Birthdays Trigger Grief

This is not uncommon among adoptees. This one discovered later in life that she had been adopted – that often causes feelings of betrayal and distrust.

I am COMPLETELY miserable on my birthday, and with each passing year, the sadness becomes more and more pronounced until it’s debilitating. It is nothing I can control; my mind and body practically go into shock all on their own without any conscious thought on my part. I’m down the entire day and can barely function. I try to put on a happy face, especially for our son because I know he doesn’t understand how one could not see a birthday as a celebratory occasion; however, I am strongly contemplating telling everyone next year to please stop recognizing my birthday, that the well wishes only bring me grief as opposed to gladness. (It’s exhausting thinking of how to deal with the confusion and—for lack of a better word—blowback.) Yes, I’ve seen therapists, and they have been no help. I stopped seeing two of them in 2024 alone, and quite frankly, at this point, I’ve lost count as to how many I’ve seen over the years.

Too Inconvenient ?

A friend who knows I write this blog, sent me an article about a baby stolen from her family in Korea to feed the demand for adoptable babies in the US. However, I have written about that issue more than once. Below that article was another one that caused me to go – oh Wow !!

Here is that story from Slate by Allison Price – LINK>My Sister-in-Law Asked Us to Adopt Her Twins Because She Missed Her Old Life. Somehow, We Said Yes.

Last year, when our kids were 3 and 4, we decided to explore adoption and/or fostering, as we felt like we still had room and love for more children in our life. Around the same time, my sister-in-law got married and pregnant with twins. She had never expressed much desire to have children and was definitely stressed to discover it was twins. When the twins were about 6 weeks old, they all came to stay with us for a weekend to attend SIL’s friend’s wedding, during which we agreed to watch the babies. They ended up texting around 11 p.m. that they’d had more to drink than they’d planned and the party was still going, so would we mind if they just got a hotel room and we’d keep watching the babies overnight? We were fine with it. The next day, when it was 3 p.m. and they still weren’t back and hadn’t answered any texts, my husband called them. They’d decided to take advantage of sleeping in, had brunch then had a few shops they wanted to check out, and thought it was a nice break from the babies.

Two weeks after the wedding, they asked to come visit us again. They told us that having twins was significantly more difficult than either of them had imagined and they were really missing their previous life and the ability to do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. They said they knew we were considering adoption and wondered if we would take in their twins. They thought it would be the best solution as they could continue to see them and be involved in their lives (at their convenience). My husband and I were shocked. We spent the next month talking to them about it more and went to multiple counseling sessions with them. I went to the obstetrician with my SIL to discuss the possibility of postpartum depression affecting everything. The outcome of it all was that they didn’t want to be parents and wanted us to take the kids. Ultimately, we drew up a legal agreement, they surrendered parental rights and we adopted the twins.

We absolutely love the babies and feel like our family is complete now, but I don’t know how to interact with my brother-in-law and SIL anymore. I lost all respect for them when they basically admitted that their kids were an inconvenience they wanted to be rid of. (When we asked what they would do if we didn’t adopt them, they said they were considering other private adoption options.) It’s been a year, and everyone in my husband’s family just acts like what they did was perfectly normal. My BIL and SIL have even asked us not to tell the twins we aren’t their biological parents, which goes against the legal agreement we all signed. We plan to be open and honest with them about how they came to be a part of our immediate family. It’s so bizarre to me that everyone thinks this was a perfectly appropriate thing to do.

Asked advice – Is there a way to discuss this with them?

The Advice Columnist said – First and foremost, it sounds like you need to know whether the terms of your adoption agreement are legally enforceable, or whether some of the terms of the adoption can be changed.

How you talk with your brother-in-law and sister-in-law about disclosing the adoption to the twins needs to come from a well-informed decision that you and your husband make. Adoption can mean a lot of joy, love, and comfort, but it can also mean trauma, confusion, and anger. I foresee a lot of those latter feelings for these twins, knowing that their birth parents (who they will presumably develop a relationship with) saw them as inconveniences to be surrendered.

