I had a very deep realization yesterday. My earliest conception may have been viewed as an “accident”, an unintended consequence of my parents going too far in youthful hormonal impulse.
And on a very deep level, I felt what many adoptees probably feel as well – as though we weren’t mean to be and it is hard and deep and an important healing I believe.
When I counted the months back from my birth to the date of my parents’ wedding anniversary, I knew the truth and it troubled me. I have always thought what troubled me was my mom’s “good girl” lectures but I understand in maturity, she wanted to spare me her young experience while yet a student in high school.
I was angry with her at first and didn’t want her to touch me. Eventually, I forgave her because I loved her, not because the reality didn’t remain a troubling paradox for me.
I know I’m not a mistake and I do know my life has purpose – my life has many purposes actually. I’ve become a mother 3 times. I’ve been there to handle my parents’ estate after they died. I’ve been the one to uncover our original grandparents after my adopted parents died knowing next to nothing themselves.
And I have a “voice” and courageously (or foolishly, depending on whatever external judgement of my own voluntary behaviors) and I use it to promote and defend issues that are important to me because if not me, then who ? Yes, someone else might come along . . . but if everyone were to hide their own truths, what would that accomplish ?
We are all important to wholeness and I know that my ancestors suffered emotional and mental anguish, in order for my parents to be raised by the people who adopted them and in the place where they grew up, which enabled them to meet and my own self to be born.