The Trauma Response

The inability to receive support from others is a trauma response.

Your “I don’t need anyone, I’ll just do it all myself” conditioning is a survival tactic. You needed it to shield your tender heart from abuse, neglect, betrayal, and disappointment from those who could not or would not be there for you.

From the parent who was absent by choice or by the circumstance of working three jobs to feed and house you.

From the lovers who offered sexual intimacy but no offered no safe haven that honored your heart.

From the friendships that always took more than they gave.

From all the situations when someone told you “we’re in this together” then abandoned you, leaving you to pick up the pieces when shit got real, leaving you to handle your part and their part, too.

From the lies. The betrayals.

You learned along the way that you just couldn’t really trust people. Or that you could trust people, but only up to a certain point.

Ultra-independence is a trust issue.

You learned: if I don’t put myself in a situation where I rely on someone, I won’t have to be disappointed when they don’t show up for me, or when they drop the ball… because they will always drop the ball sooner or later, right?

You may even have been intentionally taught this protection strategy by generations of hurt ancestors who came before you.

Ultra-independence is a preemptive strike against heartbreak.
So, you don’t trust anyone.

And you don’t trust yourself, either, to choose people.

To trust is to hope, to trust is vulnerability.

“Never again,” you vowed.

But no matter how you dress it up and display it proudly to make it seem like this level of independence is what you always wanted to be, in truth it’s your wounded, scarred, broken heart behind a protective brick wall.

Impenetrable. Nothing gets in. No hurt gets in. But no love gets in either.

Fortresses and armor are for those in battle, or who believe the battle is coming.

It’s trauma response.

The good news is trauma that is acknowledged is trauma that can be healed.

You are worthy of having support.
You are worthy of having true partnership.
You are worthy of love.
You are worthy of having your heart held.
You are worthy to be adored.
You are worthy to be cherished.

You are worthy to have someone say, “You rest. I got this.” And actually deliver on that promise.

You are worthy to receive.
You are worthy to receive.
You are worthy.

You don’t have to earn it.
You don’t have to prove it.
You don’t have to bargain for it.
You don’t have to beg for it.

You are worthy.
Worthy.

Simply because you exist.

~ Jamila White

Entrustment Ceremony

Not the best image but it gets the point across.

From the LINK>Lifetime Adoption website – For many birth parents, trusting a new couple with their precious baby can feel almost impossible. Additionally, both birth parents and adoptive parents often want to feel a sense of closure with their respective adoption journeys. For these reasons, many families like to celebrate adoption with a special entrustment ceremony.

Many find commemorating their child’s transition from birth family to adoptive family to be a powerful experience. In the past, some adoptive parents would welcome a new child into their home with a “welcome home” party or baby shower. Some would hold a naming ceremony or baptism. But the entrustment ceremony carries special meaning, because it involves both of the child’s families.

The ceremony can look however those involved want it to. If both families live in the same area, they might hold an entrustment ceremony at a local chapel or park. Some families hold the ceremony at a church. Usually, the ceremony begins with the birth parents talking about how they chose the adoptive parents and why they trust them with the care of their child. Then, the adoptive parents talk about the love they will have for the baby. They may also make promises for the future in the form of vows. You can talk about anything you’d like, including your feelings of trust and respect for each other.

Many will add a reading or song to the ceremony. The text is often religious, such as a passage from the Bible. Or, it could even be from a favorite book. The intention is to express their hope, happiness, and love in a poetic and meaningful way. Christian families may pray over the child and for each of the families. Some ceremonies involve lighting candles similar to the lighting of a unity candle in a wedding ceremony. Each parent or set of parents uses a lit candle to light a larger candle together. The ritual is a metaphor for the joining of two families in a unique way.

For birth parents, the ceremony allows them to have closure for what may have been a very difficult decision. The service provides a positive ending instead of a sad one. It allows each person the chance to say their piece. It will enable the participants to feel like the process is final, and they have said everything they wanted to say. Nobody will end up feeling like they have unfinished business. One fact stays the same: everyone participating loves the child and wants the best for him or her.

You Are A Light

It is that season of hope and light. Listening to Rev Jason Daveon Mitchell’s message at LINK>Agape last Sunday echoed stories of how so many lives bring light with them. He said – . . . the world is already blessed because you are here. You are a light that entered into an aspect of darkness. Some of you lit up and opened up a crevice in the parents that you had. Some of you lit up the fire station that you were set out in front of. For some of you, the family that you were born into, delivered you to somewhere else. Some of you went into the foster care system.

Just to say that regardless, you are not defined by the conditions of your birth. There may be trauma that you will have to struggle to overcome, perhaps with some good trauma informed therapist. All of you have gone through all manner of conditions on your life’s journey.

