Month: November 2011

Mothers Behaving Badly

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She shared that after ten years of a pseudo reunion with her son, she went to visit him without informing him in advance. Ten years of knowing where he was, writing him, stalking him on the internet yet not being able to meet him (his request, not hers), she finally got the nerve to just show up at his door,  more specifically, his place of employment.

I winced when she stated this. Part of me feared hearing the rest of the story as I suspected I knew what was coming. I did. He got angry. Very angry. Told her off. Made a public scene.  Called her awful names. She left. I wondered why she would set herself up for such disappointment yet even in my wondering I knew why she would. I can relate to the need, that never ending hunger to be in your child’s presence, to  feel their breath, to see the way sunlight glistens in their hair, to listen to the unique cadence in the way they speak, to determine if you birthed a demon child as your parish priest suggested you would or if you added a decent individual to the human race. For even if you did not raise that human, the reason he or she exists is due to you choosing to give birth. I understood those primal motherly needs.

Mother friend seemed okay with the result. I would even go so far as to say she seemed to glow. She was not upset he yelled at her, called her names, ordered her away again. She got to see her son and be in his presence. She felt his breath on her. She saw the color of his hair up close and personal and smiled when she realized it was the same color as hers. She said she felt like her emotional load had been lightened. There was a pink to her cheeks that had not been there weeks before. She said she felt better. She felt somehow healed – even though her son raged at her in anger, pointed his finger towards the path she should take and told her to never, ever, contact him again. She finally got to meet her son even if he was a hostile witness in the action.

I have been musing about this woman for a few weeks and her actions made me wonder about the behavior of mothers in reunion and why we do the things we do, why we agree even passive aggressively to the things we agree to and the effect it has on us.

Let me use my own story as an example.

I won’t recycle old stories but I will offer that after a spotty, sporadic multi year correspondence with me, my daughter told me to go away. Told me she did not want any kind of relationship and would appreciate if I never write her again, never comment on her online sites and essentially disappear from the face of the earth. (Recall Death of the Author).

What did I do?

I politely said (not in this many words, but you will get the point) “Okay, dear, whatever you want. You are an adult. I need to respect your feelings and be proper and do what you told me to. You are the conductor of this reunion train. I will hop off as expected and role to the side of the tracks. I will be okay. It is really okay. I will be a good little birthmother and go away. Again.”  I bowed my head, curtsied and rolled away, as instructed. All the while I smiled and pretended it was all perfectly okay with me and I was at peace with going away, again.

If I take me out of that equation, at least the dutiful proper me, I am left with a person that says “Seriously, Suz, WHAT.THE.FUCK? When will you stop being so proper and well behaved? This is your child. Not your mother. Not your father. Not that black clad priest babbling every Sunday at St. James Church. When are you going to stop leaving her?”

I did not want to be proper when she told me to go away. I did not want to smile in amusement at her literary reference to Death of the Author, something she knew I would understand. Rather, I wanted to refuse. I wanted to yell, holler, debate, argue, and engage in a heated exchange with my own child. I wanted to hop the next train to Brooklyn and be like my Mother friend. I wanted to show up at her doorstep and demand she meet me.  I wanted to tell her I felt strongly that we needed – both of us – to be in each others presence and get this shit out and over with. I wanted her to rage at me in person, to show me face to face that she is really as cold and unfeeling as she came across in that message to me. I wanted to hug her and hold her and tell her it was okay to be angry, okay to cry, okay to do anything she wanted for I would never leave her. I would always be there for her even if history had dictated otherwise.

I didn’t of course. Good mothers don’t do that, right? Good mothers, do what they are told. Properly functioning people in modern society respect boundaries when they are set. Be the adult, be the parent that society says you aren’t but holds you to the standards of. Do not show any emotion to your child for that parentifies her and makes her feel responsible for fixing you like she was responsible for fixing the infertile woman who adopted her. Proper. Proper. Proper. Be proper. Your emotions are not for her. Not even your loving emotions.

And that brought me back to the mother I referenced above. She clearly was a bad mother by violating the emotional restraining order her son had placed against her. He told her to disappear (much like society, the adopters, and others had told her to do) and she did, at least for ten years.  Nice girls do what they are told (like give away our babies).  Our children know there is an established pattern of beating us into submission.  Doesn’t matter what book or stick or belief system we were beat with, they know we can be beat into submission and so they jump on the train – consciously or not.

Let me be clear here. I am not advocating a rush of mothers go show up where they are not wanted. Rather, I am wondering, questioning. Have we been overly conditioned to be good, be proper, do as others tell us that we forsake ourselves?  Have we been socialized in such a manner that we have become overly accommodating to all – including our children?  And if so, what is the effect on our children?  All of our children – surrendered and parented.

