I Gave up my baby, not my love
Adopt: Carol Bird: Birthmother: I Gave up my baby, not my love HOME |Site Index | Site Search | What's New | Adoption in the News | Adoption Assist |Agencies | Waiting Kids | Waiting Parents | FREE Search Registry | Birth Family Search | Birthfamily | Adoptees | Shop | Experts | Library | Chat | Boards | Calendar: Events | Giant Directory of Adoption Resources
Click here to ask Carol your questions about birthparent and reunion issues and to participate on our interactive bulletin board Then look for Carol's board...This piece is adapted from an article I wrote anonymously in April 1989 for publication in Florida's Catholic Newspaper.)
This May (1989) I celebrate my third Mother's Day! Because I chose adoption rather than abortion thirty-five years ago, I can pick up the telephone today and hear my daughter's voice. I can visit her and her husband in their home and I can hold and hug and love and pamper my two precious grandbabies --one approaching her third birthday and the other just toddling past her first. I can reach out and take my warm, living daughter in my arms and I can look ahead to a future filled with her, her wonderful husband, her children... and her loving family.
Because I chose adoption over abortion thirty-five years ago, I was repaid with a miracle during Christmas Season 1986, when my living daughter found her way to me, ending all the aching years of waiting, wondering, longing and praying. That long-awaited December phone call ended thirty-two years of incompleteness; years that never could have been finally filled had I chosen abortion. My life began again with a tear-and-discovery-filled reunion with my daughter in Washington, D.C. on December 30, 1986, the indescribable joy and pleasure of holding a chubby brown-eyed five-month-old granddaughter, and finally, the welcoming of 1987-- our first new year together as mother and daughter.
Letters, phone conversations, a few visits, and even a very strong disagreement, followed. Then came a special, yearned-for "first"--open acknowledgement of my "motherhood" in the form of a Mother's Day card and flowers. Mine is a unique role not at all to be confused with the role forever belonging to the dear Mother who raised my child. I hold a special "other" place in my daughter's life: a future role as "special friend" to her as we build a "history" together, and a real, glowing role as grandmother to her children, NOW. Wonder of wonders, what more could I ask?
We resemble each other, my daughter and I. The brown eyes, a tiny dent at the tip of the nose, hair color (complete with grey streak), the bone structure, the shape of the face, hands and fingernails; the independence and "I can do it myself" personality. We share so many interests, traits and talents that I'm sometimes awestruck. Her "Mom" tells me she sees our daughter in me. I smile with pride and pleasure. I watch my child, busy in her role as mother, and my heart fills with joy in the knowledge that she will have those special years with HER children that I was unable to share with HER. I sit back and watch her in her role as wife and I thank God that she found such a wonderful, thoughtful, sharing mate; her special "buddy". And I'm amazed that with all she does (and does so well), she still manages to keep up with her chosen career and her sundry special interests. I opted for a career alone; she chose to have it ALL!
These past three years have been strange ones. There have been many pleasures and quite a few little aches. My life has changed forever and I still haven't quite adapted. I realize that I can't bridge a 32-year gap in just three years... or five... or even twenty. I just drop the planks, one by one, and slowly, carefully, painfully inch my way across the years of separation. Sometimes I stumble or the plank doesn't quite fit and I have to wait a little while before resuming my journey. There is always another plank of discovery and understanding to bring us a little bit closer. Too slow, too slow. Mistakes have been-- and will continue to be-- made. There have been misunderstandings, and there are religious differences, too. My daughter is strong in the Jewish faith in which she was raised and I am Roman Catholic. We both have much to learn and understand about each other's religion. She, who all those years was so certain that her features and coloring were Jewish, was shocked (and dismayed) to discover an entirely different ethnic and religious heritage. Yet, who is to say that somewhere back through the generations in Italy, Scotland or Ireland, there may have been a common Jewish ancestor she can claim? If not, what does it matter? You are what you choose to be and more important, you are ALIVE!
My child--the newborn baby I clutched to my heart in a hospital room thirty-five years ago, as I tearfully explained that I was giving her up out of LOVE, not rejection-- is everything I hoped she would be. She is sincere, compassionate, well-educated, perceptive, beautiful. She is an understanding and very loving mother, a considerate mate to an equally considerate husband. She is creative and active; and she is beloved and cherished by her family... and... she's headstrong! Her parents are exactly what I hoped they would be-- loving, kind, understanding, intelligent, and generously supportive of our daughter's relationship to me. She had siblings with whom to share the growing-up years-- a younger brother, adopted almost a year after she was, and a special older sister (her parent's natural child), who beams love and close sisterhood, and whose generous warmth even reaches out to me. My daughter fills my home with photographs, capturing special antics of my grandbabies as they grow. She generously shares highlights of her life, that serve to sooth my still aching, self-inflicted wounds. Last Christmas-Hanukkah (1988) I received a video-collage of bits and pieces of my child's growing-up years, painstakingly assembled by a thoughtful daughter and son-in-law from old movies taken by her parents to preserve precious moments of our child's life to share with me one day. It was a gift that will be used over and over again, all the days of my life. The video opens with a scene so like the picture captured by my "mind's eye" that last day in the hospital that I am still shaken each time I see it. Here, on video tape, I watch a "new mother" carry a newborn into her house. I watch her unfold the mint green baby shawl in which I wrapped my baby daughter that last day in the hospital, revealing the same tiny face locked in my memory for so many, many years. My child's thoughtful Mom saved that "blanket-from-the-past" to present to our daughter upon the birth of HER first child. It has faded with time, but it still represents the lasting love of a young mother for the baby she could not keep, but would remember forever. I watch come to animated life all of the "mind's eye" hazy visions I had of her growing up... all those special times that I dreamed about but could never share in life-- birthdays, playtime, special dress-up times, holidays, vacations, her wedding. Because those special moments were recorded on film by her thoughtful, sensitive parents, today I am able to turn on my TV, slip in a video cassette and travel back in time to watch my baby take her first steps, again and again and again.
