My Promise To My Self

Both of my parents were adopted. Until I was about 60 years old, I had no idea of who my biological, genetic grandparents were or the cultures they came from. This never troubled my dad but it did trouble my mom. Because my dad did not want to hear such things from my mom, she talked to me about it. She tried mightily to get her adoption file from the state of Tennessee but was rejected twice.

So, I always thought I would try after my parents had died, thinking that might somehow loosen up the levers of power that kept their adoption files and information sealed and a secret from those of us treated like second class citizens by keeping us in ignorance about information that most citizens of this country take for granted.

Today’s blog is inspired by some words spoken by the Rev Michael Bernard Beckwith in his message on Sunday, Nov 24th – “You have put a dream in your own heart before you got here. You made a promise to your self to activate it, discover it, to live it fully. Then, you begin to understand your real identity.” I was conceived out of wedlock (though my parents did marry before I was born) by two young people – my mom was a teenager in high school and my dad had just started at a university out of town. I believe that dream that I put in my heart before I came into this life was to uncover my family’s roots. I had fulfilled that goal in less than a year as the pieces fell like dominos into my lap with each effort I made.

It is always going to feel sad to my own heart that my parents had passed away before I had this information that would have mattered to whatever degree to each of them. At least, as their descendant I know and I have passed that information onto other biological genetic family members. I feel that I did fulfill that destiny that I was born to do.

Yesterday, I got a rather nasty comment from an adoptee who was being triggered and thus, she was reacting to what I had written. It was easy to see the propagandas she had been fed such as “we chose you” and she denied any loss of identity due to being adopted. I believe in allowing adoptee voices to say whatever they want to say on my blog – after all – I am NOT an adoptee myself – only the child of parents who were both adopted. I answered as honestly as I could in my reply, being as kindly as I know how, because she was rather rude and judgmental – but hers is one perspective among many that adoptees could have in response to their own experience. I had absolutely no inclination to argue with her. I have spent at least 7 years reading and absorbing a wide variety of adoptee feelings about their experience.

Not everything I write is going to sit well with adoptees or adoptive parents. Though I insert my own perspectives wherever they fit in, much of what I am trying to do with this blog is only educate others about how it feels to be a part of the system that is adoption in this country. I have no agenda nor could I have a serious bias against adoption because “but for” I would not even exist.

No Wonder

I’m 30 and I just found out I was adopted.

I was raised in a family always making comparisons… everyone’s like “ah you’re just like your *insert relative*” in looks, behaviors, etc… However, since everyone tried to hide the fact that I was adopted, no one EVER compared me to anyone. Unfortunately, my mom always said I looked like a spitting image of my dad… I always have felt like the ugly duck. Always really sad as a child that I didn’t have anyone to look up to, who I shared silly facial expressions, mannerisms, or physical features with, etc. My baby cousins were always called beautiful with their eye color matching the coveted eyes of my mother.. my other cousins were all petite, while I stood out like a sore thumb, SUPER tall… growing up my cousin (like a sis) was never been able to share clothing with me or beauty hacks because I’m so different from the rest. I feel like I’ve always been an outcast and so, I’ve been unable to bond in any of the ways, I should’ve…

Awful, that it’s always meant so much to me, looking at photographs of family and their history/culture was so big to me, and now, learning all my background has nothing to do with me at all!? My adoptive mom died 15 years ago and my adoptive dad disappeared when I was 1.

Memoir by Daniel Stedfast

I saw a mention of this book and thought I’d look into it. At one time, I had hoped to publish a memoir about my own root journey due to having two adoptee parents. I don’t know if he self-funded his publication of this, many do. Self-funding is not my plan after hearing some friend’s own stories about their own attempts.

In a LINK>speech in Connecticut regarding SB 113, Stedfast said – The family of an adopted person feels the
impact of “not knowing” just as strongly. Knowing there is information about me on file that I am not entitled to is not right in America. Also – We have missed many decades of time together that cannot be replaced. (blogger’s note – I can relate to all of that.)

