1st Support Group Meeting

So it turns out that there is a triad support group right down the street from where I live – literally – 7 blocks away. I found out about it because someone on a forum I belong to attends meetings there – an AP. I went last night and it was really nice – approx. 12 people, 3 first moms, maybe 8 adoptees and the one AP. I know it must be hard for her to hear the stuff that is talked about but she eagerly listened, really gets it and I’m glad she’s doing it for her kids. It really is refreshing and somewhat healing to know some APs who are open to what we experience and open their hearts in order to help their kids. I know some adoptees who just hate all APs and I told my hubby yesterday that it’s good for me to have some friends who are APs because otherwise it would be all to easy for me to lump them together and hate them all. It seems for every one I meet online that understands, there are 10 that don’t – I don’t care what they think of me – but I do feel concern and sadness for what their children could potentially have to deal with – I know it all to well.

All of the adoptees are in reunion except one – she used an intermediary to contact both parents and both turned her down. How incredibly sad. I tried to prepare myself for that as an inevitable outcome but how can you? I think logically we all know it can happen but you are really really hoping for that warm fuzzy reunion – and then to have BOTH doors slammed in your face? Where does one go after that? Do you continue regardless? It took my first mother six months to want to meet me. I knew her address and remember fantasizing about staking out in front of her house just to catch a glimpse of her – not to barge into her life – but just to see her in person. I’m glad it never came to that and that she eventually found the strength to meet me.

The stories at the group were all fascinating – everyone was wonderful and welcoming. It’s so invigorating to be in a room full of people that you know understand you. I told my story – which really – when I step back and hear it like it’s not my own – is also pretty damn fascinating. I surprised myself by getting teary when asked if my APs were supportive of me. I really thought I could talk about what happened matter-of-factly. But no – I had to hold back the tears. That caught me a little off guard and makes me aware that I’m more hurt than I allowed myself to believe.

We live these bizarre lives, uprooted completely and replanted elsewhere – sometimes where we DON’T belong, filled with identity issues, loss, fear, the unknown, loyalty issues, trust issues, relationship problems, fear of rejection and abandonment, playing the “good child” at our own expense because we feel we have to in order to emotionally survive – we live it – and we make it through – we survive it – somehow. I’ve realized lately that I’m a hell of a lot stronger than I ever thought I was. This strength will get me through, yet again, one more issue.

I’m Free

About a year ago I sent a post in response to someone who had lived with an abusive parent and that parent had recently died. I can’t remember if I sent it to her privately or to the whole list I belonged to. More than likely, privately. My question was, to me, so utterly taboo that I felt like the lowest creature on the planet for even asking it. Basically it was:

Upon the death of your mother did you feel a great loss or did you finally feel free?

I’ve known all my life to never butt heads with my mother, never tell her she’s wrong, never tell her she’s hurt me, never try to communicate issues because they will always be perceived as me calling her a horrible mother and never EVER EVER talk about adoption. I’ve had to walk on eggshells in silence my whole life.

When I found my birthfamily I can’t even begin to describe the fear that entered me on the thought of having to tell my mother. I KNEW I would be disowned. It was not something that might happen, it was something that would happen. So I never told them and I lived a double life that I hated. I knew at some point the truth would have to come out. My son has a relationship with his grandparents and when he would be old enough to understand everything I could not expect him to lie for me and pretend these people do not exist. Secrets and lies in adoption destroy everyone who participates in them.

My husband used to tell me that I should tell them for my own needs – to be truthful with myself and for myself. But I knew what would happen. I knew. He didn’t know and he didn’t believe me. But I knew.

And now, with everything that has happened, from something far less monumental as finding long lost family – he believes me. He knows now that I do know my parents and how they would react.

They chose, by their actions to my xmas present, to cut me out of their lives. They may still be alive but I have been freed.

MY APARENTS SUCK

There really is no other title that I could think of to suit this post. For those who read my “1st xmas sans afamily” – well, the saga continued and has now ended.

