Relentless Love

Lately I have had conversations and meditations on unconditional love.  Mostly from other parents who say that they love their children unconditionally.  It is not that I doubt their love or their statements about it.  I just prefer to think about it differently.

When I talk to a teacher and friend who also has an adopted child, we say things like “there is a reason they ended up wth us” or we talk of the special needs that adopted children often have in overcoming abandonment issues that someone not adopted with secure attachments does not have.  And I believe it to be true that my adopted kids are with me for a reason.  Not because my love is more unconditional that that of a natural birth parent.  But maybe because it is more relentless, driven by the longing that was never fulfilled in having my own natural children and all the hoops I had to jump through to have this beautiful family I call my own today.  And the extra work involved in walking my kids through some significant abandonment issues and self judgment that comes with having been left by someone.

I saw a quote by Jody Landers on mother’s day “A child born to another woman calls me mommy.  The magnitude of that tragedy and the depth of that privilege are not lost on me.”

Honestly when we adopted the kids I had no idea what I was getting into.  I simply wanted kids like I had never wanted anything before in my life.  The longing was relentless.  I did not come from a childhood filled with love and support.  I did not even know what those things meant in daily life.  So when we brought them home, I loved them and took care of them.  It was a full time job as sick as they were.  But I did not know about relentless love yet.  I knew about a love that made me feel like my heart would burst open and I can remember thinking I would do anything for them because I loved them so much.  It would be several years after we adopted the kids that I began to learn about a love that is relentless.  And I did not learn it from my children or through them although I practice it on them all the time now.

Relentless love came to me through my therapist more eastern than western trained.  He told me once that he prayed for something really hard to do and I walked into the yoga studio where he taught and then became one of his clients.  I did not trust anyone, was deeply suspicious, often suicidal, hurting in unbelievable ways, desperate for someone that would love me but sure that no one would – sure that there would be something about me that would drive this person away.  And over the years of therapy, he sat with me during my anger and bitterness.  What a gift to have someone sit with you while you are bitter and just let that be.  He fought with me.  He set limits.  He did unreasonable things like come to my house to work with me and help me get through things.  He listened as I perseverated over issues.  He fought with me some more.  He connected with me.  He would hold me while I sobbed, releasing grief I had held onto for years.  He would spend all night on the phone with me to make sure I was ok.  For weeks at a time.  He would encourage me to say all the mean horrible thoughts that occurred to me and the judgments I had towards myself – have me say them to him as me to remove the “I” statements and discharge it out not in.  I learned in that process that I really could say anything.  And I said really horrible things.  I let go of shameful secrets that I had held onto for a lifetime.  The shame of not being good enough and the things I did to get attention to see if anyone cared.  And I built trust.  I connected.  It has been a really complicated therapeutic relationship.  Most therapists would not physically fight with a client and wrestle the way we did.  And through it all he kept me safe.  Safe in the fighting, safe in a space to discharge all the trauma and self hate, safe in a knowing that no matter what I said or did he would be there, safe in limits that increased over time.  And wow do I struggle with limits.  If I refused to do any more work, he would insist and threaten to come over with his kids if I did not cooperate and do my work.  He has relentlessly pursued my liberation.  It has been like nothing I have ever known before.  I truly have never met such a person as him before and his incredible willingness to do whatever it takes and be fully present.

It was through those experiences that I began to practice relentless love with my kids.  I do things with them and say things to them that I know most parents would not.  I trigger their issues on purpose to make them work on their stuff.  Especially my daughter who is still going through issues related to rejection by her birth mother.  So I trigger her issues and then hold her while she cries.  She has been able to direct her self hate towards me rather than herself.  For example, instead of saying “I don’t feel like I’m good enough and that is why my birth mother does not want me” she follows a protocol that would have her say to me “You are not good enough.  You are not worthy of love.”  Directing it out not in.  Because I am not confused here.  I know my girl loves me and I love her.  It is about her discharging enough so that she can work through what she needs to fulfill her dharma, her life purpose.  It is about saying no, setting limits for her.  It is about teaching her that she has a choice about a great many things but not about doing her work on herself.  It is about telling her that I know she still doesn’t trust me and that I will know she really does trust me when she says in anger that she hates me.  Until then she is still working from a place of fear that I too will abandon her.  It is about holding her night after night even though she is a teenager now just because she struggles with being alone and this terrible grief.  It is about listening to her talk about how special it is to come from someone’s belly and be born to them and her not understanding why her birth mother doesn’t feel the same way.  And doing that with only the intention of holding space for her even though it triggers my own issues of worthiness around infertility.  It is a willingness to have a conversation with her that is so authentic and true.  That adopting them did not fill the hole in my heart, the longing, to have children born to me, to have that experience.  And to let her know that I understand that likewise, she has me as a mom and loves me but that this does not fill the hole the longing in her heart for a birth mother she does not really know and who was so unkind.  It is about opening up consciousness enough to be able to intuitively know what needs to be done and to do it without worry about what that will look like.

