I don’t always write about my daughter’s adoption because I don’t always think about it. And then there are times where I hit someone with the truth of everything that happened and one of only one thing happens: they are shocked. I don’t think it’s a pity shock, it’s more like a: you are the strongest person I will ever meet shock.
And then I say how my daughter contacted me a year ago and how I still haven’t met her and how it’s all my fault. Mainly because I’m not perfect and how I want to be. How could I meet her, I say, when the accomplishments do not equal having given her up? That was the point, right? Place her with an adoptive family so I could accomplish. Succeed. Be everything that incredibly teen single mothers are not.
I guess, in this instance, perfection looks a lot like Beaver Cleaver: a picket fence, a cushy career, a reputable bank account and credit score.
Things, that even if I had, wouldn’t matter to me because they do not make you accountable, a good person, or even a person worth knowing. They certainly do not make you a mother that you would like to meet. Or love. They are things and I abhor things used as armor. You see me, you get me. I am exactly, as I was reminded today, who I say I am: unapologetic and strong, authentic and real, genuine and good.
But in the scheme of meeting a soon-to-be 16-year-old that I gave birth to, I don’t give a damn. Who I am isn’t enough. Even if I think me is wonderful, me having given over a child was not wonderful. In my mind, there has to be tangible rewards; a package wrapped in a white box – maybe with a lavender bow – that I can deliver and say: this is what I did while you didn’t know me.
Even though you always knew me.
It’s absurd. Teen girls do not think about fences and credit scores. They think about why they wear glasses or have green eyes and why the nose goes this way and why this may be as tall as it gets. She doesn’t think about these things every day, but maybe it’s there below the surface. I have the ability to look at pictures from almost a 100 years ago and see that everyone from my father’s side of the family wore glasses. I can see tangible proof of my tree.
I look in the mirror and I like me. I even like the 15-year-old me. She made a mistake and then made all the right choices after that. But, in my mind, it gets complicated when that mirror is my daughter.
I want to be exactly what she wants and expects while knowing I can never be any of it except a few traits and mannerisms. But how privileged of me to write. I know exactly where mine come from and which ones I hope, like the chin waddle the size of a thigh, never develop.
As a friend said, and it made all the difference, own me. Own me to her. Answer the questions and stop making it complicated. It’s not. Stop overthinking this.
I couldn’t love you anymore than I do at this very moment. You have so much in you that I’m not even able to articulate it.
You do own you, beautifully.
Julia Roberts recently posted..Random
Thanks, Julia. For everything.
Don’t over think it & don’t sell yourself short friend. You made an aduld choice at a young age and you never forgot your child, still worry about her and want to do what is right. You’ll meet her one day and hopefully she sees the strong, passionate woman that we all see, even if it takes a her a few years to really get it.
Jess recently posted..Weekend Family Fun
Thanks for the support, Jess. She’ll see it or she won’t. I’ll be okay with both. And I’m sure that whatever she decides she’ll be okay with too. Which is a whole lot of okayness.
I love this reply. You are so amazing. I realize that phrase is very over generalized and often used but I can’t explain how amazing you are for choosing what you choose and articulating how you feel.
Gloria recently posted..My Academic Advisor Made My Day!
I think you are amazingly strong. Even though as kids or teens we didn’t think about the credit score or the fence, you knew giving your daughter up for adoption was the right thing for her and for you based on the situation at that time. I can’t even imagine what that must be like as a mom, except that it would take amazing strength, not just that day but all the time. Agreed. And shit, I don’t even want to go to the beach because I’m not perfect, I can’t imagine the weight of feeling the need to not only “be” but have done everything I’d hoped by a certain moment in time. Like a high school reunion or something but times a million. I totally get that. But I can’t help thinking about your daughter who found you and wants to meet you. She wants to see you and touch you and talk to you. And I’m sure she’s got questions. She may have already asked you some of them in a letter when she reached out. But as much as she wants answers, she probably wants you more. And making her wait for perfection doesn’t seem fair to her or to you. If you could ask her – “Listen, I’m far from perfect and far from what I want our first meeting to be. What do you think – should we meet anyway or wait a year or two?” (Or longer – because, we’re not talking a credit score or a fence, we are talking about your own measure of perfection for yourself and we all tend to set that bar crazy, maybe even unattainably high, so how long til you really get there?). Would she say, “Yeah, let’s wait. Work on all that and get back with me.” No way. Or maybe she would have waited for you to find her. Further, I bet she might feel the same way. Imagine when that day comes, she will be wanting to be perfect for you. Just as the things that she is thinking are super important to do or accomplish or look like before meeting you that day will be of very little importance to you, the same is true in reverse. It’s the meeting that counts. I will never know what this is like, but from an outsider perspective, attempting to try on both pairs of shoes, it seems like sooner is better than later.
