Writing My Wrongs

<3 ULB

“Treasure your relationships, not your possessions.” - Anthony D'Angelo

I wish ULB was here. I would give her a huge hug. Her posting of archive.org reminded me to look up a few things. I found them and then saved them.

I found this and this.

Of course I knew of these things but at the time I found them I was so shocked at the human trafficking that I failed to print or screen shot. I now have a PDF file and I have saved them.

I must also admit that I looked up my daughters old home page and yeah, found pictures of her I never saw. She would hate this. She would yell at me. But curiosity got the better of me. And when you are separated from your child for twenty odd years, you take whatever crumbs you can get.

So thanks, ULB.

Herd Mentality

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” - Oscar Wilde

So, I do think it is working.

My avoidance of certain blogs and forums is helping me to feel better.

It’s amazing to me in a way how badly they made me feel.  I struggled intensely with boundaries and not making their problems and their reunions a reflection of mine. I also took on too much of their pain. As if I am the collective natural mother – the one who should bear all the pain and horror and blame for the alleged crimes of us all. I just got in too deep.

It reminded me of my teenage years when my mother required my siblings and I to attend Alateen. I hated those meetings. For me personally, sitting in a room with people who told us all these horrible stories about their alcoholic parents just brought me down. What was the point? I had my own alchoholic parent and horror stories. Did I really need to hear more? I understood the need to vent but what were we going to DO about it? I personally was not helped by sitting around kvetching. I needed action, hope, and a light at the end of my tunnel. Not having that made me want to slit my throat.

With my recent obsession of reading painful adoption stuffs, I also felt I was adopting the herd mentality.  You know how a fight with a few people can turn into an enormous riot? I felt like that. I could go visit a board, or a blog and see rants and rave and anger and suddenly I felt the rage myself and had no idea why. The topics would not even apply to me, the threads would have nothing to do with me but the anger was contagious.  (“Let’s go kill that guy! Yeah! Yeah!”…. “Wait, who is that guy?”) Frightening. Very frightening.  This effect is not unlike what put many of us into the belly of the adoption beast to begin with.

Over 20 years ago, my parents and I fell prey to societal constructs that said unwed teen mothers should not raise their children.  I could have been doing the same by engaging in rage I wasn’t even part of.

The LAST thing I want to do is lose my own voice and opinion after working so many years to reclaim it.

I found a few new natural mom blogs and have been reading them and also corresponding with them via email. I find that is just the ticket for me right now. To feel validated and understood and not like the demon seed. I need to be around people who give me hope and inspiration. I need to communicate with people healthier than me. I need to be around those that feel like me not those that want to castigate me and my fellow sisters.

I once thought that since my daughter was so challenging, I could benefit from reading challenging adoption blogs. I don’t think that will help me. I need to trust her, time and myself and allow us to be the unique individuals we are. As I have said so many times, adoption trauma may bind us but how each of us handles that trauma varies greatly. And that’s okay.

It is our humanness.

I cannot hide.

“The Universe is one great kindergarten for man. Everything that exists has brought with it its own peculiar lesson.” - Orson Swett Marden

He smiled so far and wide I thought his mouth might envelope his entire head. As he waved from the school bus window, tears began to form in my eyes.

I was so proud of him. He was doing so well. He felt like a big kid now and was so proud of himself. He should be. Its a tough thing to leave your mama and head off to big kid school. Tougher perhaps for mama herself. 

I was comforted by the dark Brighton sunglasses I had on. He could not see the tears rolling from my eyes. He would not understand them. Joy, pride, sadness, and more all rolled up into one morning. At his age, tears are sadness and pain. I did not want him to think that. Thank you Brighton.

As the bus pulled away from the curb he blew me kisses. I felt them land magically on my cheeks.  Davids mother, standing next to me, commented on my sons deep dimples and how  excited he was.

Yes. I agree. He was. My baby boy went off to kindergarten.

I thought of my daughter for a bit of a flashing moment. I wasn't sad about her. I did not imagine her five year old self next to him. I worked hard on making the morning all about him.

I thought I succeeded.

Eight hours later I arrive at the school to pick up both of my sons. New school, new facilities, I was a bit lost. I did not know where the after school program was held.

A helpful smiling looking woman walked towards me from the end of the hall. She must have noticed my look of confusion.

"Can I help you?", she asks.

I introduce myself, tell her I am looking for the after school program. I am here to pick up my boys. She starts to point in the opposite direction and begins muttering directions.

Suddenly she stops.

"Oh, where are my manners!", she exclaims. "Let me take you".

As we walk towards the other end of the building we are stopped several times by other children, parents, teachers. Clearly this woman/teacher is well known and liked in the school. I can see why. She has a bright smile and just exudes tenderness.