Before I go into it, I want to give a GREAT BIG THANK YOU to my friends IRL – which to me means all of you. You are all part of my real life. Those who I get to see face to face and those who I only see a picture and read your words. I cannot express how wonderful it has been to have the support, encouragement, shoulders to cry on, and love that you all have given to me. Some of you were even able to make me laugh when all I felt like doing was cry. I’d honestly have to say I’m grateful. Yep, now I know what grateful feels like and I am, grateful, to all of you for helping me get through such a horrible day.

I heard from my parents yesterday in the form of a piece of mail. My husband got the mail and I hear him say “wow” – or maybe more of a “whoa” from downstairs in my office. He comes down and hands me an envelope and says “I didn’t expect this.” I’m sure at that moment we both thought it was a thank you card, probably something simple, non-emotional or maybe even guilt laden. I really wasn’t ready to deal with her guilt at that moment and made a comment about my day being ruined. Little did I know what I was about to deal with.

I opened the envelope and in it was a folder 8.5 x 11 piece of paper wrapped around the gift card I sent and the pictures of my son. Typed on the paper in bold letters were two words – NO THANKS.

I went numb. I cried. I went numb. I cried. I went back and fourth. Hubby hugged me. Part of me wanted him to leave so I could just break down and have an all out bawl.

We talked and talked for hours – trying to figure out how to handle it. He wanted to call them and give them a piece of his mind. I honestly think he was more pissed than me. I told him that doing that would only give them the opportunity to hurt me more. We still have not come to a conclusion on how to respond or if to respond.

Thing is, I kind of expected it. I thought they would send it back unopened with “return to sender” on the outside. That would not have surprised me. For them to accept an olive branch after they calliously ignored our birthdays? That is just too much for them. That would mean admitting that their daugther “did the right thing.” That would mean shallowing their pride. But the fact that they opened it, looked at the pictures of my sweet little innocent 17 month old son – their only grandson – and returned them is totally beyond my comprehension. And the cold and calculated maneuver of typing those two words instead of hand writing them – sheesh – I don’t even know how to process that.

What kind of person does this? What kind of person punishes a child, their only grandson, because they are mad at their daughter? It takes a cold heart in my opinion. And mad at me – for what? For sheepishly standing up for myself. For saying “hey mom, I love you, but could you please respect my ability to make good choices for my son and stop criticizing me?” Could you please offer me some support as I’m trying to recover from a c-section, handle a colicky baby, learn to breastfeed, and attempt to go back to work at my home office way to soon but out of necessity? Could you do that mom? Obviously not. She is not capable.

If she is not capable of that, if she is not capable of unconditional love and of putting her childs needs first – and her grandchilds – than why on earth did she adopt me in the first place. I am not a possession for her to control and manipulate – I am a human being with feelings – feelings that have constantly been ridiculed, mocked, ignored and beaten down.

Or maybe, as one of my favorite adoptees has suggested was the case with her – I was supposed to be a band-aid for her fertility problems and I just never lived up to that baby that died. A few years ago, during a political debate with her and discussing trial lawyers and the right of parents to sue doctors, she told me that if her doctor had not screwed up 30-some years ago she would have had a different child. That comment landed me in my therapists office the next day.

A dear sweet online adoptee who I greatly admire said “Stop handing them a loaded gun and saying, shoot me again.”

Well stick a fork in mom – I’m done. I’m done with letting you hurt me. I’m done with listening to you make fun of me. I’m done with your self-centered behavior. I’m done with your bullying. I’m done with your manipulation. I’m done with your controlling habits. You crossed the line when you denied my son. It is your loss.

Today is a new day. I made it through the worst, with a lot of help, but today I move on. Today I learn to walk proud. Proud of the mother I am, proud of the wife I am, proud of the friend I am to others, proud of the person I am. Today I start to heal.