Comment Question 1

Remember how I put out a call for questions?

That’s still open by the way.  Please feel free to ask anything you like.

The first question came from Darla.

You were given up at birth? I was given up at birth and then have lots of abandonment “experiences” following that as well. Hmmm…..Share more….

Does this still affect how you live? Cuz for me, until about 3 mos ago, it had a TIGHT hold on me (abandonment issues that is).

You can read more in the Adoption/Abandonment category, or the That Woman category.  I went through a lot of emotional turmoil, and those categories have some more of the nitty gritty.

In answering your question though, here are the basics.

I wasn’t given up at birth.  In fact, I wasn’t officially given up at all.  My birthmother, Jeannette, had me when she was 20.  She’d had a daughter previously at the age of 16, which was the result of some kind of counselor affair at a juvenile facility, and she gave that child up for adoption at birth.  Four years later, she had me at 20.

Follow the jump for more ’cause it’s kind of long and meandering and hard to go there.

Nobody, including possibly her, knows who my father is.  I have a name on a birth certificate, however, a DA said that there is no one by that name and age.  The story of who he is has changed over the years.  She was stripping and he was a client she took home.  She met a biker in a bar and had a one night stand.  She met a biker in a bar and went out for a few months, and when she got knocked up, he took off.  Take your pick.  She refused, literally, to her deathbed to give me any information.

Then 18 months after me came a boy, Lee (different father), and a year later, another girl, Stacey – by the same dad as Lee.

When she had me, she wasn’t a stellar mother.  She was prone to leaving me with her aunt and uncle, my great-aunt and great-uncle during the week, and then just keeping me on the weekends which was enough to keep up her welfare checks.  No – I’m not being stereotypical.  This was our life.  She was also prone to leaving for weeks at a time (again, leaving me with her aunt and uncle.)  At about a year old, she met Duane, and they settled down a bit, had their kids, and moved me to New Jersey.  I honestly cannot remember if she had the kids then or not.  I believe their birthpapers have California on them, so she must have had the kids in California first, and then we moved.  She and Duane broke up when I was around 4.  We moved back to California, sans Duane, and moved in with her aunt and uncle.  Again.  She started up her tricks again.

I guess my great-aunt at some point said stop.  Are you going to be a mother or aren’t you?  She went out, that day, bought a set of luggage, and left.  She did not say goodbye to me.  Duane came and got his kids, they went back to New Jersey, and I never saw them again.  I stayed with my great-aunt and great-uncle.  I eventually called them mom and dad.  When I turned 18, I legally changed my name to their last name (and dropped my first name, since I was only ever called by my middle name anyway.)

She never legally gave me up.  She gave a power of attorney letter to my parents so they could sign me up for school and get me medical attention.  I remained on welfare Medical until the age of 18, because my parents couldn’t adopt me (and therefore I couldn’t be on their medical insurance.)

My parents saw her on and off over the years when they would travel to Las Vegas, where she settled.  She never asked about me.  My mom sent her pictures anyway.  I’ve seen her twice since she left.  She showed up at a family reunion one year (I had to ask mom who she was), and another year she dropped by unannounced with her new husband.  That husband asked my dad where he could find some pot.  I believe she married four times in total.  She never once called me.  Or wished me a Happy Birthday.  Not once.  I lived in the same house until I moved at the age of 22 so it’s not like she couldn’t find me.  And now I live in that same house again, surreal.

She started sending me Christmas cards when I turned 18.  Signed, “Jeannette and Mike” (her last husband).  No love, from, not even a date.  I eventually started writing her…  I had many questions…  But we never got past a very superficial relationship – mostly her talking about work, and her animals.