We approach the room where my children are playing and she turns to me.

"Well, here you go. I see your boys right there. Be sure to sign them out. Nice to meet you." she says as she walks away.

"Now where are my manners!" I say "Thank you and by the way, I am Suz [last name]. Thanks for your help it was nice to meet you".

"You are very welcome. I am [my daughters amended name], the school nurse".

And she walks away.

Yes, the school nurse at my sons new school has the same first and last name as my daughter.

Can I get a big round of WTF!!!

Unlearning Adoption

"Action springs not from thought, but from readiness for responsibility." - Dietrich Boenhofer

Yet another book completed. Unlearning Adoption: A Guide To Family Preservation by Jessica DeBalzo. Highly recommend. Should be required reading for all PAPS, even existing Aparents and definitely for anyone involved in any form of social services.

Kudos to Jess for her work. Direct, candid, honest, and full of good stuff. I read it in an afternoon.

My only regret is that there is significant (totally valid) reference to BSE.  I am continually concerned that so many of our books and research seems to leave the reader with the thought that the heinous crimes stopped after BSE. They didn't. They continued and got more crafty and devious.  I was interred in a maternity home in 1986, gave birth alone, was coerced, threatened to be sued, watched by housemothers and caseworkers. It did not stop. More importantly it continues till today.

Last year a few moms and I (all post BSE) talked about the need to do our own book, project, expose.  We barely got it off the ground. I got distracted by my "real" life and we all got consumed with other adoption work.  We really must revisit it.

Perhaps that is the focus of my own book. Who knows. I am hoping to take Novel Writing 1 with Masha Hamilton. Undecided on my book topic. I have so many in my head.

I really enjoyed the last section that gave good suggestions on how we can help with family preservation. Proud to say I am involved in several.

But yeah, hooray to Jess for an excellent book. Go buy it. Now. Share it with all your friends and family. Mail it to your Governor, Senator or other political official.

Girl Power!

The thing women have yet to learn is nobody gives you power.  You just take it.  ~Roseanne Barr

Clearly been down and struggling lately. Trying to stay up and perky when what I really feel like is staying in bed for days. Course, my old body doesn’t tolerate that. The hips hurt if I lay in bed for too long.

My mother has a philosophy on money. A religious person might say her phrase “The Lord will provide”. Her experience is that support, money, inspiration can come from the most unexpected places at the least expected times.

Cue my girls.

One of my ehbabes reunited moms learned of an expectant mom in crisis. Expectant mom had been considering adoption even though her parents were supporting her. She was getting heat from the father of the child, was anxious and nervous and worried. My ehbabes mom friend developed a relationship with her, shared her own story of adoption trauma and loss and expectant mom has decided to keep her baby!  Moms from my ehbabes group (and perhaps even a few adoptees there) have contributed to an online baby shower for expectant mom. Car seats were sent across the country, clothing, gift certificates and more.

This is what should be and what should have always been for mothers like me. No mother should ever lose her child due to lack of support, fear, anxiety or lack of housing. Kids will always be life changing, will always be expensive, and you will always worry about your mothering ability not matter your age or marital status.

The best gift any mother can give her child is herself.

Hooray to us for preventing one more baby from getting fed into the american adoption machine only to spit out the other end with a new mommy, name and birth certificate!

I was so touched by my group of moms. The leader of the effort agreed with me that putting our efforts into helping others keep their children lessens the pain of the loss of ours. If something good can come out of my adoption trauma horror, let it flow far and wide.

In a separate area of my life, I heard from an old coworker. I hired this woman gosh, over ten years ago when she was a new college grad. She was bright, spunky, outrageously tall and thin and had the most pleasant personality. We touch base now and then and when I am in her DC area hood we try to connect. Today, in dialogue she tells me this:

“Please make sure to let me know, even if it is for a quick hug I would love to see you.  I don't know if you have any idea how much of an impact you made on me back when I was a 20-something spaz who thought I knew everything just out of college, but I still feel like if it wasn't for you I would not have had as many successes and I am still very grateful. “

This just made my day.

Girls rule!

Still Sipping the not so Kool Aid

"Brainwashing is a system of befogging the brain so a person can be seduced into acceptance of what otherwise would be abhorrent to him. He loses touch with reality. Facts and fancy whirl round and change places.... "- Edward Hunter

It was somewhere midway through Atwoods “The Robber Bride” that it hit me. Perhaps it was a passage in the book. There seems to be common theme amongst some of the characters – a lack of mother theme.  Naturally, as I turn the page my mind wanders to my own daughter.

And then it hits me. My post on pull back. My feelings of late. The very words I used in that post.

