Speak up now, please!

I have mentioned on my blog before that I speak occasionally at a local university on the topic of adoption. The class itself is entitled, "Issues in Adoption". The majority of the students enrolled are seeking to become social workers.

The professor of the class, D, is a family friend we got to know through church. At one time, she worked for a private adoption agency. She married and divorced never having children. She later adopted two children (not related) from Guatemala and was a single mom. I babysat for her when I was in high school and through college on a very regular basis. I was more or less a nanny to her boys.

Over the years, we formed a very close relationship. When I babysat and she would come home from work late in the evenings, I would stay at her house for another 2-3 hours just talking. She was very open minded and would talk to me about being adopted, my feelings, my thoughts towards my aparents and siblings, etc. She made me feel like it was okay to have a curiosity about my heredity. Growing up, I always knew I was adopted, but it was more or less just the giant elephant in the room. I never really felt like it was okay to talk about it. Needless to say, she was a godsend through a very informative part of my life.

D asked me several years ago, before I was in reunion, if I would be interested in coming to speak to her class. My first thought was "No, way!", simply because I am not a public speaker. The thought of a room full of strangers staring at me while I shared my adoption story made me cringe. However, D would not let up. She would ask each time a new semester started...4 times a year (counting the 2 summer sessions) to be exact! After about a year of asking, I gave in. How hard could it be?

The first time that I went to speak, I was still in major denial about any and all feelings I had adoption related. I went and shared with the class my feelings about my birth mom...how wonderful and brave she must have been to not abort me but instead make the ultimate sacrifice just so I could have a better life...a life she could not provide me...a life free from racial prejudice and an unsupportive extended family. I continued on with how I grew up in a financially stable home, I didn't 'stick out' in the family photo album, I had a great childhood, I grew up going to church, I went to college on a basketball scholarship, met a great guy, got married, had children...I had it all. What more could I have asked for in life? THAT was my story that I shared. And what's so sad is that I actually believed it. That is what I grew up believing my entire life. I am actually embarrassed to even post it, but it's the truth and I'm not going to stray from it..however ugly it may be!

At the end of my spiel, it's open to the class to ask questions. They asked all kinds of very personal questions, but I of course answered them with the textbook, "I'm a very happy, fortunate adoptee that was 'saved' by a wonderful, loving family" answer. Kind of sickening when I think about it. Anyway..this went on for a couple of years. During that time was when my birth mom 'found' me. After we were in reunion for a couple of years, she even went with me and spoke from a birth mother's point of view. I shared my fairytale adoption/reunion story, while she shared her story of unspeakable loss to happy ever after now that she had me in her life. I got to where I really liked going. It was fake therapy at it's finest. The more often I went and shared how wonderful my life was, the better I felt about being an adoptee. That was until the day I was asked one too many questions.

The kid was only in the class because he needed 3 more credits and thought that class would be easy. He would be the one to ask a question that left me speechless. At the time, my birth mom had rejected me...again. She was actually supposed to be at the class to speak with me but never showed up so I went alone. I wasn't in the best frame of mind, but had promised D I would be there and I am NOT a promise breaker. I went through the routine...life is great, I'm so fortunate, blah, blah, blah...and then started taking questions at the end. I was getting ready to wrap up when his hand shot up in the air. It was like he just had an epiphany or something. I called on him and he said, "Are you really as happy as you say that you are? Something about you tells me there is more to the story than you're sharing. I'm only here because I have to be, but something about your story makes me want to stay longer because I want to hear more. I want to hear the whole truth." OMG...you could have heard a pin drop. I was speechless. After a couple of minutes, and YES, it was a couple of minutes so it felt like an hour, I told him something along the lines of everyones life has things they wished were different, but overall I was happy and that was it. It was a bunch of BS...he knew it, I knew it, for all I knew everyone knew it...but I wasn't ready to admit it.

I left as soon as I could with D following after me while she let the class have a 10minute break. She wanted to talk, but I told her I was fine. The question just caught me off guard. I could tell that she too knew I was a fraud. There was nothing legit to my story. I fought hard to keep myself composed and left the campus. I haven't been back since. How in the world could I share my experience when I couldn't admit the truth. The class was supposed to teach the students about issues in adoption. What help was I when I was just pretending that there are none. I was humiliated and so disappointed in myself.

