I told my story on a podcast
Mind Your Own Karma
Tag: adoptee
Unnatural
It wasn’t that she was a bad person, it was just that the transactional nature of their relationship tainted everything. There was no way to feel good, or clean about why they were together.
The unspoken knowledge of this prevented them from forming a healthy, close relationship. They were doomed from the very start.
This is what happened to my adoptive mother and me.
Silence
I just served on a jury. It was a murder trial, and we deliberated for 6 days. I found the process painful.
I enjoyed the trial itself. Being in the courtroom was exciting. I wanted to serve on the jury. I volunteered. When we deliberated, it was just 12 people in a room talking. And, I had nothing to say. I spoke when I had too, but most people spoke a lot. I heard stories, sometimes twice. I didn’t tell any stories. I figured no one needed to hear about my life. I really didn’t want to hear about their lives either.
I wondered why I reacted that way, why I had little to say. I think maybe it’s because I had to keep quiet so much when I was little. I couldn’t talk about being adopted. I learned early on that it was just easier if I didn’t say anything. I wonder if that’s still what’s going on.
I never had trauma therapy. No one wants to hear anything negative about adoption. It wasn’t just my adoptive family, it was everyone. I couldn’t say a word. So I didn’t. I just didn’t say anything.
Daddy
Dear Auntie,
I am writing because my mother-in-law passed away on April 1st. My adoptive mother passed on February 4th, 2021.
This leaves my children with no living grandparents, unless my father is still alive.
I’m writing to ask if my father is still alive.
Are all his siblings still alive?
I want to tell my children if they have living relatives. Thank you for this
Marylee
Reflections
It’s been one year since A-mom passed. A year without my mother. I’m different now. I am no one’s child. There is no one who cares about me the way my mother did. She wasn’t perfect, but no one is.
Losing someone close to you changes you forever. I knew this abstractly, but never really felt it until now.
I lost her family too. She was the last of her siblings. Mom was close to her niece, and her niece’s son. I was not. I don’t think I’ll see them again. They were such a big part of my childhood. I don’t know if I pushed them away, or if there was always a disconnect because of my adoption. Sometimes the extended family accept you, for your adoptive parent’s sake, until the adoptive parent dies. Maybe this happened to me.
I was an only child in my adoptive family. I am in touch with a few family members on my natural mother’s side, but I have no close family. Except my Dear Hubby, four children and my granddaughter. I’m referring to family from my generation and back.
In my natural family, I have aunts, uncles and cousins living, but they may as well be dead. I do not know them.
I remember A-mom saying that she thought I would have problems growing up, because of my adoption. I did, but so did she. Did she ever consider that she would have problems, because of my adoption? Why were the problems my fault? If only we could have spoken about these things, without fear and blame. If only I had felt my feelings were valid, and heard. I think my relationship with A-mom might have been better.
For me, the adoptee life has been a lonely life. Reunion did not fix anything.
My Adoptive Mother has Died
My adoptive mother died of Covid on February 4, 2021. She was 91 years old.
It hurt much more than I ever imagined it would. I felt so alone and lost without her. I realized that I always counted on her. She cared for me and supported me all my life.
I wished I had never searched for my family. I wished I had been a better daughter. I wished I had been kinder.
She died in a nursing home, that she hated. No one could visit. I tried so hard to help her, but I couldn’t.
It was nothing like losing my natural mother. I felt bad then, but N-Mom was not a part of my day to day life. Her loss did not cause a gaping hole in my reality.
Summer
I was always sent away for the summer. Mom and Dad had to work. There was no one to take care of me, so I had to go. It was so scary living with other families. I never knew what to expect.
I was 6 the first time, sent to Mom’s sister’s house. I remember the fear. What would my cousins do to me? Why was I alone, with no one to love me? What did I do to deserve this?
I never said a word. Next year, back to Aunties. I guess i finally said something, because the next years, off to Dad’s sister’s. That was better. The cousins there were not cruel. Still living with a strange family, but a lot less fear.
Eventually I was sent to summer camp, for 4 summers. I know summer camp is supposed to be fun, but I hated it. Hated sports. It was a kosher camp, with Friday night services, and I wasn’t Jewish. I had trouble fitting in.
It was 50 years ago, but I still feel for that little girl. I don’t know why they bothered to adopt.
So much big stuff
So much big stuff has happened. It took me awhile to sort it all out.
