Adoption Animal House

Being A Hyphenated Mother

2009-10-12T08:17:00.001-07:00

As anyone can tell from our last two posts my daughter and I are having very different reactions to our latest separation. The 30 days we had together made me feel even closer to her. I realized how very much I loved seeing her every day even if it was for just a short time after work on most days. I knew I enjoyed her company but I learned how much I enjoy being part of her daily life. I am holding the memories very close and they make me smile. She is creating distance to survive. I think I have learned another reunion lesson here. Being close to your mother does not heal adoption wounds. Probably nothing will. That is hard for me to accept but I can understand it. I trust her when she says she won't disappear. That is a huge comfort. Accepting that she needs to distance herself for now is not easy and I am trying very hard not to make her feel guilty by whinning about how this is the opposite of what I want. It is one of those things where we can't both have what we want and I really believe she deserves to have her needs respected. Its about time she gets a vote.

So, being a hyphenated mother (first/birth/whatever) does mean that you can't heal the pain of adoption. It also means that you get a chance to build a unique relationship with your daughter/son that can be very close and very meaningful. It is just hard sometimes to get there. Love is the easy part. Building trust is the hard part. Maybe the hard part will get easier with time.

Being Adopted

2009-10-09T17:33:00.000-07:00

Being adopted is hard work. It takes more effort to trust, love, accept and believe. Not to give those things, mind you, but to allow others to give them to me. I trust, love, accept and believe too intensely, too soon and without thinking it through. But to receive them from others is heart wrenching. I can list off a thousand reasons why I am simply, not good enough. If I sit down and actually think about it I AM good enough, often TOO good, but in the moment my inner strength backs down like a puppy shit kicked one too many times. This can not be the way to live, this can not be how I spend my life, angry and alone because of fear. Fear that yet another person will walk away, die, be taken or otherwise removed from my life. It cripples every personal relationship in my life, friends, family, lovers and even my children.

One of my adoptee friends, Andraya, wrote this on her facebook page. She claims she spent 5 minutes writing it. For stream-of-consciousness writing, this gets an A+ in my book. And something to chew on.

The baby in me resurfaced last week. Before my mother left, I was crying and panicked. I talked to my shrink about how to ward off the PTSD. He told me to go with my instincts and do what felt right to me. I tried to warn my mother what might happen...and it did.

Like the baby of 40 years ago, I have learned to pacify myself on my own. After spending a week crying, I became very quiet. I haven't shed a tear since before my mother left. I already knew she was gone.

I can list off a thousand reasons why I am simply, not good enough.

My mother and I are not speaking. I have asked her not to call me, and our email communication has been sporadic and chatty. She seems to have settled comfortably back into her life and with the people she loves. I don't want to take any of that away from her. I already know she is gone.

If I sit down and actually think about it I AM good enough, often TOO good, but in the moment my inner strength backs down like a puppy shit kicked one too many times.

Meanwhile, I have been spending the past week or so reconnecting with people. Reconnecting with my husband. I woke up in the middle of the night two nights ago and petted my husband's hair for an hour or so while he was sleeping. Then I had to go check on my son, like he was still a baby, to make sure he hadn't evaporated or something.

Fear that yet another person will walk away, die, be taken or otherwise removed from my life.

I'm in a weird place. Not angry, not sad, not numb. I'm not sure what to do, other than what feels right to me at the moment...which is remaining quiet, surrounding myself with people and things that comfort me, and riding this weirdness out. I am the adult pacifying my own inner baby.

Oddly, I'm better at it than I thought I would be.

Almost a year

2009-10-04T12:31:00.000-07:00

It has been almost a year since I last posted. Ilooked back at what I had written and realized where we were when I last wrote. It was very very hard to get through the months that followed that post and too many times I felt like it was hopeless. We made it through and are closer than ever. There were a lot of fears and just a lot of baggage to get through. We did it. I'm not sure how except we just kiept talking. I have been there, she came here. On one trip I stayed a few extra days to help her through a bad time. For once, I was there when she needed me. It was a turning point I think. She and my grandson came here for a week and there was yet another positive turning point. That was a wonderful/crazy/happy/sad trip. It involved the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, an iguana, dead relatives and a bridge. How much better can it get than that. She was there for me when I needed her badly. Since we were stopping by the cemetary where most of my dead relatives (I have a lot of those and very few live ones) are buried my mother asked me to get her some information about being buried there. My mother is doing well but she is 90 and has a very practicle streak. My daughter and I got into the graveyard office (they called it something dignified but I can't remember what). I choked and just looked at her. She was able to get eerything mother wanted. I couldn't have done it without her. She was there when I needed her.

I just got back from spending 32 days in the city where she lives. I travel a lot for my job and managed to get a temporary assignment near her. It was a wondeful/crazy/happy/sad trip. It involved sushi,an old friend,meeting new friends from the adoption world that I knew but had never seen, pirate radio, prunes stuffed with goat cheese wrapped in bacon, and watching a free show from a hotel window. How much better can it get. Now we know we can see each other every day for a month and still want more of each others company. Now I know I need to live close to her. We have missed too much in each others lives and I am tired of missing. Now I know what I want I just have to figure out how. Leaving was awful. Trying to figure out how to be apart is impossible. Getting on the plane was like signing those damn relinquishment papers. I am really tired of doing what other people expect of me. She thinks I will get over it or cope by drowning myself in trivia. I am tired of that. It didn't work for 35 years and I am not going to pretend it will work now. I am afraid I will go back into my bad habit of withdrawal but I know that doesn't work. The phone conversations with her help. The e-mails help. I need to be able to just have lunch with her on the spur of the moment.

One thing we have learned over the last year is talking openly and honestly about how we feel gets us through the bad times. We have learned that we love each other more than either of us ever thought possible. We have learned we can easily hurt each other because we care so much. We have learned that building trust takes time. We have learned that what we have with each other is worth the hurt feelings. It is wonderful that I miss her so badly I could scream.

Missing Her Today

2008-11-23T11:16:00.000-08:00

My daughter and I have come a long way and we have even further to go. One of the things that really gets to her is that I am nothing if not wound tight. To say that I don't show my emotions easily is a gross understatement. I know why. After the relinquishment my family was very supportive (yes I am lucky), they really wanted me to feel better and didn't want me to hurt. So I worked at convincing them I was just fine. I thought there was nothing to gain in talking about it. My daughter was gone and no one could make that better. So I spent 35 years keeping my mouth shut and learning to keep feelings inside. It did work but I have forgotten how to let feelings show. A strange thing happened after my daughter's birthday this year. I got through the day just fine. She was off having fun and I knew it was a good day for her and she was happy. That made me happy. A couple days later it all came back like I was hit over the head. It was not remembering more about the time I had with her in the hospital and how I felt. I started feeling everything again just like it was happening all over. As usual, I stuffed it down inside and didn't talk about it. I should have talked to her about it long before I did. She did make it better. She helped me understand and gave me the emotional supprt I needed. She reassured me that it was OK to talk to her and she didn't feel like I was laying a bunch of negative crap on her. Why did it take me so long to figure out that it is OK to lean on her when I need to. I am starting to get over my fear of asking her for anything. I may even get over my fear of being a demanding clingy mother. Being honest about my feelings is good not bad. I really do need to internalize that. I want to be there for her when the world starts kicking her she wants to be able to do the same for me. Yes we both still like the good times and just being silly but this is different. She is the one that makes it better when I need to have someone put there arms around me (even if it is virtual) and just tell me I am loved. Unlike my husband who is wonderful in so many ways, she doesn't try to fix it becuse she knows it can't be fixed. She gives me the reassurance that She loves me. I hope I do the same for her.

I miss her today. Actually, I miss her every day but today I wish I could just go for a walk with her and tell her how much she has given me. Then we could hug and cry a little bit and start teasing each other and laughing. That would be a very good day indeed.

A Different Birthday

2008-11-12T12:49:00.000-08:00

Like many adoptees out there, I have always hated my birthday.

I can think of past years that were drowned in tears, alcohol, or a combination of the two plus other unmentionables perhaps. (ahem...)

I can think of past years where I tried to ignore the date altogether - unsuccessfully.

I can think of a couple of birthdays I spent waiting by the phone that never rang, and waiting for the letter that never came. Thinking that today, of all days, maybe she would think about me and call me or write to me.

I can think of many years I spent angry, lashing out at my loved ones. They didn't understand WHY I was angry - only that I was. Responses varied from "What's wrong with you?" to just a flat-out, "Oh, get OVER it."

You know how it is.

Anyway, I decided this year would be a little different. If other people said I should be celebrating, who am I to refuse a day to let myself be pampered, taken care of, and loved? I figured it was a fruitless attempt to be "normal", but I had nothing to lose by giving it a shot.

By golly, it worked.

Somewhere in the middle of the massage that followed the facial, while this woman with amazing hands was working this awful knot out of my back, I let go of the tension that had been plaguing me for years. I mean, really let go of it. I finally decided I'd had enough. I want my life back. I want my mother to have her life back. I want my family and friends to have ME back. It became more important than hanging onto this THING that had been poisoning me for years on my birthday.

Sure, it was a typical day. My adoptive parents forgot my birthday - again. My aunt (the fuzzy rat's sister) forgot it also. Instead of agonizing, I chalked it up as typical. My aunt is as bad with a calendar as I am, and my adoptive parents - well, they have other things to think about. It's okay. Should it stop me from having a good time? Hell to the no.

I got spa treatments, let my husband treat me to an outrageously expensive dinner and the best bottle of wine I've ever had, ran around some casinos drunk off my ass and giggling the whole time, and enjoyed the time with my family. I felt special, and most importantly, I felt loved. I deserve it, dammit. THEY deserve it too, after putting up with hellacious fallout for far too many years.

I'm done. Done with it, done with it, done with it. Damn, it feels good.

Even better - my mother also seems to be done with it. She actually had a nice weekend. We managed to talk for a few minutes, and she sounded positive, upbeat, and looking forward to spending time with her husband and her friends. When I spoke to her a few days later, she still sounded great. No angst. Wow. What the hell happened???

I don't care, really. I don't care what happened, or how it happened. I wish I could articulate how I got to this point. I wish my mother could articulate how she got to feeling so happy (maybe she can...I certainly can't speak for her!)

It's almost like a second coming out of the fog. I was consumed with all this pain for so many years, and it had gotten positively hellish these last few months. I was constantly battling, letting it sap my energy. I'm not in denial. I will still have my moments. Hell, I'll still have my days, my weeks. I will continue to speak out and be there for my friends out there in adoption land. I will continue to educate myself about the atrocities that exist in the adoption industry and read blogs.

But my own birthday blues? Seeya. Done. I'm over it. That's my day, and I'm taking it back.

Understanding

2008-11-07T07:57:00.001-08:00

I have been out on the blogs after reading the comments on my last post. Yes I am one of those stealth readers who seldom comments. I have been trying to understand the hurt mothers and angry adoptees and why reconcilliation is so hard. I am sure I will get plenty of disagreements with this but I think I am begining to understand at least a part of it. Mothers and adoptees are both hurt and both want that hurt to be understood. As a mother the hardest thing for me to come to terms with is that I caused the hurt. All of the reasons/excuses/justifications are really beside the point. That is not an easy conclusion to reach nor is it particularly easy to live with but it is real and I need to understand that and come to terms with it.

Before I get jumped too badly on this, I am not advocating sackcloth and ashes for all mothers. At least most of us did not intend to cause harm, usually just the opposite. As adults (or at least teenagers) we got through a lot of the pain of relinquishment by telling ourselves that we 'did the right thing for the child". We learned to cope one way or the other with that as our mantra. Lorraine Dursky said it best, "you don't stop hurting you just stop crying every day." We reasoned through it. We tried to get on with our lives as we were told to do. Our children didn't have that luxury. They were told that their mothers gave them away because their mothers loved them. What the hell kind of a message is that? How do you reason through that one when you are 5 years old? Our children did not choose to be adopted into a nice family. We made that choice for them. There is absolutly no way that you can explain relinquishment to a child so that it makes sense. The only thing that makes sense to a child is that their mother didn't want them. It is not helpful to be told you should be grateful that you weren't wanted.

I had a hard time getting to the point where I could accept responsibility for my decision and tell my daughter that I had made a horrible decision that hurt her and I was sorry. It doesn't solve everthing but it is a start. I can understand why she pushes me away sometimes. I can understand her anger. That doesn't mean I don't get hurt by it. It just means that I can undertand. I think she is starting to understand that I always did love her and always will (except on her really bad days). Our hurts are both real. It helps to face them. No sackcloth and ashes, just a dose of reality.

When It Is Good

2008-10-26T11:14:00.000-07:00

Since my last post my daughter and grandson have been here for my mother's 90th birthday. It was incredible. My mother didn't think they would be able to come and she was so excited. We had a small afternoon reception (about 50 people) or about half the people in town over 80. My cousin was there. He had not met my daughter until then. It was perfect. A lot of the people in the room knew our story. The rest knew that my mother's granddaughter and granson came all the way from California for the party. Before the party my daughter asked my mother if there was anyone she should be careful around or would be offended if they found out about the adoption. My mother's response was that if anyone took offense she would just show them the door. During the party my daughter realized that my mother really had been bragging about her. I wonder how many times she heard, "O you are the muscian, its so wonderful you are here." My mother's minister who does know the story and is a wonderful person walked up and hugged her. Her cousin took one look at her and got teary and said "you look just like my Uncle Aggie (my dad)". She finally began to understand how we feel about her and her son. The fact is that my mother, sister, brother-in-law, husband, and cousin see her and her son as part of the family. If anyone wants to disapprove, they may do so but they need to take it elsewhere. We love her and her son. Someone doesn't like it, thats their problem. She belongs.

