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| Lorraine |
While I was feeling sorry for myself, I always imagined a big celebration going on with her adoptive mother--card, flowers, dinner, what-have-you. My daughter had siblings, one adopted, two not, and the patriarch was not likely to let any of them forget about Mother's Day. I never knew if the day went off as I imagined because I never asked. Though I tried to remind myself that the day was a made-up holiday, designed to help Hallmark and florists and restaurants, that never really worked. Everyone else was celebrating Mother's Day--hell, I was too as long as my own mother was alive. After I left Michigan, I sent flowers, I called, I remembered.
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| Yes, this is a photo of the card. |
Maybe the day is easier for first mothers if they have other children in their lives, other children who will remember. But that was not my fate. When my daughter was older and married, she did a whole lot better--especially after I told her that her ignoring me on the day had hurt as much as it did. Once I got a wonderful handmade card that said: To my Other Mother. Inside it says: "I couldn't find a card that defined our relationship, but then all truly matters is that is that I let you know, I Love You. Happy Mothers day LORRAINE, love Jane." It must have come with a present, because there is a note on the back about using whatever she sent to "relax after a long hard day."
Now my daughter is gone--she died a decade ago--as well as my mother, and I realize the day is ours to deal with as we choose. I could mope all day, and it is true that throughout the day I will let thoughts of my mother, and my daughter, flit through my head. There will be the kind of sadness that comes with accomodation of the facts of my life, and death. I had a daughter, gave her up, found her, had a 26-year relationship, and then lost her again. I know those facts sound harsh, but as a friend of mine said yesterday, We've all got something. He's been caring for his wife with advanced Alzheimer's for several years at home, and she just had an episode of some sort when her heart stopped, but then started again. She's now hospitalized, and some doctor suggested a pacemaker. Really, I thought? His wife babbles instead of speaks and no longer can be left at home unattended.
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| Lorraine with daughter Jane, and her daughter, who is now out of college and an art teacher |
Yes, I thought, We've all got something. But I will admit that since my daughter died, the way I handle the day is different from when she was alive. For dealing with her death was a matter of mourning, of accommodating grief but with the knowledge that life indeed does go on. The grief wasn't trapped in some damn limbo of closed adoption that leaves you wondering if your child is dead or alive. That kind of grief is insanely consuming, and never changes. You can stomp it down--otherwise you will go crazy--but it's still there like a sore that will not heal to the scar phase.
DON'T JUST STAND THERE AND WEEP...
While I can't put myself into the head of an adopted person, I imagine that if you are longing to at least know your original mother, or have a relationship with her, your also endure Mother's Day rather than "celebrate." For both mothers and adoptees, the day is bound to be fraught. One can be honoring one's adoptive mother, but how can you not be thinking about that other mother? Does she ever think of you? Is she thinking of you on this day? Without answers, with birth records that stay sealed beyond human compassion, the questions remain, peace is impossible.
So for those mothers without children who will be a part of your life on Sunday, and children whose original mothers fill their thoughts, make a plan: Call a friend or someone else who might otherwise be alone. Do something else besides go to lunch in a crowded restaurant. Go to the movies--a funny movie--go shopping, go to a museum, pursue your hobby, go for a a long run or workout at the gym, clean out your closets. If that last one sounds like a chore, it is, but remember that the rewards of feng shui are so energizing. To let new experiences in your life, you need to get rid of the old. Tidied closets end up feeling like a metaphor for your life. Tidied up. Cleaning closets is highly underrated.
And remember, come Monday it will not be Mother's Day for another blessed 364 days!--lorraine
PS: I began writing an addendum about the noxious idea of "Birth Mother's Day," which is apparently the Saturday before Mother's Day, but I was just getting annoyed about such a ridiculous day, designed to normalize giving up a child, that I quit. Supposedly it was started by a first mother herself, and when Googled her, it led to Amazon where you can buy a "Birth Mother's Day Planner.' Which also made me gag. However, there was no picture or anything, and it, blessedly, is not available. Here's what I found in some dumb article in Minneapolis:
"With the growth of open adoption, birth families and adoptive families tend to stay in contact for the benefit of a child. Placing a child for adoption has come to be considered an act of love. (Emphasis added)But many birth mothers felt they continued to be ignored. In 1990, a group of Seattle birth mothers sought to change that by creating a day of their own....