Oh, of course there are problems. That's life! My friends and relatives tell me that our difficulties-- my daughter's and mine-- are not so much different from those THEY have every day as they strain to understand the grown-up children they themselves raised from babyhood.
The two Mother's Days I've had, and the many I look forward to in the future, have very special significance to me. I chose life for my baby in 1954, and because I did I have been rewarded four-fold-plus: with a wonderful, alive, flesh-and-blood daughter, a delightful son-in-law, two bright and imaginative granddaughters, and the PLUS-- my daughter's very warm and sensitive family; the very special people who lovingly took my baby as their own, nurtured her, encouraged her to develop her inherited talents, gave her unconditional love and raised her to be a fine, compassionate young woman. I thank God every day that I chose LIFE for my baby.
ADDENDUM -
1997 -- TENTH ANNIVERSARY OF REUNION
Ten years have flown by and there have been many changes in Adoption and Adoption Reunions. The wonderful support network that exists today was unheard of during the decades I struggled to understand and adapt. The opening of The Internet has sped up the process and Reunions abound . . . so do their effects, and the growing need for psychological support. It has been seven years since I wrote article above. Though separated by more than 1,000 miles, my daughter, granddaughters and I exchange letters on a regular basis. Susan explained the circumstances of the adoption to my granddaughters (ages nine and soon-to-be 11) two years ago. Much to my joy, they took the news in stride and, in fact, consider themselves quite unique because they have THREE grandmas. My years of fearful nightmares of them rejecting me in horror have ended and I'm free to create other fantasies. I don't quite know how it happened, but my relationship with the girls seems much more well-developed than that with Susan. I've visited many times over the years, though less frequently as I age (I just marked 63 years) and they've come to visit me several times at Christmastime. The girls learned to read and write at an early age and are great pen pals to their Grandma Carol. I have made an effort to encourage this over the years with frequent letters written just to them and, during their babyhood, tons of books accompanied by audio tapes of grandma reading them. Over the years I have created some unique ways to develop a lasting, loving relationship with them. One, in particular, is creation of Halloween costumes each year-- made-to-order (i.e.: "with gown with gold trim" and "like this picture I am sending" ). Thanks to a knack for sewing and a vivid imagination, over the years I've helped to magically change them from child to cuddly soft bunny, colorful clown, elegant Fairy Princess, stately Queen Liz II, Indian maiden, Egyptian princess, various heroines from their various story books, and whatever else their imaginations command (last year the younger was a Golden Lab puppy and the elder was Princess Megan of the Magic Attic Series). I have more fun creating the costumes than they could EVER have wearing them. Every other year I create stationery for them as Valentine's Day gifts. The stationery idea was conceived when the oldest was in Kindergarten. I produced it on the computer with standard grey- screened guidelines for her early attempts at printing. We've since graduated to personalized note paper and envelopes. My home is crammed with their hand-made treasures, school papers, stories created by the younger, drawings and pottery, and file folders bursting with cards and letters. And Susan supplies me with videos and terrific photos on a regular basis. While I have a thriving relationship with my grandangels, Susan and I still struggle to adapt. Sometimes I ache for more closeness, and as much as I love and respect my daughter's family, little twinges of envy frequently overpower my gratitude and common sense. I've sought out professional therapy and regularly attend meetings of RECOVERY, INC., a self-help group (They have a web-site: http://www.recovery-inc.org). I still struggle to accept the fact that she will probably never consider MY family HER family. I constantly remind myself that she already has a family; one firmly placed and strengthened by 43 years of love and sharing. It is difficult sometimes to accept the fact that, though I'm no longer the "shadow mom" I once was, I am not "family" to her. This seems to be a commonly-shared problem in post reunion that can easily destroy a relationship if it isn't handled with care. I can thank Susan and her gift of patience and compassion (coupled with a B.S. in Psychology) for keeping our relationship alive and well and resisting any of my sub-conscious attempts to sabotage it. I urge all birthmoms to seek professional support and to take advantage of the wonderful support provided by the Adoption reunion networks. We've been through hell, and we can't heal without help. If I had it to do all over again, would I still choose adoption for my baby? Yes, Yes, Yes! Given the same circumstances, I surely would choose life for my baby. Anything else would be unthinkable. But, I'd opt for "Open Adoption" in which I would at least have annual communication with the adoptive family. Knowing that my daughter was loved and cherished would have made a huge difference in my life. Nevertheless, I AM one of the lucky ones. God certainly was smiling on me the day my Susan's "Mom" walked away from the hospital with her clutched in her arms. Her wonderful parents raised her to love ME and encouraged her to find me. A card received this Mother's Day from Susan's "Mom" is one of many examples of an adoptive Mom's compassion for a birth Mom-- "You are always in my thoughts. Harold and I have been blessed with the good fortune of bringing up your beautiful daughter. We will always be grateful to you." God is still smiling on me...and them... and on my beloved daughter--I hope He smiles on you, too. -MCB-3/95-
Carol Bird, Birthmother -- E-mail: mcbird@bellsouth.net
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