I am in the process of writing a little book about my past, I gues more like a jornal for me, but I just thought I would share some of it here. It's a lot to read so it's ok if you don't.
I fought over where to start this journey. Do I start where my husband walked out on me, do I start where my dad tried to kill himself, or maybe I should start where I joined the army. Nah, lets do the typical thing and start at the beginning.
I was born in a small town…… ok maybe that is too far back. Fast forward six years. I was six years old the day my mom sat me down and explained to me about being adopted. I already knew I was adopted, I guess I always knew. But I remember being six when I finally got to talk about it, and even was allowed the chance to ask questions. I was so excited, I had all sorts of questions, like can I meet my birth mom, which turned out to be the end of the conversation. That question sent mom to tears. So that was the big adoption talk. From there on I dealt with adoption in my own head. I wish mom could have seen my question as me dealing with rejection not me rejecting her. I get it now as an adult, I was her baby and she loved me, and the thought of me wanting to know about the woman who gave birth to me, put fear of loosing me in her. I get it now, but boy growing up that was a great, weapon for low self esteem. At six I started feeling disconnected and different. It didn’t affect me to the point anyone would have known, I was a happy kid, almost every day. I think the next time I dealt with it was ninth grade biology, when we had to write our family history for a genetics study. My genetics were a secret. And I secretly felt like an alien in that class, and everyone could tell I was different, like they could see that my genetics were missing. Being adopted was my excuse to listen to the enemy tell me I am not good enough. But if I had not been adopted I know I would have found another excuse. So what would I say to that six year old or that ninth grader.
Dear adopted Lori
Okay first of all you are adopted, get over it. You are here, and that is a good thing. You were born to a mom that loved you, she did not reject you, she loved you. And she gave you to a mom that can not only love but also take care of you. Something that at sixteen she could not do. When you feel like you don’t belong or you feel different from everyone around you, know that adoption is not the reason for that. You are in this world as a guest to meet and greet as many people as you can before God calls you to come home. Sweet girl you are not rejected you are chosen.
I guess this is a good place to finish out the adoption story. By the time I was eighteen I had done enough snooping in my moms stuff to know the name and number of the adoption agency who had my records. So October 21, 1997 I made the call. I was not ready to make that call. And I could not tell anyone cause then mom may find out and I would make her feel bad again. So I sat in my room dialing all but one number for about two hours. Then I pushed the last number and the woman on the other end was on her game cause she answered before I could hang up. So I preceded to tell her my name. Now I really thought I would make the call and get on some two year waiting list. But wouldn’t you know God was ready that day to end the eighteen year rejection mindset. The woman on the other end said she couldn’t believe I was calling, because my birth mom had just called yesterday and she had all of her information sitting right in front of her. It was unbelievable and very overwhelming. The agency had me write Tina (that’s my birth mom) a letter and they would send it to her. A letter, a letter to my birth mom. Now I could really ask questions. I felt like a salesman trying to show why this product is worth having. It was hard, I had so many emotions at that time in my life. I was dealing with a lot, and I just wanted to feel good inside and I thought finding Tina would be the key. So I wrote the letter and the postal service must have been on sonic speed cause like five days later I had a letter from her in my hands. Tina was everything you think you would want a birth mom to be. She was very ready to meet me, said she had thought about me everyday for eighteen years. She never had more kids, so that put even more excitement in her to meet me. I really think I would have done better if she had not wanted anything to do with me. I already dealt with her not wanting me, I lived very well in my own self pity. That sense of rejection had taken hold and help define who I was. But I was not ready to handle her loving me and wanting me. At eighteen I had already become a “hard” person, I didn’t like to be hugged or to say I love you, I never wanted to need anyone or even be needed. But Tina did not read my manual, cause she needed me, she needed me to say I love you and to hug her and to take the pain of not having me away. She needed our reunion to bring us both peace and bring us together. I wish I could start over and meet Tina for the first time again. I did not do it well the first time. I saw her twice over the next two years, then waited until my daughter , Elissa, was three to see her again. She has never seen my son, Ethan. I know now even though it has taken me too long to get it together it is not too late. As an eighteen year old I would not look outside myself, but as a thirty year old I want to be Tina’s friend, and give her as much of me as I can. I want to do it for her and for me. I do love her. My Friends Nattile and Ryan just adopted twins, and they really got to know the birth mom. Watching their story unfold, has really woke me up to what an amazing thing Tina did. Looking back I wish I would have taken myself out of the picture. Wouldn’t it be great if we could see how selfish we are and actually change. I wish I could have dealt with my issue’s on my own but still be there for Tina. I wish I could have made her feel wanted. I wish I would have had the kind of reunion that you’d see on Oprah. But now when I meet someone from either side of adoption I have so much compassion for them and I get to understand how they feel.