Keeping this important truth from them—one that is central to their identities—is likely to feel like a betrayal once the twins inevitably find out. You need to do a lot of research on open and kinship adoptions to be sure you’re making the decision that is right for your family and these twins; if you haven’t already, find a support group where you can crowdsource resources and feedback. Then you’ll be able to inform the birth parents and the rest of the family how you will be proceeding regarding disclosing to the twins. Make no mistake: No matter who else in the family has what opinions, this is ultimately you and your husband’s call as the legal parents.

It is a bizarre situation you are in—not just the surrender of the kids, but the supposed blasé attitude of the rest of the family. You sound understandably unclear about how you’re even going to maintain a relationship with your BIL and SIL, given how this has played out. Keep an eye on the family dynamics here; while I hope everyone can exude love and grace around these children and their adoption, I worry that this inauspicious start might signal more drama and discomfort to come. I hope I’m wrong, but that’s all the more reason to find a support group, and maybe also a therapist for you and your husband, to help you make sense of this unique dynamic. Good luck.

Never Feeling Safe

An adult adoptee expresses how she feels –

Here it is in a nutshell. All I ever really wanted was to feel clean on the inside and I tried a lot of things to make that happen.

And it all boils down to not being able to untwist the core lie my whole existence on this planet this time around is based in and on.

Confusion is not a safe feeling. If you don’t feel safe your thinking processes are affected. You do things you wouldn’t do or not do things you would if you felt safe. The worst part is that you never knew why you never felt safe. It wasn’t a thought you could think through because the consequence of my honesty may mean abandonment.

I was stuck in a web of lies. Caught up in someone’s fantasy. A brain pickled in cortisol and oxytocin deprived. Being told this is gods will and how much I was loved yet no one would answer my questions.

And here we are today. After the truth set me free by opening the door to the demons I knew were lurking there. These were some hard core demons and then there were the encouragers and then there were none.

And here I am standing here loving me. I will be 72 in September, and I have learned to love me because I can love others better that way.

Now WTF do I need to do to get this adhd under control.

Moving Forward

A woman writes – For as long as I can remember, my adoption has been a defining part of my life, shaping my identity and experiences. Over the last six months, I’ve been on an intense journey to uncover the truths hidden within my past.

It has been a time filled with pain, confusion, and a desperate need for answers. I’ve come face-to-face with the trauma that has been quietly influencing my life for years, and I’ve realized that some of the people closest to me—those who claim to have no trauma—are unwilling or unable to face the truth alongside me.

For the first time in my life, I’ve had the courage to stand up for myself, to ask the difficult questions that have been weighing on my heart. I’ve come to understand that if the people who say they love me can’t acknowledge or address this part of my life, I can’t let that hold me back.

My journey of healing and self-discovery isn’t dependent on anyone else. I’m moving forward, with or without them, and for the first time, I feel empowered in my decision.

And receives encouragement – It’s a hard journey, but learning our truths is so important. When I went through something similar, I started to feel like an adult and not a little girl. Here’s to the next chapter of your life. Including this from another one – It’s such an eye opener to see how much that experience defines one’s life, we start to identify with it. Sounds like you’ve reached a point of much needed clarity. You deserve truth, kindness and understanding. We wish you the best in this next journey of your life! And this from another – Getting to this point is not for the fainthearted. It takes so much strength and pain and reflection and honesty huge amount of bravery.

I really liked this analogy – life is like you are on an elevator. And there are a group of people on that elevator car with you. Sometimes you stop and a few people get off and others get on. Along the way those who get off may get back on again… or they may not depending on so many factors. It’s ok if people who were on that elevator car get off. Sometimes they need to for you to continue on your way. Sending strength.

A Warning About Delay – Some wait for so long to look for some information and/or answers, that they are no longer obtainable. These wish they had done it sooner.

A Lifetime Of Wondering Why

It is not unusual to hear adoptees express this kind of feeling – Adoption damned me to a lifetime of wondering why ? Why didn’t you love me enough to stay ? Do I deserve love ? What is love ? Am I unlovable ?

When a mother breaks the bond the infant had with her, it’s tears away everything the infant knew. The child’s heart is like a broken record or a confused GPS constantly re-calculating and playing over and over again the trauma, trying to make sense of it.

We are given a connection at birth. The moment that a severing happens a new attachment is formed. Heartbeats heard for months comfort us as we lay skin to skin. A voice we fell asleep to in our water beds is clearer and easy to recognize. The hands that pressed against the womb like a window now cradle and caress us. They do so for years. Or as long as we let them. I was nothing to you and no one was that special someone to me again.

