Out Of The Shadows

Hello Blogville friends! Welcome back, it is so nice to ‘see’ you. This morning I have a honey lemon ginger turmeric concoction that I have started drinking as it is supposed to be good for me. I think it is appropriate to be drinking a clear beverage, maybe it will help me express myself with clarity. 

For some reason, I am inspired to follow up on my last blog (Shadows) as the impact of my birth parent’s ‘shadows’ really impacted on my life in at least two parts. The first part you have read about in my last blog, now let’s talk about the second part.

When something ‘casts a shadow’ it can also have a positive impact. Shadows can protect things from the harsh rays of the sun. For example, you might not be able to see foliage deep down in the shadows but as it grows and matures without being dried up completely by the sun, the foliage can sometimes bloom magnificently. For me, my adoptive parents gave me just enough sun to balance the shadows while I was growing up. They could not protect me completely of course and I did spend some time in the shadows, but they brought balance to being raised as a child who was adopted. Their love for me was the balance of light that I needed, to help me bloom. Though they could not protect me from the shadows of my birth parents, their love warmed me. They were only the first.

Carrying forward my parents’ balance between shadow and light was (and is) my husband. As our relationship got more serious, his willingness to accept a lack of medical history, which might well impact on children we might have together, was reassuring. He honestly felt that no one has a crystal ball that can forecast the future, adopted or not. Since we have known each other as long as I have been legally able to travel the adoption disclosure information path, he has been my travelling companion. He has often helped me see the light when all I could see were the shadows. 

The path to finding and meeting my birth relatives was filled with shadows and light. She had been born before me and also relinquished for adoption. As a result of the tragic practice of separating siblings to satisfy more adoptive parents’ needs, our own parent agency caused us to be separated for just over thirty years; our separation was the shadow. The first ray of sunshine if you will was meeting my maternal birth (half) sister. I wish I could describe to you exactly how it feels to look into the eyes of the first actual adult birth relative you have ever known. It was a bit like looking into the eyes of my newborn children, my only other known birth relatives. I looked for, and found, a kindredness in my birth sister’s eyes. Further, I found acceptance as her sons’ new aunt. Many hours were spent comparing physical resemblances among us and our children as the shadows of knowing no birth relatives began to dissipate.  

The next ray of light in my journey was my birth father. Though he never knew that I was casting a shadow of existence on this earth following his brief relationship with my birth mother, he did not leave adult me in the dark. The day I finally met him face to face was terrifying and filled with the cold fingers of fear that he might not like me, or be disappointed in who I was. Instead, he immediately took me over to a mirror and, standing side by side, the cold fingers of fear were replaced by and indescribable warmth as he compared our images, pointing out all similarities. There are no words except to say I bloomed a little bit more that day. 

My birth father sent me some photos of himself, and also of his children in varying stages of their growing up. I remember one photo, that is memorized in my mind’s eye, of all the children enjoying ice cream cones and I can still feel the coldness of the shadow that passed over my heart as I wondered where my ice cream cone was. I also noticed in these old photos that my birth sister’s ears stuck out just like mine did, my ears had been a source of shame until that moment when I felt the warmth of belonging, of sharing a physical characteristic with a paternal sibling. You might find it interesting that I felt an inexplicable jealousy when I eventually met her and she told me her parents had later arranged for a surgery to pin her ears back, while mine were left to stick out, fodder for teasing by my peer group. 

Before I met my birth father, due to geographic distance challenges, I met his adult children. I met the very children he had kept and raised with his wife, in full sunshine, while I lurked in the shadows of his past. They were wonderful. All shadows were driven away by the warmth of their acceptance. They accepted me as a sibling so unconditionally that I could almost feel the clouds parting, allowing the warmth of acceptance to replace the cold shadow of the fear of rejection. I met my nieces and nephews, immediately searching their faces for any resemblances to my children, their birth cousins. Instead of grandpa’s secret child I became grandpa’s other child, a new aunt. I bloomed even more. We keep in touch to this day and actually visit when I am in their area. There is a warmth when we visit, their acceptance that I am their sister drives away even the darkest shadows.

As you know from previous blogs my birth mother refused the opportunity to meet me, and my sister, casting one of the biggest shadows on my very existence. At our request, she did provide an updated medical history for my sister and I, as well as a single photograph of herself around the age that she was when she had given birth to me. I immediately framed that photograph to protect it from harm. Sadly for her, there would have been a ray of light if she had only seen the acceptance of us from the daughters that she raised. She raised them to be compassionate, and accepting women, whom I have had the pleasure to meet and form relationships with. I regret that she missed the opportunity to have all six of us together with her like a warm ‘Hallmark moment’. For her to have had a photograph of herself with all six of her daughters. But whatever her reasons were, at her request, her two oldest daughters remained in the shadows of her past.

I feel bad that she felt the need to keep us hidden in the shadowy darkness of her past. Her daughters were remarkably accepting when we approached them following the death of their, ‘our’ mother. Once over the shock of our existence, we were as welcomed into their sisterhood as plants welcome the warmth of the sun. If only she had known how accepting and non-judgmental her family would have been, I believe she would have been proud. Six sisters, daughters of the same woman, together at long last, out of the shadows. 
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Thank you so much for visiting with me today. I so enjoy your company and I hope you enjoy my stories. As always, feel free to comment here or send me an e-mail at [email protected]. 'See' you next time.