My daughter is begining to really believe she is loved. It is something I wanted for her but was afraid would never happen. It scares her in some ways. I understand that. It makes me sad in some ways. It is what she should have known her whole life. Every child deserves to know that they are loved just because they belong. No child should ever have to believe that they are only loved if they 'earn' it every day.

I had a really bad day yesterday. I have been reading Birthmark by Lorraine Duskey. I saw so many parallels with myself. It all hit me. My daughter has never really felt loved and accepted because of my decision. I can never make that up to her. After a rediculous amount of birthmother guilt I finally came to my senses. I can't change the past. I can live in the present and do everything I can to show her that she is loved and does belong. I have a family who loves us. I can show my grandson that I love him. I can enjoy knowing they love me. Damn I miss her.

Insecurities

2008-10-10T09:29:00.000-07:00

I have been away from this and all other blogs for a while. I wasn't sure exactly why until I read what my daughter wrote. I realized that what she has been going through plays into every evil fog hangover insecurity I have. I have been feeling quite useless. The last time I was out trolling around the adoption blogs I came up on one of the best BSE mother articles I have ever read (of course I can't remember where it was and how I got there). Whoever wrote it was saying everything I would if I were half as articulate. I felt like I had been kidding myself. Everything I have to say has already been said. What do I have to add to this. I can't make anything better. So that relates exactly how to what your daughter wrote, you say. Easy answer, what she describes makes me feel like nothing I do or say can make her feel any better and many times I think I just make it worse.

Here is where the insecurities relly come in to play. The 'best for the child' lie is based on the idea that you (the mother) are incapable of giving your child what she needs. I absolutely believed that. What kind of an idiot could possibly think that a child wouldn't be much better off in a stable home with a mother AND a father. What child wouldn't be better off being raised in a home with economic stability and the chance for a good education. So it follows that I have nothing good to give to my daughter. I cannot make her life better only worse. Yes I am out of the fog but I have one hell of a hangover on that one. I want her to feel secure and know she is loved. I want her to understand how important she is to me. If she doesn't feel loved and secure then I have failed her. I really need to get past this hangover. I act weird when I feel insecure. I send out all kinds of mixed signals and ping around. This behavior is not helpful. I know it makes her feel like she has done something bad by comming into my life. That is the farthest thing from the truth. When I told her I don't trust emotions this is what I was talking about. I know that adoption has hurt both of us. I know that her hurt goes to the very center of how she feels about herself. I know that it made me feel completely inadequate to be a mother (yes I am one of those who never had any other children). I don't want to let that crap control me. It is past time for me to get over myself and let myself enjoy all the good things she gives to me starting with how incredible it is that she actually loves me despite my bouts of bullshit. Hey, even my grandson loves me and he is a very cool kid. Sure reunions hard hard and very emotional. They are also wonderful. I think I need to remember the wonderful more often and remind her of it. Reunions may not solve everything but I know that it has brought two very exceptional people into my life that I love more than they imagine. I hope she can come to feel the same way.

Security and Emotional Distance

2008-10-07T20:45:00.000-07:00

About a week and a half ago, I went "home" to my adoptive parents' house. It is not the house I grew up in, since they retired and moved out of state, but in a sense it still feels like "home" to me. I am surrounded by the things I was surrounded with growing up. That beloved Mozart statuette, some of my stuffed animals, my old television. I have my own room and my own bathroom with my own toiletries, my own set of towels that simply gather dust until the next visit. I have not been able to stay in my parents' home overnight for many years, because they don't like having my son spend the night as well and he is usually with me. (I guess he is too noisy for their tastes.)

Those of you that have read this blog have probably figured out that I have a rather distant, strained relationship with my adoptive parents, especially my mother. They have distanced themselves from me, and everyone else in their lives, by their own choosing. They want a simple, quiet existence in their own universe with their own rules. There is not much emotional connection there. On my last visit, I got up in the morning, poured myself a cup of coffee, and sat at the silent breakfast table with a crossword puzzle and a few words mumbled while I did the crossword puzzles and they watched CNN. In fact, CNN was on TV all day long, except when we would go out to get lunch or dinner. Afternoons were nap time for them and hike time for me. Otherwise, it was all about my adoptive mother's rules, and me following them. No snacks after 4pm are allowed. I am not allowed to eat anywhere but at the kitchen table. We only talk about what she wants to talk about and only when she wants to speak. The house is....quiet.

It is a rather lonely existence, isn't it? So much like it was when I was growing up, yet even quieter now than it was back then.

Oddly, however, that emotional distance feels.....secure? Dare I say it? Here I was, surrounded by little tokens of my childhood (down to "my" coffee cup that I used in the morning), and I felt like I was "home", or at least in a safe zone, even though a psychologist would probably call this house a dysfunctional, toxic environment on so many levels. Perhaps dysfunctional and toxic have become "normal" and "safe" for me.

Meeting my biological family was very different. They have many of the same quiet, unemotional tendencies that my adoptive family has, but they seem genuinely interested in me, my life, and my son. My biological mother and I have these really crazy, deep, emotional conversations that make me feel so wonderful. The more she opens up to me, the more I love it...especially because she is not that way by nature, at least around other members of the family. It made me feel accepted and "special".

What I realized this week is that it also makes me feel insecure.

I used to laugh at my biological mother when she would say she doesn't trust emotion. Now I think I understand it.

Emotion isn't the foundation upon which the bricks of security are laid. Emotion is shaky. It fluctuates. My mother says she loves me. My adoptive mother used to say she loved me too, but I haven't heard those words in a long time. Just as easily as those words are said, they can be taken away.

When I grew up, my adoptive parents were always physically present. Someone was home every day when I went to school and when I came home. I was rarely in an empty house. My parents may not have been emotionally present very often, but man, they were THERE.

My biological mother? She is not "there". She is a voice or an email. She is usually emotionally present, unlike my adoptive parents. But she is not "there". I see her once in a while, when we can manage it. We both have busy lives, other commitments, other people that come first. That's just reality. I am learning to live with that. I take what I can get and what others feel I am entitled to.

I really hate that I can't feel secure with my biological mother. I really hate that no matter how comfortable she and her family try to make me feel, I can't feel it. I really hate that I am more comfortable in a dysfunctional, emotionless household with all my old stuff.

When I searched, I wasn't just searching for genetic similarities or medical information or other socially acceptable stuff that falls into the category of mild curiosity. I was looking for unconditional love. I thought it would make me feel grounded. I thought it would make my biological family feel grounded too.

Well, it doesn't. It ain't about love, I guess.

I was so, so, so wrong.

Discoveries

2008-09-13T12:02:00.000-07:00

It has been a really rough month. I'm sure those of you who read this blog have figured out that my daughter and I have been going through some bad times. I haven't been near this or any other site. It was all too raw and I felt very hurt, angry, and alone. I couldn't write because writing would make it real and I couldn't read because I was afraid of what was written. I was being pushed away and felt total rejection. I couldn't ask why because I was afraid of the answer. I had tried my best and I had failed at what was the most important thing in the world to me. I know when my daughter reads this that she will think I am exagerating. Not true but I understand why she would have a hard time believing it. It is much better now. We are talking again and have perhaps slain another couple of monsters. We both doubt ourselves and each other. We both fear rejection. We react differently but the underlying reasons are the same. A lot has come out of this and we will probably always have some monsters. I wish I could slay all of them, mine and hers. Maybe we will eventually or maybe we are slaying more than we think because we just keep trying. Whatever the problems, having her in my life is worth it.

I decided to write today about one huge revelation I had when talking to her yesterday. As a general rule I avoid thinking about what the adoption did to me. It seems rather petty compared to what it did to her. It semms rather like telling someone going in for brain surgery how scary it was to have your tonsils out. I have finally figured out that isn't too smart because it does come off like it was no big deal and I got through it just fine. Unpleasant but no lingering after effects. We uncovered a big one yesterday that has had a very real and understandable impact on her. I had no idea what she was talking about when she said I kept my guard up and would pull away from her. Examples of this were how I would always pull away first if we hugged each other. Rather like I maxed out on hugs after a couple minutes. I would also always want to get to the airport early whether it was me leaving her or vice versa. I I thought she was just being over-sensitive. I always get to airports early and I don't come from a demonstrative family. Her problem, not mine. WRONG! Yesterday we had a long talk and I had a flashback/moment of clarity/something. I always remembered being in the hospital and holding her. I was so sure that I was doing the best thing for her by reliquishing but I wanted her to stay with me so badly (just hormones of course but they seem to have lasted 39 years). I remebered the last time I was holding her and everything I was feeling. I knew what time the nurse would come and get her. I kept staring at the clock wanting time to stand still. I wanted to hold her so tight they could never take her away. I wanted to scream. I knew if I held on to her I would hurt her. I was afraid that I would be stupid and make a scene and start screaming at people. I kept telling myself that I would get through it. It was horrible watching that damn clock and knowing this was the last time I would ever see her. So I excercised every bit of control I had and did what I believed I had to do. Now I know why I get stff after a few minutes. Now I know why I can't stand to to prolong the agony of leaving. I hope that knowing will keep me from doing this. Even writing about it brings on a panic attack. Its a lot better though knowing why.

The Search Is Over

2008-08-19T21:28:00.001-07:00

I've been looking for my natural father for 20 years. Tonight, a very nice man called me because he received my letter. He was the last one on the list. I've eliminated every single man with his name in the nation...except for him.

And it wasn't him.

We spent a good half hour on the phone. He relayed a wonderful story about how the letter wound up in the hands of his daughter and her husband, who live in he and his wife's old house. She saved the letter and gave it to him and his wife over dinner when they came down to visit. She said, "Dad, are you SURE it's not you?" She was so sad that it wasn't. She always wanted a sister. And he said they would have welcomed me into the family.

He even gave me history on his uncommon family name. Where the family came from, the rare papers he's acquired, stories from their family lineage. Because the last name is so uncommon, we probably ARE related somehow.

He COULD still be part of "my people"...distantly.

He wished me the best of luck. Said he was sorry.

It's over. My search is finally over.

And I'm a fucking wreck. I need a few bottles of wine to dull the pain.

But...oh yeah. I have a job interview in the morning. Time to suck it up and be a responsible adult.

But I miss my father. And I will never know him.

Grayness

2008-08-19T20:24:00.000-07:00

I've been quiet lately.

I think I've hit one of those moments in life again - one of those moments when the adoption bug has bit me big time.

It's that bug that causes me to resign, that lets me believe I have no purpose.

My people-pleasing mode is in full force. The problem is, I don't please anyone.

I'm aging. I found a bunch of gray hairs. My eyes are sunken and sallow. I lost 5 pounds this week. Food generally tastes like cardboard. I've stopped writing and playing music, because it just doesn't matter much when no one is listening, does it?

I did go out to lunch with my best friend today. She took one look at me and about started crying. I guess the grayness of my life is starting to show.

When You're Gone
Cheryl Wheeler

I read the paper turn on the news
And wear the floors out wonderin' what to do
The sun is bright but it doesn't shine
I try to fight it but it happens every time

When you're gone day is night
When you're gone it's an uphill fight
When you're gone baby nothin' nothin's right

I'm goin' crazy sinkin' like a stone
My friends are calling sayin don't sit home alone but
It's not the same with anybody else
It won't be long 'till I'm talkin' to myself

So I watch that clock on the wall not movin' at all
Just frozen in time
And I don't mind letting you know I'm ready to go
Right out of my mind

The morning after the night before
It's hard to tell the difference anymore
Instead of growing stronger I'm just getting weak
Instead of killin' time I think it's killin' me

Our Reunion Is Like A Teenage Romance

2008-07-26T21:17:00.000-07:00

Oh, those "like a..." statements are dangerous, aren't they? The minute you start comparing an "adoption reunion" to "like a..." anything, you can get yourself in big trouble. So my mother and I have been trying to not compare our relationship to anything. Mother/daughter rules don't really apply. She IS my mother - that's not lost on me by a long shot - but the parental role is not there. She's a lot like me, but she's not exactly like a twin sister, and she's not exactly just a friend. But today, my mother figured out that our relationship is kind of like a...teenage romance.

What the HELL? - was my first reaction to this. But really, she's not too far off.

Think back to your first puppy love crushes or whatever they were when you were a teenager. Oh, the drama. Oh, the agony. Oh, the inability to think of anything/anyone else at times. And of course, there's the mindreading factor...did s(he) look at me THAT way or did s(he) REALLY mean THIS or THAT...and there's the turning the most innocuous statements into OH GOD, S(HE) DOESN'T LOOOOVE ME ANYMORE.

Well, at least it's like that for us.

Many books talk about being stuck in the life cycle, regression, etc. and at first, I tried to equate the emotional immaturity of our relationship to these factors, but it's not exactly that. This dynamic has existed for over three years now, and the only evolutions that have occured are the realizations of what we are doing. It doesn't seem to change the behaviors, though...or at least, it hasn't yet.

I mean, some of the emails we write to each other sound like notes you would pass to your big crush in high school. Oh, I loooooove you, I miss you, have been thinking about you allllll day...all that's missing are the hearts and flowers drawn all over them and the creative origami-like folds in the paper.

Disgusting, isn't it?

I wonder if this strange, immature dynamic will ever stop. I admit, some of it is kind of fun. The highs are wonderful. The lows suck.

So are we the only ones with this odd dynamic?

Something tells me we aren't...

