Adoption - I Have Only ONE Mom!
Apr 10 '00
This editorial is going to be a little different than most. I'm not going to advise you on how to adopt, or how to tell your child he/she was adopted. Others have done such a good job with that, it would really be useless for me to even try.
No, instead I'm going to share with you a letter recently I wrote a casual friend of mine. Lately, we disagreed strongly on a few subjects - namely the Stay-At-Home Mom vs. Work-At-Home Debate (she is a SAHM - and fanatical about it - I have done both), and related to this, how strong the biological pull between a mother and child, and how it relates to adoption. She maintains that an adoptive parent can never be as good as a biological parent because the simple act of carrying and giving birth to a child is a tie that can never be severed.
Anyway, here is my letter to her:
Dear Shannon,
I wish I had known these past few years that you held such a deep-seated disdain for these things. I'm starting to wonder if there's any part of my life you *would* approve of.
I was adopted at six weeks by wonderful parents. I was an only child. I was loved and spoiled, but yes, sometimes I wondered about my "real" parents (not just my real mom) I saw their outlines in my mind like paper dolls, but without faces - the grandfather with red hair, the 20 year old dad had an identical twin brother, the 19 year old blond, blue-eyed mother. Who were they? What did they look like?
When I was 23 and pregnant with my daughter, Kelsey, I just HAPPENED to come across a man who was adopted who mentioned that he had paid $150 to a woman who looked up his birth parents. I gave her a call. Apparently this woman worked for the Department of Records or something and was now retired. I spoke to her disjointed voice over the phone, and, sight unseen, she called back a few days later with the name, address, phone number, marital status, number of children - of my birth mother. All for $150. It took three days.
I finally worked up the nerve to call her, and at first it was great. We made plans to meet. She wasn't what I had expected - she was rather loud and unrefined (compared to my parents), she swilled Budweiser, smoked like a chimney and popped Prozac. She swore loudly and talked about herself endlessly, how hard her life had been, how horrible her family was. She deflected any questions about her schooling or her career. (Later I found out because in the past her resume included street prostitute and heroin addict - perhaps that's why she was reluctant to share?) At any rate, I would have been more impressed had she said, "I basically did nothing all my life and screwed it up." But she said nothing and was disarmingly evasive. Still, I was charmed - perhaps we could be friends.
The first signs came right away. The women was insane. No, wait - that's not correct. I don't mean to malign anyone who TRULY suffers from mental illness. This women was neurotic and disturbed. On our FIRST meeting, she abruptly announced that I "should move in with her" which took me aback. During conversations she kept butting in with, "Do you mind if I call you "TONDI"? I don't like the name Melissa. I was going to name you Tondi" After several hours, when I gathered up to leave for a lunch date with my mom, she announced, "You've had 24 years with her - now you should spend time with me! She's only been your CARETAKER all these years! I'm your true mother!"
These disturbing insights went on and on. When she found I was six months pregnant, there was a sharp intake of breath. "AHA" says she "I should have known - six months ago I mysteriously started gaining weight! We're cosmically linked you know!"
Hmmmmmm. Well, in spite of these warning signs, I continued my relationship with her for as long as I could. I wanted to get to know this person, my biological mother. She did help me get in touch with my biological father (who turned out to be great) But the few things I do know about her, I know from her three sisters, who each came to see me once. See, my new mom was estranged from all four of her siblings, and her mother and father too, three times divorced. She insisted all of these events were the fault of the other party. Ya think?
Eventually I found it impossible to have any kind of relationship with her. I tried to renew contact with her a few years later, only to have the same thing happen again, this time with threats if I "left" her. I have since moved and changed my phone number. I feel sad that we could not be friends, but that is it. I know that I did my best to get along with her.
As far as your friend who has felt empty all his life and lashes out at others because of it, it simply sounds to me as if he has other abandonment issues that go beyond a simple adoption scenario. That feeling of "missing something" comes from INSIDE, not from the outside. I can assure you that there is no "cosmic pull" to my bio mom. If she died today, I'm sure someone would have to call and tell me - there would be no misalignment of the stars for me.
The mother who raised me is my mother, and she always will be. And yes, she worked, she was a high school teacher. She has been there for me through thick and thin - sure she may have missed changing a few of my diapers when she was at work - but was that really important? I don't remember who changed my diapers anyway, do you? Charles Manson could have done it for all I know.
No, she was the one who took care of me when I was sick. When I barfed at school, I came home and barfed on her. She didn't mind. She read to me every night. She always asked about my day. She always remembered what I liked to eat, liked to wear and which toy was my favorite that week I went to school with her sometimes and "helped" her grade papers. I was proud of her. And as I grew, she put me through college - twice! She was there when my daughter was born. She never said, "I told you so" Well..not much anyway! She accepted me when I was a topless dancer, even though she disapproved. She listened to my hopes and dreams and never laughed. She is my mother, and when she is old and gray, and too sick to go on, it is she that I will cry over. I love her - she is the only mother I have. Not the woman who happens to share my DNA and hair color.
You can't have it both ways, Shannon. Is a "mother" made by the simple fact of her being there 24 hours a day? Or is a "mother" made by the simple fact that she gave birth to you and then gave you up? Or is a "mother" made by the fact that she takes care of you part of the time, and trusts your care part time to another person?
Which is it? Because you've contradicted yourself here by making it sound as if the simple fact of birth creates a bond so strong that time and distance cannot ever replace it. Because, if that's so, then WOHM's really have nothing to worry about.
Do they?
Tigerlily
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Epinions.com ID:
mstigerlily
|
|
Member: Melissa Walker
Location: San Diego, CA
Reviews written: 57
Trusted by: 41 members
|
|
|
© 1999-2009 Shopping.com, Inc.