Mommy Love and Adoption Explanations

I went to my birth mom's work today at the soup kitchen as she asked me to meet her. She doesn't want me spending money because she is very practical and wants me to save money for what I need. Like staying here and being able to buy food and bus fare. She was late coming to the dining hall so I went downstairs and met her finishing up last minute food. She ate some chicken in front of me and I didn't want it because it did not look appetizing. I waited patiently and she got me some food from there. It was not very nutritious at all and I picked at it. The people eating there seemed stony in a way, but you could tell they were deeply sensitive, some of them, and if you were nice to them they gave you respect back. So the older woman sitting across from us seemed stoic at first, but after seeing us acting regular and not putting on a front, she smiled warmly at us and gave my daughter some food, which she took eagerly to my surprise.

I feel that when I assert my boundaries and show my true self, people take me seriously and either shape up or turn away from me in distaste. And that no longer hurts that much because I know with confidence that I am being true to myself. Most of the time, well. Facing adoption reality makes me stronger in my right to my pain and insecurities. It is no longer buried with shame in me. When people don't understand my pain and minimize it with words like, "but you are good now, you should forgive and be grateful.." When they barely know me and how I am not ready to hear that from them, I tell them how I feel straight. It is still hard to be around the majority of people thus because I am fragile as paper.

Anyway, so my birth mother took care of me and asked me if I minded if she finished work while I waited and I said no. I would wait an hour. We went to her house after, and I excitedly told her about my outting with my father yesterday and how we looked alike, and about my city and every day life. She seemed far away as usual, and I wondered what she was thinking. We got to her house, and she didn't bother turning on a light and spoke in her deeper voice, which made me feel like she was in a bad mood. She asked me if she could lie down, and I knew it was because her medication for her psychosis made her tired so I said sure. Her roommate was silent and somber and he excused himself and made hacking noises out back. I felt small and like a nuisance again, and felt my mood falling. I ignored everyone and focused on my instagram quotes about adoption,  and my daughter ran around nervously. She disturbed my mother so I got annoyed and snapped, and then decided to get out of there so I told my mother I was going outside. She quickly said she was coming and we'd go to the park. I was relieved. She was wearing her nightshirt though, as she had asked me if it was okay and I had told her it was strange but she rebuffed my claim saying that the indian women wore their dress-costumes too, and besides it was just across the street. I sighed. She looked like a dishevelled old maid, and I felt anger and resentment that this was the woman who gave birth to me.

We went, and she sat on a bench while I played with my daughter, determined to be myself. I wanted to show her that I was happy and confident and bonded with my baby. She wanted the swing and then went on a slide, but was not able to go alone. I voiced it to my mother, and she said it was normal because my baby was not even 2 yet. I interjected that it was true, but I wanted her to develop independence from me. She was silent, and then told me people kidnapped in the world and it was dangerous. I said yes, but I liked to focus on people being good because then I believe it. I asked her if I could show her my adoption quotes and she agreed. They were truths about how children's feelings matter, and the biggest harm in adoption was the secrecy because it made the child feel unreal. She agreed with them but had to stop after a few because it was too much. She showed me her painted nails, and told me how her adoptive mother always had her nails perfectly polished. I said that I didn't believe in doing my nails because it was unnatural. She nodded and said my nails were beautiful as is. I thanked her. I asked her how she felt about me meeting her, and she said she was happy I found her. I was silent with a choking feeling. I asked her why it happened, all the adoptions, and she said it was because "They said my house wasn't good for having a child." I felt like I was pulling teeth as I tried to understand her. She said she was happy growing up and had love, but when I asked her if she felt loved, she said no. Then she laughed maniacally and said exuberantly, "My mother asked me, 'Do you love yourself', and I said, 'No one loves me.'" I recognized her pain behind her defense mechanism of humor, as I have so often used myself. I chuckled with her and asked her, did you feel alone because you were adopted? And she said, no no I had everything I needed my mother, family, friends.. I said, I always felt something missing in my life and sad... She said, your adoptive mother loves you and you have a family.. I was frustrated and felt empty. I said, But a person can't love themselves and feel real if they don't know their parents and grandparents... You can't know where you are going if you don't know where you came from. She nodded. She said she was sad too, and tried to find her real parents by the adoption agency... Then she got into a whole story about how she tried to adopt a baby because she wanted one but they wouldn't give her one because they said her house was no good. I listened and asked why she wanted to adopt. She said it was because her adoptive mother made her abort her first pregnancy. I said sorry. She explained how she wanted to make kids after, and that was how she decided to be with my birth father. I felt like a strange bystander to her crazy life, and felt resentment about having to have been her daughter again. I looked away annoyed. I told myself that I had to try to understand her nonetheless, for my own sanity. So I told her, did you want your children to come back to you? She said yes, she was very happy to be with me now. I asked her if she thought her other 4 kids wanted to meet her, and she said no, they were happy, weren't they? As if unsure of it her self. I sighed and told her, they may seem okay but still are missing a part of themselves by not meeting her. She agreed. I asked her if she thought I was crazy for searching for her, and she looked at me and said no, just different.. But she was very happy. I thanked her awkwardly and gave het a hug, saying I was sorry and loved her. She said me too. And I thought about how she is broken too. She admitted that she couldn't raise her kids because she didn't have a natural mother around. It was nice to hear her honesty.

She walked me to the bus, and when I said she didn't have to, she said she wanted to. I believed her that she loved me unconditionally. We sat next to each other, and spoke about her growing up. She said she loved a boy and always wanted to marry him and they thought she was crazy and everyone said that. I recognized that she felt misunderstood and crazy because she had no understanding of who she was. I asked her if she wanted to be like her mother, and she said yes I knew I did and had to be married because she and my Dad were... So I lived in dreams all the time. It sounded just like the unaware adoptee feels in grade school. As I watched a mouth and eyes so much like my own talk in a childish way, I felt estranged from myself and fascinated, taking it in morbidly. So this was what I was started from. I told her it sounded like she did not know who she was because she was not truly living herself and just following a dream. She nodded, and said, well my adoptive family loves me and I'm okay with that, and I have you father and my friends... I said, yes, as adoptees we have love but not full unconditional love because they don't understand us and our needs to have birth family. She agreed, that we had to take what we had. I said, for me it was important that I know my own needs and listen to my emotions. She said, You have a husband, do you love him? I said not really... Thinking about how nobody understood me because of what she did to me by leaving me. She laughed and said, well he loves you right? I nodded and said that sometimes I was mean to him, but he understood where it comes from... And she was surprised. We were silent, and I wondered what now. I told her I was leaving soon, and she said okay she'd miss me. I nodded. I felt emptiness at the thought of not being with them anymore, and like I had no clear direction. She tended to live outside herself anyhow, so she didn't understand. I sighed and realized I still had a lot to do in my life, and that I wanted to become actualized. It would take time, but the point was that I was definitely not going to sit around and let things happen to me. Just because I was leaving her, did not mean I had to die inside again. We would move and become open house- friendly, loving people. I needed community.

I went on the bus back, and felt love for my daughter and how it was there, unconditionally and encircled her. I marveled at the invisible ties, that society so often misses for other agendas such as money and honor. If only people would get the Mommy love more, they would truly believe it and not see it cynically when a mother stays home to raise and coddle her babies. And then they could go out in the world with self-assurance.