Pretend, for just a moment that at least one of those adult adoptees was “testing” their mothers.  If the adult adoptee was consciously or subconsciously testing the mother, to see if she would go away again, what further damage do we cause when we do as we are asked, and walk away from them again? Do we at least tell them the truth, that it is very hard for us, we don’t want to leave them again, we welcome them at any time, we hope they change their mind? Or do we keep that to ourselves because our feelings are too much for them, too much for everyone in fact.

Further complicating this torrent of emotion is the very real fact that that proper social behavior mandates that if someone says “go away” you do exactly that, vamoose, vamanos, hasta la bye bye baby. We are doing not only what our child has asked, no, demanded, but we are also following societies rules of proper social behavior. Those of us who have horribly violated those rules (by opening our legs when we shouldn’t have) learn all too well the punishment associated with such transgressions.  We lost our children.  Dare we violate another social rule? What might happen then?

After some thought, I found myself proud of that Mom that showed up on her sons doorstep unwanted and unannounced.  Good for her I wanted to scream. Good for her for standing up for her, for herself, and for her motherhood.  What did she have to lose? She already lost her son. He already told her to stay away. What was he going to do? Tell her again? She got to meet her son, finally, and in doing so, I suspect she met a part of herself she also lost many years ago, the part that feels that her feelings matter too, the part that contained her voice.

Interview with Second-Chance Mother Author Denise Roessle

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Author Denise Roessle

Mother, blog writer, my friend, regular commenter on this blog and author, Denise Roessle, was kind enough to talk with me about her recently released memoir Second-Chance Mother. As noted on the books website, Second-Chance Mother is a multi-generational adoption saga that follows Denise into the black hole of lost time, connection and self-worth, as she struggles to restore the bond with her son, discover her own mother’s secret past, and revive the authentic self she’d left behind after surrendering her only child. The book is scheduled for release by Red Willow Digital Press— as an e-book and trade paperback. The e-book can be purchased today via Amazon or at the Smashwords site.

Your story, memoir, is a deeply personal and perhaps even a controversial one. Have any of the individuals mentioned in the book read it yet? If so, what was their reaction? Did you have them read it in advance?

 My sister and brother read an early draft, as did most of the friends who are mentioned. Also my Auntie Em and Cousin Pam. No one had a problem with it, except my brother, who said if I published it, “people will be hurt.” (I’m sure he meant our parents, since the book is explicit about their role in my relinquishment. My mother has since passed away.) I told him people had already been hurt. I offered it to my father and my son, and they both declined. My son said, “You know I don’t like to read” and “you can say anything you want about me, I don’t care.” I think I portrayed everyone honestly, without invading their privacy.

 (If there is anyone you are particularly curious about their reaction, let me know and I will address it. One of my concerns is that my grandchildren not read it until they are older.)

The challenges you experienced and shared in your book are not uncommon in adoption reunion. Many mothers have found their children to have lived lives far from what the adoption machine promised. What advice would you give to mothers who find themselves in reunions similar to yours?

Expectations can be very detrimental. But I believe that everyone in reunion has them — my mother will be like this, my child will be like that. Or maybe it’s just hope. That we will fit together naturally, like missing pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. If only that were so.

In 1970, I bought into the whole adoption package, believed that my son would be better off without me when I relinquished him. Or maybe I just wanted to believe because that was where it was going, i.e., not my choice. Although I can’t be certain that I could have done better as his mother, given my flaky 19-year-old self at the time, I am absolutely sure that separation from me and his family of origin affected my son in huge ways. I think that’s obvious in the book. I’ve given it much thought and I can’t simply blame it on his adoptive parents, how they raised or treated him. In my humble and un-medical opinion, he is the poster child for separation anxiety, the best example of the primal  wounded.

That being said, try to set aside your expectations. Be open to what you find and do your best to accept and love what is. Instead of fighting it, trying to change or fix it (I did that in spades). Again, that being said, set boundaries early on. If you’re like I was, that’s hard; you may never have set them before, been afraid to, lest you lose someone you love. Don’t wait until you’ve been emotionally trampled to step up.

Slow down. Think, even though that’s the hardest thing when you’re in this situation. Find a support group or therapist. Don’t go in alone. Talk to trusted friends. Write in a journal. Visit blogs like Suz’s. Whatever it takes to keep your head when your heart is in the lead.

What advice would you give to expectant mothers considering adoption?