All of this shows up differently with my son.  His challenges to make his world work are different.  He has more difficulty understanding things.  Educational delays.  Emotional delays.  His work is often in maintaining his self esteem even though he reads at a forth grade level and does math at a first grade level going into high school.  It is making a fancy award for him for all his hard work so that he got an award right along with his sister because the school system here does not recognize the work of the kids in the special ed program.  It is about not letting him direct anything inward.  He used to get frustrated and hit himself in the head.  So then it was about not only making him stop hurting himself, but also changing the message.  So he would have to repeat several times “I’m sorry body.  I won’t do that again.  I will treat you with loving kindness.”  And persisting even though he resisted at first.  And keep on doing it with him until he no longer ever went to hit himself and he no longer said things about himself that were unkind – like that he is stupid, or that he can’t learn, or that no one likes him.  At times it has been taking him to NYC for healing even though he did not want to go just because it seems to help so much with his behaviors and turrets type symptoms where traditional western medicine can’t help.  A knowing and accepting that he does not respond to traditional therapy but one session of energy work can get him to open up and talk about how he loves his sister but he is jealous because she is in the main classroom at school whereas he spends most of his time in the special ed room.  His work is in recognizing these feelings, these limits, the effects these have on his view of himself.

So for me it is not whether love is conditioned on something.  I set structure, limits, boundaries with my kids.  And myself now.  The love can be unconditional, can still exist, even among boundaries and limits.  The love is a separate thing from what behaviors are acceptable.

I don’t know the next steps on the path.  For me.  For them.  I constantly have to work on surrender.  My guru Amma says that staying in the present moment and surrender are the same thing.  Its letting go of the story of the past and not projecting into the future but rather staying right here right now doing the next right thing.  So I don’t know the path for any of us – even when my mind says I do know or at least have a pretty good idea.

That love is relentless and that this is different from unconditional is clear to me but challenging to express.  I think it easiest to say that it is part of my dharma to help the kids pursue their dharma, their liberation.  We each came here to do something that only we can do.  So my work is different from theirs.  But like this therapist who taught me how love can be relentless, I am relentless with my kids and myself too really.  Its about going to that next level wherever possible and knowing when its time to take a rest from reaching for that next level.  Making a rule and letting it bend or break if the circumstances warrant.  Being clear that the one steadfast rule is that we must do our work, we must fulfill our dharma.  I chose these kids by adopting them although I think our souls agreed to this arrangement lifetimes ago.  It is a knowing that no matter what the behavior is, we are all doing the absolute best that we can given our internal and external circumstances.  So a making space for behavior while setting limits around it.  But still seeing that divinity in the other person.  Or in myself.

This is a work in progress, an opening statement about it all.  I know I am doing my best and I know that I often fall short of the ideas I have about how good I should be at this for myself and for them.  But someone told me once that the greatest gift we can give our kids is to let them see us doing our work on ourselves.  I don’t know what it all means.  I do know that I’m working on it.  One moment at a time.

 

Monkey Mind

When I first started going to yoga classes I would hear teachers talk about the “monkey mind”.  (I immediately thought to myself that my mind is more like a two year old running with scissors and playing with matches.)  About how the mind jumps from one thing to another telling us stories and we believe them as if they are the whole truth about who we are.  I was completely destroyed when a yoga teacher said “don’t believe everything your mind tells you – it is not true most of the time”.  I lived so much in my mind from such a young age, and my mind is what got me through so many things I thought, that it was incomprehensible to me that my mind would tell me things that are not true.  And this began a journey for me that changed my life.