I used to look for you. Staring in the faces of strangers, trying to remember how you looked and praying my eyes would settle on the face my heart would remember. I used to sit in a fog, while other children played around me, with thoughts only for you. I used to lay awake at night in my bed and see the moon peeking through the window and despair that tomorrow was another day of looking. Another long night apart.

So yes, I do remember. Even now, decades later – my body, my soul, and my heart remembers. I have learned love and I have learned loss. I have learned to draw happy little stick families with a sticker heart border and “my family” scrawled at the top. I still remember being pressed against your chest with your hair and smoky breath swirling around me. Pressed against your chest until I couldn’t breathe and it was all warm and black and fuzzy – YOU.

I know where you are now. You are buried on the side of a mountain. I never found you again no matter how hard I looked and believe me I never stopped looking. I do plan to visit your grave someday. I want to stop my heart from looking. I want to say the goodbye I never got to say and I want to do it for the little girl who still remembers.

Blogger’s note – on my own “roots” journey to discover who my adoptee parents’ biological, genetic parents were, I have been able to visit the graves of my mom’s parents. And I did sit there next to their gravestones and pour my heart out with the good-bye’s I never had an opportunity to say, before then.

Rejection And Grief

Today’s story (not my own) –

I was adopted at birth, and I was told at 18. I am now about to turn 28, and really only just beginning to grapple with the emotions that accompany this information. I attribute that to getting married 3 years ago and finally being in a stable enough environment to begin processing, which college was not.

And to be frank, it’s been absolutely fucking awful. I always have and always will love my adoptive family so very much, and that makes the depth of the lie even harder to comprehend. I feel like I am burdening my husband and my friends with just, my own confusion at this stage. I am caught in a cycle of trying to justify my existence with harder and harder work and it’s not working at all lol. I know nearly everyone feels aimless around this stage in life, but woof. I am so tired. I am tired of feeling like the universe didn’t want me here. And like my entire life has been a lie. Which… it kind of was.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you, and I’d like to pose a question. For others who learned about their adoption later in life than childhood, and then began processing even later than that, what helped? Is it like grieving where you just have to let it hurt? Am I doomed to being a mopey bitch forever or will time give me grace with these feelings?

Some responses – Being late discovery adoptee (LDA) has layers to it that other adopted people don’t have to navigate. The lies and losses involved specific to life before and after discovery have massive impacts that can sometimes only be understood by those of us who have lived it. While community with other adopted people is valuable and helpful, I recommend joining specific communities for LDAs and NPEs (Not Parent Expected).

One asks – Are you in reunion at all? It can bring its own challenges but overall I feel like the truth is the only thing that can TRULY fully help us process, even if it hurts more at first. Lean into THE truth and gather as much information as feels right, so that YOU can put it together to come to terms with YOUR truth. For me, that’s the most empowering way to process the trauma.

One adoptee noted – The work you’re doing right now is some of the hardest work some of us ever have to do. Realize and accept that the people who purport/ed to love us, lied to us, or gave us away/sold us. While I can grasp all of it intellectually, I will always struggle with being invisible to them.

Another writes about the impact of the Dobbs decision – Not late discovery, but I didn’t start processing until 2 years ago when I was 40 years old. The Dobbs decision and supply of domestic infants was what triggered it. I didn’t allow myself to feel anything or care before that because while I knew as a child, it was supposed to be a secret from everyone else. There is grief. It does hurt. I don’t have any answers for the pain. I’m still feeling all the feelings two years later. Made contact in December 23 and reunion adds more feelings. It does help that my older half sister wants a relationship and we are working on building on.

From a late discovery adoptee – My experience was quite similar to yours. I discovered that I was adopted when I was 31. Now I’m 57. I think you asked a great question – asking if it’s like grieving. For me, that’s exactly what it was, and it took me a long time to forgive them. They were good parents in a lots of ways. I know they loved me very much (at least my mom) so it was hard to reconcile the fact that people who loved me and who I loved would lie to me about something as fundamental as who I was and where I came from. Like it’s hard to even comprehend. The grief, the loss. What could have been if I’d known and they got me the help I needed. Anyway, a few years after I found out, I decided to try to forgive them. I wanted my kids to have grandparents. And I just couldn’t stand the thought of losing them. Of being an orphan once again. I still go back and forth over it. Most days I don’t even think about it anymore. I’m at peace with it. But sometimes it still pisses me off. I still grieve for what could have been. It takes time. As others have said, being in a group specific to LDAs is a good idea. I think that while we have very much in common with adoptees who have always known, there’s a whole other dimension that only LDAs can understand.

