â€œThe flesh endures the storms of the present alone, the mind those of the past and future as well as the presentâ€ – Epicurus
As I sipped coffee in the family waiting room at Childrens Medical Center I thought about Dan. Odd how online adoption folks will come to me at the oddest moments.
Dan mentioned some time ago that he felt as if his mother, B, was often orchestrating all his family interactions. I agreed with him that he was probably right. I indicated, as a mother, I would probably do the same thing. If I did not do it, I would feel the need and strongly fight the urge. I have written about this a bit, why I might feel that way, what I would fear, how I feel the need to protect my family from my daughter and my daughter from my family.
Today I realized another fear or anxiety or whatever.
The last time, as in ever, that my family, my daughter and I were together I was pregnant with her. Being with my family and them knowing about her resulted in me being sent away and me losing her.
I feel that in some immature, teenage cell of my body, I am afraid if they were to ever meet I would be taken back to that time. I fear that they would send me away again and she would be lost to me again.
My family, me, my daughter together created some sort of perfect storm that resulted in me losing my first born child. The strong adoption winds blew so harshly she was blown not from the hand of god as her adoptive parents said but from my bloody womb to the hands of strangers.
Of course, intellectually, the 40 year old me knows that is likely not to happen again if they were to all meet but it FEELS that way. I fear that.
If I put her in the same room again with them, I will lose me, I will lose her.
I just cannot risk it. So, in addition to feeling the need to protect everyone from everyone else, I would have to be present with my daughter and my family to insure that we were not separated again. I have to keep her near, by my side, in my line of sight.
Now, I understand this is crazy talk and I do intend to work on it.
But for now, add that to your possible list of explanations Dan and others. Last time mothers were in the same room with their children (even if in utero) and their families, they were sent away and separated.
The memory of those events are imprinted on some cell of my brain and tattooed on my heart.
Flashbacks reign supreme.