Reunion and the Fear That Lingers

Being found is only a first step and a baby one at that...no pun intended.

It is eight years this month since I received an email in response to a library sign-in I placed in a guest book a few months before. I remember the day as clearly as if it happened yesterday. Reading my emails was something I did faithfully each afternoon before I headed out to work. There was an email from a woman who said she may have more information for me and that it was possible the adoptee I was searching for was her brother! I am so thankful for her curiosity and her boldness.

A few emails later, a quick family meeting and it was decided I was indeed the woman who gave birth to her brother. As for his response I would have to wait five more years before he would decide that he was ready to meet me. I have been meaning to ask him why it took so long. I think I am a bit afraid of the answer. Maybe he just didn't care. Maybe he as thinking that to meet me would take away something from the family he always thought of as his only family. I suspect it is the latter but I am somewhat a bit nervous to have any conversation with him concerning the issues surrounding adoption which leads me to the focus of this post.

Why is it that I am so fearful to push forward in my reunion with my son? I suspect the answer is complicated and there is likely a multitude of reasons. One reason would be that I have been conditioned for so long to stuff any thoughts and feelings about adoption and being a birthmother as far down as they could go. If I remember right, as birthmothers we were told we would forget...I am still trying to figure that one out! If I was to think about my son in times past I would be picking at a wound. The scab never really healed and always bled just a little.

I still wonder at my place in his life. I asked once what he thought of me and our reunion. His answer was if he didn't like it I would know. That was very early on in our reunion and since then I have felt him warming up to me. The last visit I had was much more personal and he seemed more comfortable with me. We have not had a heart to heart about adoption, how it impacted him as a child or what he thinks of having me in his life now. I do read between the lines a lot and there are some good lines to read. I know that he is condsiderate of me and is thoughtful of me. He is polite and caring by nature I suspect which is always good, especially for me. I believe in my heart he would never hurt me and I do believe he considers me to be a part of the family. I am the grandmother to his children and that gives me a comfortable name. But am I his mother? I didn't raise him and he struggles not so much with what his adopted mother would think or feel since she passed away a number of years ago but I think he struggles with his acceptance with his siblings should he embrace me. Over the past three years that we have been in reunion he has become comfortable that his siblings have embraced me themselves. I am like a sister to them. They have welcomed me into their family circle to be sure. Not talking about adoption is like not talking about the elephant in the room at times. Acceptance aside, I struggle to know my place in his life although I assume it to be an important one and I suspect he struggles to know his.

I still have not answered my question. Why am I so fearful to bring up subjects of emtional and personal meaning surrounding adoption with my son? I cannot help but think that I am afraid that if I push too hard, if I sound like it is an issue I will loose him. It is crazy because he has given me no cause to think he could be so easily turned off or driven awa. I do know that the way I was made to feel about myself and how unworthy I am makes it hard to believe that he would accept me unless I was a "good girl". That is something I will likely never get over. The damage cause by loosing my child to adoption is permenant and the scar is deep. My struggle will be to live around it and not cause it to hamper my current relatonship with my son or our future together. I am afraid to call him, I am afraid to bother him, I am afraid to ever loose him again. Yes, that is the reason I move forward so hesitantly. I am afraid to ever loose him again. The pain of living without him for thirty-five years is still so fresh in my mind. I could not live through it again. Fortunately, I do have a sense that my son does care about me....I felt it in his hug when we said goodbye this last visit. I just have to close my eyes and think about his hug...