Of course, this can and did go on and on but I think this is enough for today’s blog. If you are on Facebook and are a late discovery adoptee – this is the group mentioned more than once to search on for additional support – LINK>Forum for Late Discovery Adoptees. It is private and I don’t qualify.

This or That

I have a friend who discovered late in life what she had always felt – her “father” wasn’t actually her genetic, biological dad. What is often referred to as NPE (not parent expected). Today, she wrote –

There is a stunning feeling when you need to take personal responsibility to wrongs done to you. It is stunning and confusing. Sometimes causes a wound that is blinding and at times suffocating. Running in circles, like chasing your tail, some things are hard to accept. Accept it. Done, work with it.

Many therapies work to meet injuries and reform and transform them on many levels, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

I have found some injuries lead to what I have come to describe as “this or that” mentality. There isn’t a remedy. There is no answer, there is no change, there is no hope. You have a rich milieu and a drive toward contrast. Second that drive lets up, feels like you are being drawn back to the “this” instead of reaching for the “that”.

“That” is the therapy, whatever is moving you away from the “this” which is the wound, the impossibility of circumstances that twist your heart, wounded your life. You have that to work against constantly, with endless, incessant pressure that if used well and correctly you can possibly actually reach the “that”.

You may face people saying you need therapy out of that, yet due to circumstances that became your personality structure. This is what you take responsibility for: the drive, the determination of that personality structure.

There are some things that cannot be undone and you may never stop feeling that. You are not “responsible” for that, but for the drive that it gives you.

This requires a high degree of self-education, character and discipline, to define an act and act upon it. Otherwise, seems the “this” swallows you up. An enormous cost for something you had no hand in deciding or wanting. How the cookie crumbles.

Crumbled a great deal of energy on your plate.

When questioned, she further elaborated – What I have been looking at and trying to formulate thoughts and direction is around these types of wrongs and any scale of wrong that you had no hand in. It comes up on you and your life and personality is defined by it.

You are left “dealing with it”, taking responsibility for something that you cannot change. It has to change you. You go through a great deal, bone cutting, soul cutting, breath restricting pain and change. You can’t “fix” it.

There is a lot of therapies to “fix” us, to heal, but some injuries don’t heal…then what?

I have been looking at a lot of circumstances, studying them, looking into the dynamics of what drive people in all types of ways. It is always some deep wound, a deep “wrong” that drive people one way or another. So I began to look at the drive…THAT is what we are responsible for. Not the wrong, but the drive.

Hard to take your mind off the wrong and the injury – and if you look at that too much, you might miss the opportunity to understand your drive painful and impossible situations might give a person.

I need to add one response to her – We have no say in the matter as to the wrongs committed upon us by others in this life. But we do have a say in the matter if such wrongs destroy us or not.

As a child, I had a horrible act committed upon me as six. A physical scar of which I carry to this day. I could have let the shame I felt, the anger, hate, and rage I felt towards the persons responsible simmer and boil in me for the rest of my life. But it would have destroyed the person I was before the event. They would have succeeded in utterly destroying the rest of my life.

It took me time. But for the sake of my life and sanity. I learned to “Let go” of that shame, anger, hate, and rage. Else, that poison would have gone on inflicting and reliving that act in my mind day after day the rest of my life. And my perpetrators would have succeeded in destroying “me.” So I let it go.

It doesn’t mean I forgive them! That will never happen!

But I can honestly say I’m back to being who I started out in life to be “I’m me” and the physical and emotional scar left over from that attack no longer has any sting, any meaning to me. Other than an old scar.

One of the core teaching Buddha taught about suffering in the world was that. One of the traits of suffering in the world is that it’s natural for humans to not ‘Let Go’ of past injustices. The violent act is over in minutes. But for the rest of our lives, we carry that suffering and pain like a great weight upon our souls. No one forces us to. We do it to ourselves by way of our Ego. And therefore we suffer for the rest of our lives. Not only that, but in time, we inflict that suffering upon others. Ie “Misery loves company.”