Here is a LINK>to reviews for this book at Amazon. They are all generally good. Most focus on the music of that era. Stedfast was born in 1953, I was born in 1954. Music was a huge part of my growing up years (still is an important part of my life today) though I didn’t rub elbows with the more famous groups like he did. The closest I came was, for a time, hanging out with Ingrid Berry (daughter of Chuck) and the Joint Jumpers. Really I was there more to dance to the band’s music than hang out with her but she was with the band and kindly tolerated my presence.

Ingrid Berry pretty much as I remember her

It’s Not Only The Moms

What is like, when you know you have an older sibling “out there” but because they were adopted out, you don’t know anything about their life. When I found my cousin, daughter of my mom’s half-sister on her father’s side, just after that sister had only passed away a few months before, my cousin told me that her mom always hoped my mom would show up, so that they could meet and talk.

From another woman who’s older sister was adopted out –

I don’t get to ask how you slept last night.

I can’t ask you where you’ve been or what you’ve been up too.

I can’t tell you how much I love you or how badly I need you.

I don’t get to make a big post with a picture of the two of us, celebrating your birthday.

I don’t know if you have kids, my niece, or my nephew.

I don’t even know your name.

But I know that some where out there, you exist, and you are my sister. Regardless of anything..

I will never stop looking for you…. I will die looking for my sister..

This day is very hard for my whole family.. we love you sister, and I won’t stop until I find you… Happy Birthday. I hope the ones around you show you how special you are. I hope you go to sleep smiling in the comfort that you are so loved. I hope you wake up smiling because life has treated you to another beautiful day. I hope you know there’s some one out there in this world who loves you more than you will ever know.. I pray for the day I meet you, sister.. we will find each other one day, Lord please.

Things You Wish You Had Asked

It often happens to many of us after our parents have passed away – I know I have experienced that. We just don’t always know what to ask, when it was possible to receive the answer that we wish we could have known before they are gone.

Now, some adoptive parents are trying to get those kinds of answers for their adoptive children, while there is still some contact with the biological parents.

One adoptive parent noted – My adopted daughter ALWAYS wants to know about her birth family and I really want her to know those details as well. I think it’s important for her identity to know about even the most mundane details, it gives her ways to relate.

One adoptive parent says – My adopted daughter has never said “I wish my mom knew x about me” but consistently asks about her mom’s story and wonders about her. She will want to know your favorite ice cream, color, song… in addition to personality traits and examples of your strengths and flaws. She will want to see herself in you. A hard part of adoption is having unanswered questions. I feel compassion for every adopted child who has to wonder about this ! I can’t even imagine how hard it must be to thirst for more and not have it.

One adoptee notes – the overwhelming emotions in reaction to what many of us always wished we’d known. As the reply above said “someday” she will want to know everything. You may not know or mark any notice of that day but it will come, even if it is just a whisper in her heart of hearts that she never expresses aloud. I, at 48 yo, 29 yrs reunion with bio father and 12 yrs reunion with bio mother still thirstily read/listen to every fact about them both, when they share. Though I admit I rarely openly express to them how deeply I love those moments of revelation of who they are and what made them into the person they are.

The adoptive parent who started this discussion realizes – it is so heartbreaking. I’ve been told many times that what I, as an adoptive parent try to do, is everything adoptees want and unfortunately many adoptive parents turn them down or only save some of the things birth parents share, it’s so sad. The birth parent needs to talk about life, likes, dislikes, hobbies, whatever it is that they do in their daily life .. all we can share, even if it seems mundane.

blogger’s note – I know when I finally connected with one of my adoptee mom’s biological girl cousins – it was the little stuff she shared with me that meant so much. Her “Aunt Lou” was my biological maternal grandmother. She tells me that my grandmother “loved to tease and laugh. I think she thought of herself as bit of a black sheep but she wasn’t. She was very generous with her love to us. She sold Avon and we always got some perfume in pretty bottles. I have really fond memories of her and my uncle. She had a collection of salt and pepper shakers in all kinds of shapes and she would let me play with them. And she always had butterscotch candies because she knew I like them.” None of it earth shattering but all of it precious to me as the granddaughter who never had a chance to know her.

Didn’t Know My Roots

Until I finally learned my own adoptee parents origin stories – I didn’t have any roots – just a black hole where my genetic identity should have been. Running late and short on time (nothing new about this) – I am going to learn on what she said.