Letting the Lie Control Me

2008-07-26T05:23:00.000-07:00

As usual, after a long talk with my daughter I start thinking. We were talking about the barriers we put up in our relationship and why they are there. More importantly, how they effect how we behave with each other. Naturally, I immediatly thought of this as an adoptee "issue". It's not too hard to understand from an adoptee viewpoint, abandoned once it can happen again and probably will. OK, I can see that. After all what kind of a woman can walk away from her own child. I may get back to my diatribe on that question later in this post or maybe another one. Anyway I was busy this morning doing laundry and drying my hair. I looked in the mirror a saw a woman who was letting the lie control her behavior. This is not an "adoptee issue". It is a problem that occurs when you are outside the norms of society. There are a whole lot of people very eager to tell you how you should think, act, and feel. Everybody says that birth mothers/adoptees should...... Of course ask any three people to finish that statement and you will get four mutually exclusive answers. I started thinking just how much I have let all this influence my behavior.

I am not the type of person that is easily influenced by people's opinion of me. I know I don't like everyone and everyone won't like me. I am fine with that. I try to treat everyone respectfully whether or not I like them and expect the same. So why do I allow the lie and people's acceptance of it to control how I behave with my daughter? This comes out in so many ways. The most incidious is the belief that I don't deserve to have a real relationship with her. I am her mother but I didn't do the hard part, take care of her when she needed a mother. (mothers, ignore all the reasons, this isn't logical its emotional) Consequently, it is hard for me to accept she does love me and will continue to do so. Where do I fit in her life? How can I fit in her life? For the believers in the lie the answer is simple, nowhere except possibly as a source of genetic/medical information. No wonder I keep doing things like getting very close and then at the slightest hint that I have over-stepped my bounds go scurrying back into my corner. It is a safe corner where I can tell myself that I am treating her as an adult and allowing her to make adult decisions. What I am really doing is letting the lie control me. My behavior is at odds with how I feel and what I want. It is at odds with how I relate to other people. Why the hell should I care about what what the lie says? Why should I give a damn about anyone's opinion on our relationship except my daughter's. I send out so many mixed signals that it makes her dizzy. Most of the time I don't even know I am doing it. I need to look in the mirror more often. I want my relationship with my fdaughter to be one that we define free from what other people think it should be. To do that requires an honesty about what we want and what makes us happy. We are adults and have to make accomodations for the other people that are important to us. That doesn't mean that we have to let their opinion dictate how we behave with each other or how we feel about each other. I am sure I will still do an occassional retreat to my corner. Bad habits are hard to break. I hope I have enough sense the next time to pick up the phone and apologize for my bad behavior and tell her why I am feeling scared or hurt.

Now that I am on a roll, I will give my answers about what kind of a woman can give up her baby. I really love this one. When you are unmarried and pregnant the answer is the unselfish kind who cares more for your child than for your own (hormone induced of course) needs. Thirty years later the answer is a self-indulgent bitch who didn't want to bother with taking responisiblity for her own child. Yep, you got it right. In the court of public opinion and the fog masters you really can't win. The real answer for what kind of woman is as diverse as the women who are in a situation where they need to even consider it. The beauty of it is that that the lie (BEST FOR THE CHILD for those of you that missed my analysis of the root of all evil) works for everyone. Is the child inconvienent? No problem you do whats best for the child and get on with your plans. No harm done. Are you scared that you aren't ready to be a mother? No problem, do what is best for the child. No harm done. Are you financially unable to provide a home? No problem, do what is best for the child. No harm done. Are you in a bad relationship/no relationship. Solve the problem by doing whats best for the child. No harm done. In other words, the lie is perfect and fits all occasions. It is the ultimate little black dress. So every woman has her own reason for wearing the little black dress.

A Very Good Day Indeed

2008-07-20T12:55:00.001-07:00

It seems that I always am writing about the turmoil of reunion and not sharing the wonderful parts. Today I get to write about a wonderful part. The short story is that my daughter is on her way home from a visit to her parents. Her relationship with her a-mom has always been a bit strained and has been more so since she found out that my daughter and I met and have a relationship. My daughter always said that she just needed time to come around so she would answer questions when asked but otherwise didn't bring it up. Last night her a-mom did bring it up. It was all positive. Her a-mom has come to terms with our relationship and understands that it is not and never was about her. She knows I am not a relacement for her but that I do have a place in my daughter's life. They resolved a whole lot of things but that is her story to tell.

The reason I'm so happy about all this is it resolves one big load of guilt I was carrying around and it resolves a lot for my daughter. One of the things I never wrote about when I talked about not searching for her and the hesitation about contact was how I felt about her parents. Initially there was a lot of fog induced'those are your real parents' crap. It hasn't been like that for a long time. What has made me feel guilty is that the more I heard about her parents the more I understood that her parents are a perfectly nice couple who wanted a child. They didn't know any more about adoption than I did and no one told them anything except here is YOUR baby. The more I heard the more I felt that I would really like these people. In a way I chose them (non-identifying information only naturally). Notice I have no trouble refering to them as her parents, thats what they are. They are the ones who sat up with her all night when she was sick, took her on vacations, and put up with her when she was a nasty teenager and the rest of it. They are the people who parented her. I respect them for that and, as I said, would probably like them if I ever met them. I hated feeling like I was comming between them and my daughter. I hated that she couldn't talk to her parents about a part of her life. I didn't like the idea that I caused them pain. I din't like the idea that it caused my daughter pain when she felt like she was less than honest with them. Her parents understand now and are OK. They still love her and she loves them They know that. I love my daughter and she loves me. We know that. No one has taken anything away from anyone else. I don't think that I will ever have any contact with them and that is OK too. If it is ever something they want, that is fine with me but it is not something I need to take away guilt. Their acceptace of the relationship between my daughter and I is healing. I know it is for my daughter too. It is a very good day.

So my daughter, her parents and I are lucky. We are all in one piece in spite of the lies. I was told that I was doing THE BEST THING FOR THE BABY. Her parents were told that the baby they adopted WILL BE JUST LIKE YOUR OWN. (I guess you aren't supposed to notice the 5" shorter and so not blue eyed blond part) My daughter was told that she should be GREATFUL. I don't know how you can fix adoption or if it is even possible. I do know that a good start is at least stop the lies. No the mother who relinquishes is NOT going to just forget and get on with her life once the hormones settle. (I am not kidding about this, I really was told that it was just hormones when I said anything about wanting to keep my baby. Let me tell you, those are powerful hormones since they have lasted 39 years.) Then they tell the child how lucky she is. (That should have been enough to keep her out of Vegas. If her luck is growing up feeling like an alien gambling should be avoided under all circumstances). So the resolution with her parents is wonderful. As a side effect it makes me more pissed off than ever about the LIE.

Why Is It so Hard To Believe

2008-07-18T07:23:00.000-07:00

It has been a hard 10 days. I was finally able to get back on and re-read the last two posts. When I read my daughters last post I immediately saw REJECTION. It was like big bold letters, I DON'T NEED YOU, I HAVE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE I NEED RIGHT HERE. So what do I do, withdraw and convince myself that she doesn't really want me in her life, I make everything harder for her. What have I been thinking. She is a grown woman and deserves to have her own life and I am in the way. OK, so a lot of you reading this have probably been down this path about 100 times. She calledme. We talked. I am a complete idiot sometimes (an incomplete idiot other times). I just read her last 2 posts. So why am I so able to believe the rejection I saw in the second post and not the love I saw in the previous one? Easy answer, I really don't believe I deserve a second chance. Well I have a second chance and she has given me a third, fourth, fifth etc. Maybe I will learn. I will keep trying.

Hiding Behind the Mask

2008-07-11T08:05:00.000-07:00

Authenticity...what is it?

As adoptees, many of us hide behind the people-pleasing mask. We are the ultimate chameleons. This has its strong points - most of us have friends from all walks of life and we find something in common with all of them. Learning to adapt is one of our strong suits. It's more than a strong suit - it's a survival mechanism.

In therapy this week, all my doctor had to say was, "How are you?" and I had a major meltdown. Mind you, I rarely cry in his office. And I kept apologizing for crying. I apologized for the suicidal thoughts I had been having. He asked me why I was sorry and smiled at me while he passed the kleenex.

I think I had to let all of that stuff go. Get it out. Get real. I had been holding those people near and dear to me at arm's length without even realizing it. I was so busy trying to keep the smiling face on. I was so busy being supportive of others that I forgot to support myself.

So this week, I let it happen. I let others hold me up. I let my husband really love me. And it felt good. Vulnerability feels good. I am realizing that I have to make an effort not to put on the mask, not to pretend everything is fine when it really sucks, and let my friends be there. That it really is OK for me not to have to be the one that fixes everything all the time.

This week, I rediscovered my true friends, including my Sisters in the Trenches, my music, and that big lug of a man who can be such a thorn in my side some days, but is always there to give me a sloppy kiss and a giant bear hug and remind me what love really is.

Maybe I don't need to be the one who does everything, who fixes everything, who is only there because people NEED something from me. I am starting to learn that sometimes they need to love me, that they WANT to be there for me...that it's not a chore.

Bye bye mask....I'm learning to let go of you.

The Fog, or the Multi-Faceted Monster that Won't Quit

2008-07-05T17:22:00.000-07:00

With my mother posting so much about "the fog" and what it did to her and our relationship from her side, I figured I should chime in from the adoptee angle.

First and foremost, I'm not sure I was ever totally fogged out. I didn't need to hold on to it for survival like my mother did. I think it was more like a revolving door. As a child, the more I heard I should "be grateful" and how my "birth mother", monster that she must be, was a drug addict and/or a prostitute who was lucky she had sense enough to let a proper couple raise her child, the more I would try to think like everyone else did. Surely there was something wrong with me if I missed this monster of a "birth mother". My childhood wasn't perfect, but it was less flawed than many of my peers had to put up with. Yes, surely being relinquished was the best thing for me, I would think....temporarily. Then I would see a woman that looked like me, or something would remind me, or there would be a birthday or a special occasion, and I would be reminded that dammit, I live alone on my own little island here. I don't know if I was too much of a critical thinker and couldn't buy everyone else's rhetoric, or if I was just a rebellious ass (or a combination of both). I just could never fully accept that adoption was the best thing for me. No way.

When I met my mother in Chicago for the first time, it was like the parting of the Red Sea. We had decided to meet in a crowded airport and see if we could find each other. The only picture I had seen of her was 20 years old and she had chosen not to see a picture of me. She wanted to get to know me on the inside before she looked at the outside. I guess I had an unfair advantage in knowing that I was looking for my twin. It was less than half a second before we found each other. When she held me there in the airport, it was surreal. I WAS HOME. HOME. HOME. I never wanted to let go. I felt guilty, I felt wonderful, I felt sick, I was beyond happy, I was terrified. HOME. Is this what home feels like? What if someone takes it away from me?

The next 3 days were both the best and hardest of my entire life. I was constantly reminded of what I had missed, constantly reminded that these few days of heaven were short-lived and I would have to go back to life as I knew it on the opposite side of the country. I wanted to touch her. The desire to hold her was almost overwhelming. More intense, though, was the desire to have HER reach out for ME. I wanted to be wanted. I wanted her to feel what I felt. Based on her actions, I was so sure she didn't. And what was I, some kind of a freak anyway? What kind of 35 year old woman wants to crawl in bed next to her mother and just do nothing but hold her for 3 days?

I have just realized that I am rambling again. This is difficult to talk about.

Anyway, the fallout for me from this experience - having her retreat back into the fog after we met and send those chatty, one-line emails, refuse to tell me she loved me, and refuse to really show any emotion at all - was to fall back into fear of trust and certainty of rejection. Those walls had started to break down after we spoke for the first time and spent 12 hours running up our phone bills. They started to build up in Chicago again because she wouldn't get close to me. And they got sky-high by the time my birthday rolled around that year. She finally started to break down a bit, but I couldn't trust her. I kept thinking, she relinquished you, she refused contact when you found her, and you expect/deserve WHAT exactly??

So over the past three years, I have been doing this crazy dance. I waltz back and forth from wanting her to be so fucking close to me I can't breathe to wanting to kick her out of my life or turn my back on her emotionally so she can see how it feels. I hate that I do this.

What I really want is for her to want to be close to me.
What I really want is not to have to chase her.
What I really want is for her to let go of the fog lies, to quit telling herself she doesn't deserve it, to have her just take the plunge and let me love her.

But she can't. I can't expect her to. She hurts too much, and I've contributed to that hurt over the years. Sometimes I kick her away because I want to prove to myself and people around me that I can survive without her. Heck, I don't need anyone that doesn't need me, right?

But I think we need each other.
I know I need her.

Reunion in the Fog

2008-07-04T11:43:00.000-07:00

I was talking to my daughter yesterday and she was asking me about why I did and said certain things early in our reunion. It accurred to me that I have written about why I had trouble with the whole idea of meeting her and then about what it feels like now. I never have really said much how it was at first. I think it is time I give it a try. As an aside, I am sitting in my den writing this with the assistance of my very new 6 month old kitten Elspth Le Chat (aka Ellie). She is not my beautiful Freija who I miss badly but she is a fine little hellion of a kitten. We have found out the hard way that it is not a good idea to live in an old house in the country without a cat in residence.

Enough of avoidance of the subject. My daughter and I have been in reunion for three years. We met for the first time in Chicago, a neutral city, so we didn't have the spouses, assoted relatives and friends nearby and could just get to know each other. It was wonderful in many ways. We found out we liked the same things, thought the same things were funny, could finish each others sentences and pick out just the right clothes for each other (we both showed up wearing jeans and black tee shirts). It was terrifying for me in many ways. I have never felt so close to a person in my life. I wanted to just hold on to her and bring her home with me. Everything I believed about adoption screamed WRONG! I was some kind of a freak. She couldn't have the same feelings I did. She didn't remember me. I was NOT her mother. Her mother was the woman who adopted her and gave her everything I couldn't. Why should she care for me. She would try to get close and I would pull back. My feelings for her were so strong and 'inappropriate'. She was a grown woman with a family of her own. There was no place for me. She already had a mother she didn't need me to mother her. All this and more. One of the strongest feelings was that I didn't deserve her. In some ways I didn't want her to need me. If she needed me then something was wrong in the perfect world with the loving parents and the swimming pool that was the best thing for her. The problem was that I loved her and believed I had no right to. Her mother deserved that love not me. When I went home after our 3 days together I was numb. I didn't know what to think or how to react. I pulled back and sent her chatty little e-mails. I was so sure that if I bent an inch that I would smother her and she would run away as fast as she could from the crazy woman who thought she could just waltz into her life and be mommy. In short, I put up barriers based on what I thought she should want and on the lie.

