Being A Hyphenated Mother

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.