My friend, who produces LINK>The Adoption Files, wrote a bit about her own experience. In case you can’t access a FB post, I make a note of some key points. She mentions the impacts of lacking genetic mirroring – a common experience for many adoptees. It is what it might feel like to be at home in one’s self. My friend notes – One of the most striking impacts is the difficulty making decisions.

Using side by side photos of yourself and family members at different points in your lives presupposes the luxury of access to images that many adoptees do not have. My parents didn’t have these but in my own roots journey (only embarked on late in my own lifetime – in my early 60s – after my parents had already passed away) I have acquired many photos of genetic relatives that my parents never had an opportunity to see.

Having to be small, and quiet, and compliant are forces still at war in my friend. My mom was constrained by them too. I don’t know as much about the impacts of being adopted on my dad. He never spoke of it.

My friend shared this music saying, “The first time I heard this song, it struck a chord with me.”

Should I Tell ?

Not saying my image is “the” necklace but it is a lovely tradition to share.

Today’s story (not my own) –

My cousin was adopted out during the Baby Scoop Era and my family is Catholic. She’s 15 yrs older than me and she found us when I was a tween (so like 30 yrs ago). She was very close to her adoptive dad, but not as much with her adoptive mother. They’ve both passed now, and she is close now with us, her birth family including her birth Mom.

So my question is… my Grandma got all her female grandchildren a necklace for our parents to give us at high school graduation. We have a “cousins chat group” which she is in, and I recently posted a pic of the necklace and included her saying that I found one online and I’d love to send her one too because Grandma would want her to have it. She seemed really thankful and said she loved it.

So here’s the thing – my Aunt (her birth Mom, who may have already told her this) told me not too long ago that my Grandma forbid my Aunt to hold her as a newborn and refused to hold her herself, as she knew if they did they’d never be able to let her go. Do I tell her this?? Or is this really overstepping, and just let her enjoy her “cousin necklace”? I just love her so much and want her to know how much her natural family loves her, especially now that her adoptive family is gone.

An adoptee answers – I would not tell her that, it can only bring hurt.

Another agrees but with exceptions – I wouldn’t voluntarily tell her that. But if she asks difficult questions or wants to have all info, even hard to hear info revealed to her, tell her the truth, every time.

An adult adoptee elaborates – I don’t think it’s necessary to say at all, personally, but also it seems completely unrelated to this specific context of giving her the necklace. Like, if the point is to bring her in and include her in a family tradition, why turn around and also tell her “btw granny said/did some awful things when you were born. but she’d want you to have this!” ? It just seems like it would negate the sentiment of the gift – you’d be including her and also othering her at the same time.

Then, there was this sad story – My grandma loves to bring up the fact that my mom dropped me off when I was 2 days old and that my father left the state because “he would’ve killed you, if he stuck around”. There really is no reason to share that information with me. I know about my trauma and have a lot of specific events and memories. Adding more just doesn’t….make sense. Seems like adding salt to the wound.

More from another adoptee – My siblings and cousins know a lot more about my family situation than I do as it’s their lived experience. My cousin and I, in particular, have an extremely close relationship and I believe her when she tells me stories about our family. That said, she does not tell me things that would be personally hurtful to me that she may have overheard. We had this discussion and she asked me, “Do you want to know EVERYTHING?” So I got the watered down version sans quotes. I do know it was my grandmother who insisted I be relinquished. I know how she treated my mother when she was pregnant with me and afterwards. I really don’t need to know more than that.

Personally, I would not share that with her UNLESS she were to ask you, “Do you know if my mother and grandmother ever held me?” And then I would HEAVILY stress that the reason they didn’t was because they loved her so much and knew they would never be able to let her go. Please let her enjoy the cousin necklace and THANK YOU for getting her her own cousin necklace and including her in the group chat.

So many have similar experiences, like this one – My grandparents refused to see me and my mother did not hold me, but she would come look at me. My grandparents couldn’t bring themselves to look at me because I would be real. If I was real then they couldn’t give me away. It is really a conversation that needs to be had between her and her mother. It’s not really a conversation that anyone else can accurately translate.

