I Don’t Blame You…

Every now and then, I am hit with a revelation. I will be thinking about something and all of a sudden a wave of understanding will crash over me.

Yesterday, I was golfing at dawn. It is a wonderful time to get outside alone and think. It is pretty incredible as the birds swoop around me and the sky changes colors.

I realized something yesterday morning. Over our last few conversations, B. has been saying that she is sorry if she made the wrong decision. This was confusing to me but I would take it in stride. I have had a good life and I am thrilled she is finally a part of it. I did notice she would say this a few minutes after talking about him.

Then yesterday morning it hit me. It isn’t about me…it is about him. Somewhere deep inside, she blames herself or thinks I blame her that his life was never the same after I was born and relinquished.

I remember my reunion counselor warning me that every adoption story is bathed in sadness, grief and loss. The laundry list of people damaged is staggering.  So bit by bit, I piece together the puzzle that was my start in this world.

He was just a seventeen year old boy. He was devastated when B.’s father came to him and told him he could never see his childhood sweetheart again. It could be so easy to relegate him to “guy sowing his wild oats” status but he was more than that.  In the blink of an eye, this boy lost his girl and a son he never saw. Harsh reality. His feelings and opinion didn’t matter one stinking bit.

Damaged goods are easy pickings. The “racy” baton twirler set her sights on him and moved in for the kill. They married and she bore him at least two children. The third child was the straw that broke the camel’s back…it wasn’t his. That pushed him right out the door. She claims to have loved him but knew deep down he didn’t love her. More damage…

I often wonder why there wasn’t a bond between him and his second son. Did everything harden him so much that he could walk out on a three year old kid? Or was the turbulence of marriage more than he could bare? When was the rope cut that set him adrift?

I wish more than ever I could meet him.  I could have seen past the homeless alcoholic drifter…it kills me a little inside to think he died completely alone. 

 

 

 

 

More Brothers and Sisters.

I was really touched by Dale’s comments on my last post. Her children will be meeting this summer for the first time and understandably she is nervous. Her situation made me think back to my first meeting two years ago.

Although every situation is different, I hope my recollections will help.

I met my half siblings at a large outdoor family gathering. I think this worked well because there was so much activity going on. I remember feeling very uncomfortable and I don’t remember talking with them a lot. I think it is important to make sure the new sibling isn’t left alone. One thing that B. did that was very helpful is every now and then she would take me out of the situation to go look at something or take a walk. Breathing room…

I think it is important to remember that they are probably not going to just fall into each others arms. It is a slow process and we are still working on it to this day. I would also try to avoid any on the spot type things or any relation type references.  Avoid any “Here is your brother John. Why don’t you two hug…” type things.

My half siblings were angry with B. and her husband that they were never told about me. I did sense some hostility toward B. at the cookout. Nothing major but little digs here and there.

I think I would also try to give all the siblings an out. Although it doesn’t compare to meeting a first parent, it is very still emotionally charged. I lasted four hours at the cookout and I remember how I couldn’t wait to get away. Nothing personal but I needed to process. If someone suddenly needs to go walk the dog and they don’t even have one…let them go.

Dale, I am so excited for you. Despite all the issues, it is a truly wonderful time. I remember B. sent me a letter after explaining how thrilled she was finally seeing all her children in the same room. I hope your experience gives you that same sense of peace and closure.

I know it will be difficult but try to relax and enjoy it. Breath! You did the hard part by meeting your son. I do remember the wonder of seeing B.’s house the first time. Weird things like noticing the sponge or the pictures on the fridge.

 Just a thought but the book “The Girls Who Went Away” might be a good suggestion for your kids to read. I think it would be an eye opener for your children to see what your experience might have been like and give them some insight on why maybe the information wasn’t shared. I think where times have changed, it is difficult for  people to understand how this was all handled back then.

As for all the adoption stuff? There are millions of stories and viewpoints out there. Some stories are inspiring and some are truly sad.

Dale…I hope you will stay in contact and I think I speak for all when I say I hope you will consider sharing the experience.

 

 

Brothers and Sisters.

Lately, I have been thinking about B.’s son and daughter. I try to imagine what it must be like to suddenly find out you have an older half brother floating around out there.

I do know that after they got over the initial feelings of being deceived, they both have made an effort to bring me into the dynamic. After two years, it isn’t easy and there are still awkward moments. My half sister recently graduated from nursing school and I sent along a gift certificate. There were only six spots at the graduation so I didn’t expect to be invited and I wasn’t. I was on the sideline with the babysitting best friend, the uncle and the cousins which is fine with me. I wonder if the gift certificate was too much. Do I appear that I am trying to buy my way in?

I think the distance is a mixed blessing. If I lived closer, I think I would be expected to be involved in more of their activities. It is like the old “other people’s children” saying…I love to have them over but I am happy when they go home.

We also were raised differently.  They grew up hunting, fishing, and racing cars. I never fished until last summer (with them). They keep talking about taking me to the races and I just can’t imagine it. They think I am nuts for watching golf on TV. Fortunately, an uncle is a certified golf nut so I am not completely alone.  He and I compare clubs and scores. I do share an interest in farming with B.’s husband but my interest comes from cooking and his comes from survival. I think we appreciate the other’s interest no matter where it comes from.

I guess it (reunion) can work if people realize and accept the differences. When I lurk on other adoption blogs, I see so much anger (?) back and forth between folks. There are strikes against us from the start and we need to figure out how (and if) we can get around them. We can’t change the past but we can hope to change the future. And when do we decide to just move on?

It appears that sometimes the damage is just too severe for reunion. But is that really adoption related? Or just the way of the world? I grew up with a kid who discovered pot in his early teens. He went from a bright eager student to sluggish stoner in a matter of months. I think he is still getting stoned and works laying carpet for his dad’s company. He is happy but his parents had such hopes for this straight A student. He wasn’t adopted or mistreated. He just turned on and tuned out. It could happen to any family…

I realized awhile back that a relationship with my deceased Bdad’s immediate family just wasn’t going to work. To put it bluntly, they are s–thouse crazy. Frankly, they kind of scare me! There is so much dysfuntion within the family, I can’t be involved. They all bad mouth each other horribly and barely communicate as it is. To give them credit, they did try to come together when I showed up but it just wasn’t in the cards.  

I just couldn’t get around it so I had to move on.

So those are my thoughts for today.

Recent freakish discovery:

My Bdad’s ex-wife is married to the ex-husband of the aunt to one of my golfing buddies…can you say six degrees? Wait do I have that right?  My buddy’s “former” uncle is married to my bdad’s “former” wife. There you go…