It is hard to explain what it is like being in reunion and clinging to the fog (the lie). I had gotten through 35 years believing that I did the best thing for her. That belief is what got me through all the hard times of wondering where she was, how she was and just feeling empty without her. Wherever she was it was a much better place than I could have provided. I clung to that belief like a life line. It has caused more harm to our reunion than anything else but I just couldn't see it. I can understand how some women can never get by it. I just kept setting up rules about how I should act with her. Sometimes I would slip and let my feelings show. Naturally I would then jump back to the nice safe place in the fog and go for the caring adult relationship. My feelings terrified me. I couldn't face the idea of her not being part of my life but I had to protect her from from the crazy woman who wanted to just run away with her. I had to be an adult. I had to let her be an adult. I started reading and the first truth I came to accept was that adoptees have a lot in common including feeling rejected (well duh) and never being quite good enough. OK, I could help her with that. I could reassure her that I did what was best for her because I loved her and let her know she was more than good enough for me (actually I think she is amazing). There is an interesting set of boundries, give what you think your daughter needs/wants but never ask for anything. It makes perfect sense with the lie. Just what everyone needs, their own personal martyr. After all this, the short answer about what reunion is like is terrifying. It is not because I cared too little it is because I thought I cared too much and would smother her.

I am still working on this. Even after recognizing the lie for what it is. it is still hard for me to ask for anything because I don't want to be demanding. I still back off and give her 'room' even when she doesn't want it because I am afraid by holding her too close I will loose her. I'm working on it.

Fallout From the Lie

2008-06-29T12:48:00.000-07:00

My daughter and I have been talking about a lot of things including my sometimes odd behavior and some of her feelings. I have been thinking about it a lot. First thing is that she dropped everything and called me when she got my e-mail about Freija, She knew how I felt and knew I needed her. She was there for me. We have had conversations since. Somewhere along the line it occurred to me that it is amazing that she actually loves me. Why should she? She didn't relinquish me, I reliquished her. Yes I was hurt by it but at least I got a vote and I delt with the fallout as an adult. She didn't get a vote and had to deal with the fallout as a child. It is hard to rationalize when you are an infant and no one can explain that it is 'best for you' when you hurt. I am not saying that it is easy for the mothers but at least there is the lie to cling to. So I am trying to wrap my mind around what it really means to be adopted. I realized that a lot of my weird behavior comes about when I simply have no idea what to do or how to react. Believe me, it is not a pretty sight. The only way I know is to really open up my mind to what adoption does to a person including some very sad pieces. The saddest for me is understanding that I can't make it go away like it never happened. I can't make her feel secure and safe and loved. I can do better with accepting and understanding her and get by my self-centered hurt feelings and self-protective behaviors. In short, I have to get by the deer in the headlights reactions (OK I will slip sometimes but I can get better). So this is going to be one of those posts where I probably manage to offend way too many people and be told that I am full of shit and I haven't got a clue. I don't intend any offense. I know that I don't really have a clue so I won't take offense when someone (including you Fuzzy Duck) tells me that I am clueless. I don't even think that my thoughts are entirely coherent at this point. So take them for a straw man. I have to start somewhere.

Separation is unatural. An infant knows the differnce between their mother and a kind stranger. They were together for 9 months, one person. An infant feels safe with the mother who is familiar (yes I do belive mother/child bonding starts before birth. I didn't until recently). The child is hurt by the separation. At some point the child knows that they (for those linguisically inclined I can't bring my feminist self to use the 'he' and the he/she is just cumbersome) are adopted and has to make sense of it. There is no way for a child to make sense of it other than mommy didn't want me. I don't care how it gets dressed up, children are quite literal and will see it as rejection. The child then feels sure that there is something wrong with them if their mother didn't want them. Then, no mateer if someone tries to tell them differently it follows that if they aren't very good their parents will also reject them. So life gets to be a constant challange of trying to prove that they are good enough. They can't feel safe and loved just for themselves. I am sure that as a normal part of growing up there is more than a fair share of acting up and pushing back but the underlying problem is just not feeling good enough. Love becomes very conditional. I will be loved if I follow all the rules. I will be loved if I act like you, think like you, do what you want. At some point a lot of adoptees realize they have been totally screwed over. What I can't really understand is that why when they look for us they are not comming armed. Not kicking in the door and kicking us to a bloody pulp until we explain what the fuck we thought we were doing is a triumph of rationality over justifiable anger. Then to add to the fun they get confronted with fog ladden self-righteousness followed by a sappy attempt to make it better. And people wonder why they are such ungrateful little bastards. I am suprised that my daughter does love me. I am suprised she lets me love her. I need to get over the self pitty that causes hurt feelings when I am 'trying to do my best' and she pulls back. The fact is that I got a vote in the relinquishment and she didn't. I was an adult dealing with the pain of separation and she was a child. She is entitled to anger at me. I am entitled to my anger at the lie and the people who perpetuate that lie for their profit and self interest. I am angry at her hurts that I can't heal. I am happy that she is in my life and that we love each other.

RIP Freija Ann

2008-06-22T21:18:00.001-07:00

The fuzzy rat's beloved kitty cat, Freija Ann, was tragically run over by a car this weekend. She was honestly the most beautiful cat I had ever seen. This was the "fur sister" that I swear helped me through all of my exams and auditions over the past three years by sacrificing rodents and other small animals (sniff) on my behalf. She was a tough outdoor cat, yet the most sleek, graceful animal you can imagine. I only got to meet her a few times, but I really will miss her. I'm really animal-sensitive as is my mother. I know many of you out there get it with the animal thing. Animals are family. Freija will be missed and remembered fondly.

On another note, adoption sucks.
I just can't say anything more about it tonight. It just sucks.
It has slayed me.
Tonight, I hurt to the very core of my being, and I feel like no one understands.
Yet I know that I have to pick myself up, dust myself off, and walk on alone like I always have.
It's what I do.
I was born to be alone. I don't "belong" to anyone. Never have, never will.
No one gets it.
No one understands.
I am alone.
I have nothing intelligent to say. Hell, I rarely have anything intelligent to say.
I'm screwed up. I hurt. I am alone.
At least that's how I feel tonight.

It Is Good To Know I Am Not Crazy

2008-06-20T06:41:00.000-07:00

I have just been re-reading the responses to my previous post. There are so many times that I start thinking that I am imagining things and it is just me. Even my husband who has been wonderfully supportive during the ups and downs of reunion doesn't understand that adoption is harmful. He understands how my daughter and I feel about each other and is very fond of her and my grandson. He doesn't understand about the the the painful parts. I was on Phil's blog and was completely blown away when I saw what he had written about mothers believing they were doing whats best. Reading what everyone said really made me understand that this is not just a me thing. I am not crazy when I say that I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't believed the lie. Part of me just kept wondering if that was just an excuse and all I cared about at the time was getting past a problem. Its not how I remember feeling but can I trust my memories? Was I trying to re-write the past in order to justify the unjustifiable? Thanks to all of the responses I know that it isn't me being delusional.

Speaking of thanks, you guys are helping me through another difficut time with my daughter. For the past week she han't been communicating at all. I send her e-mails and no response. I think I know what is going on but of course can't be sure. I just try to keep reminding her that I am here for her and love her. Yes it is all about adoption "issues". I am angry, sad, hurt and about every other emotion you can imagine. It helps to know this isn't just my daughter and I going through the difficulties of reunion. There is nothing wrong with us. There is everything wrong with separation. There is everything wrong with believing the lie. Canuck, I hope the contact results in reunion for you. It is hard to face the fact that by believing the lie we have harmed our children. It is impossible to understand what is going on in a reunion if we don't.

The Lie That Keeps Working

2008-06-14T07:37:00.000-07:00

I was hesitant to write this. My daughter's post about birth mothers (I am using that very obnoxious term deliberatly because that is what we are when we are in the fog) really struck a chord with me. I have written before about why I relinquished. I haven't really understood why women would now. There are so many options. Society is fairly accepting of single mothers. Abortion is legal and safe. That was stupid of me to miss the whole point. The adoption industry stays alive and well based on the one big lie that keeps working. THE child deserves a better life than you can provide. It is pefect. It hits a very basic instinct, give your child the best life you possibly can. It is the all purpose lie. It works if you are poor. It works if you think you don't know how to be a good mother. It works if you are busy with a career and think there are not enough hours in the day to care for your child. It even works if you are married and didn't plan to get pregnant. You can give your child a better life than they would have with you. Not only that, you can give a nice couple who has the time/money/need to parent a wonderful gift. Forget the rest of the BS about how you will get over it and how you get to feel good about the decision as you get on with your life. That is a side show. What works is that the mother believes that her choice is to give her child the best possible life or be selfish and deny her child a good life. As a bonus you even get to make two strangers very happy. The whole thing wouldn't even be a lie if it weren't for one small inconvienent truth, an infant knows and wants their mother not just any person who cares for them. Separation from the mother hurts the child and they will remember the hurt. If I had known that my daughter needed ME more than she needed a nice married couple with a stable income and a desire to parent there is no way in hell I would have signed those damn papers. That is the bit of full disclosure that you don't hear when you are trying to figure out what to do.

I was hesitant to write this because in retrospect it sounds like some kind of lame excuse for taking the easy way out. I am writing about it because I think that it is something that most adoptees really don't understand. It is obvious to all/most adoptees reading this that they needed their mother not a substitute. It is not obvious to most people because you don't remember what it felt like to have your mother hold you when you were an infant. There are too many people who know what it feels like to not have their mother hold them. This inconvienent truth is also the last thing n-moms and a-moms want to hear. I am going out on a limb here and trying to speak for n-moms. I have avoided that because I have always felt that I could only speak for myself. I'm sure that there are plenty out there who will say I don't speak for them. They will be right. There are others who can't because facing it is hard. We relinquished because we wanted to give our children the very best we could. Even if we had known (they lie about this part too) that we would not just forget and get over it and that there would always be an emptiness no one could fill but our missing child we would have done it anyway. Finding out years later that you were what your child needed and you caused so much hurt to your child by not being there is devastating. I never believed I would go through anything as painful as the reliquishment. Comming out of the fog and understanding the harm I caused my daughter was worse. For the first two years of I reunion I clung to the belief that I did the right thing because I couldn't face the reality of the hurt I caused. It still hurts because I cannot heal her pain. I know that so much of what she goes through now is because I reliquished her. Sometimes it helps a bit because I am in her life now. It is a bit strange that I am glad I finally faced this. I,m not sure exactly why that is true and there are times that I would love to sink back into the fog and really believe that I made the right decision but I don't.

The reason (yes I will finally come to the point) that I decided to write this is that I have read a lot about adoptees searching, reunions and their difficulties, and reunions gone astray. A common theme seems to be that adoptees don't understand why they were 'rejected' and n-moms don't understand or can't face the fact that they caused harm to their child. So, I am on a crusade. I want full disclosure before any adoption decision is made that includes the following facts.

YOUR CHILD MAY BE HARMED BY ADOPTION. YOUR CHILD MAY HAVE LIFE LONG ISSUES WITH LOW SELF-ESTEEM, FEELINGS OF INADEQUACY, DIFFICULTY IN FORMING ATTACHMENTS, AND FEAR OF REJECTION.

ADOPTION AGENCIES WHETHER PUBLIC OR PRIVATE WILL BE MAKING MONEY FROM THE ADOPTION

ADOPTION LAWS ARE WRITTEN TO BENEFIT THE ADOPTING PARENTS NOT THE CHILD

Anguish and Art

2008-06-10T22:09:00.000-07:00

I spent most of today working on music. I know that's a luxury I won't have in a short period of time and the musical side of me is going to be a real bitch to let go of. My friend and I practiced diligently for hours and for once I really put my soul into what I was doing. I guess it worked, because she said my voice gave her chills today (she meant in a good way!) Our harmonies were perfect, the windows were wide open, and I didn't care how many neighbors witnessed our experimentations. Oh yes, it felt great.

As usual though, my songwriting betrayed my outer sunny dispositon. In a 5 minute stream of consciousness, I came up with

You’re here but somewhere else tonight
And I’m wondering if you’ll stay
I know you lie when you don’t look at me that way
Your private hell is my dominion
But my heart won’t let it go
And as usual I’m the very last to know

The first time was a revelation
The next it was a falter
The third time focused my suspicions
On my hurt and if it mattered

I’ve often held your hand in silence
Played games with borrowed time
Somehow believed your truth was close to mine
I’ll hide behind your inhibitions
And make believe you’ve got a clue
All I needed was to feel you loved me too

The first time was a revelation
The next it was a falter
The third time focused my suspicions
On my hurt and if it mattered

Save me the empty promises
And make me believe you might stay
I’ve begged you not to look at me that way
Let’s pretend this part won’t matter
It’s late and your heart’s grown cold
This time I’ll be the one to let it go

I think I'm on a downward spiral.

Brainwashed!

2008-06-08T09:59:00.001-07:00

In my never-ending quest to further understand relinquishment and how a woman could be coerced to have someone else raise their child, I started reading "Birthmother Stories" on an open adoption agency's website. This was a particularly moving collection. It was a concentrated blend of brainwashing all on one page. It almost sounds as if all of these women joined a cult.

I chose adoption not to give [my baby] to xxx and xxx, but to give xxx and xxx to [my baby].