Secrets No Longer

You won’t be able to access this story by LINK>Mindy Stern if you are not some level of “member” at Medium. I no longer have a paid membership but they allow me a few stories per month and I am careful not to use them all. You can still read what Mindy writes about adoption at her website linked above. I will simply excerpt some of the LINK>Medium – story “I Found My Father On The Internet” here.

It begins with her revealing – Two days earlier, I found my biological father and two half-sisters on the internet: pictures, addresses, phone numbers, Facebook profiles. My cell phone vibrated. Holy shit. It was the number I called two days earlier.

“Oh my god, its him,” I said to my daughter relaxing on my bed. “Pick it up!” I picked up my phone and my daughter picked up hers and opened her camera to video, aimed it at me and hit record. I found some words to say out loud.

“Hi yes, thanks so much for calling me back. So, you knew my mother, Gloria Gerwin?”

“Yes, of course I remember Gloria,” said this stranger on the other end. I covered my mouth and fell to my knees.

It’s him. I know it’s him.

Two weeks later in Madrid, she notes – let me tell you, until you have spent 26 fucking years searching for your father and he says, “I would have raised you if I knew,” you do not know your capacity to be moved.

She writes about viewing – The Garden Of Earthly Delights (in Madrid, which) tells the story of human’s struggle with morality. It admonishes the sin of lust and celebrates the joy of pleasure. It is fear and abandon; seeking and finding; risk and failure; creation and destruction. It is humanity in all its flawed magnificence and it is the story of life. In its complex beauty, I saw myself and my long, painful search for healing.

And back to how she found her father – I hadn’t checked my Ancestry account in months. My DNA had been there for a decade, and for a decade I got nothing more than distant cousins. No one who could help me find my father so I stopped checking it. But for some reason, that Sunday morning, I decided to check my account.

I had a 1st-to-2nd cousin match. Henry Minis. He had been there for six months. With trembling hands, I Googled his name, then searched his Facebook friends for someone who looked like me. I didn’t find that face or blue eyes or brown hair like mine, but I discovered everyone with the last name Minis lived in Savannah so I Googled “Minis family Savannah” and then, well.

The Minis family were the first settlers of Savannah, Jews like me, and the world wide web had a lot of information about them. Two hours after I began sleuthing, I found him. My first father. My God, I have younger sisters who look just like me.

I spent the day anxiously scouring the web, texting friends, asking what to do. Call? Write a letter? Reach out to my sisters first? My birthmother died before I found her, I didn’t have to contend with these questions or anxieties, didn’t have to strategize my introduction like it was the war plan of a conquering army. But now there were real live humans who might tell me to fuck off or might tell me hello, welcome to the family. So now, every choice felt like life or death, war or peace.

Late that afternoon — evening on his east coast — I impulsively called him. I left a duplicitous message on his voice mail. “Hi, this is Mindy Stern, my mother was Gloria Gerwin, she passed away, I found your name in her papers. I’m writing a book about her and wondering if you remember her, you might share your memories.”

The following day, I reached out to my sisters, messaged them on Facebook. I told them I believed their father was mine too, that I didn’t think he knew. My mother died not telling anyone about me, I wanted nothing more than health information and to know where and who I came from. I made all my social media public so they could see I was not a serial killer. I was a respectable human being any right-minded person would want to know.

Adoptees have to explain, qualify, reassure and beg for mercy from strangers we hope will understand our need and want and treat us with dignity.

That night, my sisters responded. They said they were shocked but thrilled, and open to a relationship. We corresponded for hours, exchanging family photos and life stories. Their kindness filled my soul like a prayer sung loud in a crowded church. We all agreed that Hal would never respond to the bananas message I left him.

And then he did. He denied having sex with my mother. Then, I said – DNA.

He remembered their nights together and said yes, I must be your father. He asked what I wanted. I assured him nothing more than information. He was so kind. I then told him I made contact with his daughters. He then said mean and angry words. He told me because I did that, I may never hear from him again.

My daughter stopped recording when she saw my face shift to despair. I hung up and sobbed. I then composed myself, got my shit together. I reminded myself I am an imperfect human and maybe I made a mistake. Or maybe I didn’t. But I was okay either way. I had a loving family and fulfilling life and fuck, I hated having to do this. This reaching out. This risking and falling.

Two hours later, as I pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store and blue skies shone through my windshield, my phone vibrated again and with it my body. I answered his call on the first ring and he said he was sorry. He told me he was just shocked. “If I knew, I would have raised you.” Three hours later we hung up.