For the vast majority of my life I ran from any feelings.  I had little to no tolerance for fear, anger, worry, resentment, terror, sadness, grief – and yet I had a lot of them.  When I was a teenager into my early twenties I ran with alcohol, drugs, random sex with strangers, bulimia, suicide attempts.  Anything and everything that would block out feelings.  Then my life shifted and I gave up the alcohol and drugs and went back to school.  And I substituted constant work for mood and mind altering substances.  I worked full time and then went to college and law school full time.  And when I graduated I worked Sunday through Friday 14 to 16 hours a day and never took a holiday or vacation.  I worked Christmas, New Years, 4th of July.  It didn’t matter.  I just needed to work to the point of exhaustion to not feel anything.  I still threw up everything I ate and slept with a loaded gun under my pillow for a long while just in case I could not take it anymore.

Then life changed again and I moved to another state to get married and have kids and gave up my career as an attorney.  That is when things got really hard.  And I’m not talking about the infertility and the adoption process.  I’m talking about all the time I had with my mind with nothing really to occupy it.  I still threw up everything I ate and struggled with suicidal ideation.  More so in fact because I had so much more time with my mind.  This continued until I found yoga, and a therapist trained in more Eastern practices.  Then the real work began.

I did not even realize that I was avoiding feelings.  It is only in looking back that I know this.  At the time I was too busy surviving.  In November of 2015 when I went to my second enlightenment intensive that I was able to tap into all those heavy and hard emotions and I sobbed for hours.  I was not sure what was more sad.  That I had not cried until then since August of 1993 or the fact that I was actually aware of this.  But finally I was able to start to release.  An opening of the floodgates.

Because I was now able and willing to feel things, I was more able to notice that there was what was actually happening and that I was telling myself things about what was happening.  What happened and the story.  So if a friend had to cancel plans I could notice that but also notice the story that I told myself about this that would usually go something like “I knew she didn’t really like me, no one does.  I don’t belong here on this earth.  I don’t know how to do this life thing.”  And it was immediate.  And so very quickly after would follow the despair, loneliness, etc.  And I genuinely believed that these things were true about me and that this was the totality of my life and who I was.

Slowly, however, just by starting with noticing what I was feeling (with lots of help and support from an amazing therapist) I was able to sit with my feelings.  I was able to get just enough space to notice the story and actually hold it up for examination to see if it was something that I really believed.  I would get constant help with this asking others that I trusted for perspective and feedback.  By no means do I do this perfectly or all the time.  I still get led around by my mind a lot.  But the more I practice noticing what is actually happening and separately noticing what my mind did with the experience, the better I got at staying present.  And even when I was being led around by my mind, it did not take me as long to get back.

I had the first dramatic joyous result of this practice when my kids had their b’nai mitzvah.  I had planned out that day practically since we brought them home as babies from Arkansas.  But fast forward 13 years and a great deal of emotional and spiritual work on myself with a mindfulness embodied practice, I was able to stay present for an entire day experiencing a joy and pride I had never experienced before.  Notwithstanding the fact that my husband and I were trying out a separation that summer and there were many challenges in our family, I enjoyed every single minute.  I did not try to document the day with photos.  I did not worry about how it was going to go, how the kids would do, whether they would have a good experience.  I watched them and got to see their immense self pride, their joy in having everyone they loved celebrate with them.  I got to see my friends who were there to support and celebrate with me.  From the family dinner the night before, to the morning service and the party that Saturday night.  And because I stayed present for every minute, at the end of the night when things broke up I had no regret, no wishing it could go on, no worry that I missed something.  It was, for me, the culmination of several years of hard work on myself.

My gura Amma says something like we have to declare war on our minds.  Hold them up for examination.  And that is what I try to do every day.  I try to stay present in the moment.  I try to notice whether my mind is telling me a story (and it almost always is).  I try to not believe everything my mind says.  I allow myself to have feelings and when I start to judge myself for how I think or feel, I notice that too.  And try to have compassion for all those places.

Through sharing my struggle with my mind and my feelings, I give myself permission to be human like everyone else.  I step more firmly into who I really am every time I use these practices.  And I have come to realize that everyone has this struggle.  I used to think that it was just me or that I was somehow worse than everyone else.  But I know now that we all struggle with our minds to varying degrees.  That we all come from the same source however we each visualize that and the isolation slowly dissolves.  It is still work every day but the benefit of this war on my mind stuns me.  Lifelong loneliness, grief, isolation, anger, frustration eases.  And I walk with my permanent self, with who I really am, with increasing grace, ease, and compassion.

And for this I am truly grateful.