I still visit [my baby] once a month and [my boyfriend] and I are still together. We plan on getting married and having children of our own one day.
(WTF???)

I had always made sure that I would not be a woman who would bring an unwanted child into the world, and here I was—pregnant... Now I am not ashamed or embarrassed about the pregnancy that I went through. I am proud of the decision I made. I hear from the family once in awhile. [The adoptive mother] will call out of the blue just to thank me again. It's wonderful. I'm married now and have another child; my life has gone on. I thank God for making me a better person through my trials.

It was very painful for me to watch him go but I knew in my heart it was right. Sonne kept in touch with letters and lots of pictures which helped ease the pain a little. I got to watch him grow and change, although at a distance. That was okay though, because I knew he was getting so much more than I could have given him...I believe that [my child] came through me, not to me. He is where he was meant to be and he is having a wonderful life.

I'll tell you right now...if my mother had tried to tell me some of these things by the time I was an adult, I might have gone postal. I don't want to hear what a great choice you made. I don't want to hear how relinquishing me made you a better person. I don't want to hear how you are only a fucking walking uterus. I don't want to hear how easy it was for you and how I should be grateful to be in a nice suburban home with a swimming pool.

Time to get real, people.

As much as my mother and I "clicked" initially, I don't think our relationship became "real" until she could start to confront her pain and we could discuss how we BOTH felt.

Why aren't women told the truth? Why aren't they given more than one side to a story? Why aren't women who go to adoption agencies in fear and desperation given the flip side? They sure as hell give you the flip side when you go in to get an abortion. Abortion isn't a band aid to get rid of the "problem", they tell you. You will feel pain for your decision and may need some counseling to get through this...you may grieve the loss of your baby...your hormones are going to whack out on you...I was told all of these things when I had an abortion in my twenties. Oh, but wait, excuse me, if agencies tell the REAL truth about how much adoption might suck for you, the agencies might lose money. And there are REAL parents waiting to raise your child. Parents that are better than you could ever be, you minimum-wage-earning-worthless-vessel.

What does it take for the world to start looking more critically at the system, questioning what is really going on instead of just accepting these happy dappy stories at face value???

What More Do I have To Say

2008-06-05T17:40:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I start feeling like I am alone in this and ther is nothing more I can add to a discussion. Maybe I have said everything I have to say. Maybe we do just get through the hard parts day by day and by ourselves. Then I get a comment. I find out that something I wrote strikes a chord and maybe will make a difference. I am starting to understand that the adoptees are a lot more open. We keep our fears to ourseves. Thats what we think we are supposed to do. After all, we know that it is our fault. We are the ones who made the decision even if we really didn't have a choice or believed that we didn't have one. Our children didn't get a choice. I don't think that anyone who is reading this really believes they made a good choice, just the only choice we thought we had. It doesn't matter why we made that choice, it only matters that we did. We can come up with a lot of reasons or excuses but it comes back to the fact that we signed those damned papers. Can we forgive ourselves for that. Can our children forgive us for that. I wish I knew. The duck and I are in a better place. Maybe she is learning to trust. Maybe she is learning that I do love her and have since before she was born. Maybe she will never really believe it. Maybe she will never really understand what she means to me but just maybe she will. Thats what keeps me goimg, maybe she will. One thing I have learned is that is not good to hide the hurt from our children. We try to protect them and don't want to tell them that it hurt us too. It sounds so sefish. After all, we were the decision makers. What right do we have to say we hurt too. I have come to understand that by not telling them we are saying that it was easy. They are the ones with problems, not us. We want to protect them but they don't need protection. They need the truth. That makes us face the truth. I wish that someone had told me the truth 39 years ago. Maybe I wanted to believe that I was doing 'the right thing for THE child'. It would be so much easier if it were true. Now I know it is a lie. Why didn't I know it then. Why do women still believe the lie.

So, enough about me for the moment. My daughter is OK. Her husband (dare I write my son-in-law) is fine. It was very scary but turned out OK. I am glad I was there for her. I wish that I could have been with her instead of a voice on the phone.

Love and Loss

2008-06-01T20:40:00.000-07:00

Last night, I had a horrible scare with my husband. I took him to the ER with severe chest pains. They admitted him and ran all kinds of tests, and luckily he got to go home this afternoon...but the last 24 hours have been hell. I think I've gotten an hour of sleep. Tomorrow he goes in for more testing. They're not sure what is going on. I'm trying to maintain a calm exterior, go through the motions, do all the adult things that need to be done. I am trying not to do worst-case-scenario trains of thought and instead, concentrate on one hour at a time, staying on task, making sure bases are covered, i's are dotted and t's are crossed.

This is a scenario that many of us have had to go through, but I wonder sometimes if adoptees have an extra layer of difficulty because of the constant fear of loss that is within us. In a way, it seems like we should be experts at loss - after all, it's a core part of our beings. I realized today that I'm really, truly terrified of being alone. I almost lost my aparents to simultaneous heart attacks 17 years ago (yes, you read that right - 2 parents in the CCU at the same time). That was really scary and sad and overwhelming and indescribable and...but lemme tell you. The thought of having something awful happen to my husband is something else again. This man has been the core of my existence for the last 11 years - longer if you count all the times we dated and broke up in the 9 years prior to that. He is my lover, my best friend, my rock, my companion. We've had our ups and downs like every other married couple, sure. But in a sense, he's also been a father figure to me. He met me when I was 18 and he literally helped me finish growing up. He was there for me in all the ways my aparents weren't capable of (trust me, there is a long story there). He's been faithful as a puppy dog over all these years. I realized today that I always just assumed he'd be there, that I would be the one to die first. It wasn't really a conscious assumption...I just can't imagine a world without him.

I'm really rambling tonight. I'm still really scared.

My fuzzy rat mother has been wonderful through this. Whatever drama we have been dealing with in our relationship is kind of an aside at the moment. I'm starting to learn that she is just there, unconditionally, no matter how shitty things get. I love her very much. I'm learning to trust very slowly, I think.

I promise I'll type more coherent posts later. I'm just feeling like a little girl sucking her thumb at the moment...very childlike. I guess I just had to let off some steam here.

Whoever you are...thanks for listening.

We Are Back

2008-06-01T18:15:00.000-07:00

For those of you that saw the goodbye post from the fuzzy duck, she will be back very soon. She asked me to delete the post. She is having a rough time now but understands that this is importanat for both of us and will be back on the board. I am happy about that but I wish that she wasn't going through so much turmoil right now.

Its hard to explain what has been going on. As much as we communicate there are times when we can just get in different places and hurt each other. Its hard but I have had some time to think about it. I can hurt her. She can hurt me. We have trouble saying when we have been hurt. It is too easy to just retreat back to what did you expect. It is too easy to believe that you have been crazy to think that you are important and so many reasons to believe that we really aren't. It is one of the hardest parts of reunion. Inside each of us thinks we don't really have a place and we are intrusions on each other's lives. The feeling of rejection and unwortheyness are both very real. It has the same root. The belief that both of us have had for so long that we are just not good enough. How can we believe that we really are good enough to deserve each other's love? How can we believe that we are important to each other? How can we learn to say when we are hut and trust each other? I know that it will take time. What we have realized is that loving each other doesn't save us from doubts and hurts. We have realized is that neither one of us can be apart. We need each other in so many ways. Living so far apart is hell. It makes everything so much harder. We both have said thing we regret. We have both reacted in ways that seemed to make sense at the time but we regret. The root of all evil is reliquishment and the fog lies. I am just begining to understand how much we have been hurt and how each of us is reacting to the same hurt.

This has been a very hard one. We were just starting to get back to where we should be and talking again. A really bad scare just occured in her life. She called and I think I was able to help some. We have talked a few times today. She needs me and I am 2400 miles away. I hate that. She needs to be hugged and have just a little bit of time where she can beloved and cared for instead of being strong and taking care of everyone else. I want to be there so much and instead all I can do for now is tell her how much I love her and even make her laugh a bit. I want to be there and just give her some time where she can lean on me for a time. I want to just hold her and tell her it will be all right. I want to help with my grandson. I want to do the shopping and make dinner so she doesn't have to. More than anything I just want to give her a bit of time where she can just cry and be held and loved before she pulls herself together again and do what she does so well, take care of everyone else.

She will be back soon.

Today I am a Lucky Bastard

2008-05-16T21:56:00.001-07:00

I know I have whined on here before about my aparents' complete and utter apathy about my upcoming graduation and how my feelings were so hurt...but get this.

They arrived here this afternoon for graduation #2, two days after my fuzzy rat mother left. Which felt strange in itself for all kinds of reasons. Anyway, my son and I met them at their hotel and we all went out for dinner and were drinking margaritas and...

They were DIFFERENT....like in a good way.

They actually were asking about school, what I was doing, about my friends, and said several times that they were PROUD OF ME. Yes, that's right. They said they were PROUD OF ME. Both of them. I was speechless. We're talking VERY significant words here. I haven't heard those words for at least 20 years.

The really funny moment came after a round of margaritas when I was explaining to my mom how hard it was to get into that insane school and told her about my friend that is double majoring and graduating at 19 because she is just a beautiful fucking genius (I mean, she REALLY is). My mom said, "Who ARE these people?" Then she looked at me and said, "How the HELL did YOU get in there??" And I soooooo got what she meant and was laughing right along with her. Because I have thought that very same thing so many times. I was such a flake the first time I attempted to go to school. My parents always knew deep down I was a nerd but that I rarely applied myself and got rather shabby grades in college before this. Then my mom said, "Well, it doesn't matter WHEN you did it, it just matters that you DID it and we're proud of you." And then she said something about how hard music was, (she took piano lessons for many years and was pretty impressive at one point), and that she had been worried about me because she knew how hard it would be and she was worried that I wouldn't graduate because of it.

Um, excuse me, did someone go and do brain surgery on my parents? These aren't the same people I have known for 38 years.

Anyway, after we left, they pulled up next to my car and my mom got a greeting card out and said, "Here, this is for your graduation." And I opened it, and it was the sweetest, most loving card. They signed it, "We are proud of you! We love you. Mom and Dad." And inside was a very large check. Large enough that I don't have to worry about anything for a while. I couldn't believe it.

Suffice it to say, I turned into a blubbering crying mess right there in the back seat, but they were happy tears. It wasn't about the money....it was because for the first time in many years, I felt like they really do love me.

Yes, I am a lucky bastard tonight. My fuzzy rat mother loves me and so do my parents. I get extras.

I just wish my fuzzy rat mother wasn't at home hurting right now, wishing she could be here. But I hope she reads this and feels good. If I know her well enough, I think she will.

Mother's Day Cards and Graduation

2008-05-15T11:01:00.000-07:00

I got home last night late as usual with airport delays after 4 days with my daughter. Mother,s day and graduation were firsts. Our first mother's day together and the first major life event together. That is a lot in four days. I can't write about the card or the gift because I'll start crying all over again. Yes I really am her MOTHER. Most of the time I am even a good mother. At least I try to be and I want to be because my daughter is wonderful. That isn't quite right, I want to be a good mother because I have a daughter that means the world to me. Her husband gave me a great present, a day alone with her. After breakfast he took my grandson and went over to his mother's house for a family celebration and sent us off. It was a perfect day. The Hallmark holiday I have always loathed and it was perfect. I should have had 38 of them by now but I believed the lies. I want to turn Mother's Day into Stop Adoption Day. I'm sure Hallmark could come out with some appropriate cards.It's not that I am not grateful (yes we are also supposed to be grateful for the wonderful people who gave our child the good home THE child deserves). I am grateful that my daughter found me and was stubborn enough to not take no for an answer. I am grateful that I have a husband who supports me and cares for my daughter and grandson. I am grateful for a daughter that dragged me out of the fog and taught me how to be alive again. I am grateful for the support from the adoptees and natural mothers who showed me I wasn't alone in this. And to all the judgmental hypocrites out there who delight in re-allocating children to worthy people who can give THE child what they deserve (swimming pool included) I am grateful that they taught me a lesson. May all of them have the same opportunity.

Graduation was wonderful. I was there with my grandson, son-in-law, his mother and sister. I got to see her in her cap and gown and hear the speeches. I got to go out to dinner with all of them. I got to tell her how proud of her I am. I got to feel so puffed up thinking look what my beautiful, smart talented daughter has accomplished. There will be more this weekend. The small departmental graduation this weekend where she will be given her diploma and recognized as graduating with honors. There will be a performance on Saturday night where the graduating seniors will be signing. She will sing some very funny songs. I won't be there. Her parents will arrive tomorrow. We did the right thing. It hurts.

So mother's day and graduation gave me so much more than I ever thought I would have. I am an ungrateful bitch because it hurts that I didn't get it all.

Mother's Day

2008-05-10T10:27:00.001-07:00

What would an adoption blog be without the obligatory MOTHER'S DAY post? C'mon now.

Okay, we hate this Hallmark Holiday as much as all y'all do. But this year for us will be different.

This year, we're spending it together. For the first time in 38 years.

I'm on the way to the airport to pick her up. She is coming for my graduation, but in trying to ignore the Hallmark Holiday, we didn't even realize that she was going to be here over Mother's Day. We scored.

So I decided this year, she deserved what she has never received - a homemade Mother's Day Card, made out of a folded piece of paper and drawn in purple crayon. I drew a couple of stick figures in it with hearts and stuff. The inside says:

So here it is - that awful day
I used to wish to forget.
I loved you every Mother's Day
Even though we never met.

But this year's very different -
Today won't be a fight
Cuz we've got wine and cheese and each other
And we'll do this day up RIGHT.

I know, I know, it won't win any awards, but hey, it's how I feel, okay?

I will be thinking of all of my fellow adoptees and natural moms out there - those who were lucky enough to overthrow the system, get the paperwork you weren't "entitled" to, and fight through the fog to find each other.