Therefore, we should learn to Let Go. And in doing so bring Peace to the Soul.

I never went to therapy for what happened to me. I was very young when it happened and my parents were of the generation that believed in that old motto and hope ‘He’ll grow out of it and forget.’ That never happened. I had to discover that healing on my own when I was older and I did.

I’m glad I never got therapy. For I feel therapists, though good intentioned, perpetuate that suffering by continuing to remind you that your helpless victim that somehow broken.

You only remain that if you refuse to ‘Let Go.’

I’m a Survivor!

She Loved Me So Much

At least the woman in this photo got to hold her baby before handing her son over to another couple to raise. Like many young women who surrender their newborn to adoption, this young woman was at rock bottom and living in her car. She had no familial support and was alone with her pregnancy. One common perspective is – God wanted me to take this path. Religion often plays a role in couples wanting to adopt and in biological, genetic mothers making that choice to surrender their baby. Maternity homes are often linked to a religion.

An adoptee shares her experience – My mother left me at the hospital, when I was born. I was told – she did it because she loved me. After a brief stay at the hospital, where I (and others) were denied the comfort of being held, I went to a foster home. There I learned to walk and use some words. I had developed 2-3 word sentences, when the social worker took me from my foster home and dropped me at a stranger’s home. These became my adoptive parents. By the time I was in 3rd grade, my adoptive mother was “sick”. She stayed in bed with the door closed a lot. She always seemed mad.

I would learn 22 years later, it was because she had discovered alcohol took her arthritic pain away. Then Cortizone became available but that shot every 2 weeks didn’t change her alcoholism. So she also became addicted to steroids. I grew up thinking addiction issues were “normal”. Growing up, I wasn’t taught there was anything wrong with my mother leaving me. She did it because she loved me. My parenting skills were warped by my reality. I never received the therapy I needed as a child. If I had, I’m pretty sure I would have chosen to not procreate. I was left in the dark world of popular adoption narratives that never matched my reality.

Another adoptee responds – I never did completely buy that BS about “your [biological] mother loved you SO much she gave you away, so you would have a better life.” Then when I had my own first child, at 25, same age as my biological mother had been when she had me, whatever shred of the BS I had wanted to believe was somehow true was blown out of the water, as soon as I held my newborn infant. There are some biological mothers who gave their babies away that have convinced themselves that this narrative is true. Some of them have told me the reason adoptions were closed is to “protect” the mothers from “adoptees like me” who don’t buy that line, and who are angry with them, rather than grateful for having been “loved so much.” Adopted adults have been experiencing reunions, after finding their biological, genetic family, since the 60’s. There are no credible stories of an adopted person who has injured or killed their biological mother. That “excuse” is just a part of the industry propaganda.

One woman notes – When are people going to wake up that adoption is NOT for the child. My adoptive mother had SEVERE mental illness and NEVER left the house after I turned 6 – literally NEVER!

And the truth is, they won’t as long as the adoption industry propaganda continues to be the acceptable narrative. Sort of tongue in cheek – it would help if babies had a vocabulary and could use their words. As it is, by the time they could, they’ve been pretty much brainwashed into a kind of Stockholm syndrome. They have developed a fear of expressing anything that might be interpreted by the adoptive parents as displeasure in them, as parents.

Emotional withdrawal or neglect is just another form of abandonment…and it is not an expression of love, no matter how adoptive parents spin it. Only my adopters didn’t stay confined to their rooms; they constantly violated my boundaries. I was the one who tried to isolate as much as I could. My room wasn’t safe enough, so I’d escape by running away.

Another considers herself lucky enough to have been abandoned or emotionally neglected. She notes, “It’s a wonder I function pretty well and cover it up. However, I’m just numb to most of life.”

Someone else says, I had one of those kind of “moms” who stayed in her bed in her room. No wonder I feel guilty for staying in bed when I actually have a real illness.