Well, it has been almost 3 years since that dreadful, eye opening day. D called today and has asked me to come speak to her class in August. I have agreed. However, this time I am going to tell the whole truth...no matter how hard it might be. I never realized how big of an opportunity I had until it was brought to my attention that I was being a fake.

I have a month, but I am preparing now. I would appreciate your help. If you could share one thing with this group of students about adoption, what would it be? The purpose of the class is to teach about adoption issues. We all have them. I do not know one person affected by adoption that does not. So...speak up now, please! I'm listening and ready to share.

Regrets

We all have them. I think it's impossible to live a life with absolutely no regrets I think that's why we have the saying, "hindsight is 20/20"...or something like that.

I definitely have my share of regrets in my life. There have been plenty of times that I wished I could take something back I said, say something that I chose to keep to myself, reacted differently to a situation...the list is endless. My reunion journey has been no different. When conversations did not go well I would think of all that I should have said differently. When opportunities arose to ask questions and I didn't, I would get so frustrated at myself for letting the moment pass by without mentioning anything. When I needed to do something just because it was the right thing to do and I didn't, I would wonder over and over again if the choice i made would haunt me later.

I know I'm not alone. I am sure everyone has something they wish they could go back and change. However, since that time machine has yet to be invented, there is no other choice than to move on. That is something that I have been trying to work on. It's hard, but I'm trying.

So, back to the story... The night before the funeral I talked to my birth mom. I didn't go into a lot of detail about my feelings, our relationship, not really feeling a part of the family, etc, but I did touch the surface on it all. We had a very good talk and she said that she understood. She told me that she had a lot of regrets about how she treated me and how she handled our relationship. She sounded like she truly did see where I was coming from and that made me feel very relieved.

At the end of the conversation, I told her that I would not be there. She again told me that she understood and apologized for things not being different. I thought that I had made the right decision. That was until the next morning.

I hadn't slept well the night before and woke up feeling very unsettled. As I was driving to school, I kept thinking that I should be driving an hour and a half the opposite direction to the funeral. I was constantly looking at the clock thinking of her and what she was doing as it came closer to the time for it to begin. Even though I had a very good conversation with her the night before, I could not get her off my mind. The what-if's were starting to set in and I was afraid I'd regret my decision.

I am always looking for 'signs'. Since I am a terrible deciison maker, I always play games with myself and look for a sign to help me decide what to do. Not being there was driving me crazy. I didn't know what to do. I told her I wouldn't be there. Now I was regretting it. I had a hundred other thoughts going through my head, so I decided I needed a sign. I was going to call my birth mom and if she answered, I was going to tell her that I would be there. So, I did. And she didn't answer. That was my sign.

I arrived at school and started the day. I usually do not keep my phone out because I do not have time to talk while teaching, but for some reason I did. Halfway through the morning I saw my phone flashing, so I knew i had missed a call. It was her. She had left a message.

I had my teacher's assitant watch my class while I stepped out of the room to check it. When I heard her voice I lost it. She sounded so sad. She told me that she was sorry she missed my call. She went to the funeral home by herself to say goodbye to her mom. She said it was very hard, but something she needed to do. She said that she really wished I was there and that would have been good, but she understood. She said she loved me and would call me later that night. Oh...sometimes life REALLY sucks!

Do I have regrets about my decision? Yes, I do. However, I have come to look at all of this as a learning process. I don't think there is anything that can prepare you for this journey. There is no amount of therapy that you can get to ensure you that you will make all the right decisions and get through this without an ounce of regret. It's impossible. So instead of beating myself up over my past, I'm trying to learn from those mistakes. Maybe it will get easier down the road. At least it's a start, and I think I owe that to myself.

Now or Never

I was heavy with sadness. I was so torn as to what I should do. I was angry that it was a decision that I had to even contemplate. What child should have to make a decision as to whether or not it was appropriate to attend their grandmother's funeral? It was, however, my reality and I had a choice to make.

I thought about my relationship with my birth mom. It had been nonexistent for the past four years. But if this accident had truly caused her to change and she really wanted a relationship with me, would I later regret not being there? I beat myself over this for the five days until the funeral.

