Where Did I Come From?

My XL orange pekoe tea is hot and soothing as I try to put these words out into the universe. Welcome, and thank you to all of you for always coming back to Blogville to see what I’m rambling about!

To my birth half-siblings whom I have grown to care about and even to love. Perhaps not the same feelings as the way birth siblings love each other when they have grown up together, but in a way that speaks about being acknowledged and accepting each other as siblings.

I am aware of how life circumstances led to my relinquishment. I accept the decision making at the time was driven by social norms and expectations. At the same time, I live the consequences of my birth parents’ actions. This blog is about the impact of where I came from impacts on me. (I understand if my birth siblings wish to stop reading at this point.)

After a couple of false starts, I found love in the last foster family I lived with before I was adopted. They loved me for seven months and then had to ‘pass the baton’ to my mom and dad. We never saw each other again. Well, not until I was searching where I had come from. As a result of my search I found my last foster mom before I moved on to adoption. We reunited when I was in my 60s and she in her 80s. Sadly my foster dad had already passed on.

Before I knew love, I knew abandonment and loss. Not knowing where I came from left a mark. That kind of mark may be carried, consciously or unconsciously, by that abandoned infant, child, or youth throughout their lives. It affects relationships in a big way.

I found love in my adoptive family. My adoptive parents both loved me, and I loved them until their last breaths. I have made peace with the fact that my birth parents were able to move on and find love with new partners.I know that their kept children loved our birth parents until they took their last breaths.

I feel there is a ‘grown up me’ reaction and a ‘child me’ reaction to how I perceive rejection in general, I believe driven by where I came from. There are days when I decide to call a friend and if they don’t answer I immediately wonder if they are screening their calls, watching for my phone number specifically.

Other times when I suggest a plan and my friends are ‘not available’ (that is legitimately how I feel- ‘not available’ in air quotes) I believe that they just do not want to spend time with me because I was not good enough to have been kept.

Sadly, I sometimes feel this way with my adult children too, not worthy, except with them there is a caveat: that I raised them lol. I’ve also learned a trick with my kids, I simply offer to watch my grandchildren or my grand-dog! I know they will likely feel obligated to visit a little when they pick up! (I’m kidding, I love spending time with my grandkids and even the grand-dog.)

I find that I won’t ask twice if a plan changes or my phone call goes unanswered. I think whomever I was making plans with probably didn’t really want to go with me or hear from me in the first place. I default to thinking that after all, my first parents didn’t want me either. There is an insecurity in my heart that will never go away because of where I came from.

When I hear from a friend or one of my adult kids that they went with another friend or one of their siblings to do something I liked without me, or went somewhere I wanted to go without me, I am not surprised that I was left out, but I feel left out anyway. Any (perceived) abandonment, though familiar to me, is still so emotionally painful.

Interestingly, as I am writing this blog, one of my birth sisters posted some old (birth) family photos! There are no words to describe how left out I feel, while at the same time how curious I feel as I search faces for any familiarity! When I find it, when I see that I look a little like that person, or that I’m built a bit like that person, I feel both grateful and lost at the same time.

I share all of this as my way of trying to help adoptees and their families navigate and maybe even mitigate some of the trauma. If you have pictures of your child’s birth family, share them from the beginning, there is no magic age for your child to see who they might look like, or where they came from. If you have stories or information about your child’s birth family, share it when it is developmentally appropriate (check with a therapist or professional if you are not sure).

Your children deserve to know that the need for an adoption plan was about adult choices, not anything that they did or didn’t do. They need to know that sometimes people are simply left out of other people’s plans and it usually isn’t anything they did or didn’t do. They need life’s rejections to be normalized and not personalized.

When your adopted child asks questions, the questions are about them, not about their relationship with you, or their love for you. They are trying to understand who they are and why they are different from other kids, the ones kept by their birth parents. If your child used a walker, or had an artificial limb, or was the only one in your family who could sing, or who wore glasses, you would expect questions right? They are not questioning your love for them, they are just trying to understand how they became part of your family, and to understand why they needed a new family.

Who better to explain all of this to them than their REAL parents? Who better to help prepare them for society’s questions about their birth parents than their REAL parents?

When I was young, my parents might have been better off exploring what I was thinking and feeling about having been adopted, rather than worrying about having the ‘right’ answers. I simply wanted them to share what they knew about where I had come from. To share my truth. I just wanted to know what my birth story was.

Thank you for reading my blog. I welcome comments or questions here or via email at [email protected]
‘See’ you next time!