A Mystery Solved Somewhat

I am fascinated by stories like this – which involve abandonment, adoption and a definite mystery. Today’s blog is courtesy of a story in The Guardian – LINK>Three abandoned children, two missing parents and a 40-year mystery by Giles Tremlett.

A two-year-old girl along with her brothers ages four and five were abandoned at the Estación de Francia, the grand railway terminus in Barcelona Spain. The children did not even know their own surnames. They knew that they had recently lived in Paris France. At first, they were taken to an orphanage in Barcelona. Three days later, they were moved to a care home for vulnerable children in the center of the city.

A few weeks later, in May, an educational psychologist named Marisa Manera saw a photograph of Elvira and her brothers pinned to a board in a district office of Barcelona’s social services. “We are seeking information on these three children,” read an accompanying note. A business card with the care home’s number was pinned to it. Marisa and her husband, a teacher named Lluís Moral, had fostered children before, and they offered the three siblings a temporary home. The children moved in at the end of June.

In 1986, Marisa and Lluís formally adopted Elvira and her brothers, giving them the surnames Moral Manera (Spaniards receive one from each parent). “They got the three-kid family they had always wanted,” Elvira, now a slender 41-year-old woman with dark eyes, dyed silver hair and a chevron tattoo on one knuckle, told me. This was shared good fortune, since the children enjoyed a happy, loving a middle-class childhood in an apartment in Barcelona.

Elvira developed a firm conviction that character is formed more overwhelmingly by nurture, rather than nature. In 2014, Elvira had a son with her partner, Marco. During her pregnancy, Elvira started to feel unsettled by how little she knew about her biological family. In December 2020, she made an attempt to answer her questions with a MyHeritage DNA test. Yet, answers proved elusive.

In March 2021, Elvira was interviewed by Catalan radio station, RAC-1, for an early-evening talkshow, Islàndia. Many people responded but it was hard to judge who was trustworthy and who was not. She came to rely on a new friend, Montse Del Río, a 51-year-old forensic doctor who had heard her story on the radio. Another volunteer, a French-speaking 54-year-old amateur criminologist called Carmen Pastor, made the first breakthrough two months after the radio broadcast.

By the evening, Carmen had the information she needed. “I’ve just spoken to your second cousin. She explained that there were three missing children, and that the eldest was called Ramón.” Her father was also called Ramón and her mother Rosario. They were Spaniards, from Seville and Madrid. Elvira always thought her parents were French.

During a video chat with her “discovered” relatives, a photograph of an elderly woman was held up. It was their grandmother Inés, who had died in 2013. Photos the man and woman turned out to be who their parents were. For the first time since she was a toddler, Elvira was looking at her parents. There is much more in The Guardian article, if you’ve become intrigued as I did. That article will explain the Eiffel Tower tattoo – the image I selected to illustrate this story.

Mothering On Sunday Morning

I named this blog Missing Mom because the mothers of each of my parents were “missing.” Both of my parents were adoptees. Now that I know something about their original mothers, I know that they would have rather raised their firstborn children had circumstances been supportive of them. I have great empathy for that because I had similar financial obstacles to raising my daughter and instead after the age of 3, she was raised by her father and step-mother. These things do pass down family lines. I’ve seen the truth of that in my own family.

However, my mom managed to remain in my life and it is the minor miracle of my life that I was not surrendered to adoption as well. She was an unwed teenage mother but managed to be married by the day I was born. I have fond memories of my mom on Sunday mornings. She was devotedly religious all of her life. My dad never went to church with us – the valid excuse was because he worked shifts, sometimes two shifts in a row in a refinery. He also was raised in the Church of Christ by his adoptive parents. My parents married in that church, I’m certain his parents insisted on that.

Sometimes on Sundays, if we had spent the weekend with my dad’s adoptive parents, they would bring us home and my dad’s adoptive mother, who we called Granny, would have contentious kitchen table discussions about religion with my mom. My mom raised us in the Episcopal church she had been raised in. Every Sunday, we got dressed up in our finest and went to church with her. After we (as their children) had left our family home and gone our separate ways, my dad started going to church with my mom to “keep her company.” Eventually, I believe he was as truly Episcopalian as anyone not born into it could be and I went to church with him a few times after my mom died.

