Three Years After I Found My Birth Mother

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Roses my Birth Mother gave me the one and only time we met in person

3 years ago, yesterday actually, I found my birth mother. Or she found me? We found each other?

I remember the day like it was yesterday. It was a cold winter day, I was about 10 years into my search, I had made a break through and actually finally found people that knew her, one problem, no one seemed to know where she was at that time. I was trying to clear all the stress and drama while I walked to school to pick up my boys. On the walk back home my phone rang, as soon as I saw the area code my heart stopped, it was the area code from where I believed my birth mother was. I tried to calm myself, telling myself it was probably just some numbers calling me back after I left messages. I took a deep breathe and answered the phone.

On the other end of the phone was a woman asking for me by my birth name. It was her. She was real. She was alive. She was actually on the other end talking to me.

I screamed.

Then I verified her information, made sure it was really her. It was real. It was really her.

I screamed again.

When I got home I didn’t want to attempt to get the boys in the house, since they would be so loud, so I sat outside in the cold. (If you know me, that is a BIG deal) I was outside for over an hour. We talked about everything, mostly just shooting off question to question at each other.

The first few days and weeks we talked all the time. There were good morning and good night text messages, phone calls, a constant string of texts, I had to re-charge my phone countless times during the day. I have never used my phone so much or talked on the phone so much.

The “honeymoon” stage was such a blur. So much information was exchanged, so many questions were asked, so, so, SO many feelings were running around. Then something happened. The phone calls stopped, the text messages slowed and stopped.

3 years later I sit here, trying to figure it all out. Trying to piece together what happened. Trying to figure out why. Why it went this way. Why this all happened. Did I do something wrong? Was I not good enough for her? Was I not what she imagined?

3 years later and she has become a stranger again.

In all the questions asked, I’m left with a million more.

I don’t know what will happen, I don’t even know what happened!

This whole journey has been such a strange, crazy, unpredictable, emotional, rollercoaster. Sometimes I can’t even tell which direction I should be facing.

Should I have found her? Yes. Did I ever imagine that something like this could happen? No. Would I change it? I don’t know. Because I don’t know what I should change. I don’t know where things went ‘wrong’ to lead me to this path. I don’t even know if this is the ‘wrong’ path!

What I can tell you is that I never dreamed it would be like this.

Growing up I had a million different scenarios in my head, none of them even close to this.

In an adoption everyone wants a happy ending. Most birth mothers hope that if and when their child comes back it will be happy. Most adoptive parents want it to go well because they don’t want to see their child hurt. Most adoptees just don’t want to be hurt, they want answers.

When I think of my adoption journey I almost feel like a failure. I was lucky to finally find my birth mother, I was lucky she wanted to find me. But some where, some how, something, maybe, went wrong. Or maybe this is just how it was meant to be. I don’t know.

I imagined that we would have some sort of relationship, friendship. I didn’t imagine I would meet her and lose her again. I never thought she would become a stranger. I never knew someone and a situation could cause such confusion, and bring on so many questions, and so many different feelings all at once.

I found my birth mom 3 years ago, and I have even more questions than when I started.

This journey has been so much harder and emotionally draining and confusing than I would have dreamed possible.

Maybe the next 3 years will bring some more answers. Maybe. If there are even any answers to be had.

~ Michelle

I Am A Birth Mother, That Does Not Make Me A Bad Person

I have an Adoption Tattoo on my arm. I don’t try to hide it. I am proud of it, and I am proud of what it represents.

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I am an Adoptee and I am Birth Mother and I will share my story with anyone who asks and will listen.

When people see my tattoo they are always interested to know what it means. As soon as they find out I am adopted it brings on a slew of questions and remarks, always good things. Some such remarks I have heard are “Wow that is amazing. You are so lucky you found a good home. That is such a beautiful story.”
However when those same people that get so excited and happy that I was adopted as a baby find out I am a birth mother everything changes. Those same people will suddenly take a step back, look me up and down, shake their head and walk away. Sometimes they will even say things like “How dare you! How could you do that to your baby?” and storm off.

As long as someone views me as some helpless baby that got “taken in” or “rescued” its sweet and cute even. However as soon as they learn that I gave up a baby for adoption I am suddenly a bad person. I am here to tell you that that is not the case, not even close.

Birth parents are not bad people. We are not heartless. We do care. We do love our children. We did what was best for our children, even if that wasn’t what we wanted to do, we had to put our children first.

I had my son when I was 17. There was no way I could give him the life he deserved. I wanted the best for him. I wanted to give him a better chance at life. I wanted him to have a life that I knew in my heart that I could not give him.

Did I want to keep my son? Did I want to be the one that he calls Mom? Did I want to be the one he cries for when he’s scared, hurt or sick? YES. A million times yes.
Did my heart break into a million pieces every day of my pregnancy knowing how it would end? Did my heart completely destroy itself when I had to walk out of that hospital empty handed while I watched another woman walk away with my son, her son? YES. A million time yes.

I sacrificed my own heart, my own feelings and my own dreams so that my son could have what he deserved. So he could have more than what I could give him.