My story is one of hope and perseverance. My story is also one of great grief, profound emptiness, and the struggle to reconcile with what could have been. Who would I be if I grew up knowing who I looked like or why I love writing or have fat toes and a genetic predisposition to psoriasis and anxiety? Who would I be if my life was defined by answers rather than questions? I don’t know — can’t know — all I know is this:

We are here, in this Garden of Earthly Delights, to find a way to embrace the contradiction, to embrace our contrasting parts, to accept our beauty and ugliness and the beauty and ugliness of humankind.

We are not here to compartmentalize, although we do that so well. We are here to overcome. To thrive, grow and flourish. To love and to mourn. To stick it out as best we can, having some fun and debauchery along the way.

blogger’s note – I share her story because I’ve had similar experiences hunting down my own genetic relations. It can be fearful and exciting – all at the same time.

Fear of Abandonment is Real

I went looking for a topic for today’s blog and found this story by Stephanie Drenka. She writes that – “I was struck by the pervasiveness of adoptive parent-focused stories. Where were the adoptee perspectives ?” The photo is from when when she was reunited with her biological mother, two sisters, and a brother.

She notes that “abandonment issues do not end in adulthood. Though I haven’t experienced divorce, I can imagine it might be similar. If a woman’s husband leaves her, even after remarries the perfect guy, she may always deal with a persistent fear that he will leave her as well. Fear of abandonment is real, and has to be acknowledged in order to resolve it.”

I have personally witnessed this issue playing out in a loved one and it had not been resolved previously. It came out at a very inopportune time but never-the-less had to be dealt with in its extremity.

Stephanie notes – Even the most well-adapted adoptee still faces moments where the trauma resurfaces. For me, that meant small things like every time a doctor would ask me for my family medical history or now, post-reunification, not knowing when I will be able to meet my biological sister’s new baby boy. And adds – I won’t go into the trauma experienced by birth mothers and families, because that is not my story to tell. Suffice it to say, from my personal reunification experience, adoptees are not the only ones who struggle with the aftermath of adoption.

She says – I love my (adoptive) mom and dad to the moon and back. They are my role models, biggest supporters, and best friends. I feel blessed to have them in my life– but please don’t presume to tell me that I was “lucky” to be adopted. Like many adoptees, my parents told me that I was special. While meant with good intention, being chosen is a burden. It puts pressure on us to be perfect and grateful. It can be incredibly emotionally taxing and negatively effects your self esteem in the moments where you can’t live up to that perfect picture. These expectations can prolong mental illness without treatment, because it may seem like asking for help is being ungrateful.

Choosing to adopt is an expensive proposition and as Stephanie notes – one mostly related to white privilege. I agree with her stated perspective – Can you imagine if the money people spent on adoption services went instead to supporting single mothers or low-income parents? Or what if adoption profits were used to benefit adoptees themselves in the form of post-adoption services like counseling, genetic testing, mental health treatment, or birth family search costs?

She ends her own essay with this – The truth about adoption is that there is no Truth. Adoption is many different things for many different people. It is love, loss, grief, abuse, hope, despair. It can sometimes be celebrated, but should always be examined through a critical and compassionate lens.

A Complicated Relationship with Love

“No one has a more complicated relationship with love than a child who was adopted.” from an article in Psychology Today titled The Complicated Calibration of Love by Carrie Goldman. Children are the only ones who simultaneously crave, reject, embrace, need, challenge, inhale, absorb, return, share, fight, accept, and question your love on a daily basis.

How does the world convince an adoptee they are loved and valued ? The same world that thrust a great injustice upon this child by separating them from their first mother and possibly siblings, the world that passed them along to a doting foster mom to whom they became attached and then separated them again, the world that dropped this child into the outstretched, naïve, and eager arms of adoptive parents, their greatest joy intricately tied to the child’s greatest sadness, the world that views this child’s story as a happily-ever-after and now expects them to be grateful, happy, well adjusted, and perfect at all times—how does such a child learn to trust the love of that world?

Carrie notes – To match the giving of love with the exact need of any recipient is a moving calibration. There is no reliable unit of measurement for something so imprecise as human affection. We try. We offer up our love in words and actions, hoping to meet the ever-changing needs of our lovers, our children, our friends, and our families – every relationship that matters takes some work.

When one person in the relationship inhales the sour breath of the beast that is insecurity, a beast whose presence twists the very air between two humans and makes greater the flaws that beckoned it in the door. Insecurity, also known as fear, feeds on the dark and scary parts of the mind, growing in strength and power as it distorts what is real and what is imagined.