Most of all, I will be thinking of all of you that can't share this day together and hoping you find the strength to cope.

Mother's Day: The Day Adoption Sucks for Everyone.

Let's just all get drunk. We deserve it. Cheers.

Once Born, Twice Rejected

2008-05-09T20:18:00.001-07:00

A fellow adoptee just got the infamous REJECTION letter this week. When I read the words her mother wrote to her, I could feel my insides tying themselves in knots. I wish I didn't know how it felt to hear words like that. I wish that no adoptee ever had to feel that kind of pain.

Yet, in getting to know my Fuzzy Rat Mother over the past three years, and getting to understand her thought processes - from being deeply entrenched in the fog to coming out on the other side - I have to admit I have a certain amount of empathy for this adoptee's mother, as much as her letter pissed me off. I wish I could run to this woman's house, bang on her door, and scream at her until she understood that she is hurting herself as well as her daughter. But I know there is nothing I could say, nothing I could do, and that just kills me.

This woman loves her daughter, but she can't let herself be loved...she doesn't seem to think she deserves it. Or something.

I just hope, perhaps beyond reason, that this woman will somehow, some way decide to open her door.

She doesn't know what she's missing.

Alienation

2008-05-06T22:07:00.000-07:00

My mother and I have been talking a lot lately about communication and why it's been so essential to the "success" of our reunion.

But is our reunion really a "success"?

Really, is ANY reunion of people separated by adoption really a "success"? How do you even begin to measure that?

Okay, let's look at the bright side. Confronting all these emotions, even sharing this blog, has been very healing for both of us. My mother has come out of the fog and is starting to learn how to feel again. I am learning how not to feel guilty for feeling. I have met three people - my mother, my aunt, and my grandmother, who I have grown to love dearly - not just because they are part of my flesh and blood, but because I think they are genuinely good people...people that I would be honored to know whether they were my own flesh and blood or not. Yes, in that department, I consider myself extremely lucky. They are worth every bit and more of searching hell - all 17 years, including the years that my mother refused contact because the fog had gotten her so bad.

I'm sure our little "reunion" would be perfect on Oprah or something. Oh look how WUNNERFUL it all is. Gee, we look SO MUCH ALIKE. My mother is continually amazed that the very same people who would have trashed her and thought she was a slut for getting pregnant would be the very same people who think it is so WUNNERFUL that we are reunited now.

Yet here I am, still a fucking alien. Here is my mother, still feeling like the Sainted Slut.

I shouldn't feel that way, should I? I got the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, at least in Adopto-Land. I am on the Path Of Healing. I am Out Of the Fog. I have Stopped Drinking the Fucking Kool-Aid. I Found A Great Family Who Loves Me And Accepts Me And Is Relatively Drama-Free. I don't have to hide from anyone. I don't have any half-siblings on my mother's side that don't know about me. My mother's husband actually seems to like me and like my son too. My aunt and my grandmother act like maybe I just went on an extended vacation or something and they missed me for a few years - I think it's their own way of coping with the weirdness. My adoptive family just chooses to ignore the whole thing, but both of my parents told me at one time that they were happy for me, and underneath all the hurt, I know they secretly still are. That could be a fuck of a lot worse.

So if my newly found family so readily accepts me, why the heck can't I just embrace them and stop alienating myself? I hate to use the term, but why can't I just be grateful?

I know why...because I have gotten too comfortable with being the alien. I'm not comfortable being on the inside. I don't really know what unconditional love is outside of my relationships with my husband and my son. When I first met my mother, I looked for similarities. Now sometimes I look for ways that we are different and use it as an excuse to alienate myself a little more. I can't bring myself to go back to Ohio again. It's too comfortable, therefore it's uncomfortable. One of the hardest things in the world for me to do is sit around the table and eat a meal surounded by people who look and act like me, people I don't have to struggle to find something to talk about with. People I don't worry about offending because we agree about almost anything, or at least see each other's logic chains and can very amicably agree to disagree with no hard feelings. It's stupid. That actually HURTS me.

It's awful in some ways, I think, having a "good reunion". It reminds me too much of what I missed. And I can think of about 1000 people who probably want to bitch-slap me for saying such a thing that would kill for the situation I've got.

Be that as it may, tonight I am feeling that deep, awful adoptee anguish again.

It's never going to go away, is it?

Expressing Emotions or Why Reunions Are Hard

2008-05-04T13:03:00.000-07:00

As always when Fuzzy Duck and I are together things happen, sometimes good sometimes not so good but always things that lead one or both of us to a better understanding. Las Vegas was no exception. For the first time I actually let down my defenses and let all the emotions out. When we were talking today she was asking me about it. She sees this as totally out of character for me and doesn't seem to think of it as a real permanant state for me. Since I was having trouble articulating she suggested I blog. As usual, she is right. Writing makes me stop and think before I put something down and keeps me out of mental loops and facile answers so I will give it a try.

Fuzzy Duck is right when she says that I behaved differntly (and still am by the way). I can see why she raises her cute little eyebrow in great scepticism. As an aside, she has a cute little eyebrow thanks to skill with wax not great genes. She inhereted the uni-brow from me. Sorry about that Duck. So, back to the subject at hand. The fact is that I am behaving more like myself than I have for the last 38 years. I even find myself gratuitously hugging my mother. Before Fuzzy Duck (BFD), OK I couldn't resist that one, I was very open, affectinate, and senstive. Post Fuzzy Duck (PFD) I became very reserved and very distrusting of emotions. I could introduce you to a lot of co-workers who would describe me a a cold bitch, my friends would just call me reserved. I got through 35 years by denying emotion. I wasn't cold or unfeeling just careful to keep emotions in check. It was the only way I could get through it. If I ever let my emotions loose I don't know what would have happened. It is hard to describe but it was a knowledge that if I ever allowed emotions to surface that I would just start screaming and crying and loose all control so I kept a very tight control. It gets easier with practice. I learned to lock away a part of myself. It was always there and the emotions would come out at weird times but I learned control. Perhaps I should have entered a convent. I would have been good at it. All empathy and no sympathy worked for me. She asked me if this change came all of a sudden. The answer is no. Over the last 3 years I have been gradually dropping little pieces of the control when I am with her until I realized that the control was not needed. I think that what finally happened was when I saw her this time I just felt safe with her. I didn't need to control my emotions, there was no longer a purpose for it. Its not that I think that there will be no more difficult times between us. Of course there will. We have both been horribly hurt by the reliquishment and carry around all sorts of ugly baggage. I don't need this baggage anymore. I am safe with her. I imagine I am capable of back-sliding a bit if my feelings get hurt but it will be a tempoaray state. No one and nothing can take her away from me again. She chose to love me and let me be a part of her life. I am a very fortunate woman.

Leaving Las Vegas (Me Too)

2008-05-03T07:09:00.000-07:00

I finally got home after a week long conference following my visit with the Fuzzy Duck. I hated her leaving. I hated staying. She is so right. I miss her like crazy. It hurts but not the same way. I feel loved. It makes me smile and want to dance. I keep sending her virtual hugs and I think she feels them.

She is also so right about our latest discovery, reaction to the same hurts. We will blog about this. For the first time I opened up about my feelings and how I coped and what I believed about myself. I never could before because it always felt like I would be saying that I was hurt as much as she was so her pain was no more important than mine. I had no right to dump anything on her head because it was my stupid decision to relinquish. Not telling her was the wrong thing to do. It was the best thing for both of us. It suprised me how much of our behaviors were just different reactions to the same rhing, a big hole in our lives. How could she understand what I meant by needing her when she didn't understand how much I missed her for all those years. No wonder reunions are hard. Honesty and openess about feelings is difficult for both. You have to over come all the self-protective strategies developed over the years. It is so worth it.

Leaving Las Vegas

2008-04-28T12:42:00.000-07:00

I got back from our visit last night. We hadn't seen each other in 5 months. To say that it was wonderful is the understatement of the century.

One of the common themes of our face to face meetings is that we always have new revelations. We knew that we had a lot of parallel insecurities/paranoias/baggage, but we could have created the world's biggest flow chart after our discussions over the past three days. It is truly amazing. We will blog about it later. I am still spinning.

I miss my mother...god, I miss her sooooooo much.

Leaving always sucks, but there is a difference this time. This time, even though the rawness of missing her is awful just like it always is, I genuinely feel warm, fuzzy, and loved on the inside.

I don't think I have to wonder anymore what it feels like to have a mother that really loves you.

I really, really hope it lasts.

Pre-face-to-face Jitters

2008-04-22T07:47:00.000-07:00

So do any of you out there in blogland experience this phenomenon?

Or is it just us?

Or maybe it's just me.

I think the she-doesn't-really-love-me jitters are some sort of anxiety I go through before we meet when we haven't seen each other in a long time. A lot of those fears are buried, latent, just waiting to pop up at the most inappropriate moment...but they seem to be triggered by knowing I'm going to see her again. I get sooooooo insecure, and sometimes the insecurites really have no merit, aside from the fact that I'm adopted.

Anyway, the fuzzy rat and I are working through it and it feels good. I am starting to feel the love, man.

How do we work through this crap?

People ask me all the time, "How is it that you can SHARE A BLOG with your mother???" Well, the open communication is what gets us through that. I think there is very little that we go through - good, bad, and ugly - that we don't share with the other. In being so nauseatingly open with each other, we find that many of our insecurities/fears/worries have parallels. And even if we don't see the parallels, we have an advantage in that our minds form similar logic chains. I don't think that's true for every mother/daughter pair. It's true for us, and we milk the hell out of it.

Even before my mother came out of the fog, she still shared much of what was going on in her brain. And even though I wanted to scream at her and shake some sense into her and get her to stop drinking the kool aid, we got through those first couple of years because she was HONEST and OPEN with me. It was risky, but she did it anyway. When she decided we would be in contact, she jumped in with both feet. She couldn't deal with a "Christmas Card" relationship where we were some kind of casual buddies that checked in once a year or so.

By nature, we aren't casual buddies, folks. She's my MOTHER. I don't care if it's socially acceptable or not. I don't care what kind of labels society throws on her saying she needs to be less-than or take a back seat because she didn't raise me.

Just because she wasn't there doesn't mean she left me. I think I was always there in her mind.

I'm just starting to figure this stuff out, I think.

More later...

How Do You Get Through It?

2008-04-18T01:26:00.000-07:00

So another sleepless night. The evil gods of adoption have got to be laughing their asses off over this one. The Fuzzy Duck doesn't believe she is loved and I don't believe that I deserve to be loved. We are quite a pair. I agree that leaving after we have had time together is awful. Missing her every day we are apart is awful. Not seeing her is worse. No I do not walk back to my perfect life feeling happy and content that I have gotten everything I need or want. Time with her is not a heroin fix where you feel really great until you can get your next fix. Every time I leave it reminds me of what I lost. I am not sure if I can even write this. It seems like it is some kind of self-centerd 'I can hurt as badly as you' whine. I can't pretend that it wasn't my fault that all this pain is there. Maybe its pointless. Maybe there is no way I can ever really get my daughter to understand how much I love her and how very important she is. Right now I want to scream and cry and just grab on to her tight and never let her go. It doesn't matter, she won't believe me. I don't know how I will get through today but I will.

The Evils of Self-Fulfilling Prophecies

2008-04-17T21:35:00.000-07:00

Yes, the Fuzzy Rat is right. I have gone into official Reunion Panic three years too late. I had to think about what brought it on.

We haven't seen each other in five months. That's the longest separation we've had since we met in 2005. I have gotten myself in some semblance of a routine, have started making my own way in the world and have learned to survive without knowing when I would see her again, if ever. I knew I could make it alone if I had to. I could survive on emails and phone calls.

And then bam, here comes our upcoming visit. We are supposed to meet in a neutral city and we have almost 3 days to ourselves. Sounds like heaven, right? Just her and I and a fuckload of expensive red wine.

There is a problem. Separating for me after a visit is always godawful. It's not a big deal for the Fuzzy Rat. She takes what she can get and looks forward to the next time. I have a tough time believing there will ever BE a next time. But the worst part is that I relive the goddamn relinquishment EVERY. TIME. WE. PART. Adoptees don't remember? Sure we do. It's ingrained into the very depth of our souls. Yes, I buy into the Primal Wound theory. It sure as hell applied to me. I try not to be a martyr about it, but sometimes it rears its ugly head. When my mother leaves, it's okay, here's your goodbye hug and I am going back to the perfect life I've built for myself that doesn't include you. That's what it feels like. When we part, she is sated. She doesn't need me again for a while. Me...I am screaming that I want my mommy. I want her to be the center of my world, but she doesn't want to be. She has her own world. She made a choice for me not to be in it, but to share a little corner when she has time. That's not to say she doesn't love me - I know she does. I know she tries to make me feel like she cares about me. I know she doesn't want to hurt me. But she does. Just by being my (gag) birthmother that didn't want me, she hurts me.

She hurts me because she doesn't need me. Not really. She just doesn't. It's not her fault. I add to her life. I am the chocolate sprinkles on the whipped cream that was already there. There are worse things than being chocolate sprinkles, I know. But I am tired of being chocolate sprinkles. I want to be the whipped cream, dammit. No, I am NOT GRATEFUL for just being chocolate sprinkles.

So I have to decide. Live with being sprinkles, or crumbs, or whatever, or pick myself up, dust myself off, and selfishly move on by myself and let her go? Would it really matter that much?

I wish I could believe that it did.

