Friday, October 6, 2017

The lost bond of adoption

As time goes by and my birthday candles keep increasing, I realize there is one thing I cannot escape.   There is no anger or resentment, only a bit of sadness left as I realize there is nothing I can do to change "what is."  

Its a life sentence I have been given, a lesson to learn, again and again,  and at times I feel I have mastered the whole mess!   But some days, like today,  it seems too large of a cross to bear,  and I feel the strength I've built up, to escape the anger...weakening.  I feel weak today.   Something happens, a look in my moms eyes , a touch, a gesture,  a small sentence spoken that makes my heart skip a beat.  Time stands still,  its like an out of body experience,  everything is moving in slow motion, and I want to  take a picture, and show them "this right here" is what I am missing.  I don't get that same look, I don't get the same touch or gesture, or the deep love in that small sentence.  I get those things, but its deeply different.   So many people overlook, don't appreciate, or even recognize that "Belonging" is such a gift.  The bond created when a mother gives birth, gets the privilege of keeping her baby is overwhelmingly different.   Different than that bond  of an adopted child.  There really is a language they speak to one another, when the bond is not broken.  

Nobody can tell me differently, if I could capture the moment, I would.  I could show you, prove to the world I have been cheated.  I deserve to allow myself to grieve, but I also deserve to never feel like this again.  I don't want this feeling another day, another minute or even second of my life.  But I also cannot deny the existence of what I see.  I know that touch, I know that gesture, and the secret language that is spoken between a mother and her children.  I experience that with my own children every day.  

Adoption, regardless of the good intentions, has failed me.  Maybe, just maybe, all the strength and discipline and self help I have done to better myself will never erase these feelings, there is no cure for what my eyes and heart feel.   It really is my cross to bear, until the day I die.  As I have failed to capture  these precious moments, again and again,  is when I realize that adoption has cheated me.   I have to find comfort in the moments and feelings I know exist within my entire body and soul for my own husband and children, and somehow, that has to be enough. 

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Taking a break

I have decided to take a break.  After losing my dad and now my mom is ill, I think it best if I take a break from blogging for now. 

Its amazing how much adoption affects a persons life, when family members pass away the issues of adoption are alive and painful.  It also amazes me how many people involved just brush it all off, sweep it under the carpet.  There is nothing to be done, for now.   Its heartbreaking, realizing what I will never have, the things I've wanted for so many years are so far away, just out of reach.  Debilitating to a point, the desires and wants I have, that I now realize I can never attain in this lifetime. 

Monday, October 12, 2015

Reluctant to speak

I've come to a point in my life where talking about how I feel and helping others understand what its like to be in my shoes, is not worth it.   I end up looking like the crazy woman, who obviously has a large chip on her shoulder.  I feel that talking about things and being up front about my own feelings is important and has been a vital part of my journey, but now that I have said what Ive said over the years, its not making a difference.

When I say these words, "Family Preservation" its like I have just said something very wrong, like threatening world peace, or insulting a religion.  People in general have this idea, that adoption automatically equals insane happiness,  and the adoptee should feel thankful, lucky and sometimes appreciative to even be alive.  

I wonder if our world will catch up ?  Will people ever understand what adoption means?  Will they admit and openly discuss the fact that adoptee's really do lose their ancestry with adoption.  Their constitutional right to their birth records, and in reality, they are expected to lose their rights to free speech.  IF we do speak, we look like the crazy ones, because the general public, it seems everywhere in this world is still back in 1950 somewhere, lost in space with the entire adoption reality.

So here I am, age 50, and I am still afraid, somewhat reluctant now that I'm a bit older, to even speak out loud to anyone about the reality of adoption, the good and the bad.  My adoption experience, even in a random conversation.  I stop, think very hard about what I am going to say, if it will spark controversy, or will offend someone.  We had gone into this store where they sell facial products, my sister allowed them to put the product on her face, I waited by the door talking to some of the kids working there.  The one guy said to me, you are sisters, you don't look anything alike, and jokingly said, maybe she's adopted.  I said, well no, I am adopted.  He thought I was joking, and I confirmed, that yes I am.  Mom was standing in the shade, it was a very hot day, and they realized that sister looks like mom,  and they started asking more questions.  I felt very uncomfortable talking about who I am, as though it was wrong to tell them my ethnicity.  I whispered to them quickly, not wanting to upset my mom, not that she would be mad, it just seems to come up when people we've met see my sister and I together.  Its obvious, especially when they see mom and dad.  Most of the nurses with hospice who come to help dad mention that I don't look like either parent.  Its not that its wrong, or that its bad, it just uncomfortable for others!  haha!

Until this world gets on track, and starts admitting that its got a BIG problem, there is no reason for me to continue to beat myself up, and end up looking like the disturbed woman, the adoptee that most people do not understand.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Who am I anyhow?

Ask yourself this.  If you were an adopted daughter,  and you had met your birth family, what would you do with all of this newfound information?

I dont resemble my adoptive family, not exactly.  And they all say it does not matter.  But does it?  How would you feel if you knew your adoptive family was not genetically the same?

Would you feel as if this did not matter, even if you found out an overwhelming amount of genetic information that is hard for anyone to believe?

Would you be excited to show your adoptive family the pictures of this new found birth family?  Wouldnt you expect them to be just as excited.  After all, you did not choose this fate, you had no voice when you were born.  This extraordinary situation is just that.  Extra ordinary.  Yet the adoptive family seems to shy away, and sweep the issues under the carpet, almost pretending these "People" do not exist.

Isnt it funny, the entire reason these people exist is due to the fact that your adoptive parents "Chose" adoption.

I cant change who my birth parents are, my heritage.  How would you feel if you were asked to pretend they really dont matter, to just forget them?   We are who we are, arent we?   Just as my sister is a product of my adoptive parents, she is genetically matched, and her heritage is the same as theirs.  What if looking at family photos you could not say, "Wow, I look just like great grandma" or "Wow, my son looks just like uncle Jim"  --what then?  Would you feel comfortable keeping quiet, pretending that YOUR son and daughter DO NOT look just like YOUR genetic grandma from Lebanon or your new found full birth brother?

So who am I anyhow?  Am I expected to pretend Im someone other than I am?  Genetically?  How would you feel if you were expected to feel as though you were hatched from an egg, dropped off by the stork?

Lets not compare those born to their birth mom & dad.  Try to figure out how you would really feel.  Honestly.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Close, but yet so far away

My fantasy mom is slowly disappearing.  It takes time, and support, from those around me that really understand and love me.

She is still alive, she has not died, but the reality is, she has.  She will never be.  She never existed, only in my mind.

This will take a lifetime, its a slow process.  You have to be strong, clear about your expectations.  If you cant get anything back in return, what is the point?

Fantasy birth mom will eventually be just that.