Lastly, yet another adoptee shares her story – I started to doubt the “loved you so much she gave you away.” line when I was still young. People would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I said a birth mom. I wanted to have kids and give them away to people who couldn’t have kids, so they could be happy. (Just repeating the crap I had been told.) And I was met with silence. Or “oh, you don’t want to give your babies away, your such a good little babysitter”, etc. Nope. I am going to give them away because I love them and want them to have money for the doctor. I’d say. Their faces were so unhappy. I was so confused. I look back at that little me and just cringe….

She was reassured – the fact that all the adults in our lives pushed the same narrative results in our blaming ourselves for the confusion we feel emotionally towards adoption.

Shame

A question was posed to adoptees – Have you ever felt shame around the fact that you were adopted? I’m a first mother from the LINK>baby scoop era and had crippling shame around my pregnancy, but was surprised to hear adoptees sometimes have their own feelings of shame about being adopted.

Some responses –

One who was adopted as an infant into a trans-racial situation (adoptive parents and adopted child are different races) said simply – Yes. There are shameful, negative, or insecure feelings that can arise from being adopted.

Then this long response from a domestic infant adoptee – I think environment and language used surrounding adoption can push feelings in either direction. Complicated feelings surrounding it. I didn’t feel anything at first, it was all I knew.

I shared the fact that I was adopted openly when I was very young because I didn’t know it was something other kids didn’t know about. They’d ask me questions like “what’s it like to be adopted?” But I was well liked outside of my home and nobody teased me about it. I think if they had it may have added to what I felt later on.

As I got older and understood what it meant, combined with my adoptive mother’s constant need to express disapproval for women who’d “gotten themselves into that situation” (her words), I began to feel ashamed of it. Her go-to was “shame on you” if I did anything she thought was wrong. Shame was big in our house growing up. Shame of body, shame of what the neighbor’s might think…everything was shameful. (blogger’s comment – I do believe this happened to my adoptee mom. I know she felt body shamed. Interestingly, she ended up pregnant while still in high school. When I discovered there were only 7 months between my parents’ marriage and my birth, I held it against her myself. How dare she lecture me about morality. Some time later she shared how difficult it was for her and I dropped my resentments, understanding she was trying to spare me her own experiences.)

I had a strained relationship with her from early childhood, she lost interest in me once her biological son was born. As I got older I started to think for myself more and began to reject her and her ideals as they didn’t make sense to me. That she’d go out of her way to acquire me just to abuse and neglect me, and ALSO look down on the woman who’s heartache she benefited from, was abhorrent to me. I knew it was wrong, but didn’t quite have the vocabulary yet to express it. As a teen, her constant reminders that “you don’t want to end up like your birth mother” as an admonishment not to have sex before marriage pushed me even further from her.

I also had one grandparent and some aunt/uncles/cousins that did not view me as a “real” family member. Now that the adopters are deceased, I don’t hear from anyone at all, although I’ve made efforts to stay in touch. (blogger’s comment – since learning about my adoptee parents’ origins, I can’t think of my “adoptive” relations as my “real” family either – though I still love and appreciate their presence in my life. What a complicated mess we get thrown into by adoption.)

Then, this person added – I think some feelings are inherent, like loss, confusion, rejection, trauma, sadness etc. These are normal reactions to knowing you were given up/taken away/not knowing the circumstances of your adoption at all. (blogger’s comment – my own parents’ situations as well – they died still not knowing what I know now.) I think others are taught or amplified depending on a number of factors including the ones I experienced. A very good caregiver/parent can help a child process them in a healthy way, and help them develop productive coping mechanisms for them. A very bad caregiver/parent can exacerbate them.

Someone else corrected the word choice – the word wouldn’t be shame surrounding my adoption. It would be unworthy, undeserving, less than. But not as a hang your head feeling down about it like shame feels. More a matter of fact, that this is how it is and must be. I guess I view shame as a feeling like I had a choice. I won’t wear shame but the weight of unworthiness, undeserving and being less than in some circumstances/ relationships is the way it is.

Yet another explains – Everyone knows a perfectly good baby would never be given away, right? There must be something terribly, unspeakably, sickeningly wrong with me that my own mother didn’t want me, right? Spent a lifetime trying to cover up the depth of that shame. (blogger’s comment – I think my dad may have felt this. He didn’t want to search because he was afraid of opening up a “can of worms.”)