Mothers are simply on my mind this morning. I read recently that there are two kinds of people in this world – women and the children of women. Every human being was born of a woman (until someone starts cloning us). My apologies to the UK for missing their own holiday by one week. I had seen it on our calendar but this morning it was on my mind. I listen to music by Tim Janis on youtube while doing my blood pressure checks. He has some offerings that include hymns. I started thinking I could acknowledge Sundays by choosing one of those with hymns (lyrics are not included but the tunes are very familiar to me having been raised with them) once a week. At the wedding rehearsal dinner for me and my husband, my mom is caught on video expressing her love of religious music – specifically Amazing Grace. It is an amazing grace I wasn’t adopted as well.

For whatever reason, this song seemed appropriate . . .

I learned about my mother’s death on a Sunday morning. She was a composer and a musician. She had intended to play one of her compositions in church that morning, of course, it didn’t happen. She was gone, never to be seen by me again in this life. No wonder she would be on my mind today.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Dr James Wittig with adopted son Ronnie

Metaphysically, I’m a fan of synchronicities. I like this perspective – “The universe listens,” Wittig said, and gives you what you need. “Have you heard of synchronicities?” he asked. “It’s God’s way of giving you what you want.” James Wittig notes that “Years ago, I was engaged to be married, and we used to joke about having kids and we’d say: ‘Wouldn’t it be great if we have a child, send him away and then get him back when he’s 13, after the hard years?’ Then funny enough, a 13-year-old boy falls into my lap.”

Today’s blog is from a story in LINK>USA Today originally published on a North Jersey website. The story doesn’t tell us whether Ronnie wanted to be adopted but given the circumstances, I really don’t have a problem with this. The story does say that “When asked, Ronnie, now 20, said he did not want to be interviewed. He’s not comfortable talking about his story, but his father said following his graduation from Seton Hall Preparatory School last year, Ronnie enrolled in a welding program at a technical school. He fell in love with welding during a summer program shortly after he moved in with Wittig. He recently used his welding skills to make a firepit that now sits in their backyard.”

The connection between the doctor and the boy runs from the doctor’s work in his profession. About 20 years ago, when orthopedic surgeon James Wittig was a resident in training, his mentor gave him a photo of two young girls he had treated for bone cancer during the 1980s. The photo was meant to be a reminder to the young doctor of the importance of their life-saving work. Wittig had no way of knowing then that the 14-year-old girl in that photo would forever change his life. The other girl in the photo was 10 years old at the time. 15 years later, now in her 30s, this younger girl developed an infection in her leg and became Wittig’s patient. The doctor and patient kept in touch following treatment via Facebook.

The two girls remained friends long after they posed for that photo. Their close age and shared illness had created a strong bond. The older girl grew up, married and had two sons. She had to undergo more surgeries and eventually, her husband and the woman divorced. He moved to Colorado where he died a few years later. She remarried but died (due to complications of her cancer) only a month later. Her boys were just 11 and 7 years old. They went to live with their grandparents, but they also unfortunately died of cancer a year later. This sent them back to live with their stepfather. He fostered them, but did not have the resources to care for them properly. The younger of the two girls (now mature), took temporary custody of the two boys, now 17 and 13. The older boy already planned to join the military on his 18th birthday.

Thanks to a request for help by this woman on Facebook, where she was already remained in contact with her doctor, the younger boy found a home and a man gained a son, already 13, as he has fancifully mused about many years earlier. The adjustment was not easy for either of them. Understandably, the boy struggled with the death of his mother. He had not had a strong person in his life who he really trusted for a long time. Eventually trust came but it was slow.

Forbidden Love

Art by Aaron Aldrich

Shane Bouel wrote a piece for Medium with different artwork – you can go to the LINK>Forbidden Love to read the whole thing and see his art. I know the point he is making is true. It not only applies to the original genetic parents and the obstacles adoptive parents might place in the way of adoptees making contact but in my own family’s experience, can also apply to an adoptee who falls in love and wants to marry someone who the adoptive mother disapproves of.

