This was the first time I could say that I owe my birth mother nothing. Nada. Zilch. I’m glad that she had me and that’s as far as it goes. I feel very liberated and incredibly good.
I should explain that I stayed at the home with my birth mother and her mother for three weeks. This is so unique that I have never heard of any other adoptee in that situation.
My father and I were enthralled by that. But really she knew she was going to give me up. I lived with a foster family until I was exactly four months old. Had to be tested. I was a “perfect” baby. I had pneumonia at thirteen months. The doctor brought an oxygen tank into my house as my parents thought I had been through enough separation–parents couldn’t stay with babies in hospitals then. That might have been when I “got” non learning verbal disorder. Then again it might have been a problem with my brain, during gestation, that wouldn’t show until later. Somebody left a trying to be clever comment saying that adversity should teach. Gee, I never thought about that.
I’m enjoying writing my 3WW each Wednesday. It’s the first completely pleasurable writing experience that I have had in a long time.
I hope to take it in directions that you can’t imagine yet. I never knew I could write fiction until I began 3WW, and never dreamed that I would be able to write something like this. It uses my very vivid imagination, and I hope, my encyplodic knowledge of James Spader films.
I write it in advance and put in the word. They do add something.
I’m also writing about selling a coop and finally coming to terms with my birth mother’s rejection of me. I’m not talking about when she gave me up for adoption, I always felt good about that. It was hard for people in the adoption movement to understand that back in the 80′s. They didn’t understand why I didn’t embrace and further reach out to a woman who didn’t like me.
It wasn’t my responsibility to make her like me. I came fully formed. It was her responsibility to meet me half way in every sense if she wanted a relationship with me and she failed to do that. She wanted me to become somebody I wasn’t and will never be. It was she who had unrealistic expectations. I’m sorry about that, but nobody can expect an adult to become your dream daughter. Or for a child to be the person you want her to be, for that matter.
My parents accepted me when I did everything possible not to be easily liked–the adolescent rebel stage. They found that to be normative. They loved me for who I was, not for who they thought I should be. I understand that it’s different for a birth mother, but I owed her nothing. I was polite, sweet and all that because I am. I tried and that’s all I could do.
I could never say that before I read Identical Strangers
Elyse and Paula were more like me than any adoptees I came across in my search. Their book had to stir up many feelings I wasn’t prepared for and did. I’m glad as I needed to finally work through that.
Its amazing the way we can see ourselves in fictional characters many times. I find sometimes that is is also a comfort. Your reflection of your Birth mother made me sad. She has no idea what she is missing out on. Love ya Pia!
What a refreshing post. Great to swing by after my hiatus and see something very touching.
The 80s adoption stuff is fascinating. I have a friend who spent years obsessing, in high school, over the day when he’d be 18 and he could actually legally, under Va. law, have access to his birth records without parental consent. I ran into him a few years ago and was shocked that, basically, he’d tracked down his birth mom’s address, sat outside her apartment in his car, caught a glimpse of her, and left without saying anything. I think his reasoning was similar to yours – yeah, shouldn’t there be a halfway mark?
I don’t understand how anyone in that situation could be unaccepting of their child after all those years.
Glad you came to terms though
And for some reason, the book title reminded me that Ion is now showing Perfect Strangers reruns. (Weeknights at 7:30 Central, I believe.)
I mean’t to say this yesterday and posted before I mean’t too. Whatever your birth mother is or is not, I for one am thankful she had you. Without her, I would be missing out on a friendship with an awesome woman! YOU!
It’s easy to see that you’re having fun with your 3ww story. It’s fun reading, too.
I’m with Doug. There are many people who are quite happy your birth mother had you, whatever else she was or wasn’t, didn’t or didn’t do. The 3ww get better every time, if possible.
Thankfully, the story these days – at least in the UK – is very, very different.
Continuing contact – either direct or indirect through “letterbox” is striven for from the outset – so the children are never in doubt who their birth parents were or are.
It’s a huge subject, but the main concerns for the child are that they are comfortable with who they are, and where they are from. It’s the whole “identity” thing.
Just stopped by your site for the first time – very nice look and feel – very stylish. I’m working on an online novel myself, and am always fascinated by the great work out on the Web.