So What Do I Do Now

2008-04-17T15:28:00.000-07:00

It was going well but we are back to the bad place. We have plans to meet next week for a few days before I attend a conference that is least in almost the same time zone as where she is. I have been looking forward to this for weeks and was down to counting the days. Now she doesn't want to come because it is just too hard to see me and then I leave. She has also decided that I would be much happier if I had the extra time with my husband. Well there is also the part about how it is better because reunions never last and we are just kidding ourselves. This is all wrapped around the idea that it is better for me because I have some kind of perfect life and there is no place for her. I am supposed to be happy about this because now I get my life back which is so perfect without her. This is not anything new. It has happened before and we have gotten through it. If she told me that she didn't want to see me and just talk to me occassionally because she needed her life back and has no room for me I could at least understand. I wouldn't like it and I would be horribly hurt. I'm not sure how I could get through it but if I believed that I took something away from her life instead of adding something to it I would have to let her go. I don't think that is what is going on here. How can we talk on the phone for hours and laugh about silly stuff and cry and scream about adoption issues and not be important to each other. How can we finish each others sentences and ask about the day to day things in each other lives (and really care about the answer) and not love each other. How can you love someone but never want to see them? I know in my head that these are issues that a lot of adoptees have. I know in my head that pushing me away is really about a fear that I will walk away. I try every way I know to tell her and show her how important she is to me and how much I love her. How do I know that I am doing the right thing? Maybe she is sorry she ever bothered to find me. Maybe I am doing the wrong thing. More than anything I don't want to hurt her. How do I know what is right?

Its Hard To Write When You Are Crying

2008-04-09T16:11:00.001-07:00

I signed on today to talk about how hard it was to read about the latest mom-bomb and know how badly the fuzzy duck was hurt by the casually cold manipulative comments. What do I find there but her latest post. This was a major mascera violation for me. Yes that is/was my no cry rule. NEVER be caught with tear smudged mascera. It is a rule that has served me well over the years. Fuck rules. I can't even describe what it feels like to know I have made a difference in such an important part of her life. She has told me but seeing it here in writing just hit me like you can't believe. I guess a lot of you mothers-like-me understand. These are the happiest tears I can ever imagine.

School has been an important part of our three years together. She was accepted at a top notch school right after she first talked to my sister and about the time I came to my senses and said I would call her. It all came together. The Fuzzy Duck is very smart and incredibly talented. Now she knows it. She never really believed it before. I can't take credit for the musical talent, I have zero but at least I love music. She needed to do this for herself. This last semester has been different, she hasn't told me once that she she was going to fail her mid-term (definition: anything less than an A). The piece of paper isn't important. The Fuzzy Duck knowing she can do it everything. Not only can she do it. She has done it while being a wife and a mother and going through all the trauma and drama of a reunion. Now that is an accomplishment. I am so proud of her. She has given me something wonderful, the right to say I am proud of her. She is my daughter. I would love her as much if she had never gone back to school but bragging rights are just such fun. We will see each other in 2 weeks. I can't wait. We even get a bonus visit before graduation thanks to my business trip and her supportive husband. Freija (her feline sister) is helping me write this by walking on the keyboard. She would also like to point out that she has contrbuted by offering many rodent and bird sacrifices for her success on exams. Freija is also proud of her but maybe not as much as I am.

Almost Done

2008-04-09T15:40:00.001-07:00

So I picked up my cap and gown today. They're hanging on my bedroom door.

My aparents always wanted me to graduate from college. So did the Fuzzy Rat Mother.

It looks like it's finally going to happen.

So...here's a toast to my aparents for raising me up right and giving me a firm foundation.

And...here's a toast to the Fuzzy Rat Mother, without whom this day never would have happened. She has been my rock over these past three years. She is the one who never failed to call me or email me when I had a monster exam or terrifying audition coming up. She is the one who could manage to make me laugh even when I was sure I was going to flunk out of school and that everyone hated me. She doesn't know this, but she is THE reason I made it.

That one day that she decided to pick up the phone and talk to me and give our relationship a go...it made all the difference in the world. For the first time in my life, I really felt validated. I needed her with me through this journey, and she was there.

So, my dearest Fuzzy Rat Mother, today I give you the world's biggest hug and say THANK YOU.

Just Giving Up

2008-03-30T18:21:00.000-07:00

I feel about as important as a speck of dust.

I should be used to this by now. When I turned 21, my amom told me her obligation to me as a parent was over and "we could just be friends".

I get reminded of this fact more and more as I get older. I called my amom today to wish her a happy birthday - despite the fact that my parents forgot my birthday this year. I was really trying to let that go. We chatted about the weather and politics and whatnot. Then my parents couldn't remember what day I was graduating and wanted to know when it was again. They are going to "stop by" to see my graduate, they said, but they have a vacation planned where they are driving up the coast and won't be able to stay at the ceremony very long and they won't be attending the party afterwards. Oh and by the way, my aunt (adoptive) and all my cousins are going on a cruise in the Mediterranean over my graduation so they won't be able to make it. OK.

I wonder what it's like to have a family that genuinely gives a shit.

I have tried, tried, and tried again...and every time I get burned.

I'm through trying...or caring.

No Contact Chapter II

2008-03-16T11:45:00.000-07:00

I guess that it is about time to answer the original question, why did I initially refuse contact. In a lot of ways this is a lot harder to write than chapter I. A lot of the reason is that this is recent history and I don't have the excuse of being 23 years old and not really fully adult. I also realize that it cost 3 years that I could have had with the fuzzy duck and probably caused her more harm than the original relinquishment. I am just comming to terms with adoption and what it means. I can look back 38 years with some objectivity and understand the frightened young woman I was. It is harder to look back 6 years and understand how I could have been so closed off from reality. So much has changed in me since my reunion with the fuzzy duck and I am just starting to understand this new and improved me. Improved because I am learning to trust my emotions after spending 35 years trusting only cold fact and bowing to the alter of objectivity and logic. I am still learning that grtuitous hugs are wonderful and even the pain when the duck and I are at oddsis better than retreating from all emotion. I haven't tried it yet but I may actually be able to hold a baby and enjoy it. For 35 years I wouldn't hold a baby (there were a couple of unavoidable situations where one was thurst at me and I didn't jump out of the way fast enough). It doesn't take too much to figure out that one. If the baby wasn't my fuzzy duck I didn't want to be near it. Maybe I should try holding a baby now. I just might like it.

As usual, I am procrastinating. When I left tis story you had heard what I felt about the relinquishment. After I finally figured out that you don't get over it I spent a lot of time figuring out how to live with it. I did this by never talking about it. I have a very close friend who I have known for over 30 years who was astonished when I told her after my reunion with my fuzzy duck. So when I say I didn't talk about it. I'm not exagerating. My family learned quickly that if even a hint of it was brought up I would quickly change the subject or just walk away. I firmly believed that it was done and nothing could change it so talking would serve no purpose. That doesn't mean that I never thought about my fuzzy duck. I never stopped missing her and was aware of every birthday. Just when I would start to think that it was getting better someone or something or maybe for no reason she would pop into my head. Oddly enough she would pop into my head as a toddler then as a child, a teenager, a woman. I watched her grow up in a way. I think some mothers always think of an infant. I didn't. I got through it by being certain that I had done what was best for her. She had loving parents that were giving her everything that I couldn't. She didn't remember anything about me and didn't need me for anything. I might need her and miss her but I got exactly what I deserved for being a stupid slut when I was 22. The emptiness was my atonement. So now you have met the martyr. (I am still working on that one).

The first attempt at contact was a Letter I recieved from a social worker frm the Salvation Army. I was asked to contact them regarding THE child born in XXX on 99/99/9999. I ran upstairs to my bedroom bedroom and cried hysterically (very not typical behavior for me). I think I scared my poor husband half to death. When I told him about the letter he got me calmed down and asked what I wanted to do. He encouraged me to call and pointed out that she had every right to updated medical information. He also told me he would support me no matter what I decided. It was my decision and I needed to do what was right for me (I told you you he is a great guy and he has stood by me every step of this journey). I worked up my courage to call with the intent to give whatever information was requested and then retreat back into the shadows where I belonged. I was back to my usual calm exterior when I made the call and talked for a long time to the social worker. I was relieved when the social worker told me that my fuzzy duck was happily married with a young son and was a very articulate attactive woman. It sounded like she had everything I had always wanted for her. I updated all the medical information and told them they could contact me if there was ever any kind of medical emergency where she needed a biological match (the duck is still trying to figure out why I would give her a kidney but wouldn't talk to her). I also promised I would keep them updated with any new information. What I wouldn't do is hear either of the two letters she wrote, one if I wanted contact and one if I didn't. I couldn't face that. My daughter was a stranger. How could I still have my daughter when she spoke as a stranger and looked at me with mild curiousity? I had just given her everything she could need from me, medical stuff. So the answer to no contact is believing I could be nothing to her but a curiosity when she was my daughter and I wanted to and I wanted to give her everything. It is about fear. I'm not good enough for her, I will only be a disappointment to her but most of all I was afraid she couldn't care abot me.

It has just occurred to me I need to finish the story. Why I changed my mind. Perhaps more to the point, how the clever, stubborn little fuzzy duck finally brought me to my senses. That will be the next post. She is the only person in the world who could shake up my martyr ridden existance. She is still working on it. I don't know that she will ever really understand how wonderful I think she is.

No Contact

2008-03-13T16:30:00.000-07:00

I got an interesting question the other day. On one of my posts I mentioned that not only did I reliquish I also initially refused contact. The question was why no contact. I was able to give the short answer, fear. I was even able to list specific fears: disappointment one she talked to me, only curious, she would care too little, I would care to much, not what she expected, and it goes on. The more I thought about it the more I realized that there was a lot more to it than that. Why would these fears be that strong? I figured out pretty fast that these fears came from what happened when I was pregnant and decided to relinquish so I can't really answer the contact question without going back to that. The fuzzy duck and I talked a lot about these topics during the reunion and I know I never really explained myself well. We decided that each of us would do a post on this (dearest fuzzy duck you better keep your end of the bargan or the entire adoption blog world will know what you pack in a sandwich bag). We will write entirely in the first person as honestly as we can about what the relinquishment and the first attempted contact did to us. For my part it is an explanation of sorts of why I made the decisions I did. It is not intended as an excuse or even an apology but only what happened and what I was thinking at the time. You will notice I have spent a lot of time on this paragraph. Its only because I am procrastinating. Enoght already, here I go off the bridge.

Most of you are probably familiar with the baby scoop era and a lot of you read 'The Girls Wo Went Away' so you have a context. I got pregnant in the era when good girls didn't do IT. If they lapsed and did IT and got caught all would be forgiven if they married the father (or someone who thought/wished he was the father). This was a couple of years before abortion was legal. Not that abortions weren't around. Two of my friends almost died from illegal ones. So we have limited choices and a nice girl from a nice middle class family who were supportive but disappointed in me. Marriage was not an option. I was old enough to make my own decision and my own arrangements with help from my sister and friends. Adoption seemed like the most logical choice since a single mother did not have a whole lot of social support and almost no job options. That was an easy decision while I was just pregnant and it was about MY pregnancy and not about MY child. About the first time the fuzzy duck kicked me she (even though I thought it was he) became MY child and I loved her. By that time I was up to my neck in social workers and Salvation Army Home staff. There was a consistent message. The best thing I could do for THE child was adoption. I couldn't give her anythingShe could have a normal life with parents who could take care of herand love her and give her everything she needed and I couldn't. There is a message here that since I was not too bright and had no morals as evidenced by the fact that I was unmarried and pregnant THE child deserveda lot better than anything I could give. Doubts I had were explained as hormones and I would regreat it later if I changed my mind and it would be best for THE child if she were adopted into a loving family. The message here is listen you stupid slut on top of all your other short commings don't compound your sins by being selfish. I drank the Kool-Aid, jumped into the fog and signed the papers. I had 3 days with her in the hospital. I don't remember the next 3 months. It took me about a year to realize that you don't get over it and you don't forget like they said. So I spent the next 32 years never speaking about MY child but always remembering and always loving her. After a false start or two I got my life togther and eventually married a great guy who knew about the adoption and didn't think I was a stupid almost-selfish slut. I stayed firmly in fog land and atoned for my earlier sins by becoming a silent martyr. I was hurting but I wrapped myself in the belief that I had done the best thing for MY child. She had loving parents and I hoped she was doing well in school and that she had every thing and and and. It worked. I didn't scream or cry hysterically or weep on friend's shoulders. I just had bad days when I withdrew from people. I didn't talk about it. There was no reason. I avoided anything to do with the subject of adoption.

End of Chapter One

This is taking a bit out of me so I am going to go poor myself a glass of wine and have some dinner. I will write chapter 2 within the next couple of days for myself and those of you who may wonder what all of this has to do with why I refused contact. In the fine literary tradition of cliff hangers I will tell you that it is damn hard to atone for sins and get a second chance.

Just be NICE to each other, dammit

2008-03-09T15:45:00.000-07:00

My husband is a super supportive guy, but he doesn't understand adoption crap. I think my mother's husband is similar. They both kind of stand by the sidelines and let my mother and I duke it out. I was explaining our latest mishap (which was at least partially MY fault...there, I publicly admitted it, mother!!) and he did the kind and supportive maneuvers, after which he said,

"Why don't you guys knock off the bullshit and just be NICE to each other, dammit?"

Hmmmmm. Now THAT's a thought, huh??

Simple but profound.

I mean, it's not like I don't LIKE my mother. Yes, I love her, but I LIKE her too. She is someone I would choose to hang out with on a regular basis regardless of the fact that we are related. She makes me laugh like no one else. There is no one else on the planet that I'd rather get drunk with and converse about everything from Mendelssohn to Mayan ruins.

But we have so.much.damn.baggage.

It's the lethal combination of the baggage and leftover fog remnants (martyr routines, etc.) that get in the way of us having a pseud0-non-dysfunctional relationship. She said to me as we were trying to resolve this last conflict, "Goddammit, it doesn't matter WHAT I say, WHAT I do, it's never quite good enough." That got to me so bad and made me feel so guilty I almost had to hang up on her because she's right. I can't trust her. Hell, I can't trust ANYONE. That fundamental Freudian first stage of life, Trust/Mistrust, was disrupted. There's danger lurking around every corner. Things are good between us? Ha! Surely, I must be smoking crack.

