regardless of the circumstances, it will always feel like abandonment to her.

The adoptee is given very little information about her relinquishment. She is expected to leave the past behind and concentrate of her present and future. Out of respect for the adoptive parents, she will often not ask questions or talk about her adoption if it is an uncomfortable subject in her home. She will wonder about her relinquishment and her birth mother. To attempt to fill in the gaps she will create fantasies of acceptable scenarios of the circumstances of her conception, birth and relinquishment, that she can emotionally handle.

As a small child, she will not understand how a mother could give her up, or abandon her. Adoptees may feel they must have been a bad baby or that the birth mother was an uncaring person. Other thoughts will occur, such as she was stolen from the birth mother, either by public authorities or her adoptive parents. Often children will fluctuate in their thoughts and fantasies depending on their perception of the adoptive parents at any given time. (Lifton, 1988 &1994; Verrier, 1993; Brodzinsky, Schechter & Henig, 1992; Reitz & Watson, 1992; Adopting Resources, 1995) She will generally outgrow believing her fantasies and begin to see them as just that, but a part of her will always wonder.

The “chosen” child story also has negative affects on a child for other reasons. The child may feel that she has to be perfect to live up to her “chosen” status. Her role model adoptees include Superman and Jesus. This is a hard image for the average child to live up to. She may either become the compliant “perfect” child or she may act out and misbehave to test the commitment of the adoptive parents. Either way, often times she is not being herself, but rather acting a part. This acting can be very emotionally draining and confusing, and may last until the early adult years and beyond. When the adoptee can not live up to her perfect “chosen” status, it will contribute to the feeling of low self-esteem. This will be further exacerbated if the adoptive parents are not aware of the issue and their actions reinforce the adoptees beliefs, i.e., sending her away for residential treatment or openly wishing her to be more like themselves.

The adoptee is also aware of many ghosts that follow her through life. These ghosts include the person she would have been had she not been adopted, the ghost of the birth mother and birth father, and the ghost of the adoptive family’s child that would have been (Lifton, 1994, chap. 6). She may find herself trying to connect to her ghosts through her actions. Either being her image of her birth family, living her life according to her fantasy birth family, or acting as her vision of the adoptive parent’s natural child.

When the adolescent adoptee acts out it may be her way of trying to connect with the image she has of her birth mother or may be that she does not feel worthy of the adoptive parents love. Adolescence is a confusing time for any child, but the adoptee has many more identity issues to deal with. She may also be testing the commitment of the adoptive parents, seeing if they will send her away for being bad.

A great many of these young people are in serious trouble with the law and are drug addicted. The girls show an added history of nymphomania and out-of- wedlock pregnancy, almost as if they were acting out the role of the “whore” mother. In fact, both sexes are experimenting with a series of identities that seem to be related to their fantasies about the biological parents. (Lifton, 1988, p. 45)
As the adoptee begins to become aware of her adoptee status she will notice the differences she has from her peers and other family members. I noticed in my family that I did not have the nose or ears of any of my adoptive family. This is normal for an adoptee and can make her feel left out or misplaced in her family. A particularly tough time for the adoptee is when first learning about genetics in school. The first lesson in heredity and genetics usually is regarding eye color. If the adoptees’ own eyes do not fall into the proper genetic pattern she is left with a distinct feeling of not belonging. There are many instances in growing up when she is again faced with the knowledge that she is different; when asked about family history by a doctor, when asked if she has a sister because the inquirer knows someone who looks just like her, when asked about ethnic background, in regular day to day conversations.

Physical differences are not the only ones that are noticed. A difference in personality or talents may further misplace the adoptee from her family. In talking with other adoptees, I have described this feeling as “feeling like my adoptive family is in a big circle but I am on the outside looking in.”

With the adoptee not having a role model who resembles her physically or psychologically, it is more difficult to define where her life shall lead. She may come from a biologically artistic family, but adopted into a scientific family. She may not only feel the need to follow in her adoptive family’s footsteps, attending similar colleges, choosing similar careers, but she did not have the artistic role model to show her that way of life. This further complicates the identity formation of the adoptee. “One’s identity begins with the genes and family history...” (Reitz & Watson, 1992, p. 134)

Adoptees also lack the ability to see their physical characteristics as they will present themselves in the future. A natural born daughter would be able to tell how big she is going to be, if she will have a tendency to be overweight, or if she is going to go grey early in life, but the adoptee is denied this genetic role model and will not know these things until she reaches that stage in life herself. This adds to the curiosity of wanting to know their genetic background.

Rachel says that families are a hall of mirrors, “Everyone but adoptees can look in and see themselves reflected. I didn’t know what it was like to be me. I felt like someone who looks into a mirror and sees no reflection. I felt lonely, not connected to anything, floating, like a ghost.” (Lifton, 1994, p. 68)
The adoptee will feel even more dissociated when conversations regarding other family members or peers births are brought up. She is missing the story of her birth parents meeting, her conception, her birth, and in some instances, some time after her birth. On the Adoptees Internet Mailing List one member described this feeling as the “floating cosmic blip.” It is often commented that the adoptee feels hatched not born or that they are some type of space alien. Non-adoptees take their own life story for granted, but the adoptee is acutely aware that theirs is missing. So now, not only does the adoptee feel dissociated from her adoptive family, but also from her peers, for she is different.
Adoptees are faced with a feeling of loss and grief that they are not allowed, by society, to actively mourn. “With adoption, the child experiences a loss (like divorce or death) of an unknown person, and doesn’t know why.” (Adopting Resources, 1995) She is aware that family members are lost to her, but is expected to not mourn the loss of this family member she has never known. She will often be chastised when asking questions of her birth family from her adoptive family.

