Isn’t Life Interesting Part 4

12 Nov

By Shadow

Click on the links to read the prior posts Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

It’s day 12 of adoption awareness month, and the prompt for today is relationships with significant others. I never know, when I start a post, just where it will go, what my point is, or, sometimes, even if I have one. It’s, apparently, not a new trait. My husband, lovingly I hope, tells me regularly, “Your mind just goes places; no one else’s mind dares to go.” I don’t know if he’s right. I don’t know if that’s a good thing, or not, but I am who I am. How has being adopted affected my relationships with others? Isn’t that a loaded question? Now, how do I tie that in with the conclusion of “Isn’t Life Interesting”?

In my mid 40s, and, approximately, three years into my reunion with D, my first father, the final, knock-out, punch, of the reality of adoption, hit me, and sent me to the mat for the count. The best description I can give you is that, for me, as they say in the world of addiction recovery, I hit rock bottom with this realization. What I am about to say has the potential to upset, offend, and possibly anger, a lot of first parents, first family members, and maybe even a few adoptive parents. It upset quite a few of my family members, so prepare yourself if you are a bit sensitive to some of the realities of adoption. However, harsh, and cold, it may sound, it is the truth, and a fact of my life. Though, many of my family were, and are, angry that I point this out, not one of my family members has denied its truth.

Though this does not pertain to all adoptees, it does pertain too many of us, especially those of us from the baby scoop error (yes, I intentionally used that word). It hit me like a speeding freight train from out of nowhere, when I realized that on the day I was born, there was not a soul on the face of the earth that was happy about it. Having grown up with the belief, as most people do, that the birth of a child is always a joyous occasion, this, particular, reality of adoption, that not all babies births were joyous occasions, and I, in fact was one of those babies, well, I guess you could say it sort of rocked my world.

There was no happy, joyous family waiting to see their new baby girl. My welcome into the world was full of sadness, and denial. When I entered the world, I was not placed in the loving arms of my mother, father, or family. I was not placed in the loving arms of my new adoptive family, as there were no waiting adoptive parents. For me, there was only a hospital nursery, where I lay alone. The only family there was my first mother’s sister. Though the nurses did allow her to sit with me for a while, she was not allowed to touch me, or hold me. Yes, on the day I was born there were no doting parents, proud, and ready to take their baby home. There were no happy faces smiling at me cooing and telling me how precious I was. There was just a baby, alone in a hospital crib. If that isn’t one hell of a welcome into the world, I don’t know what is. If it isn’t obvious how that might have affected my relationships with significant others in my life, I don’t know what else I can tell you. If the effect of adoption on me isn’t obvious in, not only this story, but my own story, as I’ve shared it, I don’t know how better to explain it.

As I mentioned in part THREE, if you look CLOSELY, my journey through the stages of grief, is apparent. The final stage, in the grieving process, is acceptance, and with that, let’s get on with the conclusion of “Isn’t Life Interesting”.

“Well, I think I went from making a point in the beginning to getting some things off my chest. So, what was my point? I’ve reunited with my entire biological family on both my Bmom’s and Bdad’s side. I’ve witnessed the countless issues, effects, emotions, and other issues adoption has brought into the lives of my entire biological family for good and for bad. I’ve experienced my own issues caused by adoption. I’ve seen the good and bad there as well. Someone asked me once about finding my birth parents, “If you knew then what you know now, would you do it again?” I didn’t even have to think about it. I answered with an emphatic, “Yes.” For me, knowing my biological family, even with all the pain and emotions, was worth every minute. Even though, I have little or no relationship with some of them, it was worth it. Would I have rather grown up in my biological family as opposed to my adoptive family? Well, what an interesting scenario that would have been, to be raised by my bio parents, but I can’t honestly say either way. Wondering what might have been, though sometimes fun, doesn’t change anything, and usually just causes me pain. My life is my life with all the good and all the bad, which brings me back to my cousins precious little one.

Because of adoption, a couple, who could not have children of their own, will now have an opportunity for the family they wanted so badly. A child, who was a victim of circumstance, is now an adoptee with a loving family. There are new bio parents, who will someday feel the loss of relinquishing their child, but will know they did what was best for her. Someday, because of adoption, she may choose to find her biological parents, like I did, and another roller coaster will take off.

Isn’t it interesting that a family, my Bdad’s that had never been touched by adoption has now been touched twice? I feel a kind of kindred spirit with my cousin’s daughter. I don’t know what her future holds, but whatever it is; there will be someone there for her who understands what it is like to be an adoptee.