You couldn’t be more right. Everything you wrote. This is me writing about re-unification in the moment. The absolutely crazy thoughts and motivations that are absolutely insane because they do not have 16 years worth of time to make it sound good. So, what does that mean? Meeting isn’t about me, it’s about her. Always been about her, but sharing my doubts, my imperfections on this particular day made sense and moved me one step closer to meeting (if she wants to do that). This isn’t pretty, I’ll take the wrong steps and a few right ones or none at all but thank you for being there and the support. Honestly.
As a birthmom who is dying for the opportunity to meet her son, I beg you to just do it. Own you. But own the fact that you are a part of your daughter that she deserves to know, no matter what your bank account says.
I hope you get to meet him Danielle. For me, it’s not about the bank account or any of it, it’s about the fucked up things we tell ourselves even when we’re self-aware enough to know it doesn’t matter. If you wrote it, I would tell you 100% it doesn’t matter. Because it doesn’t. Thank you for encouraging what should be done.
I understand where you are coming from. But you didn’t place your daughter for adoption just so you could succeed, you placed her so she could have a good life. You were 15 and made a wonderful and adult decision. But could you have parented at 15? at 16? That also would have been difficult for HER as well as you.
Give yourself a break. Meet her. Don’t make her wait any longer. Don’t make yourself wait any longer. She will see the delay as a rejection.
And you have succeeded. Just because there is a temporary financial set back does not mean your life isn’t successful. But you know that.
I always want to lose weight before I do anything. Well, I am still fat. I would be waiting forever.
Go. Do. Live. I am proud of you. You should be proud of you too!!
Hugs,
Jacky
“Give yourself a break. Meet her. Don’t make her wait any longer. Don’t make yourself wait any longer. She will see the delay as a rejection.”
Exactly.
Thank you, Jacky.
Jacky hit the nail on the head. You relinquished your daughter so that you could give HER a better life than you felt you could give her at the time, not so that YOU could succeed. I know that was the lie whatever agency told you back then as consolation – that relinquishing her would give you opportunities. But adoption isn’t about us as birth moms. It’s about the kids we relinquish. I freely relinquished my daughter, not for me or for her adoptive parents, but for HER. Trust me when I say that in all my research, adoptees who are reunited with birth parents aren’t looking for “success.” They want to look in the mirror that you can look in when you look at your biological family tree. Do it!! Go meet her. You’ve taken the bull by the horns (so to speak) on so much other stuff. Take it on this one too! I think you’ll find that you feel more complete (as I know I do when I’ve seen my daughter). My heart hurts for the agony you’re putting yourself through thinking you have to be some version of perfect. Give you the gift of meeting your daughter. I can pretty much guarantee you won’t regret it.
Oh, and btw, you may not have that version of “perfection” that you feel you need to show your daughter, but I think you’re amazing and I barely know you.
Monika recently posted..Sands of Time
I waited more than a week to leave reply comments because I couldn’t fully appreciate them in the moment. Yours, Monika, really hit me. Thank you. Everything you said is spot on even if you didn’t think I was awesome. I need to cleanse myself of the “what-ifs” and pound the fucking pavement. Thank you.
The “what-ifs” and “if-onlys” keep us from doing the stuff that we need to do. It’s a very dangerous path to start telling ourselves that stuff (in general, not only as birth moms). If you ever want to talk, I stalk you on FB and on Twitter, or you can just email me. I can’t wait to hear what happens when you meet her!
Monika recently posted..Loss
Wow, Liz. I can’t imagine thinking through all this. I think you are a strong person, I always have.
Jasmine recently posted..Fat People Are EVERYWHERE! My Doctor Wants Me To Get Weight Loss Surgery
Thanks, Jasmine. You are too and you know it.
Damn, girl. You ARE perfect. Perfectly imperfect and all that. And strong and smart and brave and thoughtful and funny and awesome. And all those things you think you want to have when you meet her are reasons you’re creating why she won’t like you or love you, even though I suspect she already does.
I mentioned in another comment that I am completely self-aware of how insane this is. I know the things that I am (and thanks lady for breaking it down because I need to put that somewhere for my “I feel like shit days”) and how little any of it matters. I know what matters, what she wants and that has nothing to do with all of the things that surround me.
By the way, you are far more awesome than I am.
This is the first time I’ve read your blog, so I’m not going to pretend to know you, or what is right for you. I’m going against every other commentator, but, I think when you are ready, you won’t have to talk yourself into it. When you’re ready, you’ll just want to do it, and you will.
Ginger Kay recently posted..Lost in a Good Book
Thanks, Ginger for bucking the trend. It gives me a whole lot of comfort.
Wow. Thanks for sharing, I’ll bet this was a gut wrenching post to write. Really, a previous poster said it so well- it not only was going to create opportunities for success in your future, but importantly, hers. It was an amazing and selfless thing you did, giving her up.
It was the conversation before I wrote this post that was gut wrenching. Tears that you don’t want to be tears and looking deep and being all “I really may have fucked this up.” But there’s tomorrow and support and, yeah, it will all work out. Thanks, Amelie.
