Beginning the Search

The sun is shining today. That is a good thing. It is shining both outside my window and in my heart. After experiencing minus 45 degree windchill temperatures for a week, seeing the sun again gives me hope. The sun is shining in my heart today as well for no apparent reason other than I know I am blessed. That too is a good thing and it warms the soul.

My story of adoption reunion is one that is hard to pen or in this medium, type. The dark days of not knowing where my baby boy was, if he was dead or alive were like the wind swept chills of winter days without sunshine. I remember the nights of tears, the times when other things in my world seemed out of place and really it was because he was lost to me. Prayer and love sustained me but I must admit my soul was weakening. I remember crying out on his 30th birthday in sheer desperation that if there was a God out there why would S/He not hear my cry and come to my aid. I wanted peace and if that peace could only be accomplished through death then let it be so.

The internet is a wonderful thing. We can surf and hunt and lurk in places we dare not tread in person. Guest books were common in 1999 and it was one night in the cold dark winter before the turn of the century that I sat lurking at a town I believed in my heart was the place my son was taken to after he left my arms. It was a town in Northern Ontario that I had passed by many times in my travels but had never ventured off the highway. When I would be driving by and we neared the town my heart would quicken and my agitation level rise. I even hated the sound of the name of the town when my Mother would say it. On this winter night I sat and typed in the name of the town. I wanted to see what it looked like, I wanted to see what was the attraction or lack of it.

The site had a library and the library had a sign-in guest book. Boldly I added that there was a male born on a certain date, in a certain city and from the non-identifying information obtained from Children's Aid he had been adopted into a family where the siblings were considerably older than he was. How quick an email is sent these days. There is no hesitation as you lick the envelope, purchase a stamp or walk to the mail box to deposit it. There is no time to ponder the wisdom of sending off such a "note". Gone in a second and with it the opportunity to change your mind. It is a different world we live in. Caution needs to be captured in the fraction of a second that before you had time to contemplate.

As I sat on my sofa a few months later crying out to the God of the Universe for mercy and pity and grace I had no idea that my sign-in was being read by a person half way around the world in New Zealand. I had no idea that the library sign-in of a small Northern Ontario town would be of any interest to a man in a country so far away and that this person would know the post was about my son. I also had no idea that it would take another 5 years before I would know how my cry that afternoon on my sofa would be answered.

We think we are not heard in our prayers at times because the answer is not immediate. I am reminded when I pray that the answer is always forthcoming. We may not know the answer for awhile, we may not like the answer but it is always being answered.

My brother is a computer nerd (he prefers the word geek but anyone who has a brother knows that the word nerd is always a better fit). He tells me that in the world wide web the odds of someone in New Zealand reading a guest book sign-in and know that it was my son is at an exponential number higher than even he could know. He also said my chances of winning lotto 649 would be greater. I think I did win the lottery and there is no amount of money that could ever buy what I gained from being reunited with my son. I am rich and I am blessed. I will continue the story again in another post. Thanks for dropping by.

Not a dirty little secret!

There is a utube spot that I saw recently made from an adoptee. It was unusual because it was from a male adoptee, about the same age as my son, and he was telling anyone who would listen that no one ever stops to ask the adoptee what they may want. First off, there were never consulted about being adopted to begin with and secondly if they wanted to be found and thirdly how they felt about reunions. They always felt they had to do things to please and otherwise they would not be "good" enough. Perhaps they would even be "given back" where ever back was.

I found it interesting as a birthmom to listen to this man. I wondered how much like a birthmother's perspective it sounded. No one asked how we felt about the decisions made for our lives. Imagine how a mother animal would have felt in nature to have had her newborn ripped from her clutches. The milk in her breast ready to flow to nurture her young one and her heart had been primed for nine months to hold this little one next to it only to have it gone forever. The social workers, our society and even well meaning parents felt that they had the right to make decisions for us and the children. Then they decided that these imposed decisions would be for a lifetime.

Recently I had a conversation with my mother. She has admitted that perhaps her and my father, who is now deceased, made a mistake. That was good to hear. But ususally when someone admits to having made a mistake there is a step towards restitution or at least an offer to make what was wronged right again. She cannot give me back the 37 year, 10 months and as many days that I lived without my son but she could open her arms to having him in her life now. That is not what I hear. There is still the concern about "what would her friends say". I hear that he is still a dirty little secret and I will not permit that. I allowed it back then, but not now. My son is not something to be ashamed of. He is wonderful man, a terrific father and someone I am proud to call "my son".

I think that making that decision, to stand up for myself and my son, is empowering after all these years. My heart is still burdened that he is not received with open arms by my mother or my brothers. It is definitely their loss not have him openly in their lives. I will not hang my head any longer in their presence. It may take awhile for the crook in my neck to straighten out from having been bent so low for so many years but I think I will continue to exercise it. One day it will grow stronger and it will be staighter. My son is worth it and I am worth it too.

If you are reading my posts which have been more sporatic than I would have liked. I would love to hear from you. Do you share my journey from a perspective that I could learn from too?

Adoption and the Child Within

The Child Within

Some days I celebrate the person I am because of my experience of living with adoption. Other days I curse it. The space inbetween those two opposites is vast and there are days that I am lost in the middle.

I sat at my counselor's office the other day crying like a fifteen year old girl. The pain of relinquishment as real is if it happened the day before. The realization that I am in my 55th year yet I felt like I was a child made me hate what my adoption expereince had done to me. I was out of sorts for the rest of the day. I cannot turn the hands of the clock back. This is reality. This is who I am. The child within me is just as real as the woman who struggles to accept what has happened even though it is 38 years later.

Perhaps it would be an easier journey if my reunion story was one that was happening without there being 1,000 miles inbetween us. My son is just so far away still, like he is still gone from me. Perhaps if we could talk weekly or I could see his children growing up and participate in their lives the pain of reliquishment would not have the hold on me the way it does.

I wonder if I should be the one to really take control as he asked me to do. My fear continues to grip me that I will say or do the wrong thing and he will ban me from his life. I still carry the "you are not good enough" sound track that was played to me over and over again.

When will I be able to tell the 15 year old child that she is worthy and entitled to live a live without condenmation or shame?