It's New Year's Eve, time to reflect back on the year, and to make resolutions for 2013. I have a somewhat "radical" suggestion, and I would love to hear what you think ...
First things first, full disclosure: I have always been a people-pleaser. I'm the eldest child. I'm typical 'type A,' perfectionist control-freak. Insult-to-injury? I'm adopted.
As
a child, the role of perfect daughter came easily to me. I was the adoptee who
was subconsciously afraid of being given back, or given away. Not that it was
possible, or threatened, or something I thought of consciously. It was simply
the logical extension of the narrative my adoptive parents told me: “Your birth
mother loved you enough to give you up, and now we love you.”
...
So you could give me up, too.
I
was aware of my desire to fulfill my
adoptive mom’s dream of being a mother. I was determined to be the good child
for whom she had prayed to God.
Meeting
my First Mother
Reuniting with my first mother was one of the most amazing
experiences of my life, as I've written before. Reunion filled a whole in my heart, it made me question all
of the decisions I’d made so far in my life. My first mother and I connected on
a deep, physical and emotional level.
Not
only that, but my reunion was one of the first times when I realized that it
was in fact “all about me.” I surprised myself in that I felt totally fine about this.
From
the beginning of our reunion, my natural mother let me take the lead. She
shielded me from her grief and she was careful to share with me painful pieces
of information about my relinquishment little-by-little.
Everyone
constantly asked, "How are your parents handling things?"
It’s a funny question,
but it’s one that’s “normal,” among those who know little about how hard
adoption can be on the actual adoptee! Generally, I brushed off the question,
answering, “They’re fine.”
Sometimes,
when I was feeling particularly sassy, I have to admit, I did add, “They’re not
the ones meeting their biological family for the very first time in their
lives, you know?”
Once
reunion fever set in, I stopped worrying what my adoptive parents were
going through. I didn’t try to defend my decision to search to people I hardly
knew. This was my reunion. Feeling
guilt about reuniting, or trying to manage others’ reactions was simply too
much for me to take on.
Be the Trump Card
As
I’ve gotten more involved in the so-called 'adoption blog world,' I’ve
been reading over and over how worried adoptees are about how their adoptive
parents will feel.
Will they think I don’t love them if I search? I could search, but I couldn’t tell my adoptive parents, they’d be too upset. Or, My natural family could never meet my adoptive family, that would be to hard for all of them.
I’ve
seen adoptees go to such psychological, physical and logistical lengths to
provide for the privacy, safety and emotional security of the people who raised
them ... aaaand worry the same things for their natural families.
I
admit, especially in the “honeymoon period” of my reunion, I believed my
natural mom could do. no. wrong. It was maddening for those close to me
(friends and fiancé, not just my adoptive parents). I get it, for a time, I
became a different person; in complete wonderment at the reunion for which I’d
waited my entire life.
How can I suggest this delicately? ... Be the trump card
This
might sound wrong, or presumptuous, or just plain bitchy, but ... Be the trump
card. (Something that gives one person or group the advantage over
another, dictionary.com.)
From
the cultural
dictionary, trump card =
In general, something capable of making a decisive difference when used at the right moment; in certain card games, trump is the suit designated as having precedence over the others.
We,
dear adoptees, can make the decisive
difference in how our family and friends view our own reunion.
Whether
considering searching, or not. Whether
found, or in long-term reunion. It’s all about the adoptee; we’re the children in this equation.
We're the
tiny baby who didn’t consciously know what was happening;
We're the
child who, of course, loved her (adoptive) parents!
We're the
eighteen-year-old whose records opened up (in some states), but was unprepared
for the opened emotional wound.
We're the
adult who is still figuring out all of this adoption s....
Now,
now, Be the trump card! ... That’s a mighty selfish statement!
Yes, it
is necessary to explain our perspective on adoption (i.e. educate those who don't know or never tried to understand) to those close to us—kindly, gently, with emotional intelligence ... But with boundaries. With the knowledge
that whatever we feel, however we
want to shape our reunions, it is up to us,
the adoptee.
We,
dear adoptees, are the trump card in this equation.
Just a suggestion ... let
your New Year’s Resolution be to ... Be the trump card.
* * * * *
Laura writes about adoption and expat mommy life. Her memoir, Adopted Reality, is available on Amazon.
image from freedigitalphotos.net