About 3 years or so ago, I found out that she was very ill.  She had a heart condition, which is the result of viral infection she’d had a decade before, and her heart was failing.  Without a heart transplant, she would die.  She refused to not drink or smoke, and also decided that a lifetime of doctors was not for her, and chose not to have a transplant.  I knew time was very short.  But I didn’t feel anything.  She didn’t tell me any of this – I had long since stopped writing to her.  but my mom kept in contact, and always kept be abreast of what was going on in Jeannette’s life.  At some point, I panicked, because I realized the one person who had the answers to so many questions I had, was about to die, and the keys to some of my past would go with her.  So.  I wrote her a letter.  I kept it respectful, and courteous.  But I asked the questions.  She called me mom (thank God I told her about the letter) and told her to tell me to “Get a fucking life and get over it.”

She died with all those secrets, and I’ll never know the truth.  It’ll be two years in September.

What could I possibly want to know? Do you know who my father is?  Was I a cesarean or natural birth?  What was I like as a baby?  Why did you name me that?  Did you want me?  Why did you leave?  Do I look like my father?  Did you want to be a mom?  Why didn’t you keep in contact?

I’ll never have the true answers.  Ever.  In truth – especially as a mother now…  I can’t understand her giving up her kids like that.  The first girl – yes.  That young in what sounds like a compromising scandalous relationship in 1969 – I get that.  That was arranged by her (my mom didn’t know until after the fact or she probably would have tried to keep her, and let Jeannette live with her.)  But I can so totally get that.  Scared.  Overwhelmed.  Not knowing choices, and not supported by society.

But I was 4.

As for abandonment issues…  It’s taken me years of denial and then years of forcibly facing them.  I’m insecure and always have been.  I people -please so people won’t leave me.  Everything is right, so people don’t leave.  I don’t confront.  I try not to take things “too far.”  Otherwise, you may leave.  I don’t allow my in-person relationships to get too close (or I share too much too fast.)   I mean really?  Even though I was a child.  Even though I KNOW that it’s not my fault.  There’s still something inside of me that wonders what I did that was so wrong that she could just leave without saying goodbye.  I was four.  I remember when my kids both turned 4, it was really hard for me both times.  Because I realized…  This is the stage I was at when she left.  Fully cognizant.  Full of love.  Who would totally remember if I turned tail and ran.  Dear God, and she did it.  I still am working through those things.  And her death hit me hard.  I have nothing of hers.  She left me nothing.  I have a couple pictures my mom gave me.  It’s good to see someone who looks like you.  We had the same eyes.

As for the rest.  I can’t find Lee.  Or – well I think I did, and I think he just doesn’t want to be found, so I’m leaving it that way.  I found Stacey.  We have not met in person.  We’ve talked on the phone, and correspond in letters.  I have a niece and nephew from her.  Lee and Stacey had a rough road.  But that’s their story.

Besides the emotional turmoil, it leaves the practical reality that I don’t have half of my genetic medical history.  This causes a problem considering I have two special needs kids, once of whom has a congenital defect.

But does it effect how I live Now?  Yes.  I had an abortion at the age of 21.  I was afraid that I didn’t know how to love.  And I was afraid my fiance would leave me (he did eventually anyway…  But that’s another story)  But the real truth was I didn’t want a child.  I didn’t know that I could love a child.  You see, I thought that maybe it was genetic…  That because she did (and her father did the same thing – abandoned her) I thought that it was inevitable not to love a child.  And so I killed it.  I actually thought that being dead was better than unloved.  How’s that for a legacy.  I’m still working on forgiving myself for that one…  12 years later.

I panicked when I got pregnant with our first child.  But then I had God now…  And a loving husband, and I knew that it was true.  I could love.  Therefore I’d be fine.  And then I miscarried.  I considered it penance for the abortion.

It’s taken a really long time to get over those things…  There was a lot of baggage connected with children.

But I take care that my kids aren’t burdened with my crap.  And I’m slowly working through the crap.  At the end of the day…  God loves me.  My husband thinks I hung the moon even with all my failings.  My children love me.  And most importantly, I love them.

I’ve learned that it’s possible for me to love my children, even though my mother didn’t love me.