Shane writes that he asked Chat GPT to name the love that others who love you won’t allow you to have. Forbidden love is a term used to describe the love that is craved by your heart but disallowed by those who claim to love you. It encompasses the affection that is deemed unacceptable or disapproved of by society, family, or even by the very people who are supposed to support you. It could be hindered by various factors such as age, social status, religion, or cultural dissimilarities, making it a complex and nuanced experience. The unrelenting yearning to pursue this love can be excruciatingly painful and often difficult to overcome, as the heart’s desire stubbornly persists. When faced with this conundrum, it is imperative to weigh the possible benefits of pursuing the love against the potential repercussions that could befall.

I agree with him when he (or was it ChatGPT ?) writes – “No parent, adoptive or otherwise, has the right to dictate who their child loves. Love is a personal emotion that should not be regulated by external forces.” He goes on to note – “If an adoptee finds themselves smitten with someone, it is critical for their adoptive parents to display open-mindedness and support. Should the adoptee be an adult, they have the autonomy to make their own choices regarding their relationships.” In the case of the relative I am aware of, they did just that. It was sad to see the wedding marred by the dissension.

If adoptive parents are disregarding their adoptee’s feelings and experiences in favour of their own beliefs and desires, this could potentially be a sign of narcissistic behavior. (Nevertheless, it is important to keep in mind that making a diagnosis of narcissism necessitates a professional evaluation by a qualified mental health expert.) Regardless of whether the behavior is labelled as narcissistic or not, dictating and dominating who someone can love is not a healthy or appropriate way to conduct a relationship and can have detrimental effects on the adoptee’s emotional well-being. It is imperative for adoptive parents to not only listen to but also respect their adoptee’s feelings and experiences and support them in making their own decisions regarding relationships.

From an esoteric perspective based on karma, the idea of in the “best interest” of the child, it is generally accepted concept that adoption aims to offer a safe and stable home environment to a child who may not have access to one otherwise. I will admit that in the case of my relative, it is likely true that my sister could not offer him a “safe” home environment but we’ll never know, will we ? It was her decision from the beginning to surrender her child for adoption. I was closely involved with her during the months of her pregnancy. Now, that I also know the rest of the story, I understand why she made that decision (it was a combination of both of our parents having been adopted as babies as well as the inconvenient truth – for her – of who his father actually was).

Shane notes – “If the adoptee’s life path towards finding true love and transcendence doesn’t align with the adoptive parent’s expectations, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the adoption was unsuccessful or of little value.” I would have to agree in the case of my relative’s adoption. It is still sad that it all broke down at the time of his wedding. I agree with Shane on this point – adoptees deserve to be supported and nurtured in their pursuit of true love and fulfilment,

He says that adoptees may be lied to or misled about their biological family. This was certainly the case for my relative. I will give his adoptive mother credit for this much – she went above and beyond – to discover for him who his actual father was. I will always be grateful to that woman for that much.

He ends with this disclaimer about using ChatGPT for this piece – “The psychosocial damage caused by AI responses from a socially systemic viewpoint can be quite significant. When we interact with AI systems, we expect them to behave in a way that is human-like, or at least, rational and objective. However, AI systems are not human and do not have the same level of emotional intelligence or cultural context that humans possess.” Furthermore, “When AI systems are designed using biased or incomplete data, just like society, there is likely to be continued perpetuating biases and inequalities in their responses. This can further marginalize and discriminate against already vulnerable groups, including adoptees.” He adds – “I believe that an AI system that is trained by adoptees could provide valuable insights and support for adoptees and their families and society.”

He indicates – “I am seeking funding or support for the development and implementation of this system, including research, programming, and outreach efforts. I believe that this project has the potential to make a meaningful impact on the lives of adoptees and their families. If this sounds like you, or you can help please get in touch.”

