I could have written this. From My Birth Name is Allison. I hate to put so much of her post here, but I remember exactly, being about four years old, in our house that was my grandmother's, knowing instinctively that babies came from mothers, having a foreboding feeling that something was just plain wrong.
I think, I was around 4. I remember the house we lived in and we were in that house. We only lived in that particular house until I was almost 5, so I had to have been somewhere between 4 and 5.
Now, I preface this with the fact that while I am now pushing 40, I can still remember the moment I was told about being adopted. It was a defining moment in my life. I remember this clearly as if it were last week.
I remember the look on my adoptive mothers face. And the color of the carpet on the floor, and the doll I was clutching and what she was wearing.
I asked the big question, “Mommy, what was it like when I was in your tummy, tell me about that.”
She got rather flustered, and said, “You didn’t grow in my tummy, another lady had you and couldn’t take care of you, so you were chosen.”
I said, “You mean you are not my mommy?”
She said, “I am your mommy, your REAL mommy. The other lady is not your mommy, she just gave birth to you.”
I said, “You mean she didn’t want me?”
Adoptive mom said, “We wanted you MORE.”
Body language that my adoptive mom started to give off was this was very uncomfortable for her.
Adoptive mom said, “It is called being adopted, and it makes you more special than if I would have had you.”
I said, “I want to find my real mommy… where is she?”
Adoptive mom: “But I AM your REAL mommy! Who wanted you.”
Keep in mind, it is 1974. And my adopvite mom believed all the lies about closed adoption. And she thought (still thinks today) that children are born as blank slates and that they have absolutey no idea or feelings of what is going on around them. I don’t say this in her defence, she just sincerly belives that. She knows how I feel, but I can’t convince her otherwise. I think it is a self protective measure. She doesn’t have to face the real horror of what she told me, if she just hides behind her “children are blank slates” theory.
At this point, I think I cried. But I had an odd feeling of relief. Somewhere deep inside of me, I already knew, that I didn’t fit with these people. I knew it!
1 comments:
I don't remember ever NOT knowing I was adopted...I grew up, however, always wanting to know my birth mother: what was she like? what did she look like? didn't she want to know me? why didn't she find me?
Now, after searching for her and knowing her the past 7 years, I have had all my questions answered. And I'm satisfied. But growing up was very difficult with the NOT knowing.
Someone asked me the other night what my thoughts were on open- vs. closed-adoption. I think there are arguments for both sides (mainly because we went through an adoption event with dear friends who had the birthmom - after 3 months - try to get the baby back again).
Makes one long for perfect-heaven, doesn't it? 'Course, as Christians, we're all adopted there!
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