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This is the last in the series, continuing from here …
How have I not felt this all before?
This thought keeps popping into my head, rattling around and bouncing off the sides. I’m wondering if anything else is going to shake loose.
And why? Why did I stuff this anger so far down? I wasn’t torn from my child. I didn’t suffer like the women who speak in “The Girls Who Went Away” with the pain of years of separation, doubt and worry.
I think it’s me I missed, myself I was torn from. And much like women who relinquished lost the huge part of themselves that was a child, something vital in me was also removed and not replaced. My youth, my opportunities, my choices disappeared within months, and I now know that I miss them … that I’ve been missing them for a very long time.
I had my baby, though, so I was in love, and I was busy and I had a world to conquer for her. There wasn’t time for me to mourn what was gone, and regrets were not allowed. After all, only a terrible, terrible person could regret any circumstance that resulted in this beautiful little girl.
At fifty-five, I’m a happy woman. I have the world’s best husband, wonderful kids, great relationships with my mom and my brothers, fantastic friends, a beautiful place to live, work that satisfies my soul … and I know that all I am, all I have, accumulated through years spent being the me that my experiences dictated. If one little thing had happened differently, everything in my life could be different.
So, how can I sit here now and find myself coughing up these wads of anger? How can I resent the circumstances that brought me to this wonderful place in life I am right now?
Processing …. processing … processing …
It’s going to take a while.
What floats to the surface for now, however, is the thought that I can be happy and sad at the same time. I can be grateful and resentful in the same breath. Anger over loss can mingle with joy over gains.
Finding the sadness and the resentment and the anger … spitting them out and taking a good look … feels like the first step.
All these years later, and finally … FINALLY … I’m understanding something I didn’t even know I didn’t know.
Is there anything else in here I should know about?
Thank you, Ann Fessler. Thank you.
For the whole series:
Sandra, This is a powerful series you’ve written. I’ve actually been afraid to read the book…
I Am SO sad for K’s birthmom who loves K but just couldn’t care for her… and I feel the emotion every time we visit… Regret, sadness.. hope…being happy for the life K has but still so much underneath it all…..
Thaks for sharing your experience. I’ve got Digging to American here, and I’ve renewed it twice without reading it yet…. Maybe I’ll start with that book.
Wow! Thank you so much for sharing this, Sandra. Part of my job is working with birthmoms helping them look at their options (parenting or placing). I work for a Catholic agency, so am not allowed to discuss birth control (women are still not in control of their choices in some settings obviously). I also have contact with women who are searching for the children they placed–many of whom placed their children during this time. I have a deeper understanding of what they must be feeling thanks to what you’ve written. I will be reading this book as well. Thanks again!
okay, Sandra. today, i bought…The Book. right this moment actually, i just returned from the Barnes and Noble near my house. it is laying (or is that lying? i forget which you’re supposed to use for objects) on the table still in the bag. the next step…to actually *read* it. i wish i were a better writer. i think someone should tackle the same perspective of mothers whose parental rights are terminated. somehow i think that in adoption there is this category of mothers that are considered deserving of our sympathy (the young unwed mothers who “simply” got pregnant and were in some way coereced into relinquishing their children) and those who are deserving of nothing but the heartache and pain they got when their parental rights were terminated because of abuse/neglect/addiction. no one can convince me that there is not a large segment of that group that feels equally enraged, hurt, devastated about their loss. who will speak for them? who will be their Ms. Fessler?
Dr. G. – I agree with you – someone needs to speak for them, too. And they are not less deserving of sympathy/empathy, not in my book.
Michelle,
Thanks, and I think you’ll get a lot out of the book. Don’t be afraid.
Katrina,
I am so happy you think something I’ve written can help to build understanding. Thank you!
Doc,
A very good idea.
Heather,
Absolutely.