Sometimes insecurity grows too large until there is almost no space left for the relationship. But the antidote to such despair is hope, and hope, fortunately, needs less fuel to stay alive. These dynamics occur in any relationship, and the intensity can be magnified by a thousand when one of the partners is an adoptee.

The choice to be an adoptive parent is built on mountains of hope, oceans of hope, forests filled with the hope that a thousand seeds planted might one day yield a mighty tree. What combination of internal resilience, good parenting, genetics, access to birth history, love, acceptance of grief, and endless empathy is needed to raise an adoptee to wholeness ?

An adoptee did not choose to be adopted at a very young age; it was foisted upon them and packaged as “you’re so lucky” by the world. An adoptive parent must allow and validate all the feelings and viewpoints, even the ones that don’t fit the happily-ever-after narrative.

An adoptee is unlucky. They are not growing up with their first family. If biological children for their adoptive parents are also in the picture, they cannot help but wonder if the adoptive parents love their biological children more. Many adoptees worry they will never be good enough. Most adoptee do battle with legitimate fears of abandonment in every relationship they enter into throughout life. Often an adoptee rages against the unfairness of being adopted and basically hates being adopted.

~ Carrie Goldman writes a parenting blog called Portrait of an Adoption.

Fairy Tales

Today’s story – I have been trying to become a mom for four years. I have had four miscarriages, five IVF cycles and more surgeries than I care to count, and I just keep getting older. As I come to grips with the likelihood that my husband and I may not be able to have biological children, I thought that adoption could be a beautiful way to have a family, but I definitely don’t want anyone to be exploited or hurt as a result.

An honest response – I am sorry for your loss suffering from infertility. I’m sorry the adoption industry preys upon your grief and got your hopes up about adoption being some kind of beautiful alternative to having your own child. I’m certain you didn’t mean to be self-centered about it. You’re just trying to work through it. You have been told adoption could soothe your pain.

Unfortunately the sweet serendipitous miracle situation you hope for is the same as 40+ other couples desire. You all want a guilt free, uncomplicated scenario. That’s the fairy tale the adoption industry would like to sell you. But it is inherently extremely complicated and painful for children who are used this way. There is no way around it. Obtaining a stranger’s kid will not fix the hole left in your heart from infertility. I’m so sorry.

Adoption Ad During the Super Bowl

https://youtu.be/fqWG5_7nwyk

Toyota featured the story of Jessica Long, 13 time Paralympic Gold Medalist. Born in Siberia and due to a rare condition, had to have her legs amputated, Jessica Long has inspired people with her story.

Toyota tells through a reenactment how her adoptive mother found out that she would need to have her legs amputated.

“Mrs. Long. We found a baby girl for your adoption,” says a woman on the phone with Long’s onscreen mother. “But there are some things you need to know. She’s in Siberia and she was born with a rare condition.”

“Her legs will need to be amputated,” the woman adds as the scenes play out floating in water while Long swims. “Her legs will need to be amputated. I know this is difficult to hear. Her life, it won’t be easy.”

The commercial then shifts to Long winning a race as her mother watches from the kitchen table.

“It might not be easy, but it’ll be amazing,” Long’s mom says. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

The commercial voiceover then adds, “We believe there is hope and strength in all of us.”

During an interview with People magazine back in 2016, the swimmer said – “Winning gold medals is incredible and obviously it’s what I want to do, but there’s something so special about having a little girl who has just lost her leg from cancer come up and tell me I’m her hero.”

Clearly, it is her physical disability that informs Jessica’s identity much more than the fact of her adoption.

“It took me years to realize that if I act ashamed and I try to hide them people kind of react the same way,” she added. “But if I wear my shorts or a cute summer dress and I show off my legs and I’m willing to talk about it, people are engaged and they want to know about my story.”

The renowned athlete was adopted by Americans from a Russian orphanage at 13 months old. At 18 months old, her legs were amputated below the knees. In total, she’s won 29 gold medals, 8 silver medals and 4 bronze ones.

As a blogger, the only question that I had was whether any pro-adoption group helped fund the commercial or suggested the idea to Toyota. Just a hint of cynicism but otherwise, I love the story of overcoming life’s realities with determination. However, there may be no connection with that kind of organization.

In 2013, Jessica Long traveled with her younger sister to meet her birth parents, who were teenagers when Long was born Tatiana Olegovna Kirillova. It was a three-day journey to her Russian adoption center and then an 18-hour train ride to what would have been her Siberian hometown. “Long Way Home” (the story of her journey) premiered on primetime during the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics in Russia.