None of This is OK

And yet, there seems to be no other choice in today’s story. Everything this person tried to do – failed. The kids are now 3 and 1. Mom was incarcerated, but has since been released. She contacted this woman 7 months ago and asked her to adopt the children. She tried to convince her that her kids need her. She went into social worker mode and asked her what her barriers to parenting were. She talked to the mom about substance abuse treatment options, housing support, financial support, etc. She told her that the best place for her kids is with her. She repeatedly reassured the mom that she on her team and wanted to help her. She told the mom that she has rights and that this case is not over yet – don’t give up. She tried everything she could think of to convince the mom to come back (she’s left the state). The mom called her from an unlisted number and wasn’t in an emotional space to hear all she tried to say. She was asked to call me back in a week (this woman was hoping maybe they could then continue the conversation) but the mom has gone no contact.

The permanency hearing is now coming up in 2 weeks. Because mom hasn’t been in contact with the Div of Child and Family Services (DCFS) now for 8 months, the Guardian Ad Litem is asking for reunification efforts to cease and the goal changed to adoption. This woman has woken up to the problems in the system and previously said she was unwilling to adopt them because she didn’t want to add further trauma to their lives – she sincerely wanted them to go back with their mom or be placed with relatives but a search for family on the mom’s side has been unsuccessful.

Now she is conflicted because she loves these kids but to be honest her feeling is that adopting just isn’t ethical at this point. She even decided to close her foster care license because she no longer wants to be involved in a system that tears families apart. She told herself that she’d just see this last case through. The problem is that these kids are going to be placed for adoption, no matter what she does. If she says no, then DCFS is going to start calling other foster homes in the region and find someone who will adopt them. Another home would be strangers, as she once was. But they also may not be the same ethnicity (the kids are Mexican and so is she). The 3 year old is established in her preschool and she has formed a relationship with her therapist. More to the point – this woman does love these children, cares deeply about their needs and tries her best to be trauma-informed and listen to adoptive voices. Realistically, she knows that she can never take their mom’s place. She knows that they will likely always have a gaping wound.

She knows that simply loving them is never going to be enough. That going will be hard, lifelong work on her part. She is honestly conflicted because she doesn’t want to be a further part of a system that is actively hurting them. But not adopting them feels like a cop-out. And the very idea of passing them onto a stranger feels devastating. None of this is okay. However, she got herself into this and she is going to do whatever she has to do on their behalf.

Kidnapping as a Act of War

My family just finished watching 8 episodes of The Last Kingdom on dvd from Netflix. I was reflecting on how kidnapping is a genocidal strategy of war. Most recently, we’ve seen Ukrainian children taken to Russia. I’ve seen some adoptees refer to their adoptive parents as kidnappers and really it is not far from the truth. Georgia Tann who was behind my mother’s adoption believed in taking children from poor families and unwed single mothers and placing them with wealthier couples would improve their outcomes and in some small way the human race.

In the movie we’ve been watching, a Saxon boy witnesses the killing of his father by the Danes (and of course, having recently learned that I am 25% Danish, it interested me). As the movie depicts, the Danish culture becomes part of the movie protagonist, Uhtred’s personality. I’m certain that is in Putin’s mind as he seeks to erase the Ukrainian people who he does not see as legitimate and instill a stronger Russian identity in these children.

In 2008, it was estimated that 40 percent of child soldiers worldwide were in Africa, and that the use of child soldiers in armed conflict was increasing faster than any other continent. Additionally, average age of children recruited as soldiers appears to be decreasing. Children’s greater psychological malleability which makes them easier to control, deceive and indoctrinate. The majority of child soldiers are forcibly recruited either through abduction, conscription, coercion, or by being born into an armed group. Many no longer have the protection of family having witnessed the murder of their loved ones before being taken.

The seizure by kidnapping or hostage-taking places a heavy psychological burden on all involved. The seizure affects not only the individual or individuals who are abducted, but generates an anxiety in a larger group of people as the location and welfare of the abducted are unknown, as demands and actual intentions of abductors are in doubt, and the prospect of rescue is hazardous at best. If “terrorism is theater,” kidnapping and hostage-taking can be imagined as drama. However, children raised in a foreign environment will be impacted for life, regardless of whether they are returned to their place of origin or not.

