Let Your Adoption Story Be Heard
I learned so much from reading my birth mother’s posts. They give me in touch with my children’s birth parents and the enormous loss and grief I know they suffered.
I’m always fascinated by how much all of the stories have in common, yet how different they can be as well. A couple of weeks ago I posted “A Handmade Gift” which presented one point of view about adoption, and this week Claudia’s video presents another point of view of adoption.
What is your point of view, I would love to hear from adoptees and birth mothers. No one needs to be right or wrong, I would just like for you to be heard.
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February 25, 2013 at 9:41 pm
I found my birth family about 20 months ago and in many ways, it’s been much like a “Hallmark movie”. However, for all of the massive positives that have come out of all of it, new issues have arrived…”where (and to whom) do I belong?”…dealing with different insecurities…dealing with an adoptive family that is now rejecting me for my decision to find my birth family…learning to accept what has “come out of the box” with my birth family…”where do we go from here” with my birth family – without me being pushy and clingy because after 48 years I have finally found my mom (who I am more like than all 4 of my siblings on her side) as well as my 6 additional siblings and a “not so warm and fuzzy” dad…In a lot of ways, I feel like I am walking on egg shells again like I did growing up. Back then it was the fear if I was not a good girl, then I wouldn’t have a home and I knew I didn’t have anywhere to go since my birth parents gave me up. Now, I have trouble just being me in fear of my birth family’s rejection (you know, just because I found them doesn’t mean they have to stick around too – they lived all these years without me, why should they be obligated to include me now?) Their “rejection” of me at my time of birth was because they were teens and forced to do so…but now if they do not want a relationship with me (after meeting me, getting to know me, etc.) then their rejection is real and it’s ME that they are rejecting – not the responsibility of raising a child like in 1964. wow.
The more I read about adoption (thank you!) the more I am able to realize that I am not as weird as I grew up thinking (because I was so very different from my adoptive family). What started as a journey to include giving my birth parents peace about their decision and an opportunity to heal…has also turned into the same for me because I apparently I needed it too…who knew? <3
February 26, 2013 at 8:09 am
Hello,
It is the intent of this magazine to “normalize” the adoption experience for everyone, by hearing from your peers and others in the triad. Thank you for writing.
Jane
March 5, 2013 at 7:17 am
After an absence of 43 years I finally got to celebrate a birthday with my son. It brought back so many locked memories of his birth. In 1969 they knocked you out when you delivered. So I had to ask a nurse if I had a boy or a girl. It was the hospitals policy to place girls who were relingishing their children on an OBGN floor rather than a maternity ward. Much to everyones disapproval I spent as much time as possible with my son over the next two days. He was so little, but so perfect, all pink and swaddled in blue. 10 fingers…10 toes. I refused to let him leave the hospital without a birth certificate that named him, it did not seem right to send him out into the world with the name of BOY KING. Because we went through a private adoption I had to be wheeled out of the hospital with my son in my arms. I whispered my heart to him as I held him tightly and kissed him softly. I told him how much I loved him and that I always would, andf how I believed with all my heart that someday we would be together again before I had to hand him to the lawyer. Finally 43 years later that promise came true.
Today, I think about the opposite side of that story. I think of the phone call that his parents must of received. The call that said “It’s a boy” …a healthy baby boy…10 fingers…10 toes…all pink and swaddled in blue. Perhaps they were told how long he was and how much he weighed and what time he was born. I think now of the happiness and joy they must of felt upon hearing this news. Upon hearing when they could come and take him home with them. Upon knowing that they would soon be holding him in their arms and whispering their hearts to him…holding him tightly and kissing him softly as I did.
This is the first birthday, in 43 years that I did not have to silently whisper my wishes for him. This is the first birthday, in 43 years that I did not have to wonder where and how he is. This is the first birthday where I can finally feel the happiness and the joy of having a healthy baby boy…10 fingers…10 toes…all pink and swaddled in blue.