I am not heartless, I am not mean, I am not a bad person.

I am a birth mother. I put my sons needs before my own.

I sacrificed everything so my son could have a better life.

So next time you find out someone is a birth mother, think before you speak, find out her story.

~ Michelle

I Met My Birth Mom. What It Is Like Two Years Later.

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Roses my Birth Mother gave me 2 years ago

Two years ago I met my Birth Mother and Birth Grandmother for the first time.
Two years later and honestly I still feel just as confused as I did on that day.
On that day I could not find any of the right words that even resemble what I was feeling or thinking. I just could not seem to put this into the right words, and I still can’t. This is not an easy situation, it is a lot more complex and confusing than I would have ever thought possible.
So please bear with me through this.

I met my Birth Mom and Birth Grandmother.
This should be a happy moment. Right? Cloud 9. Jumping up and down. Happy dance. All of that right?

Let me back up a little bit. I spent my entire life, for as long as I can remember with certain beliefs about my birth mom. I knew it was silly, and I shouldn’t assume things about someone I knew nothing about, but I also felt I was right. Something I knew in my heart to be true. Like we had a connection or something. As I grew older and heard horror stories about Adoption Reunions I knew to always “expect to the unexpected” so to speak. So I tried my hardest to expand what I believed. There were just certain parts that I could not let go of. My heart just told me they were true. I hoped for the best and prepared for the worse.
My first mistake was thinking my search would be easy. Of course she would be looking for me. All of them would be. Of course there would be an easy trail for me to find. Turns out it was not easy, or quick. My search took nearly 10 years.
Then reality came knocking on my door, more like destroyed it actually. Out of the 100,000,000,001 scenarios I thought of none of them were true.
I realize this was fully on me, I only have myself to blame. But after believing for so long in something, trusting your heart for so long, and realizing it was all wrong, to have your beliefs’, hopes, dreams, thoughts, all crushed… It was hard. I had to re-evaluate everything I thought and believed about myself, about her, about everything connected to my Adoption. That connection I believed I had, that I was somehow special because I felt this, was gone.

Throughout this I did, and still do, feel so blessed and lucky that I have been able to actually find my birth mom. That’s the important thing here. I actually found her. I am one of the lucky ones. My search was finally over. A whole new journey is before me now.

When it came time to actually meet her, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what to feel. I was confused before she even stepped foot in my house. Which took me by a giant surprise. I thought I was ready to take this step. I thought I knew what I wanted, how I felt, everything. I thought meeting her would be the next natural step and everything about it would be natural and free-flowing.

As I looked into the eyes of the person that gave birth to me, as I looked into the eyes of my birth grandmother for the first time, my blood…. I don’t know. In that moment in time, I didn’t know what to feel, think or expect. I was shaken to the core from this meeting.

I looked into their eyes and it really hit me, there is a whole family history there that I’m connected to it. But I don’t feel connected. I should feel connected, right? Should it be an instant connection? We are blood after all. There should be a bond? Something small there at least? Where did that connection go that I thought I had with her growing up? Was that really gone? Or was it just my beliefs that were gone? I thought it was just my beliefs. For sure some connection should remain?

I never thought I would be this confused, I never thought I would feel like this. I never dreamed the emotional roller coaster this would be. I never dreamed it would go on for years.

I want to be able to tell people that this meeting was what dreams are made of. That it went perfectly. That it was wonderful. That it left me with no questions at all. I want to say that we had a connection and are now involved in each others lives. I want to be able to say that, because a part of me wanted it to be like that.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I met them. It was a good experience. I wouldn’t change it for the world.

But the truth is here I am 2 years later after meeting them and I am just as confused and lost as I felt on that day.

Our relationship has not progressed the way I thought it would, and honestly I am not sure where that leaves us, or what it means.

I spent 28 years without her, I spent 10 years looking for her, I realize a relationship will not be built overnight, related by blood or not, this is going to take a lot of work. A lot more than I thought would take for people related by blood, for a daughter and her birth mother.

Thanks to all those who have supported me throughout all of this! Your love and support means so much to me!
~Michelle

Adoption Mug

This is my Adoption Mug.

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Let me explain.
This summer I got to spend some time with my son that I gave up for adoption and his family. I even got a special lunch with the wonderful woman who adopted him. We even got to do a little bit of shopping before lunch. While out we found this mug, actually two of these mugs. We decided it would be fun to have matching mugs, thus making this to be forever known as my Adoption Mug.
One mug has traveled all the way back to Europe, while mine stays here, but when I drink out of it, I feel just a little bit closer to them, a little bit more connected.

I love my Adoption Mug.

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Sometimes it is the small things that mean the most to us.

Do you have a Wordless Wednesday post? Or a Not So Wordless Wednesday post? Link up below!

~ Michelle

How Many Kids Do You Have?

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I can not even express my love hate relationship with this question.

How do you even answer this question?

This is how I answer the question:

Here is what my heart says, I have 5 children. I have one child I gave up for adoption, I have 3 children home with me and I have 1 angel baby up in heaven that left me before I got to know her.