Seeing Amma

I am preparing to see Amma next month in MA.  It will be the third time that I have gone and the experience has been mind blowing, traumatic, dramatic, lonely, and yet filled with love and compassion the likes of which I have never experienced.

Amma is considered by many to be a fully enlightened being, a saint.  She does and sponsors great humanitarian efforts throughout the world.  She is said to have hugged over 34 million people.

I went for the first time three years ago to get a hug.  I approached the whole thing with an attitude of suspending disbelief.  I was still in the process of deep emotional work, and still am most of the time.  I was suspicious and reluctant to believe.  I went for two days.  I got a few hugs.  I got a mantra which meant I accepted her as my guru even though I was not sure.  And I cried.  I cried through every hug and so much of the time in between.  I started to think I had been through a war.  I had, it was in my mind.  Amma says we must declare war on our minds to achieve peace.  And I did.  And I slowly learned the mantra and so much more and came to use them regularly.

Last year I was more up on my game.  I had done more spiritual work and was prepared for the emotional tidal wave being there and getting a hug would bring.  I was more prepared.  This time I got in the question line.  She only takes a few.  And while the others in the question line passed through quickly, she had me sit there for four hours before answering my question.  A woman who works closely with her came to me and said “she is doing work on you, that is why you have to sit there.”  I had figured as much and I was grateful and a little resentful – “I’m not so bad off that I need four hours of work” right to “thank God she is helping me.”  Then I got more hugs and volunteered at various tasks.  It was more fulfilling than the first time.  And I upped my game on the spiritual work.

Brene Brown says in one of her books that once you get into the arena you can’t ever go back to the place you were before you got into the arena – no matter how much you might long to from time to time.  I think of this often.  But I don’t really want to go back to that place.  It was lonely and miserable and I did not even know what it meant to be present or in-body.  I do now.  And the work FEELS miserable at times but my life is by now means miserable.  Perspective has shifted.  I have shifted.  I am not done with the work yet.  But I am oh so much closer.  I have a teacher that says everything we want is guaranteed – the only thing not guaranteed is when – this lifetime or some other.  But then thinking in terms of time leaves us identified with time as if there is a difference between 5 minutes and 500 lifetimes.  A hard concept for my mind.

So this year I plan to go.  And I am making these plans with much more peace.  I know that I will know many people there and that the vibration of these people gathered together is high, so much higher than my vibration alone.  I know that I will cry when I get a hug and that this is ok, even exactly as it is supposed to be.  I know that I still have work to go although I have made great progress.  I know that I wish everyone could experience what it is to be held in Mother’s arms and feel loved.

To all those parts before today, today, and after.  Ahimsa.  Compassion.  From there all else flows.

Why Does Everything Have To Be So Hard?

Over the last several weeks I have been asking myself this question a lot.  But it is the wrong question.

By way of background, in the last few months I have had major cervical spine injury confined to my house for six weeks in a hard collar and am now less confined but still in a soft collar with lots of limitations.  Most limitations come now from my body – the muscles they cut through in my back and neck, and just my neck altogether, plus the atrophy that occurred by going from pretty active to complete inactivity.  Healing is slower than I would like, a lot slower.  During this time my daughter was rejected by her birth mother she was reconnected with this past summer.  She is suffering and it is hard for her and for me.  And as I am trying to get healing and restore my body and get back in balance roadblocks to doing the things that I think I need to do for healing keep coming up.  So I get frustrated.  There is constant conflict between my husband and I and I am not sure that we can work through our differences and I’m not in shape enough to put much effort into it now.  So the marriage is hard.  And I ask the universe why do things have to be so hard?

The thing is that things are hard because of my mind.  Certainly things are challenging and emotional issues.  I have a teacher who tells me open up to things being hard and once you fully open to things being hard then they won’t be.  Not necessarily because they things I find hard will change but because I will change – my thoughts about them, my feelings, and opening to the universe allows change.  I get that.  And I still find that hard at times although it is getting easier.

My guru has a teaching that says surrender and staying in the present moment are the same thing.  I always had trouble with the idea of surrender and the how to surrender in the midst of trying to function and do the next right thing.  Attaching surrender to just staying in the moment I could understand.