In the battle between good and evil that many in the evangelical and pentecostal religions believe they are engaged in, adoption is one way to increase the flock of believers and insert their beliefs into the young. That is why so many become adoptive parents, regardless of issues of infertility or simply a desire to do good. The strategy of taking children from their original parents and raising them within a different family ethic or even different cultural context is very old and not likely to change entirely anytime soon. Even so, adoption activists seek to make a tiny dent in the number of children taken from their biological family by encouraging even financially challenged single women to attempt raising their baby rather than panicking and surrendering them to adoption.

Some Origins Aren’t Happy

Being a domestic infant adoptee is hard enough but image that you met your biological mother but were told that you were a product of rape and that she wouldn’t go into any more detail about your biological father. This adoptee would rather know the truth than always wonder. Therefore, she asks what other adoptees have done when faced with a similar situation. Did they just let it go or bet a DNA test ? She admits that her biggest fear is that 50% of my DNA is monster and that now she has passed that on to her own children.

Some responses –

I wouldn’t condemn yourself for the crimes of your origin. There’s been several studies on the impact of nurture vs nature. The best way to deal with some things in life beyond our control is to just acknowledge them. You don’t need to accept it, you don’t need to approve it. Just know it and understand what that information means to you and what you will do with it essentially.

Another shared – A very dear friend was always told she was the product of incest. She did DNA testing for other reasons and has found a whole other family that never knew she existed. It’s been difficult for her to navigate but she is glad to be in reunification. The stories we hear about us form our ideas about the world and as the stories evolve sometimes our identities and the world we see changes too.

Then there was this – I’m an admin of a large adoptee only group, and this narrative is sadly not uncommon. Now, your mother may well have been abused, however many women are so heavily shamed that they were left with invent a story that makes what they did (have sex!!) appear more socially acceptable, to them and their (judgmental) family. It’s actually more common than imagined. That said, I’d highly recommend having a trusted therapist in place before exploring – to guard your mental health no matter the outcome. Personally, my mother won’t even say my father’s name. He was a major player. AND I have a relationship with his side of the family, which I value. Take your time.

Another adoptee admitted – My biological mom told me I am the result of rape also. And I’m inclined to believe her, because that’s a heavy burden to carry and I want to believe she wouldn’t lie about it. She did, however, give me his name and I found and spoke to him, and naturally his side of the story was very different than hers. I don’t know where in the middle of both of their stories the truth is, and that will probably eat at me for my entire life.

Then this one – While my mom didn’t say she was raped, she did tell me that my father was a pretty shitty human. They started dating when she was 15 and he was 21. Two years later she got pregnant, thought they were headed to get married, but instead got blind sided by him telling her that he was already married with an infant and a pregnant wife, and that he was also heading to prison for armed robbery. I did do DNA tests and found his side. He passed about a year before I found him. I’m still back and forth on whether I wish I’d had the opportunity to meet him or if I’m relieved I don’t have to make that decision. I did find both of those siblings, along with another younger brother (yet another mom) and a bunch of nieces and nephews. As big of a surprise I was to them, they have all been wonderful and welcoming. I don’t know if this helps but I don’t regret finding all the answers.

Some more encouragement – It’s okay to feel like you deserve answers, because you do – even if the answers are uncomfortable or hard to hear her give you. DNA testing helped me find family and get a few more sides to my adoption story than the one I had initially. Your mother may absolutely be telling you the truth, and I’m absolutely not saying to doubt that. I’m also very much a “believe all women” type. But if you feel a nagging that there’s more to the story than you’re aware of, it’s okay to seek answers. Good luck.

More about the potential realities – My biological mom will not tell me any details, although I do believe her that it was rape now. It’s frustrating not to know details of who this person was, but it’s painful for her to talk about it and she said she will never tell me. I’ve done a DNA test, not specifically to find him, but I didn’t get any additional information by doing so. At the moment, I’m just letting it go.

Doing The Hardest Work For One’s Self

This really does make me think of my mom’s life with her adoptive mother . . . and then there is that painting of me . . . the story below is not my own, though at the bottom is a snippet about me as well.

It took a near death experience (21 days intubated for covid pneumonia while pregnant) and the loss of my 3 year old the very day I came home from the hospital for me to admit I even needed therapy. Though the therapist accepted me based on my grief trauma, most of our time has been spent discussing my childhood.