Whatever your part in adoption, Adoptee, Adoptive family member, or biological family member, whatever feelings you have about adoption at the moment, I hope, by sharing my cousin’s story, you will see, like I did, that though there is so much pain and emotions for all of us involved in the triad, that in the midst of all the pain happiness can be found. I also hope that doesn’t sound too completely sappy, and you get my point, which I’m not really sure about myself anymore. Lol”

Happiness can always be found if you look for it; if you want to see it. Isn’t happiness everyone’s goal in life? You see, it’s that insistence that we have to, always, be happy, that I have a bit of an issue with. I began my life surrounded by denial, and grief. I know, from experience, that some will accuse me of being overly dramatic, and some will say I am just feeling sorry for myself. Though I know what I’ve stated, about the day I was born, will upset, and anger, some, I refuse to live my life surrounded by that denial. The facts of my life are what they are. Sad as some of those facts are, I have to live with that knowledge. I do not dwell on them, as some may think, and will accuse me of such, telling me to leave the past in the past. Writing about the facts, the truth, having the courage to face it, grieve it, and talk about it, is not dwelling. It is acceptance. It is the acceptance of my past.

Not fully accepting the facts of my past, acknowledging those facts, for me, is the same as denying the past, and denying they are part of who I am. No, they are not happy facts. My acknowledgement of those sad facts may be an emotional trigger for some. For me, however, they have been a part of the grieving process, and part of my acceptance of it all. Without acknowledging all the sad facts of my life, how can I truly appreciate all of the happiness in my life? When I started with Part 1 of this story, I had no idea that this is where I would end up. Ah, yes. Isn’t life interesting?


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8 responses to “Isn’t Life Interesting Part 4

  1. Susie

    November 12, 2012 at 10:41 pm

    One of the things that still brings me to my knees regarding the loss of my son to adoption is the thought of him alone in that hospital nursery. Just writing that has my heart skipping a beat, brings tears to my eyes…

    When my grandson was born two years into reunion, that realization hit me REALLY hard. I wrote a little about it here:


  2. leenilee

    November 12, 2012 at 10:48 pm

    So honest and heartbreaking. Thank you for sharing.


  3. Fran Whelan

    November 13, 2012 at 9:19 am

    Do you still weep for that tiny baby in that nursery? I do. I hate my birthday, infact my cycle of depression always seems to come to a peak in early Spring and slowly dies back as we go into winter.


  4. andy

    November 13, 2012 at 1:24 pm

    I had that same AHA moment realizing that my birth was a dismal day and that I likely spent it alone in a nursery. Life is interesting, isn’t it?


  5. shadowtheadoptee

    November 13, 2012 at 1:48 pm

    Thank you for the link Susie. Hugs. My first mother had a difficult time with the birth of her first grandchild, and only one so far, too. You may know that she and I have had a lot of difficulties in our reunion. Just a few months after M was born, the family had a get together. At the time the strain between us, for reasons I won’t get into, was at its peak, so being in the same room together, and alone, was tense and awkward. Anyway, she was holding M, and telling me about being at the hospital when M was born. I’ll never forget this as long as I live. It shocked me so.

    She was talking about her Dill’s parents and her ex DH, and his wife. She said in such a confused tone, “Everyone was so happy.” Like she couldn’t believe it, or understand why. Before I could stop it from coming out of my mouth, I said, “Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” Then it hit me; what I had just said and to whom. She responded, in the weirdest tone, “I suppose.” The silence between us that followed, well, you can imagine.

    Honestly, seeing how afraid of “doing something wrong” with M, E was, well, the rest of the family may not see it, or acknowledge it, but I know where it comes from, and why. It breaks my heart for E, and for me, too.


  6. shadowtheadoptee

    November 13, 2012 at 2:11 pm

    Thank you Leenilee.

    Fran, oh, how I cried for that baby. The sadness is still there if I think about it. I suppose it always will be. My birthday is a day I keep just for me. I don’t celebrate with family, cake, ice cream, or a party on that day. I celebrate with them but not on that day. That day, the day I was born, is “my” day; my day to celebrate myself. Sometimes I allow others to celebrate with me, and sometimes I just spoil myself with something that makes me feel good about me. Hope that doesn’t sound too corny. The day I was born might not be all that happy of a day in the lives of anyone else, but it’s a happy day for me.

    Thanks Andy. It’s a real jolt isn’t it; that realization?


  7. Marylee

    November 14, 2012 at 3:16 am

    Today is my 50th birthday. I didn’t hear from my first mother and father, or from my half brothers and sisters, One dear Aunt called, and sent a card and gift.. My reunion is almost 2 years old, and no one else called, or texted, or sent a card. My birth was a secret, and when Mom and I were released from the hospital they drove me to the adoption agency and told my grandparents that I was dead. My parents were married, to each other. I spent today in NYC getting a copy of my parents marriage certificate. I took today off from work, and my husband came with me. They got married when mom was only 5 weeks pregnant. Mom said the marriage was annulled soon after, because dad changed his mind. I tried to get a copy of the annulment record in Staten Island, where I was born, but we arrived just as the office closed. I had dinner on the island where I was born. Much of my family still lives there, but I’m not welcome in their homes. That was my 50th birthday.


  8. shadowtheadoptee

    November 14, 2012 at 2:03 pm

    Marylee, sending you a super huge birthday hug.



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