Love For Them Is Natural

Image from a reunion story at LINK>Cafe Mom

I read this from an adoptive parent today in my all things adoption group – “We as adoptive parents shouldn’t feel threatened when adoptees express their love for their biological parents.”

The comment above came in response to something she had read in a different group (that I am not a member of) – “How do you handle your kids saying they love their biological parents more than you ? My oldest son is 5 but I’ve had him since he was 9 months old. He was allowed overnights with biological mom until he was 2-1/2 years old. He’s only seen her 5 times since she lost custody. From my prospective, he doesn’t really know her because they have rarely been together. The overnights were for one night every month or two. It just hurts my feelings when he says he loves his birth mom and her husband (not his bio dad) and not me”.

One mother of loss noted a bit cynically – OMG did an adoptive parent just admit their own fragility and insecurity ?! Better put this one on the calendar. Someone get this lady a medal. Sorry you weren’t able to erase an unbreakable bond. And as how to “handle” it ? You ACCEPT it. You know what ? Your feelings are not what matters. You get a shrink and you just deal with it. Or you use a 5 year old’s true feelings to alienate the child for your own selfish gain by cutting contact and closing the adoption, like 89% of the rest of the vultures do. He hasn’t seen her but 5 times and they’re rarely together because you haven’t allowed it, because you’re jealous. From overnights to nothing, hmmm what do we think the outcome will be ?

One woman who works with young people wrote – Doing youth work, it’s been enlightening to see how the way the adoptive parents treat the whole subject and how the kid processes it all as they get to an age to understand this stuff with more detail. The ones who have been treated like belongings have had real internal struggles. There was quite a bit of kinship caring in the families we worked with and there’s been more than one “family visit” night where like 25 people have turned up. LOL I’m like, well the room isn’t that big so pick 3 people and I’ll go get the client. A lot of times when the kid was from a really remote location the whole family, like half the community, would come down and camp in the park across the road. Especially elders. I wish the people who had the attitudes like that woman could see that.

An adoptee notes – The adoptive parent expects a 5 year old to manage their feelings, with an adult-level understanding of how to do that, while denying any preferences of his own. Also in my opinion, describing it as hurting her feelings, after expressing disbelief that her son could love his biological mom more, is really her projecting her resentment about that onto the child. He’ll definitely learn not to express anything like that to her – eventually. That’s how it’s getting handled: by him.

An experienced foster/adoptive mom writes – it’s SO important that anyone getting getting involved, particularly in the foster care system, be free of the super common “looking to expand our family”. You can’t expect a child, let alone a traumatized child, to fulfill your emotional needs. That’s not what kids are for. If you’re truly interested in helping kids… Then you should be thrilled they have a great connection to their family. That’s to be celebrated. Like yay! You did a good job! Your kid has connections and is able to recognize those emotions and feels free to verbalize them! It’s just such a fundamental baked-in part of the problem that, when you pay for a child, you think you own it. You have expectations. It’s yours. It’s late stage capitalism in one of its worst forms. The inherent power structure and commodification of *children*.

Our Noche Buena

The Spanish phrase means a good night. Really, Christmas Eve is more important to me now than Christmas Day (though I will bake whole wheat Cinnamon rolls for the family tomorrow). We are preparing to move to New Mexico from Missouri after this property sells. Everything is disrupted here this year. It is sort of a Grinchy Christmas with no tree, stockings or gifts this year.

My mom had a really nice antique nativity. We didn’t put baby Jesus in the manger until Christmas Day. I continue to think of, and in my own way, honor my childhood family celebrations on Christmas Eve. I make Green Chili Enchiladas – not as my mom made them but a heathier version with leftover Thanksgiving Turkey and Kale, no cheese – like an ending to the holiday phase (though we still have New Year’s Eve to get through, before it really ends).

I grew up on the Mexican border in El Paso Texas. After our enchiladas, we would take a drive to look at the luminarias that would line many homes and sidewalks and even Rim Road overlooking the city and across the river Mexico.

Because the Catholic Church dominates the region, Midnight Mass was also common. After meeting my husband, he took me to Midnight Mass one year at the big cathedral in St Louis Missouri. I needed that reassurance because not long before that, I had a dream of stopping to ask someone for directions in downtown St Louis and they shot me with a gun to take my purse. I was so angry they would steal my life when I had so little in that purse and would have given it to them. Thankfully, that Christmas Eve downtown helped me get over it.