Not all of these issues affect adoptees to the same extent. Some may spend a lifetime dwelling on it, others may not even appear to notice. This would be true of any group of people that lived through trauma, such as Vietnam War Veterans. It should be noted that adoptees are over represented in residential treatment centers.

The number of Adoptees in the adolescent and young-adult clinics and residential treatment centers is strikingly high. Doctors from the Yale Psychiatric Institute and other hospitals that take very sick adolescents have told me they are discovering that from one-quarter to one-third of the patients are adopted. (Lifton, 1988, p.45)
In recent years there have been more works written on the subject. In 1978 Sorosky, Baran, and Pannor wrote the Adoption Triangle. This was one of the first written books that spoke specifically of the psychological issues of adoption. In one reference book written for psychologist by Reitz and Watson (1992) it was noted:

Despite the proliferation in recent decades of the literature on both family therapy and adoption, there has been little focus on the treatment of families involved in adoption. We offer our approach both as one sample of the current state of the practice art and as a way to generate hypotheses. Little, definitive, formal research findings are available, we have cited them; we believe, however, that findings from practice are valid field research. The clinician’s skills in observing recurrent themes and patterns resemble those of the formal researcher who looks for patterns in statistical data. Both clinicians and researchers must then interpret their findings. (preface)
In the early 1960s Dr. Marshall Schechter, child psychiatrist, was challenged by social workers when he first made the observation that there were a disproportionate number of adoptees in his clinic ( as cited in Lifton, 1988, p. 44). He later teamed up with Brodzinsky to research the psychology of adoption and to write various books (1990, 1992) on the subject.

There are many books written by members of the triad (refers to the three sides in adoption; adoptive parents, birth parents, and adoptees) that are geared toward their triad peers. (Lifton, 1988 and 1994; Verrier, 1993). These are an excellent resource for triad members to begin to explore the issues of adoption. Although they are not written with psychologists in mind, they would be a good first step for mental health professionals to begin to also understand adoption.

In researching basic child psychology books, if adoption is mentioned, it is in the following context: “It should be obvious that neither I or anybody else knows enough about the psychology of adoption to offer any firm advice.” (Church, 1973)

Although there are both more studies and writings on the subject, mental health professionals remain ignorant of adoptees’ issues. Thomas Danner, PhD, a local family counselor, discussed some of his educational experiences and views on adoptees issues (personal communication, May 17, 1996). He stated he had not given the adoptees issues any prior thought. When presented with some of the repercussions of adoption, he was in agreement that these things could play into the emotional well being of the adoptee. He was open in disclosing that he had little knowledge of adoption issues and was willing to accept the ideas this paper has to present.

Betty Jean Lifton, PhD, Adoption Counselor/Author and adoptee, also commented on the subject (personal communication, May 20, 1996). When asked what lead to her studying adoption issues. Her reply was: ‘Are you an adoptee...then you know.’ This illustrates how most of the research done on adoption issues has been raised by someone who has been touched by adoption. It is easy to understand how someone who has not lived it, would not give the subject much thought. Mental health professionals need to be made to give the subject some thought or they will be doing a disservice to their adopted patients.

The first step to communicating the psychological effects of adoption to mental health professionals is to educate the public in general. There have been more recent books, movies, and such on adoption but they fail to acknowledge the special issues. Through accurate media representation, the general population can receive information needed to better understand the adopted person. In turn, the mental health professionals can begin to study the subject and explore alternate treatments for their adopted patients.

College and university professors need to begin teaching the special issues and treatments unique to adoption, just has they teach unique approaches to dealing with sexual abuse, divorce of parents, Attention Deficit Disorder, and the many other problems youth are faced with today. The subject must also be included in the college text books or the students must utilize the reference books written on adoption (Reitz & Watson, 1992; Brodzinsky & Schechter, 1990).

Adoptive parents must also be aware of these special issues so they can find a counselor who is trained to deal with them. Too often, counselors of adopted children are not aware that special issues exist and they attempt to treat the least disturbing problem and thus they fail to get to the core issue of adoption. Parents who called me have taken their child--usually an adolescent adopted at birth--from therapist to therapist, without ever having come upon one who is knowledgeable about adoption. The child now has become what Kirschner calls a “secondhand patient.” Therapists who do not see adoption as a core issue cannot reach the child. The Adoptee remains isolated and continues to act out... (Lifton, 1988, p. 273)

After realizing all the different issues adoption holds for their daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Smith received a referral for an adoption specialist in their area. They are now attending family counseling and making some progress toward their daughter’s recovery through open communication and understanding of the trauma she still experiences.

Works Referenced

Adopting Resources (1995) Common clinical issures [sic] among adoptees. [Online]. Available: World Wide Web, http://www.adopting.org/commmonis.html.
Brodzinsky, D. M., & Schechter, M. D. (1990). The Psychology of Adoption NY:Oxford University Press, Inc.
Brodzinsky, D. M., Schechter, M. D., & Henig, R. M. (1992) Being adopted: The lifelong search for self. NY:Doubleday.
Church, J. (1973) Understanding your child from birth to three. NY: Random House.
Kaplan, L. J., (1978) Oneness and separateness: From infant to individual. NY: Simon & Schuster.
Lifton, B. J., (1988). Lost and Found: The adoption experience. (2nd ed.). NY: Harper and Row Publishers, Inc.
Lifton, B. J., (1994) Journey of the adopted self: A quest for wholeness. NY: Basic Books/HarpersCollins Publishers, Inc.
Reitz, M. & Watson, K., (1992) Adoption and the family system. NY: Guildford Publications.
Sorosky, A. D., Baran, A., & Pannor, R., (1978) The adoption triangle. NY: Anchor Press/Doubleday
Verrier, N. N. , (1993). The Primal Wound: Understanding the adopted child. Baltimore, MD: Gateway Press, Inc.