Contact, a hard thing to do!

It is really the little things that make you happy.


When I compare my reunion with my first born to others I have read about, both on line and in books, I am often struck by how different mine is compared to others. I realize all reunions are different as each person in the reunion is different. However I often waffle between feelings of times when my reunion is wonderful or it is a dreadful failure. There have been moments when I have considered not continuing to receive posts from an on line birth mother,or natural mother as some would prefer to be called, support groups of any kind. I have had moments when I have seriously considered not staying in the reunion with my son at all. I have doubted whether my son actually cares whether I am present in his life or not. On the other had I have days when I wake up, I read the posts and think I am the most fortunate woman in the world, life just doesn't get any better. Why am I so easily swayed in the two opposites so quickly? What causes me to go from mountain tops to valleys of despair? I believe it is due to the fact I take my eyes off the little things, the things that really count.

Let me give you an example. My son doesn't call me, he rarely emails and if it wasn't for his very considerate wife I would often wonder if I was really in reunion. Yet, he was up front with me from the beginning and told me he would do neither on a consisted basis and I was not to take it personally. I read of women who talk, email and tex-message their first borns on a daily basis. Not so with my first born! Yet I forget so quickly his sense of honour to tell me what he was like so I would not be offended. He struggles to write with any regularity and when he does is always appoligetic at his tardiness.

I don't take initiative on my own to call him. Perhaps he is more like me that the outward physical appearance. He doesn't call either. I don't call him because I am quite frankly too nervous. It scares me to pick up the phone and dial his number. My heart beats fast, my hands sweat and all of a sudden I can't remember for the life of me why I want to call in the first place. I think I am still struggling with the initail feelings of rejection. If I was to call and ever detect a voice of disinterest I would be crushed. My son is so respectful that I must confess those feelings are in my head and not founded on any sliver of fact.

I always find an excuse not to call....it would be too late, I am too grumpy, I'll wake their baby, I am sure he must be out.... This is my issue not his. He has told me I can call whenever I want, visit when ever I feel the need and certainly accepts all emails and letters.

I need to focus on the small things. As they say, count your blessings. He has accepted me into his life, he has told me he is not going anywhere and he always seems so pleased to see me. My focus should be on the fact that I am his mother, the woman who gave birth to him and the one person in the world who would love him unconditionally. I cannot explain the bond of attachment I feel toward my son, It is a bond unlike any other that I know. It is more than a felling and it is more than a need. It is more than a genetic pull. It is a force of nature that is unexplainable. He is and always will be a part of who I am.

Miss hin I may do and struggle to explain the bond and identify the feelings but I cannot deny them. It is that I must hang on to when I struggle in my dark moments of despair. They will draw me up to the mountaintop again when I hear his voice and my heart skips a beat. I remeber well the excitement of my other children being new born and how I hated to be apart from them. When I would return from an hour of shopping I longed to hear their voice, to see their little arms reach up and give me a hug. I suppose that is the longing in my soul for my first born.....he just happens to be older.... by 37 years, 7 months and 21 days!

I must try to keep in mind that what we have is a growing relationship and like all relationships it takes time to establish what is the patterns of contact. Those patterns of contact will change over time as all relatonships do. When I have had best friends we contacted each other every day. We are still best friends but there are times we contact each other once a nomth. I have never had a relationship with my first born and I certainly cannot know what should look like.

Another Stone to the Family Ring

It was just a simple family ring with five stones.


Adoption reunion is not simply about a woman who is reunited with a child she lost to adoption many years before, is found and everyone lives happily ever after. There are more layers in adoption reunion than onions have skins. Hardly a day goes by that something doesn't trigger another layer of reunion to come sliding off and with it, like the onion cause us to cry.

Many, many years ago I received a family ring from my husband. It was lovely and I proudly wore it. No one knew that deep in my heart I felt the ring was incomplete. My first born was not represented on the ring. Some would argue that he was not a part of the family. But for me he was very much a part of MY family and I wanted him to be on the ring. Of course there was always the questions that would come and how do you answer when the answer was a secret. Now don't get me started on secrets. We'll save that for another posting. I am talking about my family ring.

When I was traveling to meet my son for the first time I took the ring off my finger. I did not feel right about wearing it in his presence. I don't think he would have thought much about it but I knew that it was just another reminder that he had been "given up", "relinquished" , "taken from me" or "abandoned" depending on which day you ask me. I was not wanting to advertise that I had a family ring that represented my husband and kids without him. It didn't seem right.

When I returned from that first face to face meeting I could not put the ring back on. It was like the glass slipper in the story of Cinderella that the ugly step sisters tried on. It wouldn't fit. I felt like one of the ugly step sisters. I felt ugly on the inside for not running away in the night to keep my baby. What kind of mother gives her child away? I know in my heart of hearts that I really had no choice, that those who had the power over me made the decision and I was helpless to defend myself or him, but sometimes when I tell my story I wonder if I had run down the steps before the clock struck midnight and ran to a kingdom far, far away I would have been able to raise my baby. Maybe there was a fairy tale land through the forrest that would have helped me to keep him and raise him and love him. Instead I did as I was told and suffered in silence for years. The ring just wouldn't fit.

A few weeks ago I decided to have the ring altered and place my son's birthstone in with the rest. I took it to a jeweler and asked him to take out my stone and replace it with my first born's. The remaining stones would be my husband (which just happens to be the same as mine) and my three raised children's stones. I picked it up a few days later and proudly wore it home. The ring was complete. Or so I thought...

Upon showing it to each of my three raised children I got the same response. "How could you do that? I use to like that ring, now you have ruined it by taking someone out of our family." Not by putting someone into our family they expressed, but by taking me out I had somehow upset the proper order of things. I couldn't win. No matter how I tried to explain they were not happy. My raised children all have children of their own yet their behavior reminded me that they are forever their mother's children no matter how old they get. It was frustrating to say the least.

I was afraid that what they really were saying was they did not want my first born to be a part of the ring. I was afraid that the resentment would grow and they would not accept him when given the opportunity to meet him. I was quite depressed over what I had caused.

A quick phone call to the jeweler to explain my situation and he suggested I bring the ring back in. We would insert "me" back in the ring and leave my first born there as well. I needed to think about it. What if we put my first born on the inside, would the kids be okay with that? What if we put him outside of where mine would be, would he care? Would it show him to be an after thought? It was just a ring, but as my youngest son points out to me, I am very symbolic with everything and there would be a message no matter where I placed it. Maybe I should just make the ring as it was, give it to my daughter and buy a new one. It was a ring I would no longer wear. How could I wear that ring again? It was not complete.

I was beginning to feel a bit like the Gollun/Smeggle in Lord of the Rings, it was driving me crazy!

Adoption reunion is not a simple one time event. Like adoption it is for a lifetime. Nothing would ever be the same again. I knew what I wanted so after much reflection I took the ring in to the jeweler last week and added my stone to the outside edge keeping my first born's birthstone symbolically nested inside the row along side of the others. It will stay that way and if my raised children do not like it I will remind them that it is my ring, showing my family and my first born is proudly being proclaimed as a part of that. If anyone asks why that particular stone is there I will say it is to complete my family. Never again will I hang my head and pretend that I did not give birth to him.

The ring is a symbol and it will represent a new strength for me to hold my head a bit higher. Every time I look at it I will remind myself I am a woman who has endured incredible pain, overcome incredible odds and I will not turn the hands of time back to when my first born was allowed only to live in the secret shadows of my heart.

Now, it is a beautiful family ring with six stones.