First, the pandemic. Everyone is all scared and upset, but for me, it’s been like a little slice of heaven. Best of all, I didn’t have to go to work, for 73 days. I got my full pay for all of them. I work for the state. My husband worked from home for much of that time. I deep cleaned the entire house. I planted a garden. I loved being home so much. I’ve had the deep blues since I’ve had to go back.
My adult daughters, who live at home have been getting unemployment. It’s more than they’ve ever made in their lives.
I had a granddaughter. My first. It’s so powerful to see my line carrying on. This little girl will be alive long after I’m gone. It’s a very comforting thing for me to know this.
The bad part of the pandemic, for me, was not being able to be with my daughter during her labor and delivery, and not being allowed to visit my granddaughter in the hospital at all. My DD suffered a great deal. She had a long and hard labor, and maybe I could have made it a bit easier for her. My knowledge could have helped her.
But, mother and baby are home, and doing well. I haven’t told anyone in my father’s family, because, why should I? They never share anything with me. It’s pretty clear to me they do not care at all about me, or my children, or grandchildren. I’m tired of trying to matter. It’s never going to work. Dad’s going to be 80 this month. Maybe he’ll have a party. Who knows?
A-mom fell. She lives with us, and we heard a crash. We went in and Hubby found her lying on the floor. She had been walking around holding onto the furniture for awhile. We told her, over and over again that it wasn’t safe. We begged her to use her walker, but she wouldn’t listen. She tried to get up from the sofa using a rickety folding table, and it toppled over. SHe was dazed and bleeding on her arm. Hubby got her up, and gave her her walker and she toddled off to the bathroom.
She didn’t come out for awhile, and I finally went in and saw she had soiled herself, and the whole room. It was very bad. I cleaned her, and we let her lie down for awhile, hoping she was just in shock, and would feel better with some rest.
She woke up a few hours later, and couldn’t get out of bed, so we called the ambulance. She didn’t want to go with them, but the EMT talked her into it. As they were wheeling her away she said, “I guess you want to get rid of me”, and “I guess I won’t be seeing any of you again”.
It’s all true. I’m very happy that she’s gone. I haven’t seen her again. There is no visiting in the hospital, or the nursing home where she’s gone to recover from her fractured shoulder. When she fell, her walker and other assistive devices were only a few feet away, but she choose not to use them.
We cleaned her whole apartment, and it was very dirty. I’m so happy that she’s not here, and dread the day she comes back. I even think of moving away, and not telling the home. I feel guilty for these thoughts.
I was adopted to do a job. I am supposed to be a loving daughter. If I’m not, there is something wrong with me. It is not supposed to matter that she’s not really my mother. I’m not supposed to even notice that.
I hope she never comes back, but I don’t think I’m strong enough to keep her away. I know I’ll cave in and take her back, and I’ll hate every minute of it. Non adopted people don’t understand. They tell me she’s my mother, but I know she’s not. I’ve been trying to escape for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never been able to.
I'd like to be able to use you
I have 4 weeks off, due to the corona virus. My adoptive Mom said, “I’d like to be able to use you”. I don’t want to be used, by her, or anyone. Just because I’m home, it does not mean I’m now an inanimate object, to be used by anyone.
I will help her, but I’d like to be asked. Maybe this has always been the dynamic between us, and the reason we’ve always been at odds. She thinks I’m a thing, to be used, and I think I’m an autonomous person, with free will, and needs and desires of my own, apart from her.
Stay safe, everyone. Draw close to the ones you love.
My OBC
I finally got my original birth certifate. This is a BIG DEAL to adopted people. I truly thought I would not live to see this day. I was taught that who I was, and who I was born to was none of my business. I was taught wrong.
There were no big surprises. I know who my parents are, I know how old they were, I know where I was born. The surprises were small, little jolts that hit like soft punches to the gut.
The certificates are so similar, but so different. On the amended, false one there is no mention of the ages of the “parents” at the time of my birth. The OBC has 15 fields, but the false one only has 11. So many details were omitted, I suppose to make the new “parents” forget that I was born to another woman. It’s labeled a Certificate of Birth, but there is little mention of birth on the certificate.
One big surprise was the OBC was mailed to my mother’s address at the time of my birth. I never knew where she lived when I was born. My mother’s sister was 4 when I was born, and she remembers the apartment. She said it was a basement apartment, very dark. My parents were hiding out, growing a baby they were planning to get rid of. They were hiding the pregnancy, even though they were married, so they didn’t have to explain to anyone why they didn’t have a baby.
Marylee's Dream 