Then this from an adoptee in a “mixed” family (meaning the adoptive parents also had biological children of their own) – All of my friends knew I was adopted. My now 16 year old sister, has been taller than me since she was 7. She is my adopted parents’ biological daughter. They also have 4 biological sons, all are least 6ft tall. My biological brother and sister that did get adopted with me, we’re all way shorter than the rest. You could look at us and tell we’re not from the same people. We felt like we didn’t fit in. The “family clan” is all a bunch of giants. We never felt like a part of that. And we were treated differently, we felt as if our adopted parents sensed something was wrong with us, like our biological mother did. If she didn’t have a problem with us, then she would have quit drugs in a heartbeat – knowing that if she didn’t get help, she would lose us.. She lost 5 of the 6 of us. She was able to keep her youngest. Still don’t know why she didn’t love us enough but she switched her ENTIREEEE life around for our youngest brother. I only feel shame in the fact that I know she doesn’t care about the rest of us. She had a favorite and she only tried for him. She fought for him. She couldn’t lose him, like she easily lost the rest of us. Why? I don’t know. We were just kids. And I think we’re all pretty awesome. It’s my biological mom’s loss.

One who was adopted as an infant said – yes, I carried the shame of my biological mother for whom I was the product of her shame. I was adopted in 1951. (blogger’s comment – had I been given up for adoption when my high school teenage mother discovered she was pregnant with me, I would have been like this, had I known – maybe even if I didn’t – these emotions can be passed through to a fetus in the womb.)

She adds – I met her once, years later. I snuck into her hospital room. I happen to be working at the hospital and was told my biological mother was there. I had nurses watching out for the rest of the family because I didn’t want to start any trouble. I knew I was the shameful part of the family. My mother was in her ’80s and had dementia. She was happy to see me, yet she didn’t know who I was. She thanked me several times for coming to visit her. I comfort myself by saying – at some level she knew who I was. (blogger’s note – my sister gave her daughter up for adoption – under no small amount of coercion from our parents. We took her with us to visit my dad’s adoptive father. He was elderly and at the end of his life. We didn’t try to explain her to him but had a distinct feeling that somehow he knew.)

She then added this – I think the trauma comes from the birth and then losing your mother. The baby must feel terrified. Babies have no words and adults have no conscious memory of being born, so as the baby grows she can’t express what she feels, even to herself. YOU can express and process your trauma. WE as adoptees will never be able to do that. We as adoptees un-knowingly pass that to our children in several ways including our DNA. Probably similar to the way birds pass on the fear of fire to their offsprings. I think the mother who gives up her child has an advantage that the child she gave up never gets.

This one describes coming out of the fog (the positive narratives the adoption industry puts out) – Yes, I definitely felt ashamed that I’m adopted. I was told when I was 11, I got the “you were chosen” talk, along with a bit of badmouthing about my biological mom, and that was it. My adoption’s been always a huge taboo within my adoptive family. In retrospect, I think that I internalized my adoptive mother’s shame (of me not being her biological child, due to infertility). Only my adoptive family, my biological family, and 1 or 2 friends of mine knew. Random strangers and acquaintances used to comment “it’s obvious, you guys are mother & daughter”. I always hated it, while my adoptive mother loved it, of course.

Since I came out of the “fog” two years ago, I finally found my voice, and I can’t help to constantly talk about my adoption. Guess it’s some sort of trauma response/coming out of the “fog”/healing thing. I lost a good friend because of this. Guess, she only wants to listen to rainbows & unicorns stories. Anyway. Being ghosted, abandoned, etc. triggers a different kind of shame. The shame most adoptees know all to well: not being good enough, not being worthy of existence, etc.

The mom who posted the question responded – We each have our stories that we tell ourselves. In my case I was convinced my daughter would be happier than I was growing up because she’d been chosen/wanted whereas I was one more unwanted/unplanned kid for parents who didn’t enough patience or resources to do a loving job of it. I thought my daughter would be well-off and have everything she wanted. And she did, as far as material things, but as you and others have taught me, nothing can take the place of your mother. One of my daughters, who I raised, told me she’d say to her half sister, if they ever connect, “That I got you (me, her mom) and you didn’t”. That really hit home. It’s too late now, my first daughter is in her fifties and unable to walk that road. It doesn’t matter how much I want her. (blogger’s comment – this seems to be a common perspective among some adoptees, who know their genetic/biological mother went on to have children that she did keep. It adds to those feelings of somehow being not good enough.)

