What about your "real parents"?

I heard from a friend out of the blue last night.  I worked with him for a few years about ten years ago.  We were pretty close when we worked together but then I moved away from the area and as often happens with me, we lost touch.  We didn’t lose touch completely, but contact dropped off significantly and continued to decrease as time went by. I think I last talked to him, outside the occasional Facebook comment (because of course we are Facebook friends) about three years ago.   

I keep my postings on Facebook about my reunion with my natural family to a minimum.  My adoptive mother is also a “friend” on Facebook.  I have her blocked from seeing my posts unless I go in and change the settings for something specific I want her to see, but I don’t entirely trust it.  She claims to be supportive of the reunion but her actions don’t really back that up.  So, while I don’t have a problem with family commenting on my posts or commenting on theirs I don’t actually talk about adoption or related issues.  Anyway, my friend didn’t see my single post about the reunion its self so he didn’t know anything about it.

So, after we caught up for a little while I told him about my “big news”.  Really, this is the only “big news” I have had since my twins were born and I do like to talk about it.  Well, I like to talk about it on good days anyway.  As much as I like to talk about it I am generally very cautious about whom I talk about it with.  I figured my friend wouldn’t be a problem.  I suppose calling him a problem, even given his reaction, isn’t really fair to him, it is more of a commentary on how ingrained adoption propaganda is in our society.  When I got done with the short version of events the first thing he asked me is how my adoptive parents felt about it.  What I have gotten from people in the past, even if they eventually asked that question (and many did not) was some statements about how cool of a story it is or how happy they are for me.  This guy and I were close when we worked together, we actually did stuff together outside work and we shared a lot about ourselves with each other.  He has heard some of the stories of the things my adoptive parents, and especially my mother, did when I was growing up and since.  He knows, or at least knew, that I didn’t have a good relationship with them.  I remembered the relationships he had with his family so I expected him to remember mine, but perhaps I expected too much.

My friend has no connection to adoption in his life; he isn’t adopted, he doesn’t have any close friends that are adopted (other than me, not sure if I still count as close anymore, but I was), doesn’t have any close friends or family that are adoptive parents, etc.  All he has is the generally accepted narrative on adoption we have in our society.  If he had just made the one comment I wouldn’t be making this post.  However the more we talked about it the more comments he made.  He kept asking how my adoptive parents felt about it, if they were OK with it, and even said he felt sorry for them since they raised me and then all of a sudden this happened years later.  He was mildly supportive of me but I could tell his primary concern was for the feelings of my adoptive parents. 

I know my friend well enough to know he was purposefully trying to hurt my feelings or downplay the significance of my reunion.  I tried to explain it to him but I could tell it just wasn’t getting through.  He is apparently one of the many people that have been convinced by the adoption industry propaganda that adoption and adoptive parents are always good and anything that has the potential to disrupt them is bad.  I probably won’t hear from him again, outside of Facebook comments, for another three years so I didn’t pound my head into a brick wall for too long trying to change his mind.  However it really made me realize more than ever what sort of mentality those of us that want to change how adoption is handled are up against.  My friend is a smart guy but on this issue he didn’t even hear what I was saying.  What he believes was so ingrained in his mind that I might as well have been talking to myself. 

It is this sort of thinking that is going to keep the system the same and going to mean that more and more kids are going to have to go through some version of what I did.  I couldn’t be happier to be back with my natural family but I shouldn’t have been separated from them at all.  The emotional fallout from the separation is something that I have been living with (unwittingly) for years and have only recently started to deal with.  The pain and loss associated with that separation and the time and money required to come to terms with it is not something I would wish on anyone.  It needs to change.

I'll make you such a deal...

I decided to go back to school.  Classes start soon and I discovered recently that despite the fact all my classes are online and I live about 50 miles from the campus I still am expected to submit evidence I was vaccinated as a child.  I'm 43 years old, my doctor from 1973/1974 is long since retired and probably dead, and I don't have those records.  So, I sent my mother an email asking if she had any of the records still hanging around.  It turns out she did, they were in a bunch of stuff she pulled out of her safe deposit box recently.  Below is a direct quote from her email to me (I just copy/pasted it):

The immunization records are in the mail to you.  They were the bottom thing in the bag of safe deposit box stuff.  The other old thing was Sultan's AKC registration papers.  Plus the official document of adoption, indicating we indeed paid a whopping $15.00 for you!  What a good deal that was!  💕🎶🎶💕

I included the hearts and musical notes she added to the end even though I have no idea what they are supposed to mean.  Celebration that I was so cheap perhaps?  Of course we had to make sure and mention a dog that his been dead since 1985 in the email.