I felt like I had no one to turn to. I wasn't seeing a therapist at that time and I did not have much support from my husband and friends. I did not blame them at all. I would have been the same way if the tables were turned. I totally understood why. They dealt with my tears, anger and frustration in relation to how she had treated me. They only knew that she had hurt me. They thought I needed to forget about her and move on with my life. If only it was that easy.

I had been talking to my birth mom throughout the week since the accident and before the funeral and had caught up somewhat on what was going on in our lives since she stopped communicating with me. I decided that I would just talk to her about the funeral and why I was not comfortable going. Each time we talked I had the words on the tip of my tongue, but I could not bring myself to do it. It seemed so insensitive on my part. She was grieving her mom's death and, at the time, did not know what her dad's outcome was going to be. She was planning a funeral with her sisters, her dad was in a coma in a hospital in another state unable to even attend his wife's funeral, she had a recurrence of cancer, and she was separated from her husband. I felt like I was just being a baby and I needed to get over myself. This was about her...not me.

However, that was my problem and continues to be to this day. I am always excusing the behavior and actions of others because I feel like I'm being selfish if I mention how I feel. I so often get caught up in what is going on in other's lives that I do not take care of myself. Why would anyone treat me with respect if they know I'll take whatever crap they give me, forgive easily, then move on like nothing ever happened?

Despite my feelings, I still had to decide what to do. I only had a day left to do it. Should I stay or should I go? Did I mention I am a terrible decision maker? I wish I had the support of my adoptee friends I have now at that time. I know it would have helped.

No one ever said it would be easy

When she called the next night, we talked for quite some time. She shared more details about the accident, how her dad was doing, and some of the drama surrounding extended family as well as the plans they had for the funeral. I just listened and tried my hardest to wrap my head around everything that was going on. Why does life have to be like this? Why does everything have to be so complicated? WHY DID I HAVE TO BE ADOPTED?! I found myself in probably the worst dilemma I had ever faced.

On one hand, I had been trying to reach out to my birth mom for years. I wanted her in my life so bad I could hardly stand it. I called, I wrote, called again, wrote again, called, called, called, wrote, wrote, wrote for FOUR YEARS with no response. I cried buckets of tears over the whole situation and put my family and friends through hell and back all because I wanted her in my life. I had FINALLY got to a point where I was nearing acceptance. I had to. I heard how she felt about me. Even though I didn't believe it, she still said those words. She treated me like crap with no regard to my feelings whatsoever. And now, her mother is gone, she's grieving, she's hurting beyond words...and now she's back, and she wants me in her life.

Not only does she want me in her life, but she wants me to be at the funeral. Not just the funeral, she wants me to attend the "family viewing" and stay for the meal afterwards. Seriously? She had not talked to me in four years. At that point, I still did not know if her son knew that I even existed. I guess I should mention that she also shared with me that my name and my children's names were not included in the obituary because it would possibly complicate things for her dad when he got better. OK... BUT I am supposed to attend the family viewing, family dinner, and funeral? SERIOUSLY?!

I was back at square one. I did not feel at all a part of my biological family. I was denied that at birth, and then again 28 years later. My emotions and thoughts were all over the place. Since my birth mom was grieving, I felt it was not the time or place to share why I was not at all comfortable attending. I wanted to so bad. I wanted to know what had happened the four years she ignored me. I wanted to tell her that if she wanted me to be a part of the family she needed to treat me like I was. If she didn't want my name listed as part of the family that was fine, but please do not expect me to come sit with the family and pretend as if I belonged there. I had pretended to feel like I belonged somewhere my whole life. I was tired of lies, deception and feeling inadequate. I wanted to belong, and this was definitely not it.

So, back to my dilemma. I love her. A lot. I wanted to be there for her. She had hurt me, but I knew she was hurting. I didn't want to leave her hanging like she did me. But, as much as her words said she wanted me there, her actions were not showing that. She was still denying me from being a part of the family. I could be there in body, but my name would not be included in anything.

Now, I realize that it can take a traumatic event to make you wake up and realize that life is too short to live with regrets. But how did I know if this was real? How did I know that she was so distraught she was just reaching out to find something to make her feel better. Anything...even if it was her rejected daughter. I loved her, but I did not know if I trusted her.