Personally, I'd like to know more about those birth mothers in Seattle and how they concocted this lamebrained idea. I did see that Spence-Chapin did not have their annual birth mother's luncheon this year. Good for them!
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Oh dear. This is NOT a column I should have read while eating lunch at my favorite restaurant. Cue the unstoppable tears!! But THANK YOU for writing it. I feel shame, grief, and pain on mother's day....it is indeed the worst day of the year. And I have other children. Go figure.
ReplyDeleteThere were very few who knew about my firstborn. They were fabulous friends who rallied around me when Mother's day came; keeping me busy, making me laugh. I always told them that I was ok. Not so much.
When my other children were born, I thought that Mother's day was ok for me to celebrate. Not so much. Before they knew about my firstborn I still grieved on Mother's Day; for myself, for him. For my loss, for his loss, for their loss. I consoled myself by telling myself over and over again that I was not his "real mother". The real mother was the one who was there every day. I was "just" his birth mother. That got me through. Until the reunion.
I wish I could say it is better. It is not. I grieve. I grieve trying to hide it from him; from my other two children. I grieve for him and the anxiety he has felt his whole life thinking that I didn't want him.
This year I will grieve as well. It always starts about a week before. But this year....I will clean closets.
Thanks as always for your words and insight Lorraine. This year I won't feel so alone. Virtual hugs to all first mothers everywhere.
And to you Lisa.
DeleteSending you hugs and love ❤️... Holding my breath until Monday.
ReplyDeleteSending hugs back to you, Chrissie! I'm sure the day is complicated for you.
DeleteThe dread of that day does start a week before that for me as well. I have another child - younger - and I try to put on a brave face and be cheery for her which is only possible by my suppressing every emotion of grief, loss and agony until she is in bed and I can then let it all out, quietly and in the dark, alone.
DeleteGuilt over my inability to fully enjoy the day as my second daughter does is compounded to the constant reminder of loss of my first born who, I suspect, spends the day celebrating her adoptive mother since she has rejected me after finding me.
Mother's Day for those of us with other children is, IMO, but a reminder for us discarded mothers, as is every other holiday.
I had three daughters I raised after I gave up Rebecca. I often felt both grief and guilt on Mother's Day, a fraud for celebrating when I had abandoned my first child. My grief over losing her was most acute the first few Mother's Days after our reunion 20 years ago.
ReplyDeleteNow I am calm. I may or may not hear from Rebecca; while it would be great to hear from her, if I don't that's okay because I know she is not going away and I am not forgotten.
I look forward to Mother's Day brunch with the two daughters living nearby, my two grandchildren, my husband and son-in-law. I'll eat too much, enjoy flowers and perhaps a few gifts and cards, chat with the family. I'll go home, arrange the flowers, and feel good. About the only thing that could upset me is if I see see some patronizing article or TV piece on Saturday as Birth Mother's Day.
I literally want to vomit at 'Birthmother's Day'.
DeleteI enjoy mother's day with my immediate family, awesome grandchild, dil, and some very close friends. I feel grateful that I didn't abandon my first child and that she was fortunate to have had good care from her adoptive parents and grew up to be a contributing member of society and to have found a loving husband to share her life with. I count my many blessings in life and look forward to tomorrow.
ReplyDeleteMother's Day has always been difficult, because of the loss of my daughter, because of the complicated relationship with my own mother and because of secondary infertility. It is a day to "get through", not a day of celebration however I do go out of my way to do something kind for someone else, usually another Mother of Loss. It helps. Also, nature. Getting out for an energizing hike, keeping my body busy to distract my mind and heart. Even 4 years into a "positive" reunion...I might even get flowers or a card but I never, ever expect them...will I ever be that confident in our relationship? The anxiety, the guilt, the sadness at the overwhelming loss of it all. If only I'd known...