So many pieces finally fell into place this week. It’s like I wasn’t even aware I HAD all the pieces I needed, much less did I know where to put them. I did some sleuthing to try to get a clearer picture of my very early childhood, because my story was withheld from me and only presented in a very fragmented way.

The messages and calls to the courthouse, the man listed as father on my birth certificate, my sister, her stepmother, and finally the man who raised me yielded little in the way of real answers. The woman who physically abused me caught wind that I was digging and contacted me. She sent FOUR PAGES on bullshit which started off as a sideways apology and ended with her basically saying it was my fault she tortured me. I was 2.

“Dad” (guy who raised me, my sister’s uncle) came the closest to answering my questions of them all. We hadn’t talked for 3 years prior to this. Even when I nearly died, he wouldn’t reach out to check on me. He included in his message a sappy story about how much he sacrificed for me. He insinuated I didn’t care about my sister’s pain, and he closed with a reprimand about how I should feel sorry for HIM because he lost a grandchild. He only met my son once, by his own choice.

My first few years with them were a fantasy. “Mom” hand made my clothes. I looked like I belonged in a magazine. My hair was brushed and arranged until it was glossy ringlets. There were ribbons, bows, ruffles, tights, pinafores, and patent leather shoes. My bedroom was fit for a princess. There was a 4 post bed with a canopy. It was white with burnished gold accents, as was the matching vanity and stool. The bed covering was white and pink ruffles, and the canopy was tailor made to match. Christmas, Easter, and birthdays looked like the toy store exploded into our living room. I had it all.

Once I reached that awkward, gangly phase, it was over. By then they had their own daughter and son, and I was a nuisance. No longer a doll they could dress and pose. I could sense their disappointment. Their delight in me was gone. So I tried harder. I won more awards, I practiced music longer, I earned higher scores in school. The more I tried, the more disgusted they seemed.

I looked back over all the big milestones that mark the transition from childhood to maturity. In my high school graduation photos, he looked angry. In my wedding photos, he looked sick. When my children were born, he didn’t want to see them. When I chose a path for how I would spend my life, it wasn’t good enough. When I chose to move to a new state with better opportunities, I was being foolish. When he finally came to visit my first house, he literally became ill and vomited all over my bathroom.

I failed them. By growing up, I failed them. They treated their children like people, and they celebrated them appropriately in both youth and adulthood. I finally put it all together this week and realized I’ve intentionally kept myself small in my mind, because somewhere deep down I knew that only as their little princess could I feel their love.

I dug through my old pictures and found so many of me paraded in beauty pageants. But this is the one I settled on. It was taken the month after they got custody of me, in their home. I told her – little Sandi – that her work is done. It was never her job to make me palatable to the parents who stole me. I understand why she did. Her life was an exercise in terror, and these white knights were her ticket to salvation. But it was never her job to earn their love, and that isn’t her job now. So she has my permission to rest peacefully. I grew within the soil where they planted this little seed. It’s my turn to do the work of deciding who is worthy of my best efforts.

From the blog author – As a young child, my mom’s adoptive mother dressed and arranged me for a large oil painting portrait she wanted to do of me but now having read today’s story, it speaks volumes. And my mom did have a princess bedroom with a four poster bed. I know that my mom had a very “challenging” relationship with her adoptive mother. She really didn’t share many details of her childhood with me. That probably means something significant as well.

Not Actually An Orphan

War is hell but imagine being sent far away from your native home and told you are an orphan but you are not. That is the story in The Guardian about 1,400 still seeking to learn who their parents were. LINK>‘I couldn’t love her’: the last UK child migrants to Australia on the long, lonely search for their mothers by Susan Chenery.

Michael Lachmann had always believed he was an orphan. There was no childcare during WWII, unless you were rich. Much like my own maternal grandmother, his mother was doing what she could to provide care for him, while his father was away fighting in the war and she was working. Instead of being available for her to pick him up at a residential nursery, he was shipped to Australia at the age of 5 and placed in the Castledare Boys Home, run by the Christian Brothers, where numerous boys were starved, beaten and subjected to sexual abuse.

