A Profound Statement.

I am back to work after a two week vacation and pretty darn miserable about it. One short week ago, I was learning to fish, wearing flip flops and shorts, and playing golf. Now I am cramming my feet into dress shoes and wondering why my shirt collars feel so snug.

Yesterday, I had a short conversation with a customer/friend that just bowled me right over. She is my age and became pregnant at age 15. Despite family pressure and her young age, she raised her son. While I knew all this, I was curious what it was like for her going up against her family.

The first words out of her mouth were so profound and have been rolling around in my head ever since. She said that she always felt that “adoption was a permanent fix for a temporary problem”. She went on to explain that as a 15 year old mother she was faced with several temporary problems. She was young, hadn’t finished high school and had no means of support for her child. Did this mean she would be a bad parent? No. Did this mean she would always be in this situation? No. Would she always be young, uneducated and have no financial means? Not at all!

Why wouldn’t we extend the same courtesy to a young mother that we would to a family struggling through a tough financial situation? Why wouldn’t we want to help this young mother succeed? Why do we push this permanent solution (adoption) for a temporary problem?

We decided we would get together again to discuss her thoughts further. She is a strong advocate for finding a temporary solution to help young mothers get to the point where they can comfortably provide for their child without giving them up permanently. I hope that there is an opportunity for me to help her with her advocacy.

She also told me that it was a very rough time for her. She remembers overhearing her grandmother talking to her parents and being called a slut and a whore. She wondered what happened to the grandmother who took her for walks to look at the flowers. She wondered what happened to the grandmother who took her to the zoo and would love her forever?

Anyway, somehow this 15 year old girl managed to buck the system and absolutely refused to give up her child. Was she a bad parent? Hardly! She has a very close relationship with her 29 year old son and went on to marry a great guy. She has two more wonderful kids (ages 7 and 12). She fought the system and won but it was long, hard road.

It makes me wonder what each of us can do to help…

Postscript: I don’t usually take pro and/or con adoption positions on this blog. It has always been intended as merely a journal of my experiences during the search and reunion process. You (the reader) are still free to draw your own conclusions.

Writing an Initial Contact Letter to a Biological Parent.

I was going through some old files and I found a copy of the original contact letter I was asked to write by the search and reunion counselor. She also asked me to include several childhood pictures of myself in a separate sealed envelope. It is still interesting to read it after almost two years of reunion and I am sharing it for anyone who may be pondering what to write .

December 4, 2005

While I am sure this letter may be upsetting and overwhelming, I am writing to you to let you know that I am alive, healthy and well. 

I have thought of you often over the years and sincerely hope that you are happy and well. I also want you to know that I fully understand that your decision was an extremely difficult one but you made the right choice and there is no reason for you to have any guilt, concern or regret.

It has taken me sometime to get to this point but I am seeking any medical background and information that you would be able to provide. At this stage in my life, I am also very interested in learning about my biological ties and who you are. I would be willing to accept as little or as much information as you are willing to share.   

Enclosed are some photographs for you and I hope that you enjoy them. The first two pictures are of me as an infant, the third picture is at around age two and the last is of me at age six waiting for the bus on my first day of school.

I also want you to know that if you should decide that you want to meet me, I am open and ready to meet you. If you feel it is something you are not ready for at this point, I will be disappointed but I would completely understand. If meeting is something you have no interest in pursuing at all, I promise to respect your privacy.

I understand that hearing from me after all these years is unsettling and I apologize if this upsets you. That is not my intent at all. I hope to hear from you but if not, I will completely respect your decision.

I wish you the best and hope this letter brings you some sense of comfort.

Sincerely,

On a Golden Pond.

I am back from the cottage on a lake in New Hampshire and my first overnight with B. and her family. While it was a great time, I am always happy to be home.

I arrived at the cottage on Sunday morning and it was exactly like something you would see in a movie. This little cottage was tucked down a long dirt road that twisted and turned through the woods. There were a few other cottages scattered around in the woods but all you could hear was the birds and the distant sound of  motorboats out on the  lake.

Inside the cottage, there was a tiny kitchen,  dining room and a neat old living room. The place was full of stuff from the fifties. There was an old radio in the living room, a deer head on the wall and a lot of old college pennants. There were also funny(?) old plagues everywhere about fishing that had a certain sense of humor that you don’t see much any more. One actually said and I do quote ” A bad day of fishing is still better than a good day with my wife”. There was a picture of a guy in a boat fishing and he was drinking a martini!

Anyway, I hung out inside the cottage for a while with B. and her sister. They showed me my bedroom (which I have to say was the best room in the house!). It had an old wrought iron double bed facing three windows that looked right out on the lake, creaky wooden floors and some Down East magazines on the bedside table. It also had one of those old white textured cotton bedspreads that remind me of being a kid.

Anyway, we spent the rest of the day doing things that you do at a lake. We boated, swam, fished and ate. I have noticed that B. has this thing about feeding me. I am built like my birth dad so I am a big guy. I don’t know if she has some deep nurturing thing about food or maybe he was a big eater but she is always feeding me. I also noticed that she always serves me first and the portions are huge. I would never eat this much normally but I eat every single bite of everything she puts in front of me. Trust me. It never stops. Sandwiches, meatballs, salad, bread, peach pie, strawberry shortcake. bacon and eggs, english muffins, ribs, cole slaw, potato chips, corn bread, ice cream. I ate all this stuff in a day and a half! Driving home last night, I just wanted to pull over and throw up.

I have to admit I didn’t sleep well there at all. It was weird lying there and hearing the murmur of B. and her husband talking down the hall. My half brother was across the hall from me and my 13 year old half nephew and his buddy were in another room. The kids got into trouble around 1:00 a.m. for talking. I heard B.’s husband telling them to hold it down  and then at 2:00 a.m., my half brother got up and read them the riot act.  I ended up reading most of the night and listened to a loon calling right outside my window. It was just like the movie! I did sleep finally and woke up around 5:30 a.m. to an incredible sunrise over the lake. I was freezing my ass off so I got up and decided I would go find a coffee joint instead of stumbling around a strange, creaky kitchen.

I got in my car and blasted the heat. I found a coffee place nearby and bought a large coffee. Then I just drove around looking at the incredible scenery and warming up. I stopped back in at the coffee shop and got another large to take back to the cottage with me.

When I got back to the cottage, B. and her husband were up and she was making a huge (!) breakfast. We had a nice time sitting, eating, and talking.  We laughed about how my half brother heard my car pull out and was worried that I had freaked out and left. I guess he checked my room and saw all my stuff was still there.They said he went back to bed after he decided I was planning on returning.

So I had a great time but there are still these big, awkward moments. We kind of stumble around with words. I feel weird when I talk about my family. I feel bad for them because I know while they are welcoming me to their family, they are grieving the loss of my other half brother. They miss him terribly and I certainly don’t replace him.

When we were fishing, I was sneaking a look at my half brother. I can’t figure out what (if anything) he needs from me. Sometimes I think he wants me to be a brother but I just don’t know how to do that. He looks at me like he is waiting for me to do or say something but I can’t figure it out. At this point, I can only try to be a friend to him and his sister because anything more doesn’t feel right. Over the line somehow?

I may head back up to the lake on Friday just for the day. I’ll let you know…