My Not So Distant Past

Over the past 2 years my life has been in a vortex and I’ve felt all along I had no control over anything that happened to me.  I began feeling destined to stay an orphan.  My adoptive parents have passed and I felt alone and limited  without a trailblazer who might support me.  My only family connection with my children and my husband felt draining and I had no way to replenish my existence.

Lord knows, I am not expecting anything more than what I had received thus far.  I had just begun to peel the tough exterior away that had protected me from a cruel world.  Trying to come to terms with who you are and why you feel guarded cannot be addressed due to lack of heretical information. I had become a pleaser hoping I could force people to like me; while keeping a safe distance.

Adoptee Disconnect

Adoption trauma left me with a clumsy trait that drew so much attention, I wanted to hide but who can escape from everyone’s stare when a glass hits the floor which chipped the tile. I learned later that this tendency in my brain did not integrate to connect with my limbs in the same way other children who have not been adopted can.  Sensory Processing Disorder has plagued me throughout my entire life.

I tried to dance and my sister danced better than I.  When I tried to play musical instruments, my teacher called me a hamburger when I made a mistake (which was often) and now my husband points out at every opportunity (i.e.. something breaks) that I’m at it again, ‘put the good dishes up’ and laughs.  How is it  that I think embarrassingly – I’m getting attention now, even though I really didn’t want attention.

Ok so I’m maturing and in the fall of life.  I had accepted the fact that God blessed me with guardian angels and even though adopted, I lived with a family that cared for me.  After all, I watched dozens of children come into our home that were in poor health, addicted to the mother’s medication of choice, without a home to call their own, usually only 3 days old and they didn’t have a first/birth mom or and adopted mother.  I felt I was lucky to have had a home and parents that would keep me moving on to an unknown situation.

I’m realizing the stories my mother told me about adoption (you know the chosen monologue) had validity.  As a child I was getting three square meals a day, I had a roof over my head and I learned how to pray before I went to sleep.

When I look back on my childhood, it wasn’t bad.  All the children who needed homes influenced my thinking and I believed adoption was the right thing to do when children didn’t have a mother.  I supported all the adoption agencies and the process of adoption 100%.

Then the attacks started. The noticeable shortness of breath, heart palpitations, inability to sleep and binge eating.  The more I learned from other adoptee and the deeper I searched within myself.  I knew…. I was not pleased with my life, the choices I’d made or the outcomes.

Curiosity Peaks My Interest

If I had to admit anything, to myself and to others, I must admit there has been an unconscious pursuit to know and understand where I came from.  The build up (seeking answers, attending support groups, talking with other professionals)  over the last 2 years had finally lead me to the right person.

On August 22, 2017 I finally met with a wonderful adoptee, who became a dear friend,  who would change my life.  During our meeting we discussed many aspects of the “adoptee’s life.”   We addressed the fable of “the chosen one” so often told to an adoptee who has little knowledge of what “chosen” really means.  Concurrently, adoptive parents speak at us and have no clue of the isolation this phrase actually ignites within our fragile minds.  We here, we are “special” while we hear we’re  different.

Our experiences told us otherwise and when we played with other children or interacted with our kindergarten teacher; all we could do was wonder why we were not treated in this “special  –  chosen” way; because we believed the fable.   There are so many recommendations to support parents in the adoption process and none to help the child adjust, if adjustment is even a doable outcome.

Where The Rubber Hits The Road

We concluded we believed the stories!  We also knew our parents were not being cynical they had a burning want to offer a loving home.  How were they suppose to know that love’s not enough.  Yes we drank the Kool-Aide and believed we were special and chosen; but, for me the rude awakening came about once I went to school.  I had no idea that I was Black and that I would be called names and ostracized from the social fiber of my classmates, when targeted for being different.  Is this how it feels when you’re special?

I could not explain my emotional scarring and the search I owned unconsciously to find my real parents at age 6.  I never spoke about it or hinted that I felt alone, I just lived my own personal experience until the day a 6th grader put a knife toward our (my sister also adopted) frightened necks and told us ” turn around Niggers and go the other way.” I reported it to my mom and she took immediate action.  At this point I’m just confused.

When I think back on those days I wondered how might my life been different if I were with my “real” parents. Why was it so important to give me away.  It seemed these questions unavailable to me, hidden in my subconscious mind.  As they unfolded and I became more aware of the yearning I had ignored over the years, I became uncontrollably anxious, fragmented and distressed.

Search + DNA = Family Love 2017

• August 22nd:  a date forever etched in my mind because it was the day I met with the friend I mentioned, and the date I learned my adoption papers, signed in probate court.  Baby Butler became Sharon….
• September 4th:  Learned the name of my birth mother and began outreach to maternal family.
• September 19th:  Met my sister at Starbucks to take DNA test.  Things felt extremely familiar; as if we fit together during our first embrace.  My sister told me it was my mother’s birthday on the day we met.  I felt like a gift to the family from my belated mother who had passed in 2012.
• September 28th:  My DNA confirmed and the truth can no longer be denied.  I am Ruth’s daughter and my sister was my biological sister.  I’m no longer alone and my immediate family grew by 4 biological siblings.
• September 29th: One more note on my DNA document was another sister with the last name of Butler.  I reached out to her and she seemed excited  to meet me that same day; we scheduled for Monday.
• October 2nd: I met my paternal sister and learned I had 5 siblings and a living Father.
• December 23rd:  God willing we will celebrate his 94th Birthday.  So overjoyed and excited!!!

And My Paradigm Switch… (love=abandonment)

Adoption should only occur when a child is at risk.  Nancy Newton Verrier writes:  “(adoptee’s) ….shared a 4-week experience with a person with whom ‘we’ probably bonded in utero, a person to whom ‘we’ biologically genetically, historically and, perhaps even more importantly psychologically, emotionally and spiritually connected…..    and scripture relays:  As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy.  Luke 1:44

Please someone help me understand why a child, who has no choice in the matter, actually separate from their mother for adoption and we as a society consider it civilized!  If the child is not at risk of life (mother is not emotionally, psychologically and/or some other type of abuse issue present) during pregnancy an expectant parent’s decision-making process, why the child relinquishment occurs as if it’s right or the only course of action.

The Donaldson Adoption Institute notes:   “first/birth” parent or mother stated to refer to mothers who have relinquished their parental rights to their child for adoption. In contrast, the term “expectant” parent or mother used to identify mothers who are pregnant and weighing the options available to them and their child.   They noted social stigma identifies the primary reason most people voluntarily end their rights.

Secondly, outside influence from adoption agencies or attorneys handling their adoption case.   Next financial stability appeared as a reason for selecting adoption as a source of help to resolve their pregnancy and finally social emotional stability. I found it interesting that rape or partner abuse was not listed in any of the categories.

Realizing now; I could have avoided unspoken trauma, had I remained with my mother.  This encourages me to want to find a way to support every woman who is considering adoption as an option to her unexpected pregnancy.  I hope to coordinate a non-profit resource center to help more  expectant parents make choices to support, nurture  and raise their children.