Hard is a concept of the mind just like easy is.  When I can actually stay in the present moment while I might feel challenged I don’t feel like things are overwhelmingly hard such that I want to pick a fight with the universe.  Really hard exists for me when I am attached to things being a certain way.  Like healing from major surgery should not take this long.  Like wanting my children to always be happy, healthy, etc. when I know they too have come into this lifetime to do certain work and I can’t interfere with that.  My daughter came here, at least in part, to work through what it means to be abandoned.  Hard is an expectation that her struggle would not bring up my own abandonment issues because “I worked through that already”.

Hard and easy therefore come back to attachment and non-attachment.  They come up when I have an expectation that things are supposed to be different than they actually are.  When I think things are not, from a universe perspective, perfect exactly they way they are.  Letting go of expectations about outcomes is not easy for me.  Its really hard to sit with ok, full healing from surgery is going to take the time it takes and just be ok with that.  Because I get into my mind and I want to plan things, to manage things.  I know there is incredible arrogance on my part to assume that things should be different – i.e., that my daughter should not have to suffer so much with being abandoned when she has had two loving parents.  But nothing but her working through it is going to change it because its not about me.  Even a neck surgery I didn’t plan isn’t really about me.  What is about me?  How I choose to sit in each present moment and my ability to do that.

So after I had a big fit this past week about things being so hard I decided that I needed to change what I’m doing.  I need more meditation and less doing.  More being and less thinking.  Space between my thoughts.  I find consistency with this hard alone at home.  It is where I struggle the most in my practices.

Then I was reminded that I have to ask for help.  Over and over again perhaps.  Help from others, help from God, help from my higher self….  however, one looks at such things.  I’m getting better at that.  Slowly.

And gratitude.  Yes, I had a major surgery that changed many things in life or at least put many things I wanted on hold.  (check the wants and don’t wants…. note to self).  But my spinal cord is no longer endangered which means I can hug my children, walk, and feed myself.  Things I admit to being attached to.  So gratitude.  I go back to teaching yoga tonight.  A thing I love and have missed.  My daughter is essentially ok, she just has work to do, like we all do.  More gratitude.  My son who struggles in other ways is ok and he self esteem is in tact.  More gratitude.

Final note to self, its my thoughts that make things hard or easy and how attached I am to things being the way I think they should be.  So when I get space in between my thoughts through practices, my sadhana, things are easier.  When I am able to get to a place where I am not attached, or at least less attached, to things being a certain way then things are easier.  At the end of the day, breathe, meditate, and scrape your tongue and everything is ok exactly as it is right this moment.

Accepting Limits and Letting Go

I have never been all that accepting of limits and the things I have let go of generally have claw marks on them.  A friend once told me that my issues with authority were so severe that if I were dictator of the world I would stage a coup d’etat.  I once looked backed and saw how much of my life was set up so that no one could tell me know.  I had a lot of attitude and very little trust in others – a product likely of being on my own at such a young age.

But even as a grown adult now, there are few areas in my life where someone other than me sets the limits so when I bump up against a limit I really struggle.

Six and a half weeks ago I had major neck surgery – they cut out a section of four vertebrea in the cervical spine and put in two rods to hold my neck together.  This happened while I was in the middle of my 300 yoga teacher training with a very busy schedule of training, teaching 4 classes a week, two kids and just life happening.

At first I did not want to put teacher training on hold and wanted to miss as few days as possible and was working a plan to make up the time I would have to miss as quickly as possible.  Post surgery in a hard collar life started to change.  I could barely life my arms up to wash my hair.  I was not allowed to drive.  And was in too much pain to do much of anything.  Thankfully I had a strong community, sangha, that organized visits and taking me out so that I would not be too lonely or bored.  My surgeon cleared me to go back to training provided I did no asana.  I went for one day and was in so much pain that night and the next day.  Then I started dreading going back.

I have learned things in yoga.  One is called ahimsa.  Non-violence.  Compassion to self and others.  The other was non-grasping or clinging to things.  I sat with this for a few days and contacted the head of my teacher training and let her know that I would not be able to finish this year.  They are letting me suspend training and pick it up where I left off at no additional cost.  Very kind and gracious.  But it was a big letting go.  I could hear myself saying “I am not a quitter!!”  But then I could hear the quiet little voice saying – ahimsa, compassion.

But there was also the limits my body has set.  I could not drive for six weeks and had to depend on others for pretty much everything.  Hard.  I have a great and kind sangha but I struggle still with trusting that they will be there.  And the limits my body sets every day. That I can only walk slowly right now until my neck heals rather than do all that yoga.  That I can teach yoga now but I had to become practiced at teaching with more verbal instruction/assists and less demonstration.