We are working things out. We're able to have quasi-normal conversations again. I'm really looking forward to seeing her next month in Las Vegas (but is Vegas ready for us? Probably not.)

In other good news, my grandma called me today (as in the fuzzy rat's mother). I haven't talked to her in months. We spoke for a long time. She said how much she missed me. That makes me smile a lot, to know that it's not just me that misses her.

Trials Tribulations and Reunions

2008-03-08T07:50:00.000-08:00

I finally have had the heart to get back on. Its been another rough week. Knowing there are people out there who get it helps. The fuzzy duck was right. She encouraged me to start. Many thanks to all the people who left comments. I have been reading the links but not commenting much. I think it is time to mend my ways and jump in with both feet. Most of the time I feel like I have nothing worthwhile to add. Now I know that sometimes just knowing someone gives a damn helps. Its probably another stupid holover from fog land. Since I was told that I just needed to get over it and move on with my life I thought that I had a problem when that was not something I could really do. I really believed that relinquishment was like having you wisdom teeth out, it hurts like hell for a while but you get over it soon enough. So who misses their wisdom teeth? I spent 36 years trying to get over it. Since I didn't end up on the streets or kill myself I suppose that makes me successful.

Now I know that reunions are hard. There is so much baggage on both sides. It involves two people who are both hurt and vulnerable. We can hurt each other in ways that no one else can and it happens. I think behind it all is the fear of rejection. I can understand why the fuzzy duck thinks I could just walk away when things get rough. I am not only the one who relinquished her in the first place, I also refused contact when she first reached out to me. There are a lot of days when I wish that I didn't understand what that did to her. I have given her two very good reasons not to trust me. Knowing that I keep trying to show her and tell her how much she means to me. I keep bungling it. I,m at my worst when things between us are at their best. Thats when I think we are past the hardest part and just look forward to our next conversation/e-mail/time together. Thats also when she thinks it is too good to be true and is sure that it can't last. At least thats what I think is going on. So we hurt each other again. We talked yesterday and I hope we will talk again this weekend. I wish I could know what to do. HELP, I need a reunion rule book. I'll even settle for the Cliff's Notes version if that all that is available. This is way too important to keep makimg mistakes. I am sitting in the middle of a blizzard with an impassable driveway. This is a good day to troll the blogs.

We Made It Through Another One

2008-02-29T13:09:00.000-08:00

It has been a really bad couple of weeks for the duck and I but we made it through. Graduation potential disasters have been averted. Since there are 2 graduations, large and Formal on Tuesday and small departmental on the following Sunday, I will be there on Tuesday and her parents on Sunday. I am good with it and the duck and I will have some quality time. She also gets time with her parents without any stress. We will just deal with other occasions as they occur. Ideally her mother would just accept the situation but that will probably not happen. I understand why she would feel better if she doesn't have to deal with the whole reunion thing. I don't think that makes my place less important. Sometimes it is better to recognize that two people who are important to you should not be in an enclosed space together. I'm not sure if my husband and my sister should even share the same planet and I avoid putting them in any proximity. Life is much easier that way.

All this was not accomplished without tears, drama, and a major meltdown (mine not hers). It wasn't the graduation that got to me it was an unfortunate mingling of circumstances where several of our plans for spending time together seemed to fall apart at the same time. I jumped to the usual other mother conclusion...REJECTION. I know every adoptee reading this gets it about REJECTION. I am usually a very calm logical sort who appears to be really cold and distant a lot of the time. The one thing that is guarenteed to turn me into a screaming, crying, irrational mess is any hint that the duck wants me out of her life. We have had our problems before with her pulling away when she really just needs reassurance. I've learned to deal with that. This just felt different. I went into a real regression where I convinced myself that the best thing I could do for her is to back away and quit making her life more difficult by asking for time and attention. It was so much more melodramatic than it sounds. The other mother thing is to go back to the pre-reunion, pre-fog free position of becoming a martyr for the GOOD OF THE CHILD. I got through a lot of years hanging on to the GOOD OF THE CHILD crap and developed an excellent imitation of stoic. Fortunately, the duck is perceptive and hit me over the head with a verbal two by four. We talked, we got through it.

One of the things we are learning is that reunions are really hard and the other people in your life don't make it easy. Even the supportive ones (like our husbands) don't get the drama. The supportive attitude is that you are back together and enjoy each other so why the drama. The drama is real and it is about love, separation, loss, and fear of what might happen. Since the themes are good enough for Shakespeare, I think they count as real drama. This whole reunion is full of those themes. The duck and I talk honestly about it and it has gotten us through some tough places. What we are trying to do now is to quit worrying about our place in each others lives and being a burden or causing problems and focus on understanding our place with each other. I think if we can get to the point where we can really believe that this reunion is real and it is permanant the rest of it will fall into place. I think we will get to a place where we can trust ourselves and each other. It will take time and probably more drama but it is worth it. In the meanwhile, we will keep talking and spend as much time time together as we can.

Reunions and Occasions

2008-02-22T13:49:00.000-08:00

We have just encountered the first and probably not the last total chaos situation. For a people pleaser this has to be the fifth ring of hell. My solution was to go to the formal graduation (pomp,circumstances, and speeches) on Tuesday and leave before her parents arrive. Sounds sane but really doesn't resolve much except for the immediate problem. So what happens the next occasion. I have no idea what that might be but it is lurking somewhere. The real problem is that she loves her parents (this is good) and loves me (this is also good). As a side note I refer to her parents as a liguistic convience. I am her mother but not her parent. It keeps things straight. More than just the occasion thing it has got to be a hard place. The fuzzy duck daughter wants to avoid hurting anyone's feelings. This has got to be something like not telling your parents you have been living with some guy for three years. Actually it is probably worse.

I really hate causing her problems and stress. This is where I just want to retreat and quit causing her pain. Doing that would just cause her more pain. Sometimes I wonder if she made a mistake by finding me. Would it be easier if she could just write me off as just another self absorbed bitch that doesn't care about her? That is me shifting into my martyr role. Quick, grab the fog repellant. This is a tough one. The really sad part is I think I would really like her parents. Equally sad is that I am afraid her mom can't wrap her head around the idea that I am not competition for her and it shouldn't be about choice. I believe I have an important place in her life just as she has an important place in mine. It is not the same place her mom has. That is one of those things I had to confront early on. I am not some kind of replacement or supplement for anyone. Maybe it is all about the damn 'MOTHER' word. You know the word that has to be hyphenated. Maybe if I had my own word her mom would feel more comfortable.

So here we are with an unresolved situation that I want to resolve in a way that will make her happy. This is the pushy fuzzy rat mother speaking who wants to organize and fix everything. Just because I often make a mess when I get into trying to fix things doesn't seem to inhibit this impulse. All I can really do is let her make the decision that is right/least bad for her. I am willing (and not offended) to hide behind potted palms, adjust my plans or do whatever seems right. It would be a lot easier if I had no clue why this is hard for the fuzzy duck and even why it is an issue for her mom. Then I could just stamp my foot and demand everyone defer to me as the sainted one who has greatly suffered for giving up her only child so she could have everything a child needs. OK, even in my 37 year fog induced coma that one would make me puke.

Just to add to the drama and insanity, I really like her husband and we get along quite well. He even shares his good wine with me. The image of her huband her mom and I sharing an enclosed space has got to be either the stuff of murder mysteries or a really great Noel Coward comedy.

If I could do anything today, I would...

2008-02-17T14:31:00.000-08:00

1. Jump on the next plane to Paris and go hide there alone for the next several months or so.

2. Snap my fingers and have my homework be finished, poof. I really don't feel like writing another fucking paper or reading about sex in opera or composing another brilliantly mediocre fugue.

3. Burn down NCFA headquarters.

4. Pretend I wasn't adopted and that I have "real" parents and a "real" family.

5. Really, jump on that next plane to Paris.

6. Jump on the next plane to Paris.

Okay, okay, okay. Today's theme seems to be Escapism. I really hate that adoption seems to bleed over into almost every aspect of my life, despite my heroic attempts to ignore it all. I don't like looking at cute Latino kids and having the first thing to pop into my head be something like, "I bet they were adopted from Guatemala." I hate seeing all those "normal" families out there. I hate it when people say, "Gee, you don't look anything like your parents." I hate that I miss my parents and wish they loved me more. I hate that, despite my fantasies about Paris, I really wish I was in Oregon smoking cigarettes with my mom and getting drunk like we used to do on occasion. I hate that back then I wasn't thinking about adoption so much because I had managed to numb myself. I hate that I really miss my mom today but she probably hasn't even thought about me. I hate that whenever I talk to my fuzzy rat mother, I feel guilty because I'm not on the phone with my mom and my mom might even know that I'm probably talking to my fuzzy rat mother. I hate that it hurts my mom's feelings but she can't/won't talk about it.

It's funny. Posting on forums and starting to blog here have been cathartic in one way and paralyzing in another. I find myself missing the fog. I spent a large chunk of my 20s drowning my inner turmoil in a combination of sex, drugs, alcohol, and parties. I worked at my job like a slave and then partied my ass off afterwards. I rarely talked about adoption, aside from the times that things would finally get to me and I would be frantically searching for my roots. Marching into the courthouse, bitching out social workers, shelling out a lot of hard earned cash to shady private investigators, waiting for a PHONE CALL, waiting for A LETTER that never came. Then, to numb my pain, I would go back to sex, drugs, and alcohol. And work.

Now, adoption is in my face, all the time. I want to let go of it and have things go back to "normal" (ahem), yet I hear the voices of all these other adoptees that are going through, or have gone through, the same kind of shit and I want to support them. I find myself reading news articles that make me puke, reading about pending legislation, reading about injustices everywhere, and seeing "gotcha day" greeting cards that make me puke. I can't just stand here and do nothing. Yet I miss the days when I could escape into the numbing whirlwind. Sex, drugs, alcohol, party, work.

And on that note, I'm going to get some work done, and then go to a party, and do everything but the drugs part. Maybe then I'll feel better.

I Need Some Help Here

2008-02-17T14:17:00.000-08:00

I have come up against the hardest one yet in the reuion adventure, not belonging. My daughter has been to visit me and my small family (husband, mother, sister, brother-in-law) several times. My mother and sister are incedibly happy and my husband really likes her. It is much more than them just being supportive of me. They all want her in their lives. It sounds perfect except she feels so much like an intruder. I understand parts of it and why it would remind her of what she missed and how it is difficult to feel like she has an important place in our lives. For those of you that are old enough to have seen/read The Little Match Girl, I think that is what she is feeling. I don't know what to do to help. It hurts both of us.

Struggle of the Week

2008-02-16T09:53:00.000-08:00

Some of us nice, little compliant adoptees will do anything to get people to love us. Or like us. Hell, tolerate us.

My obligation list is 3 miles long. I keep myself extraordinarily busy doing things for other people. I aim to please. Problem is, it never seems to be enough. Enough for other people. Enough for me to feel good about myself. Truth be told, sometimes I just want to bend over and have everyone kiss my ass because I work hard and I deserve it, dammit.

But then my inner demons come out. No, of course you don't DESERVE it. You don't deserve to have your ass kissed, sweetheart. You're adopted, dimwit. You're second best. Nobody wanted you. You're lucky you weren't left in a dumpster.

And please, don't try to make me feel better by giving me that "chosen baby" crap.

My adoptive parents didn't choose ME. They chose A BABY. They couldn't have a baby of THEIR VERY OWN, so they settled for second best. Me. That's what they got. And I have done my best, for 38 years, to prove myself worthy. It hasn't worked. Whose fault is that?

In my sane moments, I know it's not my fault. I know I've made mistakes like everyone else. I also know I'm smart, I'm pretty, and I deserve to be loved. Despite the fact that I'm adopted.

My mom, on the other hand, sees me as a big disappointment. No matter what I do, I can't please her. I'm not kidding. That's a long story for another post.

But the thing is, my mother, as in the one who brought me into the world, sees me differently. She tells me she's proud of me. She tells me all these wonderful things that I have a hard time believing about myself most of the time. But there's one thing my mother says to me that is awful. Just truly awful.

"I need you."

Huh? Need me for what? To wash your dog? Do your dishes? Pay your bills? Clean your refrigerator? What? What? What? What can I do for you? How can I be of service?

Apparently, just needs me. For me. For some strange reason.

That scares the shit out of me.

What if she needs me today, but not tomorrow?

Another First

2008-02-16T08:02:00.000-08:00

As you can see from my picture, I am a bit shop worn after 2.6 years in reunion but still in one piece and finally (I hope) fog free after 2 years of wrapping myself in the lies. I not only drank the Kool-aid, I made it. The happy reunion ala Oprah is more fog garbage. It doesn't magically cure the hurts. It can be a start. We both struggle with the 2 G words ( far more destructive than the F word) Gratitude and Guilt. Then there is always the attempt to define roles. This is all kinds of fun and usually involves hyphened nouns. My personal favorite is First-Mother. What the hell is that? It sounds like a cross between a vodoo godess and a replaced favorite toy. Who has room in their life for one of those? Then there is the Birth-Daughter. So does that mean no longer a daughter? Where does that fit? We find ourselves in lingustic limbo or a relationship that is almost-like-a-something. Add in our ability to hurt each other and pull back out of fear and you get quite a mix. So all of that said, for me it is worth every minute and every crying jag. We have our ups and downs and they can both be extreme.
The blog is new. I have never posted before to any blog and read very few. In a lot of ways this scares me but I have been assured that there are a lot of people out there who get it. I hope so.