“I believe, perhaps erroneously, at this point in her life she is better off without me. I don’t believe there is anything I can do or say to help her. I have to wait.”

You know what? I probably said, no, I know I said the same thing in 1986. She was better off without me. There is nothing I can do or say to help her.

She didn’t need me then (or so they said). She needed a real married mommy. A mommy who had a lovely husband. A mommy who had a place to live. I had nothing. I was nothing. I was just her mom.

And still, twenty odd years later I  feel the same way. She doesn’t need me. She is better off without me. Nothing I can do or say will help her. I will only hurt her.

Jesus Mary and Joe So Fat. When do I really stop drinking the kool-aid?

Oh, I am pulling back, but I really need to reframe why I am doing it. I need to make it about her and not about me.

60, 70, 80s and to present day

No explanation needed.

School Daze

"The person whose problems are all behind them is probably a school bus driver” - Mark Twain

One of the many things I despise about living with the trauma of adoption is that it never really ever goes away. Its always there. Hiding under the surface, peeking out, watching me, retreating, waiting with baited breath to rear its ugly, weepy, painful head.

My youngest son, my last child, will start kindergarten next week. Its full day. 9 a.m to 4 pm. He is well prepared academically and socially since he spent the past two years in a daycare and preschool environment. I am a tad bit worried about his napping. He is still a napper. I am not sure if they get naps in kindergarten? I did but so much has changed in school. I learned to read phonetically. My oldest son learned the wretched whole language approach. I learned to add numbers by carrying the ones. My oldest son learned some funky new math that did weird grouping stuff.

School is different now. But the emotion of watching your little ones reach that milestone is not.

When my oldest son started school the bus stop was right in front of our house. All the parents in the development came, with their coffee cups in hands, chattering and taking photos of all the soon to be anointed school kids. I still have the pictures of my sons first steps onto the big yellow school bus. He got on the bus with his Thomas the Train backpack with overwhelming excitement. His smile was wide and clearly said “I am a big kid now”. I cried as I snapped those pictures. My baby was no longer a baby.

As I tried to enjoy his moment, I was struck, as I always am, about how I never got that moment in my daughters life. What kind of backpack did she have? Was it Cabbage patch? The Olsen Twins? Did her adoptive mother take pictures? Did she go on a school bus? Did they drive their only precious child? Did she have those big huge glasses in kindergarten or did they come later? Who was her kindergarten teacher? At what stage in her school days was my daughter labeled, like I was, a gifted child?

I try to beat those thoughts into submission and not allow them to ruin my moments with my other children but they are always there. Mixed in with the tears of joy for my children’s milestones are tears of sadness for my daughter and I.  I am never able to completely be there for my sons. There is always a shred of pain and sadness.

My youngest, Stefan, will start school on Wednesday. The bus stop is moved. A mile or so from our house.  We could drive him to school but for some reason I feel he deserves the right of passage to ride the big yellow school bus and wave with pride at mom and dad as they pull away.

Did my daughter get that experience? Who was she waving at? I know she wasn’t thinking about me at that age for not only was she too young but it would be a few more years before she was to learn she was adopted.

On Wednesday, I am going to TRY to be happy and smile for my son. Maybe when I wave at him I will pretend I am waving at her 5 year old self next to him and I can let that painful memory (or lack of memory) pull away on the bus as well.

Repetition Compulsion

"Love can be put off, never abandoned." - Propertius Sextus

A friend told me of another friend who had recently been “re-abandoned” by her mother in reunion. I don’t know the mother and child in question and I don’t know specifics of their situation but I did find the terminology and the reference to the situation interesting.

I found myself wondering if what happened is that the mother had pulled back in reunion? I don’t know. I don’t really want to know the details of their story, whoever, they are, but I am concerned that pull back may be construed by our children as “re-abandoning” them. I say this because I am in the midst of a pull back myself and it makes me wonder what my daughter might feel as a result. Will she care? Will she even notice? Do I tell her I am doing that?

What do our children expect us to do when their behavior or that of their adoptive parents or anyone else for that matter becomes so hurtful to us that it triggers our fight or flight response? If your child does not have the emotional capacity to discuss their feelings with you in a mature manner, what do you do? If they continue to attack you or outright ignore you, what do you do?

What should we do when our children don’t answer emails for years, refuse gifts that we send? That would seem like they want us to go away, no? 

There is a school of thought (that I tend to agree with) that our children will test us so that we prove to them we really love them. The same school of thought insists that once in reunion parents can never leave – no matter what they do or say to us.  Doing so is taken as abandonment again. I agree with that too.

But….

Does this mean that mother just sit around and tolerate any abuse, neglect or worse that the child throws our way?