I adore you. And the way you live your life: so fully, so honestly, so kindly is an inspiration. You are a fantastic story teller (& I don’t mean in a fabricated way, I mean you tell it like it is – fantastically) so I can imagine when you are ready for the huge next step you will be bringing more to the table than eyewear. You will have the story she has been waiting to hear her whole life. xxoo
Dresden recently posted..So. Um. Yeah. This happened.
oh I love this so much:
“You will have the story she has been waiting to hear her whole life. ”
I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling, but please, be gentle with yourself. hell, most of us never have to be held accountable for things we did at 16.
listen to your friends. listen to the adoptees you know, fellow birth moms. listen to your heart for clues as to when you will be ready. don’t measure yourself up against some artificial ideal. it doesn’t matter what you are not. who you are is what matters.
luna recently posted..we never forget
as someone who was adopted…i could care less what my birth mother has or has not accomplished. none of that would matter. i want to know who made those silly and weird faces i make that my children make. where did the curls come from. the blue eyes. the fiery attitude. the premature grey hair. where did i come from.
that is what would matter. not the credit score. are you accomplished. you had your reasons. they were not mine to make. and i am ok with that. i would just want to know…you.
i do hope one day i find my birth mother and that she is open to telling me these things and that where or what she has done does not bother her. i would hope she would be more interested in what I have done and where I have been. i am 36, but that day, i will be a baby all over again.
let go of your agony and expectations. and just do it. head high for the decision you made. sending love and light and happiness and rainbows your way.
Loco YaYa recently posted..When Something Calls To You
I’m here via Monika.
I made contact with my son’s birth father 2 years ago. He lives one state away and we have not yet met him. It’s hard on my son. Looking into the face of his first father would fill him up in a way that nothing else can.
I hope we have persuaded you that you it’s simple and doesn’t need to be overthought. Give your presence, not your perfection.
Lori Lavender Luz recently posted..50% of X ends in Y
I’m an adoptee. I will never get to meet my bmom because she died young but my relatives have told me that she was a kind woman and to me, that trumps almost anything else. I wouldn’t have cared if she was successful or not.
My daughter knows me, has seen me, has a relationship with me… and I still think these things. I mean, we don’t have a picket fence, but I’m pretty nifty. And — logically — I know that. But it gets complicated in the loss and the grief and the juxtaposition of “would this be if that wasn’t” and all that overthinking jazz. I’m not going to tell you to stop overthinking, but I will tell you that you are not alone.
Jenna recently posted..More on Air Force Coercion to Relinquish Babies for Adoption
<3
Hey from one birth mom to another. I gave up a baby daughter many years ago, and when she came of age, she contacted me through Catholic Charities. I’ve written about it here: http://myfairladyproject.com/my-fair-lady-project-blog/2012/10/26/because-of-the-republican-rape-ridiculousness – hope it’s okay to leave that link here for you, you can delete it if you like.
I met my daughter, and it’s been beautiful and terrible and wonderful and complicated and terrifying and sad and joyful all in one package. I am me, a damaged human as we all are, and I could never and can never live up to the fantasy biomom in her head. But we’ve built some kind of lovely relationship over the past few years. It’s been difficult for both of us. For me, I am a mother who isn’t a mother, and it’s hard to reach out and to sometimes be rejected or treated as just another friend. But that is what it is, and I don’t regret a moment of any of it.
I wish for you much love, whatever decisions you make, whatever decisions your child makes. There is no right or wrong in this, just two people with questions, with a hole in their hearts. And so it goes…
Birdie recently posted..The Morning After
If you were my bio-mom, I would be thrilled to meet you. With your sense of humor and pointed, realistic view of life, you are a real wonder to behold. Don’t give up on yourself, you gave her an opportunity. You are awesome, you really are.
Michelle recently posted..Mike isn’t 18 anymore.
As an adult adoptee whose birth mother politely asked her to disappear forever when I found her 20 years ago I am begging you to meet her. The scars from that letter – plus real life smacking me in the face- adopted mom dying of Alzheimer’s, becoming permanently disabled from I a disease I could have prevented had I known my personal health history…. Yeah, not kidding, I was a college instructor and now I am on social security disability and damn glad to have that…. Give me a lot of time to ponder. See, my Fibro, which I did not know I had, flared into levels of pain that requires MORPHINE to handle…. Was kicked off by surgery to remove a cyst in my ovary. I have had many cysts. Maybe I would have died of OC without the surgery…..though the test results said no evidence of cancer was found. idk.
We are making assumptions here. Fibro hasn’t been OFFICIALLY proven to be a genetic hand down…. But it mostly is, based on my knowledge of victims. Also, it might have come from the father, who knocked her up while she attended Barnard. I don’t know his name.
But please please keep in close contact. Cards, letters, Skype, Facebook, calls, hell, I’ll take a passenger pigeon. My depression over this and adoptive parents who meant well but had ridiculous rules… has resulted in PTSD….and many other things I do not wish to talk about on the Internet. Please, she is interpreting this as pure, unadulterated rejection. And it is depressing her very much. Even though at 16 I would have told you I was very happy with life and my parents. Still, like the crawling screen under a newscast, the thoughts are always there.
Always.