I had a major decision to make and I am probably one of the worst decision makers EVER. If it involves solely myself, it's not quite as difficult for me to decide what to do. However, if others thoughts and/or feelings are affected by the decision I have to make, in my head it becomes virtually impossible. It does not matter how big or small it is...what movie to watch or whether or not to attend a funeral can be incredibly tough decisions for me. I worry too much about letting others down. It is a definite character flaw that I have abhorred my entire life. I was at a loss. I was afraid if I didn't go, I may regret it later. But I was also afraid that if I did go, everyone would wonder who I was and why was I there? I did not want to feel rejected and out of place. Not again...I didn't know if I could take it.

I was back on the roller coaster. I couldn't think. I wanted so desperately to find a way out of the situation. Unfortunately, there was not one.

The Accident

My daughter had a basketball game the day I received my birth mom's message. It was in a different town, so I knew I would be on the road for a while that afternoon. As I was getting the kids ready to head out the door, I kept playing her message over and over in my mind. I was very curious why she was calling. She sounded alright, maybe a little distracted, but I figured something big had to of happened for her to think she needed to break her silence and call. I decided that I should call her before I left and see if she even would answer. For all I knew I maybe missed my chance to talk to her. So, I took a deep breath and called her back.

She answered right away. She sounded different. I didn't know if it was because it had been a while or if it was the situation, but something was different about her. She told me she didn't have a long time to talk, but needed to let me know that there had been an accident at her parents' house. She preceded to tell me the specifics....
In a recent ice storm all of the power in the area where her parents lived was lost. They had a propane heater that had malfunctioned, therefore leading to an explosion that burned their house to the ground. Both of her parents were there when it happened. Her dad was severely burned,flown out of state for care and her mom had passed away in the blast.

I was absolutely speechless. Literally, I did not have any words. There was just a long silence. My heart was broken for her for so many different reasons. The accident was horrific. Losing someone you love is hard, but such tragic circumstances seemed to make it that much worse. I also knew that she and her mom were very, very close. Her mom was her best friend. She talked to her about everything. I knew she was devastated.

It took me a minute to finally choke up the words, "I'm so sorry." That was all that I could say. She was crying, but very calm. I could hear a lot of talking in the background. She told me that she was at her parents' house with her sisters trying to find a fireproof safe with documents in it so she needed to go, but would call me when she got home later that evening. She told me she loved me and then hung up.

I was still in a state of shock. I could not believe what had happened. The accident, the phone call, her voice, her telling me that she loved me. I was so confused and so sad. I cried for her, for her family, for myself. After a moment, I got myself back together and headed out the door to my daughter's game.

For the rest of the day, I could not stop thinking about the conversation. Had it really happened? Was her mom, my grandma, really gone? Why did she call me? Why did she think I needed to know? Was she even going to call me back like she said?

For obvious reasons, I was not expecting a call that night. Given the fact that she had not returned one of my calls in years, coupled with the turmoil she was going through, it was a logical conclusion. And I was right. She didn't call. She sent me a text: "I am so sorry for not calling tonight like I promised I would. I got in later than I thought. I will call you tomorrow." And she did.

And the story continues to unfold....

Fast forward to a month after sending the letter to my birthmom. It is now the end of January of 2010. For the first time in the nearly 4 years since being out of contact with my birth mom, I felt that I was at a better place. I had finally reached a point where I realized that my life would not include my biological mother. Did I still think about her? Of course. Was I still disappointed things were not different? Definitely. I still felt the loss, but the sting was finally starting to numb. I had a family of my own that needed me to be the best I could be. So, I was doing just that...trying to be my best.

That all changed one Saturday, when I received a call from my birth mom. When I saw it was her, I immediately shut down. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to answer the phone, but a huge part of me was saying -- 'NOOOOOOO!!!". "What in the world could she want?" "She hasn't called you in 4 years!" "You are FINALLY beginning to cope without her." -- Needless to say, I didn't answer it, but she left a message. I waited a couple of hours to listen to it. I'm not sure why I waited so long. I guess I was trying to prepare myself, but I have no idea what for. When I finally listened to it, this is what she said:

Hi. It's me. I was just calling to tell you that there has been
an accident at mom and dad's and I felt like I needed to tell
you about it. Please call me as soon as you can. I'll talk to
you later. Bye.