I have no idea why she thinks it is OK to talk about me as if she and my adoptive father purchased me from a supermarket.  Further, I have heard this great story, which was the substitute I had for a birth story, hundreds of times over the years.  I didn't need to hear it again, nor did it need to be expressed to me in a way that implied I was both purchased and at a bargain basement discount to boot.  It is not lost on me that they paid a lot more than $15 for every dog they have ever owned. 

There are a lot of people in the adoptee community who think of adoption as human trafficking with a pretty name.  At first I thought this position was a little extreme, but what else would one call this?  Clearly my adoptive mother thinks she bought me.  I certainly felt like I was a purchase when I was growing up and that feeling continues. 

One of the reasons my mom let me go was that she didn't have any way to support me and didn't think she would even have anywhere for us to live since her mother told her she couldn't bring me back there [to her mother's house].  I know my mom was trying to do what was best for me and I don't fault her for it.  Even so, living under a bridge with her I wouldn't have felt like a purchase and I have no doubt I would have felt loved no matter what.  I had the exact opposite in the "better life" I got through adoption.

Another Family Visit

I went to visit my family again this past weekend.  It was, as usual, a great time and way too short.  I have a ticket already to go back for Thanksgiving but that seems very far away.  I’m hoping to be able to take the twins with me but I don’t know yet whether or not that will be possible.  I’d like to take my whole family with me but work and school schedules won’t allow for that.  This will be my first holiday as part of my own big family.  Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and I really would like to share it with all of the important people in my life.  It would be really great if there was some way to get my wife and all three of my children out there with me.  Maybe that long lost relative I don’t know about will come through with the inheritance, but I’m not holding my breath. 

My mom and I had a couple of very good conversations while I was out there.  We felt connected right away (I think I can speak for her when I say that) but the better we have gotten to know each other the more easily the information has flowed back and forth.  I don’t know how it was for her but for me it wasn’t an easy process.  I’ve never been in a position before where I felt comfortable sharing anything of substance with my mother.  Of course in the past my mother was always my adoptive mother and I always regretted it any time I tried to tell her anything meaningful. 

I know our reunion is somewhat unusual in that it has been so successful.  I’m very grateful for that and I feel like a lot of the reason for it is the fact that she has always been so open with me about everything.  That trend continued this past weekend.  She gave me copies of some journal entries she wrote from around the time I was born (1973) and running for about three years.  I never doubted her version of events as she had related them to me previously but there is something about reading about them “as they happen” that really drove them home.  If I had any doubts I wouldn’t have after reading what she wrote at the time it was going on.  There was so much pain and sadness in those pages I could almost feel it myself.  As I read I wished over and over again that I could go back in time and tell my much younger mother that it was all going to work out in the end.  I’ve always been one of those people who thinks of himself as basically invisible.  I had to keep reminding myself as I read that the person my mom kept referring to as her “baby” and “son” in the journal was me.  It simply didn’t seem real to me that anyone could spend that much time thinking about me, let alone be so devastated over losing me. 

As seems to be the norm for one of these visits I kept noticing things about me that are similar to other members of the family.  It is still all so strange to me and yet some of it is so obvious that it can’t be anything other than biology.  I suppose there will come a day when it isn’t something I even notice anymore but I don’t expect that day to be anytime soon.  I seem to be inserting myself into the family dynamics a little bit more.  I spent more time bonding with my niece and nephew.  In this case bonding involved me being bonded; they tied me up with Scotch tape and pushed me around in a desk chair.  I had a couple of great conversations with my sister (their mom) and she made my favorite cupcakes from childhood (which were apparently also her husband’s favorite).  I think I accidentally upset my brother.  Both of us unfortunately have gotten to see a lot of people die; me due to my law enforcement career and him due to being in combat.  Somehow we got onto that subject and specifically the very distinctive breathing noise people with serious head injuries make (if you don’t know it be grateful).  No one I have heard making the noise has lived.  For some reason I decided to mimic the noise and he just turned and walked away without a word.  Different methods of coping and different experiences make for different reactions.  I had no intention of bringing up something uncomfortable for him, but we are still getting to know each other and I suppose missteps are bound to happen.  Overall it was a great visit though.  I’m still learning how to be part of a family.  Every time I go there I learn a little bit more. 

Since I’ve been back I’ve been down as usual but it hasn’t been as bad as it was with past visits.  That, at least, is a good sign.  Maybe I’m starting to accept at least a little bit that I really am part of the family.  I still have my moments to be sure but it isn’t constant.  Perhaps the counseling is helping, though my counselor is on vacation this week so I haven’t gotten to see him since I got back and that really hasn’t helped matters.  I certainly don’t fault the man for taking a vacation; it is always going to be a bad time for someone. 