In a parent/child relationship that has not been traumatized by adoption there are some sort of rules. Mother or Father has some degree of influence and respect in the relationship and the child understands this. Communication styles are familiar. Tone of voice is understood. Words are familiar. There is a modicum of understanding in the relationship.

Adoption annihilates this.

In many cases our children have no respect for us. No matter our intent, what was done to us, all their adoption anger and rage is our fault. Abused by an adoptive parent? That is our fault. We put them in that situation. Not able to form intimate relationships? Our fault. Their first intimate relationship left them abandoned. We are to blame for things we aren’t even aware of.  (Can one fix what they did not break?)

Many of us have email only relationships with our children. How does one gauge tone of voice and intent through email? Some people are better writers than others. How does that come into play?

How does one handle this?

It is my belief that my daughter wants some sort of relationship with me but is currently not emotionally equipped or supported in any way to pursue that. Be it emotional, physical, etc. something is lacking in her life right now and she is unable to deal with the onslaught of emotions that this situation creates.  I believe, perhaps erroneously, at this point in her life she is better off without me. I don’t believe there is anything I can do or say to help her. I have to wait. I have to tell her repeatedly (and I have) that I am there. That her feelings are okay and that I won’t ever leave her again (and that I never wanted to in the first place).

Beyond that, I don’t believe there is anything I can do.  I am not helping her with my contact. I am hurting her. She likely gets into a rhythm where I don’t exist and she can get on without thinking about me and then BAM here is another email from me. I don’t want to be disrupting her life. I want to be enhancing it. I don’t believe I am.

So, I am coming to the conclusion that once maybe twice a year correspondence would be best for her. A card at Christmas. Maybe congratulation when she graduates college in the Spring.

Yet even as I ponder that I think of those strangers that “re-abandon” their child again.

Will my lessening contact and ceasing gifts be interpreted that way?

How the hell am I to know if she doesn’t tell me?

Brothers and Sisters

Children of the same family, the same blood, with the same first associations and habits, have some means of enjoyment in their power, which no subsequent connections can supply...  ~Jane Austen, Mansfield Park, 1814

My youngest son has hit a rough patch in his behavior. I don’t know what is triggering it. Changes in our home environment, natural growth and development or just his innate personality. But it’s been tough for me.

When he acts up, and lately he is quite frequently, I am torn between complete glee and laughter and frustration and needing to discipline him.

The glee and laughter comes from the fact that my son’s personality is very much mine. He is a quiet, shy child to most. Observant, cautious and lacking trust. I was, and am, the same way.  However, on the flip side he is defiant, quite bright, strong willed, angry and pretty sassy with his mouth. Again, that is me.

It makes me chuckle and love him more to see so much of myself reflected in him yet at the same time I am struggling with how much of that attitude I permit. My own strong will and attitude, in many ways, saved me from a great deal of pain (not enough, but some). I have routinely challenged authority and am quite comfortable in my adult life being very independent. However, those traits don’t come without paying a price. As a child, I engaged my father in more ways than one and paid dearly for that defiant nature. As an adult, my independent, non trusting nature wreaked havoc with intimate relationships. I would like my children to absorb my best traits not my worst. This becomes a challenge when managing a trait that can be your greatest strength or your biggest weakness.

My son has taken to this annoying habit of repeating everything you say. For example:

“Stefan, don’t do that. Put that back. I told you not to touch that”, I say

“Stefan, don’t do that. Put that back. I told you not to touch that”, he says in a mocking sing song four year old voice.

Where do I go from here? Do I continue correcting him? Let it go? Holler at him for his sassy attitude?  This child does not respond to stern voice and very little fear. He will engage you in a staring contest without question and if you are speaking to him, trying to reason with him, he will outright ignore you. He also stomps his feet, slams doors and throw things in anger. He isnt adverse to kicking and hitting either. (This makes my son sound like a monster, he really isnt but certainly has the potential to be one!)

Yes, all those traits are mine

In dealing with him lately, I find myself wondering, as I always do, what kind of child my daughter was. Was she like my oldest son? Easygoing, obedient, sensitive, quiet helpful and pretty even keeled? Or was she like my youngest? Was she a challenge to her adoptive parents?  Unlike me, who can see myself in my son and know what will work and not work, how did her adoptive parents handle her?  Did they holler at her to behave and ask her why she didn’t act like them? (Duh, dumb question, but adoptive parents actually ask that question "Why arent you like us?").

I see my daughter in my youngest son physically. I have pictures of them both at the same age and it’s quite obvious they are brother and sister. But how far does that similarity go? Is she or was she also openly defiant and strong willed? Lord knows, she is to me now but is that her nature or is that her rejecting me in reunion?

Will my sassy five year old son help me to understand my struggling twenty something daughter?