Adoptive mothers, like most, come in all shapes and sizes. They come with their own baggage and heartache and they are here on Earth, just like the rest of us to learn a few things and make peace with our humanity.
Some adoptive mothers are very sensitive to stories like mine – when I raise the flag of trauma they are quick to tell me that #notall adoptees are traumatized and that they are doing everything they can to make sure that their adoptees are not traumatized.
It’s scary for them. I get it.
We all want to be loved and most of us want either directly or indirectly, to be appreciated for all the things we do for other people. As much as I try to be selfless in all my interactions – making choices to either be present and helpful or not based on my ability to do it without attachment to outcomes, I know it’s a lofty goal. So why should I hold mothers (adoptive or otherwise) to a standard higher than one I can regularly attain?
Today I’m not talking about all adoptive mothers though, I’m talking about mine because she deserves a day of her very own.
My mom is funny, smart and sometimes bossy (guess where I got it from?). She has strong opinions and doesn’t back down when she
thinks knows she’s right. No matter what evidence you bring up to dissuade her. I love that about her even though it can make me crazy when it comes to politics
However, my Mom knows things about me that very few but my inner circle know. (Now you know too).
Here’s a smattering of the stuff my Mom knows about me:
- That as much as I crave independence and need to wander the world more or less alone, I can’t go a week without hearing her voice and talking to her;
- The way my eyes look when I’m getting sick and how that differs from the way they look when I’m overtired, (it took me 40 years to figure out what she was talking about, but boy was she right and she’s known it since I was a wee baby);
- What foods I like and which ones I hate and which ones I love but I really can’t eat, plus she’s awesome at knowing what I should like even though I don’t;
- All my strange fears – from heights to curvy mountain roads to horror movies and ghost stories (that last one is ironic given that I have studied mediumship for more than 10 years, right?);
- That I am one of the lightest sleepers on the planet and no matter how quiet she was anytime she came into my room at night I woke up and yelled at her for waking me up! (sorry Mom!);
- That I would have made a great veterinarian except for my ability to faint nearly every-time I see blood and there’s no way I can stomach seeing anyone in pain;
- Who my best friends are and why;
- My all-time favorite birthday cake, that I love her (and grandma’s) apple pie and exactly how to make tuna salad so that I can’t stop eating it;
- That I love animals but cannot watch movies like Sport of Kings or The Yearling!
This is just a very small list of course. What I’m trying to convey is that despite all the ways that I hate the industry of adoption, I love my parents and my Mom.
You see it’s not a mutually exclusive thing – adoption itself caused me (and I’m sure my birth mother) pain and trauma. However, it also brought me great joy and memories of a life supremely well-lived.
Having a mother like this and a father who is equally amazing (he’ll get his own post soon enough) I recognize that who I am and how I navigate my life has been great. Not every adoptee can say the same.
I’m delighted by my family even though I don’t always love the situation that got me here.