Don’t do it. Find a way to keep your baby. Unless you are honestly unwilling/unable to parent and have no family members who could step in and help raise your child. Ask for help, find support and don’t listen to social workers, adoption agency staff, adoption attorneys, or whoever. Seek the advice of mothers who have relinquished children. This is a life-altering decision. The repercussions, to both you and your child, are not likely going to be worth it. The mother-child bond, while strong, can’t always be restored, at least not with any degree of normalcy. Also, keep in mind that if you are offered the “open adoption” option, these are not generally legally enforceable. If the adoptive parents change their mind, they can cut you off in a heartbeat and disappear.

There are individuals in the adoption reform movement that object to anyone making money off of adoption, selling their story, making money off of their child’s story. What would you say to them?

I won’t likely make any money from my book. Few authors do, unless they become best sellers, which is not likely in this case. Most people don’t want to hear depressing adoption stories. They want to believe adoption is all hearts and flowers. I shared my story to educate the public, help other mothers, adoptees, and perhaps even adoptive parents who are open to understanding the truth about adoption, not to make the big bucks. 

Did you ever have any contact (verbal, written) with your son’s adoptive father?

No. I wrote to him once, early in my reunion, without judgment even though my son had told me about his upbringing. I was hoping for photos (since my son had none from his childhood) as well as information. He didn’t respond. A few years later, I tried to locate him and call, but he had passed away. I don’t know how he would have reacted if I’d reached him. Still, I wish I had, that I could get some confirmation (or another side to the story) about my son’s childhood.

Did you change the names of any of the characters in your story to protect them?

Yes. Not all, but some.

Is there a single, specific, message in your memoir that you want readers to grasp?

I want people to understand the life-altering impacts of mother/child separation, to think in terms of family preservation. I don’t want to discourage search and reunion, even though my story addresses some problems and outcomes that may occur. I hope that adoptees who read it will gain an understanding of what their mothers went through, that they did and do love them, and that mothers searching or in reunion will learn from my mistakes. And heck yeah, I made a lot of them. I cannot say often enough how difficult it is to think straight when you’re in this extremely emotional situation. 

How did you find your editor? Your agent?

I am an aggressive marketer. That was my profession. You have to be aggressive — shoot for the top agents and publishers and then work your way down the list. Write a great query letter and a stunning first chapter. Then, be prepared for rejection. It’s not personal. Publishing is a harsh and competitive business. They’re looking for the next star, best-seller. Remember that even if you get published, and even with a major publisher, in this day and age promotion will be up to you. Knowing and accepting that, you might consider self-publishing. At least your story is out there, plus you have a lot more control over the timing, cover design, etc. than you will with a traditional publisher.

Do you have plans to write another book?

I’m working on a novel, semi-autobiographical, a story from my hippie days in the seventies. Although I’ve put it aside to focus on the release of “Second-Chance Mother.” Pretty much everything that I write has some basis in my life experiences. I wish I had the gift of making stuff up!

If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your book? I realize you cannot change your life story per se, but anything you might have left out, or put in?

No. It took me so many years to finish, rewrite after rewrite, that I had to let it go. This kind of story never ends. Where to stop? Because it changes every day, week, year. I stopped where I did, on a hopeful note, about seven years into our 15 year reunion, because otherwise it would never be finished. Hence, the need for the epilogue.

What was the hardest part of writing your book?

Reaching deep into the experience, the painful memories, of losing my child and the aftermath. When editors and peer readers read my early drafts, they accused me of holding the reader at arm’s length, not going far enough, being completely honest. I worked through it and I think achieved a pretty gut-wrenching honesty. At a seminar with Dorothy Allison, one of my favorite authors (Bastard Out of Carolina), I told her about having to go to bed and cry regularly while writing the book, and she responded that if that happens, then you’re doing something right. I believe she was correct. If it doesn’t hurt to talk or write about it, then you aren’t there yet.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Just do it. Write your story. Empty your mind and your soul. Don’t worry that it’s a “shitty first draft” (as they say). Get it on paper or on screen, then let it sit. Put it aside for a month or two. Then go back and edit. Once you’re satisfied with it, let peer readers look it over, or join a critique group. Finally, hire a professional editor. Because ultimately, you are too close to it to see any flaws.

Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?

I started this book during the full blush of reunion. I thought it would be cathartic. And it was. But it didn’t heal me from the experience of losing my child, nor do I think it would have even if our reunion had gone better than it has. Ultimately, it became about sharing and helping others who find themselves in a situation like mine.Reunionis hard. I’ve never heard a “perfect” reunion story. I’d like other mothers, adoptees and the general public to know that it’s a struggle. Again, not to discourage. Because knowing — for a mother, but I think adoptees as well — even if what you find isn’t great, is better than not knowing.