Between the 1910s and 1970, 7,000 children aged between three and 14 were transported to Australia as part of Britain’s child migrant program. Promised a better life and loving families waiting to adopt, most were instead delivered into institutions where large numbers suffered abuse. Often their names or birth dates were changed, erasing their links to their families of origin. Very few were adopted or fostered.

Even in their 70s and 80s all these people want is to find their mother, to know who she was. Two years after he was sent to Australia, Lachmann was adopted by a middle-aged Catholic couple, making his situation better than it was for some. Now 80 and living in Perth, after reading a newspaper article 10 years ago, he contacted the Child Migrants Trust. “I had no identity for my own children. It is terrible not having a family history, it is like being in the universe alone.” Thirteen years ago then British prime minister Gordon Brown gave a heartfelt apology to the former child migrants. “Your cries for help were not heeded.”

That apology came after decades of work by Margaret Humphreys, the founder and director of the Child Migrants Trust, who advocates for and seeks to reunite family members after a lifetime of separation. In addition to forensic work in finding mothers who had often kept illegitimate births secret, she took on governments, the power of churches and the establishment to uncover the injustice suffered by these children.

Humphreys had been a social worker in child protection in Nottingham in 1986 when she received a letter from a woman in Australia. “She said that at four years old she was put on a boat with lots of other children. She said ‘my parents are dead, I have no birth certificate, I don’t know who I am. Can you help me find my mother?’” Humphreys thought it was “preposterous” but investigated it, “as social workers should do”. She found the mother was “very much alive” and had been told her child was dead. Very similar to how Georgia Tann operated (she ran the agency my mother was adopted from), many of the children came from single mothers who had put their children into care, until they could get back on their feet. That is how my maternal grandmother lost my mom and my grandmother was married but for reasons I’ll never know, my mom’s father had abandoned them before her birth. So often, when the mother arrived to collect her child where they had been left for care, the child was gone.

There is much more to this heartbreaking story at the link in the opening paragraph.

Forgiving Parents

It occurs to me that not only adoptees (who have a multitude of reasons) but probably most people has some issue with their parents that they would be better off forgiving. I know as much as I loved and valued my two parents (both adoptees) some of the discussion points in the graphic above would apply. One of my Facebook friends shared this and I immediately recognized it as relevant to the adoption related issues I cover in this blog and to my own experience of being parented.

My own parents most likely had unresolved trauma – whether they were aware of it or not. My mom seems to have been somewhat aware of her own adoption related trauma. My dad seemed to block it out of his consciousness and believed he probably didn’t want to know the truth about how he ended up adopted (he referred to my mom’s search as potentially “opening up a can of worms” – fisherman that he was).

When my mom married my dad, she didn’t know how to cook or keep a house clean. Her adoptive mother just didn’t have the patience to teach her. Therefore, she was determined to teach her daughters the skills that my dad taught her and that she refined over many years. We had chores to contribute to keeping the house clean, including sometimes washing the dishes and sometimes cooking the dinner. She also worked full time outside of the house and so was tired at night.

My mom was a very warm and loving person but her mother was a bit distanced, as indicated by my mom having to call her “mother.” I was born on my maternal adoptive grandparents wedding anniversary which helped to soothe whatever upset my mom conceiving me out of wedlock while still a high school student may have caused them as my were socially active as a banker and his wife. My dad could really trigger me and his anger was frightening, even though he never laid a hand on us. He was outgoing and sociable. Turns out his genetic father was too.

Certainly, my parents did the best they could with what they knew and the limited resources they had. My dad’s adoptive parents were poor and so we always had this extreme contrast with the wealth of my mom’s adoptive parents. My dad’s were very influential in my life, even into my adulthood. The cultural norms when my parents were adopted in the 1930s were sealed records, name and birth certificate changes and presenting one’s adopted kids as if born to the adoptive parents. To my adoptive grandparents credit, both of my parents always knew they were adopted but not much beyond that. The deaths of my adoptive grandparents revealed only some names but those gave me my start in reconnecting the broken threads of our cultural/genetic origins.

To my understanding, any parent who manages to get their children to adulthood relatively “intact” physically, mentally and emotionally has fulfilled their duty as a parent. Anything extra is grace and/or luck.