Jessica says this about her adoption – “When I first see my Russian family, I want them to know that I’m not angry with them, that I’m not upset that they gave me up for adoption,” Long said in the film, before a tearful, hug-filled reunion. “I think that was really brave, and I don’t know what I would have done if I was in her situation, at 16 and having this disabled baby that they knew that they couldn’t take care of. I want to tell her that when I see her that, if anything, I have so much love for her, my mom, because she gave me life.”

And I’ve learned a bit more of Jessica’s adoption back story – her teenaged parents were persuaded to give her up, with doctors telling the mother that she was “still young” and would be able “to give birth to a normal child.” This is disgusting. This is why so many kids end up in ‘orphanages’, not because they don’t have parents, but because of lack of support, ablism and/or poverty. And even sadder is this, her mother said, “Of course I was against leaving her in the hospital but because of the circumstances we had to do so. In my heart I did want to take her home, and thought I would take her back later.” This belief that their child will return to them someday is a common occurrence in international adoptions.

There is of course, some questionable motivation when a car company wanting to sell more cars uses these kinds of themes. For those closest to the situations, it is absolutely a triggering commercial – hit notes on adoption, orphans, and a special needs person. At the same time, it is a perfect little story wrapped in a bow, delectable, and very palatable for the masses who gobble it up. General society and adoptive parents as well as the hopeful adoptive parents always love a “poor little orphan finds a home” story.

There is also a hashtag, #ToyotaWeDisApprove, trending on Twitter.

Post Adoption Depression

Yes, it is a thing. I believe it is partly caused by unrealistic expectations. Fantasy and reality have collided. The difference between those expectations and reality create a very real stress and may even lead to depression.

It is a crash in the “high” of adopting (basically the excitement is over), the dopamine is no longer being released. The sad fact is that the adoptive parent finds they still have the same emptiness troubling them that drove them to adopt to begin with.

Life had been a flurry of emotions during the adoption journey: hope, relief, frustration, waiting, excitement, and not to mention adding another person to one’s family. Not having the hormone fluctuations related to birth does not mean that the adoptive parent won’t have their own share of emotional fluctuation.

Of course, new parents of both genders have emotional reactions to 1) sleep deprivation 2) new roles and 3) reconfiguration of daily life, but having this is not the same as hormone induced postpartum depression that a delivering mother experiences.

So, with a newborn, sleep deprivation can certainly be a factor. If an older child was adopted, then the reality of a traumatized child may be very different than the idealistic vision hopeful adoptive parents expected.

An adoptive parent may even grieve for the child who is now in their own home, who they may love desperately, only to find that child dreams of his original mother coming back to reclaim him. An adoptive mother can never replace the original one.

So a couple does CHOOSE to adopt. If those circumstances turn out to be hard to live, like any biological parent, they need to deal directly with it. If it’s all NOT what the adoptive parents expected, they should seek help and learn to deal with the reality. That’s parenting and adoptive parents have signed up for it voluntarily.

Depression sucks regardless of what it’s caused by. Affected parents need to seek help, see a trauma informed therapist, seek out specific resources, get on anti depressants if necessary – but NEVER just throw away a child.

Second Chances

I not talking about what is known as second chance adoptions as sad as that reality is. I’m talking about the second chance life gave me and I hope those who have suffered their own failures at parenting will take heart.

This Sunday, we will go out into the forest among the Wild Azaleas and make a photo of myself with the two boys I am lucky to have in my own life. We have done this every year without fail since the older boy was born. You see, when I was young, I gave birth to a daughter who was and remains very dear to me. Yet, I struggled to support us and in doing so, inadvertently lost the opportunity to parent her and have her in my life during her childhood. I remember as the years went by looking for birthday cards for “my daughter” and that causing despair because they did not describe the unique kind of relationship I had with her. Thankfully, we are close and I am grateful for that much.

When I remarried late in life and after 10 years of being with my husband who never wanted to have children – he changed his mind. Over Margaritas at a Mexican restaurant he announced to me that he actually did want to become a father and it wasn’t easy for us because I was too old to conceive without medical assistance. To conceive, I had to accept the loss of my genetic connection to my sons. They would not exist any other way and they would not be who they are otherwise.

Yet, they grew in my womb and nursed at my breast. I have been in their lives 24/7 with a few minor exceptions. Parenting boys has been challenging because I grew up the oldest of three girls. I was unprepared for the boisterous behavior of male children and through it was far from perfect – they and I survived it. I was told as I struggled in their younger time that boys are more difficult when young and girls more difficult in puberty. I don’t know if that is true but the boys are a joy and easy to live with now. Whatever has caused that blessing, I am grateful.

I am also grateful to know I can actually parent. It is a life-long sorrow that I lost that time with my daughter. Children don’t stop growing and you can’t recover what is lost in your absence. Happy Mother’s Day to all moms.