Birthmother: How Weird is THAT?
Need to take a break from writing stories about being adopted (in "honor" of National Adoption Month.) It's just too depressing and overwhelming. Can only reflect so much on the past before...the past drags me down and makes me mopey. Which I hate.
So...a few thoughts on birthmothers.
I can't believe I have one. It's as simple as that.
After forty-some years of denial, minimization and outright ignoring that I was adopted and all the meant...the very acknowledgment that I was really born is, well, strange.
Which makes searching and finding your birthmother such a weird experience. She really exists! Not some mythological creature, not a fantasy, a real person. I've been in reunion (still haven't met her) for about six months and it still takes me a day to mentally prepare to talk with her and at least a full day to recover. Not that our conversations are that difficult. Some are. Of course they are! How could they not be?
But I find I have to put myself in a certain mood. Okay. You're going to talk to your mother now. It's soooo big. Like I can't afford to think about it too much. It's almost impossible to comprehend...the hugeness of having a living, biological connection to the world. And then, when I talk to her, sometimes I think, Oh my God, I'm talking to my mother. I actually have one! She really does exist. That must mean I'm real. Not a pretend person after all.
Really, this whole aspect of being adopted in the closed era is mind-boggling...SURREAL.
So...a few thoughts on birthmothers.
I can't believe I have one. It's as simple as that.
After forty-some years of denial, minimization and outright ignoring that I was adopted and all the meant...the very acknowledgment that I was really born is, well, strange.
Which makes searching and finding your birthmother such a weird experience. She really exists! Not some mythological creature, not a fantasy, a real person. I've been in reunion (still haven't met her) for about six months and it still takes me a day to mentally prepare to talk with her and at least a full day to recover. Not that our conversations are that difficult. Some are. Of course they are! How could they not be?
But I find I have to put myself in a certain mood. Okay. You're going to talk to your mother now. It's soooo big. Like I can't afford to think about it too much. It's almost impossible to comprehend...the hugeness of having a living, biological connection to the world. And then, when I talk to her, sometimes I think, Oh my God, I'm talking to my mother. I actually have one! She really does exist. That must mean I'm real. Not a pretend person after all.
Really, this whole aspect of being adopted in the closed era is mind-boggling...SURREAL.
posted by Nina at
6:35 PM
1 Comments:
I was born too!
I found out when I was 18. Funny that. To not come from a filing cabinet, to not come from an agency, how weird.
We don't have birth mothers- birth mothers are mythical creatures, instead we have fallible mothers, just like everyone else.
How cool is that?
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