Everything as I age – I will be 50 this year – is a new limit.  A new opportunity – welcome or not, to let go.  Its hard.  But the moment I let go is the moment that I get peace.  So that I can be happy for my fellow trainees who will finish this year without resentment or bitterness – which would have been a thing for me in the past.  And every yoga pose as I slowly start to do them will be learning what my new limits are and offer me an opportunity to meet myself with ahimsa rather than aggressively pushing through something to potential further injury.

And finally, as I age so do my children and there is big letting go there.  I no longer dictate all parts of their lives and have to let them figure some things out themselves.  Let them make their own choices even if it is not a choice I would make.  With guidance for sure but there are more and more areas where we talk things through and then I let them make their own choices.  Its interesting to watch the progression.  And the progress I make all the time in more easily and quickly, accepting limits and letting go.

As they say, let go and let God.  Surrender.

My Child’s Pain

It has been quite a while since I have written anything.  Life got busy and I had major neck surgery.  I am looking forward next week to getting out of this neck collar.  It has been hard, but the hardest thing I have had to deal with is my daughter’s pain.

Over the summer we located her birth mother and she had her first of many conversations with this woman.  She discovered she has sisters, two children that this woman kept, and a brother that this woman gave up for adoption as well.  She talked to her sisters, she talked to her birth mother.  The brother she may never meet although the universe decides these things.

After months of this woman telling my daughter that she loves her, can’t wait to meet her, wants to be a part of her life etc., she bailed.  She talked to me on the phone and said she had just been leading my daughter on, she has no room in her life for her, that there was a reason why she gave the kids up, and that she does not want to hear from her again.  And I had to break that news to my daughter who was, of course, devastated.

I held this sweet girl in my arms the best I could with a neck collar while she cried.  And it has been about two weeks and she has easier and harder times with it.  I’m thankful that I never took her to meet this woman as I think it would have made it even harder for her.

The cruelty of what this woman did is beyond my comprehension.  And I know it would not offer my daughter any comfort to tell her that while she feels some sort of connection because this woman gave birth to her, this woman does not think of her as her child.  And she is not her child, she is my daughter.  I brought her home from the NICU with her twin brother and they have been mine ever since.  I have cared for them when they were sick, looked after their every need, played with them, taught them, and most of all loved them.

My life has not been easy at least in childhood and my relationship with my parents was hard and I was on my own very young.  But nothing in my life has been harder than walking my daughter through this devastation.  I have cried more in the last two weeks than the last ten years.  There is just something about being helpless in the face of her pain – I could not stop what happened and I can’t put a bandaid on it.

I also think that when your child goes through something it brings up things for the parent about their own childhood.  So its twice the pain.  But also twice the opportunity to heal.

I let my daughter watch me cry.  I also let her see me do my own work on myself.  And this sweet 14 year old girl has a brother who struggles to understand things so he would keep talking about it trying to understand that my daughter was not going to have a relationship with this woman.  When I was about to ask him to stop talking about it and that he and I would talk later, my little girl looked and me and said “it is ok mom.  If I don’t hear and talk about the reality of it then I won’t accept it.”

So over the last two weeks there have been tears, therapy, more tears.  But my girl is smart.  She decided to explore what she actually likes doing for fun, what brings her joy, and to do more of those things.  She is starting to cook, to draw, and wants to learn to play the drums (I promised her a drum set).  So she talks about her sadness and anger but also holds space for the fact that something might shift in the future.  She refuses to say or hear anything unkind about this woman.  And my heart breaks a little every time she says maybe she will try again in a year or two.  But I know that she has her own path that she has to follow and it is not for me to say.  My job is to love and support and protect her the best I can.  But about this, it is her path.

It just took me aback at how much pain I experienced over her pain and how much it brought up for me.  And that I know is my work.

Life can be complicated.

Adoption Unfolding: Finding the Birth Mother For My Kids

Not being able to have kids of my own was a huge issue for me.  I went through a long, protracted, agonizing grief period.  I was angry at God and my body and filled with longing and despair.  It was something I longed for since I was small.  A family of my own that no one could ever take away.  I remember feeling entitled to this because things had been so hard and screwed up in my family when I was a child.  This continued well beyond the time when I adopted my kids.  I love my kids beyond words, that is separate from this longing that I experienced.