ReplyDeleteThe cruelty of feeling bottomless shame and guilt, even though I believed at her birth that I was saving my child from being stigmitized. At times I thought to myself, those mothers who were teens and had their infant ripped away in institutions and pressured by parents and with no choice or help; well these mothers were innocent - not me. I made a plan, I signed her life away to strangers and not while in childbirth, but while I was suffocating from fear, denial, shame, and isolation, and while the voluntary stand-in father/new husband reneged and easily convinced me that I would not regret giving my baby away. To this day I still feel very stupid for being so easily persuaded to make the worst mistake of my life. Now it is tears and regret for her life, mine,and the family she would have been part of. Mother's Day brings more torture reminding me of my own mother whom I did not reveal my pregnancy and whom I'm sure would have convinced me to never let her go. Thanks Mother's Day.
ReplyDeleteI am heading to the basement to clean up a corner. Really. The movies around here aren't my cuppa, and can't get the husband interested in going and don't feel like going alone today. The yard sale we had at the other house before we moved was not nearly enough to separate our chaff (stuff to get rid of) from the wheat (keepers). And though it is cold and dark downstairs, there is artificial light and a space heater. What a great day ahead! I will report on progress.
ReplyDeleteThese feelings that birth mothers have on Mothers Day (and, I'm sure, we adopted kids' birthdays) are excrutiating for me to think about. I've thought of my birth mom all of my 60 years, and especially on those two days in particular. I've ALWAYS wanted to find her to tell her how much I've admired her bravery in giving me up (whether she chose or it was chosen for her by family, etc.), and that I've always thought lovingly of her. Not a trace of any negative feeling, just frustration that California sealed records and that she must be thinking that I might be angry, resentful, unforgiving, etc. Never. I've currently got a new family friend (1st cousin once removed, who is blood-related to my also-adopted younger brother, whom she found through her passion of genealogical detective work, so she also got me as new family!) who is researching my roots. She is finding info I never knew (there's not much I knew to begin with), and feels certain she will be successful! I hope so, and I hope my 82- year old mother is still alive and wants a reunion so that I can tell her how I have always felt. If not, I'm prepared. It hurts me to think that she's been in emotional pain all these decades. Reading your words is hard. Makes me cry. I wish for each of you peace. ~Julie (julienicolay@hotmail.com)
ReplyDeleteJulie, I hope you find your first mother but please, please don't tell her how much you admire her bravery in giving you up. These are harsh words to a first mother. What she will hear is that no matter who she is and what kind of life she's led, you think she was not fit to raise you.
ReplyDeleteContrary to the adoption industry's marketing, giving up a child is not a brave act or an act of love. It is often an act of desperation by a woman who believes she has no other options. Keeping my child, fighting for her, putting her first, would have been a brave act. Instead I cowardly signed a paper thinking that I was done. Of course I wasn't.
While your mother will be happy to hear that you've had a great life, don't suggest that it was great because she wasn't in it. Don't assume that your mother may think you're angry with her for giving her up. I never thought that my daughter would be angry and I didn't need to hear that she wan't. I never thought about whether she would be glad she was adopted or not glad. However when she told me I made the right decision, it hurt.
When you meet your mother, just tell her how glad you are to know her.
I don't feel like it was cowardice that led to me signing papers giving up my parental rights. I feel like I was groomed to believe I would ruin my son's life if I kept him.
DeleteIronically, Mother's Day is the one day of the year that my oldest (lost) son always sends me a card. He hasn't communicated for a couple of years in any other way. It seems small but then again, it's rather profound. and he always signs with love. But nothing else the rest of the year. Mysterious.
ReplyDeleteOddly, my daughter always comes to look for her "happy mother's day" on my blog... I stopped putting it there this year, she still came, along with the "happy birthday's" etc.... I no longer try and the sadness I feel for her, it never ends. I do not celebrate it and barely call my own mother. I do call my sister who insists on insulting me by wishing me a happy mothers day....but she means well.
ReplyDelete