Then this one – I never did, but my adoptive parents told me from the start the story of my adoption, so it was just something I always knew. I knew it wasn’t because of anything I did or didn’t do and I never really felt “abandoned”. There were a few times growing up where I felt different than my peers, but it was few and far between.

I know there is a lot of pressure on adoptees to be grateful and just fit the happy rainbows and sunshine narrative that a lot of people think adoption is. While I am grateful and love my adoptive parents dearly, and don’t even feel a particularly strong connection to my birth mother, I am just now acknowledging the fact that adoption is inherently traumatic. I am in my 30’s. The agency I was placed with is highly reputable and one of the best in the country. My adoptive parents were told I would have resources. if I ever needed them growing up. That turned out to be untrue.

I know this blog is long but I do think it is important to understand the mental/emotional impact of having been adopted on the adopted person themselves. So one final comment – Not only internalized shame, also we are shamed by others. Children can be particularly cruel, and I can still feel the burning sting of shame when hearing things said by my school mates taunting: calling me ‘second hand’ and “no wonder my family didn’t want me.’. Sadly, both are factually correct.

One Story For Today

Quick take – from an adoptee of a closed adoption: This is complicated. It’s painful, it’s bittersweet. I am thankful for the outcome of a very shitty situations. I am NOT thankful all 3 parties involved suffered in various was. I AM thankful for a good childhood and for love. It DOESN’T remove the grief and pain.

BACKSTORY/ CONTEXT: I was adopted at 2 weeks old, in a closed adoption. My family never hid it. We would have a small cake every year. They would ALWAYS tell me how much my birth mother loved me. They would tell me how thankful they are to have me as a daughter. They never made me feel bad for asking questions they couldn’t always answer or verbalizing thoughts about her and her situation. which I did, ALOT. Lol Our extended family didn’t treat me differently. Of course, my parents and I had our very rough moments. No one’s perfect.

I still had emotional problems, which I found out later in life were related to adoption trauma. It was hard. It had permeated every aspect of my existence. Its confusing and painful, It still hurts.

Katrina hit 8-9 months before I could legally search for her. I was distraught for the people but for personal reasons too… The hospital I was born in, the agency. The city, my only tangible connection to her was UTTERLY DESTROYED. Were my files lost?? Did she still live there? Was she ok? Was she trapped on a roof? Is she dead? It was maddening to know answers may have been swept away in raging flood waters. I had waited my Whole Life for them.

I’ve since reconnected my my birth mom and learned the circumstances that lead to her giving me up. And OMG it tears me up inside knowing what she went through, why she didn’t keep me. All the pain and trauma she experienced. SO MUCH TRAUMA. It breaks my heart. I have ALOT OF ANGER about her treatment by many people.

Knowing that my adopted parents struggled to start a family and for 15 years they watched their siblings and friends have So Many Kids makes me sad.

I grieve the loss of biological connection. So much about how I am now makes much more sense. I talk like my birth mom. Have similar random things in life that we and my birth family share. Mu adoptive parents tried their best but didn’t really have the understanding or tools to deal with the sad things.

It is true that some adoptive parents are utter nightmares and should never have been parents.

I am thankful for WHO I ended up with. That my birth mom’s huge gamble of relinquishing her daughter for a better life worked just like she hoped. I am SO appreciative to have 3 parents who love me.

A lot of adoptive parents play the saint, throw it in their kid’s face. Feel entitled to being what THEY willingly and actively went in search of becoming. That behavior is NOT ok.

Blogger’s note – I feel guilty for lucking out (that I didn’t end up adopted when my unwed, teenage mother turned up pregnant because in my family adoption was so very normal – both parents were adoptees, so their parents were all adoptive parents). At this point in my own adoption discovery journey, I never really hope to hear that other adoptees had good experiences but I am thankful when they have had a good experience. But that’s not why I am here. I’m mostly here to deal with the hard topics and help reform continue to emerge. When the story I come across is a happy story, I’m glad to not be only a downer.

As humans, we ALL seek validation. It’s natural. With that said, tread carefully when you learn someone was adopted. Maybe let them give you THEIR perspective first before you ask what could be uncomfortable questions.