I realize this is not my typical “Missing Mom” blog but this year, I am missing my mom a lot. She passed away in late September 2015. We were supposed to visit my parents for Thanksgiving. She had been worrying me a lot with her health issues. I asked her if I needed to come home right away and she said, No, Thanksgiving will be soon enough – but it wasn’t. Then, came that New Year’s Eve when my dad had a stroke and had to be airlifted to a big hospital. He came out not believing he had one until he read the discharge papers. (my youngest sister saved him from rehab and I resisted a follow up with his primary care doctor who wanted to do that also). My dad died 4 months after my mom did. They were both adoptees and had been married for over 50 years, high school sweethearts. So, yeah. Christmas is when we think of family and I miss my dad too. Upon reflection, the holidays bring up some residual grief and sadness for me.

Heredity Or Environment

I had not heard of this poem before but read about it today. A lot of adoptees are familiar with it and many hate it (so a word of advice to adoptive parents – just don’t). One notes that for an adopted child – culture, facial features, accents – all of it is so important. Blogger’s note – for the child of 2 adoptees, all of that mattered to me as well. As to the question – heredity or environment ? – I would quickly say that I am the product of both. My ancestors’ genes and the Mexican border region where I grew up.

One adoptee notes that – for some reason A LOT of adoptive parents seem to not really like their children… (Not all of them but MORE THEN I could have imagined). Blogger’s note – I would say that my adoptee mom often felt like she disappointed her adoptive mother. Now that I have the whole adoption file from the state of Tennessee, I can see letters in my adoptive grandmother’s easily recognizable handwriting about how over the moon happy she was initially with my baby mom. But children grow up – always.

One adoptee actually re-wrote the poem – (Blogger’s note, the sentiments match so much I’ve read over the last few years)

Legacy Of An Adopted Child
The Rewrite

Once there were two women,
who never knew each other

One you learned how not to remember,
the other you learned to call mother

Two different lives,
shaped to make you a pretend one

One became your deep black hole,
The other your imploding sun

The first one gave you life,
yet chose to give you away

The second taught you to live it,
in all but fake way

The first gave you a need for love,
that soon would be denied,

The second there to give it,
if only you learn to comply

One gave you a nationality,
that they chose you to not live,

The other changed your name,
your own mother chose to give

One gave you emotions,
that you would soon learn to squash,

The other fed your fears,
that they themselves had taught

One saw your first sweet smile,
still chose to hand you off,

The other dried your tears,
forgetting your deep loss

One made an adoption plan,
which sounds so politically correct,

The other prayed for a child,
and thinks God let her collect.

And now you ask me through your tears,
which of these you’re a product of,
One, my darling, one

Adopters can be so smug

~ Joy Belle, 2018

A transracial adoptee also wrote one and said “I’ve always hated that poem”.

The Fallacy of the Transracially Adopted Child

Once there were two women who never knew each other
One you don’t remember, one paid to be your mother

Two women’s lives forever changed to shape your little one,
Leaving you with trauma that could never be undone.

One gave you ethnicity, and one erased your name,
and then was called your rescuer for “saving” you from pain.

One gave you emotions that you struggle to suppress
with performative gratitude to mask your deep duress.

One coerced to give you up, told it was best for you,
But if she’d had that 30k, she could have raised you too.

One prayed for her own white babe, but met with sticker-shock,
And then she saw your bargain price on the modern auction block.

That same one finally took you home, her consolation prize
with curly hair, and plump full lips, brown skin and deep brown eyes

The other one left wondering if she made the right decision,
Or if her heart will ever heal from the pain of your excision.

And so you wonder through countless years
Of expectations and hidden fears

Was your arrival preordained by a hand from heaven above,
Or did your 2nd mom purchase you to fill her need for love?

~ Renata Hornik, 2021

Blogger’s note – The originaI version is author unknown. I do hope the poets don’t object since I do not have express permission to share these, though they are signed with a copyright date. These are true unfettered adoptee voices and I honor them today by sharing their feelings with my readers.