So...what do you think happens next? I asked myself a hundred questions after listening to her message several times. I will post the details within the next couple of days. Wondering when the drama will end? Me too! ::Sigh::

Moving on

What could I do other than move on with my life? She had not been a part of my life for a few years, and the chance phone conversation we had obviously gave me quite a bit to think about.

I played the conversation over and over in my head. The more I thought about it, the less I understood why she said all of the things that she said about me to her friend. It was like she was talking about a completely different relationship...not ours. The things she said were not even true. We talked on the phone often, but at random times throughout the day...not way late so I was keeping her up. She usually came to visit me instead of the other way around because of her family at home. She always told me it was easier that way. I am not sure what she meant about not telling my family about her. It was difficult, but I told them about her before I ever started my contact with her.

I was beyond confused, but had no choice other than to move on. I had wanted to know what happened, why she stopped all contact with me...I got my answer. Not at all what I wanted to hear, but it was an answer.

I am pretty good at hiding my feelings. I had years of practice, so it really didn't take much effort to muster up a smile and act like everything was OK. Any spare time that I had, I filled it with other tasks to keep my mind busy. The key was to stay as busy as possible so I didn't have time to think. If I didn't have time to think, I didn't have time to feel. That was the plan, at least. However, this was different. It was much more difficult than I thought.

The fact that I was rejected by my birth mom for the second time hurt me to the core. No matter how hard I tried to bottle it up and stuff it as deep as I could, the reality was still there. Every time I looked at one of my own kids, I wondered "how could a mother reject her own child?". I understood the adoption part of it...she was young, she thought she was doing the right thing by me. I got that. I had accepted that. But to be given a second chance, just to reject me again was like a slap in the face. I started questioning myself and wondering what was wrong with me. Why didn't she want me? What made me so unlovable?

A couple months had passed and still no word. You would think, by now, I would not be holding on to the hope that she would call or write. She had proven to me that she was not interested. She had completely bashed me and our relationship to a new friend of hers, but there I was...still waiting, wondering if today was going to be the day.

After talking to my bf's one day, I finally got the push that I needed. I was forced into reality and realized that I had 3 babies of my own that needed me. I had been so depressed and so hurt by everything that had happened, that I was not the mother that my own children deserved. It was time for a change. As much as it hurt, as hard as it was, I HAD to let her go. So, I sat down and wrote her a letter.

I can't remember everything that I wrote about. I told her that it would be the last letter or form of contact that she received from me. I took the comments that she had made in her letter into consideration as I wrote it, mentioning several false accusations she had mentioned. It wasn't an angry letter, but it was very honest and straight forward. I mentioned feeling hurt about the things that I heard her say. I told her that if she would have voiced her thoughts and feelings to me, we maybe wouldn't have got to the point we were at. I told her that I was hurt, but needed closure to the situation so I was basically saying good-bye. I told her from that point forward, the ball was in her court. I had tried and tried to force a relationship that she obviously resented and I was done. I wanted her in my life, but I didn't have anything left. I fought for four years, and received nothing...not one letter, one phone call, absolutely nothing.

It was around Christmas when I wrote the letter and for some reason I felt compelled to include our photo Christmas card. She had not seen my 3 year old and 9 month old before. I had withheld sending pictures with any letters I wrote her while we weren't talking. It was really just my way of controlling the situation as much as I could. Crazy, but true. In order to truly move on, I felt like I needed to let go of my anger towards her and the situation as much as possible. I guess the pictures were a peace offering of sorts.

I read the letter twenty times, at least, before I finally sealed the envelope and dropped it in the mail. As I dropped it in the mailbox, I did feel a small glimmer of hope as I walked away. I hoped that maybe she would find it in her to want to call me. Maybe something I said in the letter would move her just enough to want to reconcile our relationship.

Hope was the only thing that kept me going. Others may think of it as a weakness...pathetic, ridiculous, naive..whatever you want to call it. However, for me, hope was the one thing that no one could take from me. When I found myself in the darkest moments of my life, all I could do was hope for a sunnier tomorrow. So that is what I did.