Post Reunion Euphoria: The Crash!

I can see this is going to be a PROCESS.

After 1.5 days of euphoric reaction to meeting my mother for the first time, I woke up feeling a bit blue.

Spent the morning trying to analyze it.

My therapist had advised me to roll up the "windows" when meeting with her, knowing that my mother isn't the most sensitive person in the world. She's not in the least malicious, but she is brutally honest and, as I've learned the hard way, this sweet little old lady is capable of delivering one hell of a knockout blow.

So I "rolled up" my windows. Which was a good idea because I remember trying not to flinch a couple times and my niece darting nervous glances in my direction.

And while I was able to deflect some of her unintentional verbal muck, one or two pieces of crap managed to squeek in through the one inch window gap.

I think it's important for me to pin down the source of my discomfort. I'll move past it quicker that way.

My niece asked my mother who I looked like when I was born.

My mother shrugged. "I guess like her father," she replied vaguely.

"What do you mean 'you guess'? my niece shot back. " You saw her didn't you?"

"Well, not really," said my mother. "The nurse kept trying to bring her to me and I only peeked at her once because I couldn't let myself get attached. Uh uh. No way. So I just saw her for a minute and that was it. I had already made up my mind, you see."

Okay. This isn't one of those tragic scenes out of "The Girls Who Went Away" in which a teenager is sobbing over her baby while her disapproving mother and social worker hover nearby, adoption papers and pen at the ready.

And then there are the reasons for the relinquishment. "It was mostly economic," my mother explained. "I already had three children to take care of, I had no husband and I had to work. I couldn't do that to you. I wanted you to have a father and a mother and an education."

Okay. Two of those "children" were already grown and had left the house. Which left one teenager, but that daughter had been living for several years with her aunt so, technically, my mother wasn't taking care of anybody. And then she mentioned that several months after giving birth, she ran into my father at a nightclub.

I've heard some of this before. It's just harder to hear in person, I guess.

This is NOT a romantic story of a young girl who desperately struggled to keep her baby. This is the story of a 38-year old divorced woman who marched into a public adoption agency, accepted financial aid in exchange for agreeing to give up her baby, then hit the bars and club scene less than two months later. By all accounts, my mother is NOT the nuturing type and time and again chose the men in her life over her children.

This is not to say that she did not grieve her loss. Just maybe not as much or as deeply as other first mothers. As a relinquished person, I would LIKE to have had one of those first moms. But I don't. I'm going to allow myself to feel disappointed and let myself have whatever feelings surface. I'm STILL glad I met her and I STILL feel more me than I did before reunion.

Who knows. Maybe I'll wake up euphoric tomorrow. Or not. It's certainly an interesting and important process though. I can't imagine NOT meeting her.