When we adopted the kids, it was basically a closed adoption.  We met the birth mother once and there was no communication between us after the day we first arrived in Arkansas to adopt the kids.  She had lunch with us and then took us up to the NICU to see the kids.  She left suddenly, I imagine because the pain was so great.

The kids have always known that they were adopted.  My 13 year old daughter has gone through many periods of longing to know her birth mother.  She was and is young and I did not really imagine that I would be dealing with her meeting her birth mother before she was 18.  That all changed this week.

My daughter again brought up the issue of wanting to know this woman who gave birth to her.  The desire, the longing, pulls at her maybe in a similar way to how wanting children pulled at me.  So this week I searched for and found her birth mother.  I spent some time crying while looking through this woman’s FB page.  I looked at her family, her husband, her daughter, her life.  It seemed like she had pulled her life together and was pretty happy.

So I sent her a message, sobbing the entire time not exactly sure why.  The message basically said that I’m the woman who adopted your kids and my daughter wants to know you.  I told her that I hold her in a place of immense gratitude, that I hoped my message would find her well and not cause her pain.  I asked her to contact me and welcomed her to look through my FB page to see the kids.  I was not sure she would contact me and hoped both that she would and a little bit that she would not.  Mostly that she would.  Then I told my daughter that I had found her and let her see her birth mother’s FB page and the message that I had sent.

I had no idea what would happen.  Would she respond at all?  Would she be upset?  Would my daughter be ok if she did not respond?  If she did respond, how would I feel?  Would my daughter prefer her to me?  Would my daughter forget me?  Would she still love me?  Questions that don’t need an answer for the most part.  They are patterns of not feeling worthy and patterns cannot be reassured.  So I took a deep breath,  One of the gifts I learned in yoga and the personal work I have done the last several years is that I can breathe into any kind or amount of pain and it will lessen, it will ease.

Yesterday afternoon the birth mother replied to my message.  She said she had wished for this day for many years, that she thought of the kids and us often.  She said she needed a little time to pray about it but that she was grateful that I had reached out.  I was surprisingly excited to hear from her.  Not just for my daughter, but for myself as well.  This too surprised me.  After sitting with it for just a short period of time I realized that I want to share them with her.  I want her to see that I cherished the gift I was given.  I want her to know all about them and know that I did a good job.  I want her to see that they are happy and well adjusted.  I want her to like me.  Then I did the unthinkable and told her all of that in a message.  She thought it was sweet and said that she never doubted the kids were wonderful and well loved.  We have not had any communication since that and I expect it will be a few days before we do.  I told my daughter about all of this with my husband who is having a really hard time with it all.  My son just doesn’t want to know.  He said, “look Wuddles, I’m fine and I’m going to be with you forever so don’t worry.’  He also said he is not interested in meeting his birth mother at this time.  But he is at a different stage of development and has challenges of his own.  He may change is mind, he may not.

So all of this is a lot to sit with, and here I am surprised again.  I have no fear that this is going to be a negative experience.  I know that my daughter’s innate nature and the way I raised her means that her heart is big enough for more than one person.  And so is mine.  I can see a world at some point where the birth mother and her family become a sort of extended family to my kids.  We share the biggest possible thing together, the kids.  Likewise, I know that none of that may come to pass.  My husband is upset and having a really hard time with it.  My son is on the fence.  I have no idea whether the birth mother’s husband and family know that she had these kids and gave them up for adoption and what them knowing might do to her life.  I don’t know what fears she may have and whether she is willing and able to face them.  There is a lot that I don’t know.

What I do know is that I have done so much work on myself and learned so much from my yoga practice that I can sit with not knowing.  My mind can spin fears and I don’t have to believe them.  I can allow my heart to be open enough for any of these possibilities.  I can sit in the contradiction and be ok.  I can breathe anytime it hurts.  I can feel relief rather than fear.  I can know that this may be one of the biggest gifts I can give my daughter, that she doesn’t have to wait until she is an adult to find this in her life like so many do.  I can wait while this all unfolds and not feel the need to rush to see how things work out.  I can be thankful for whatever this brings to my life and the lives of my kids.  I can watch all of this unfold and know that God sent me nothing but angels to bring us to this beautiful place where we can grow and experience ourselves and each other in a place of light and love.  I can do all sorts of things today that I could not do before I started on this healing journey.  For all of this, I am grateful.

Namaste.