Overall I’d say I feel a little more positive right now.  I wish I could have all “my people” close together so I didn’t have to feel like I was choosing between spending time with one set or the other.  That will be especially hard over holidays where I am going to feel split and out of sorts no matter where I am unless everyone is together.  Adoption really is the gift that keeps on giving.

Conversation with my Sister

I was talking to my sister last night.  We covered a number of subjects, but like most of our conversations it was mostly about how we feel.  My counselor really is right, despite the fact that I like to think of myself as a logical person driven by reason I really am more emotional than I give myself credit for (or want to admit most of the time). 

Anyway, we were talking about my experience growing up and how I never really felt like I belonged where I was.  I won't rehash it all here because much of it I have already gone into in detail in previous posts.  However, she said something to me that really made my night.  I don't know if that was her intention or if she was just expressing how she felt and it happened to make might night, but either way, it did the trick.  Having a feeling of belonging, and even more importantly, feeling wanted are very necessary for me.  She gave me both with this (sorry if it is a little out of context, it should still make sense): "I'm glad you have some place to belong now, I'm glad you're ours now". 

I've been struggling for a while now with this feeling that they couldn't possibly want me in their lives.  That isn't because of anything any of them have said or done but because of my own issues.  That simple comment made me feel like I really was wanted and my presence had value. 

The joy of being adopted, much reassurance needed.

I'm leaving Thursday night for a visit out there.  As usual I'm very excited and I can't wait.  At the same time I know when the visit is over (I come back Monday morning) I'll spend the next two weeks at least extremely depressed.  All I'll want to do is go back and I will think about little else.  It is a fantastic cycle.  I wouldn't trade these visits for anything (well, except a move there), but the crash when I get home is not fun for anyone.

Flashing into Existence

I’ve written about this before, but it is something that has been on my mind recently so I’m coming back to it.  It is one of those things that probably doesn’t seem terribly significant until it isn’t there and that is the birth story.  I grew up without that story, apparently flashing into existence at 3 ½ months looking very angry in a series of pictures taken by my adoptive parents on the day they brought me “home”.  The fact that I looked so angry in those first day pictures was often commented on, why I might look that way was never, so far as I can remember, discussed. 

The only tidbit of information I knew about my birth growing up was that I had been premature, born before the middle of February when I shouldn’t have been born until the end of March.  There was more information in the paperwork my adoptive parents had but for whatever reason none of that was shared with me until they gave me a copy of it when I was in my late teens.  When I was growing up I knew logically that I had been born like everyone else but it became harder and harder for me to conceptualize it.  I have specific memories of thinking about my birth and despite understanding that it had to have happened not being able to accept it as real.  I always felt different because it was something I couldn’t talk about when the subject came up.  That made it seem like it was something that never happened to me.  I often wonder now if the reason I never made any serious effort to find my natural family is that inability to accept that despite the complete lack of information about it I still had to have been born and therefore I still must have family out in the world somewhere.  I don’t have any memories of conscious thoughts in that respect but I wonder about an unconscious influence.

A subject related to the birth story that often appeared and served to remind me I was different was the “who do you look like” conversation.  This is not an unusual subject at family gatherings, it just seems to be part of human nature to compare family members to each other and see what features they share.  I suppose I was lucky in a sense since we had no family close by most of the family gatherings I attended were around holidays and therefore not very frequent.  Everyone in the extended family knew I was adopted but that didn’t stop them from having these discussions in front of me.  I suppose no one even considered that I might feel left out or otherwise isolated by the fact that I didn’t share any features with anyone in the family because I didn’t share any blood with anyone.  I can’t really blame anyone in the extended family though; people who are not adopted don’t give these sorts of conversations a second thought.  Even so, every time one of these conversations happened it made me feel that much more out of place. 

I don’t think either of my adoptive parents set out to intentionally hurt me or make me feel isolated or alone.  I think they considered infants to be a blank slate (which was common thinking at the time) and expected me to be molded in their image much like a biological child would have been.  Instead I came to them with much of my “programming” already taken care of by biology.  The person I was and continued to be as I grew was not particularly compatible with them and their ideals of who their child should be.  I didn’t understand any of this at the time nor do I believe they did.  It wasn’t until I met my natural family and discovered so many similar traits and personalities that I really understood why I always clashed with my adoptive parents.  I hope I can eventually come to terms with all of this and accept it.  Right now that seems like a very long road.