First Mothers

I would like to talk about another, considered ‘taboo’ adoption topic.

Gasp, I know, from the girl who NEVER , breaches taboo things in adoption.

I want to talk about ‘first mothers’.

If you have adopted, there is a woman, somewhere, alive or dead that was your child's source of life. She was there first mother.

Our children did not appear. They were not born out of a file cabinet. They were carried, grown and given life, there fore have history with someone else.

This may be a source of pain for you. It may be a source of anger, sadness, loss that you were not the one to do this for your child. There may be resentment for trauma’s your child experienced, or gratitude’s for a choice that was made in selflessness that allowed your child into your arms. Whatever the case, she is part of your family.
Do you hate me for saying that? Because I am going to say it again, if you have adopted, whether she is alive or dead, known, or faceless, your child’s first mother is part of your family.

There are eight women that twice a year, on my children’s birthday’s and on Mothers Day I consider, love on, forgive, and send gratitude to. Ultimately, regardless of anything else, she chose to give my child life.

In the last month, I also have been on the opposite side of this choice. Someone I am  close to, someone that I love with all the depth of my heart, made “the other decision” to end the possibility of life. And I walked this path with her. My soul ached, my understanding of her circumstances and complete inability to parent, or even carry life, when her life was too much to handle on a daily basis was met with love and acceptance.
and tears, loads and loads of tears. What I can say, is until you are staring this decision directly in the face, when you are walking a path between terrible, and beyond hell. Your perspective changes, and unless you want to be buried in sorrow, you chose love. You choose love, when that is all that is left.

and so knowing and breathing and living all of this. I also choose to see the beauty of these eight woman, that are an intricate part of who my children are, she is carried in my children’s walks, the depth of their eyes,  the cadence of their laugh, the hiccups in their crys, the eye brow tilt when they frown, and the laugh lines when they smile.

All eight women, some I have never met. Some have passed on. Some I too have parented for a time, some I have hugged and ached with as I walked away from her holding her child.
Some I have had to forgive. Some I have tender understanding for her circumstance and a choice she made in fear, poverty, situation and even abuse. Some I have given names to for my child, whom stories remain a mystery.

Regardless, I have chosen to love her.

And it is not , I repeat NOT an easy thing to do.

But what I have learned, in all of my children’s stories is one thing. She means something to them. There is a part of them that misses her, wants her, and identifies that they were once a part of her. Loving our children’s first mothers, is accepting ALL of our children.

We don’t have to love every piece of them, nooooooooooo. BUT, what our children hear and perceive about our feelings towards their first mothers, is a direct correlation on how they think we feel about them. It’s truth, they do. They can be angry at her, they can even hate her. And that is O.K….
But when your child gets on that bandwagon. Do not jump on. Even if you really want to.
Maybe they are wondering if you believe all of those terrible things about them?
Maybe they are testing you in your acceptance; maybe they really do what you to jump on, but then will feel defensive, or worse judged themselves when you do.

Supporting them in their anger, and joining them are two separate things.

Ex:

“I am so MAD at Carla for not loving me enough to keep me, she sucks, I don’t ever want to see her again.”

“I hear that you are so angry, and maybe a little hurt, and that is great you can share that with me”

“Do you HATE her too”

“No, baby, I don’t, because I know she was doing the best she could, and maybe it isn’t my best, or even your best, but I do know, she loved you enough to give you life, and I was lucky enough to be here when she couldn’t…so you know…I kinda love her, and feel sad for her too.”

So on a scale of 1 to 10, how much do ya’ll hate me right now?
I hope even in the worst of circumstances, (and yes out of 8 adoptions I have those too)…you have maybe tweaked your thinking a little. If not, that is O.K. too, you can go ahead and tell me to shut my yapper. I will still love you.

As Mothers Day comes, a day fraught with so many big feelings, and ghosts of Mothers past. Why not give yourself a small healing gift, and let go of some of that hurt, hate, resentment or even indifference, and for a minute even half a second, send all of those first mothers some love.



Happy Mothers Day.