Here is what society says, I have 4 children. My miscarriage, well no one wants to talk about that or acknowledge that. Society thinks that to be a mother you must have a ‘real live’ child. Society likes to think that my child that I miscarried some how doesn’t count. Society clearly doesn’t know what is in my heart.

4, I have 4 kids. But wait, society has something to say again about that, I gave up my oldest son for adoption. Now I am down to 3 kids, because those are the only kids living in my house.

So 3, I have 3 kids in my house that I mother every day, all day and most of the night because sleep is a rare thing here.

I have 5 children in my heart, 1 gone forever, of the other 4 children, 1 child is living in Europe with his family, but only 3 of those kids live with me and drive me crazy every day. So how many children do I have???

To answer the question, I have 5 children, but I get to mother 3.
5 Children, Mom to 3.

How many kids do you have?

~ Michelle

Sometimes Things Make Me Feel Uneasy

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Lets be brutally honest for a minute.
I never try to judge another person, especially a mother, especially a birth mother. I don’t know their story, their feelings. And some times people say things that I don’t agree with, and that is their choice to believe what they want. But sometimes people say things that make me feel uneasy.
When I hear a birth mother say “I finally got my son/daughter back after 20-? years my family is complete” I cringe. I can’t help it. I feel uneasy. It took me a while to figure out why. It affects me on a few different levels. I will attempt to break it down for you.

When I hear a birth parent say “I finally got my son/daughter back”, from an adoptees stand point this bothers me. I’m sorry, but you can never “have me back”. I found my birth mother, I never got her back. She didn’t come into my life and suddenly become my mother, she is still my birth mom. I have a mother, a very good mother, and she will not be replaced simply because I found the woman who gave birth to me. It doesn’t take away all the years that I was raised by someone else. Yes I am in a unique position to have two families, one made by blood, one made by love. My family made by love is my family. Another family may have found me, but they can not have me back and take over role as family for me. I’m sorry, for me, it doesn’t work that way.

When I hear a birth parent say “I finally got my son/daughter back” from a birth mothers stand point I still feel uneasy about this. I will never “get my son back”. I gave him up for adoption, my role ends there, I am a birth mother, not his mother. Just because I know him does not change my standing in his life. I will never be a mother to him in the sense that his mother is to him, or in the sense that I am a mother to my 3 younger children. I love my son as much as my 3 younger kids. All four of my children are my life, they are my world, they are my heart, my reason. But when it comes to my older son, I am on the sidelines watching and cheering him on in his life with his mother, his real mother. I don’t get to sit here on the sidelines, wait till he is 16 or 18, and say “your old enough to make a choice, come live with me, I want you back”. It doesn’t work that way. I will never “get him back”. I will never have a legal claim to him. I couldn’t even take him to the doctors if I wanted to, I can’t make medical decisions. I am a birth mother, not a mother, and I can never get my roll as mother “back”. I love him like only a mother can, but I am not his mother.

Even when I found my birth mother after nearly 10 years of searching, I never once said “I have my mom back”. I have a mom already. I found my birth mom yes, but she is still just my birth mom. I love the woman, she gave me life, I have a great respect for her for what she did for me. But just because I found her, found my half-sister, does not mean I “got them back” and have some how replaced existing family members, or completed my family. My family was already complete. Finding my birth family was just an added bonus.

Let me just end this in saying there is a big difference between saying someone is back in your life, and laying a claim to someone saying you got them back.

~ Michelle

Lets Talk About Adoption Terms

There seems to always be a heated debate going on these days. Usually it is brought about by a news story that people seem the feel the need to completely pull apart and attack. Then attack each others views and opinions. Oh the joy of the Internet. Where you can insult and hurt people without ever seeing the true effect of your words.

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The latest debate I have been reading about has to do with Adoption. Actually not so much about Adoption, but about Adoption terms.

Adoption terms such as: “I placed my child for adoption” compared to “I gave up my child for adoption.”
I think these terms are used based on personal preference.

Now as an Adoptee and a Birth Mother I think I have a unique view on this subject.

I was given up for adoption. My birth mother was in no way forced into placing me for adoption. She went into it willing. My birth mother gave up her rights to parent me. As soon as I was released from the hospital I was given to my new forever family.

I grew up with the term “given up for adoption”. I have never once viewed it in a negative light. My parents have never once used it in a negative way. I have never once felt sad about it. I never even felt different about myself because I was “given up for adoption”. It is a fact. She signed papers and gave up her right to parent me, to be my mother, to take care of me and raise me. She gave up her daughter, me. She gave up her chance at motherhood so I could have a better chance.

When I was 16 I got pregnant. I made plans to give up my son for adoption and place him into a family.

I gave my son up for adoption. I placed my son for adoption.
At the end of the day it means the same thing, but does it really?

I gave up the chance to be a mother.
I gave up the chance to comfort my child.
I gave up the right to be called a mother.
I gave up the right to be the one to raise my child.
I gave up the right to stay up all night with my new-born baby.
I gave up the right to kiss my son’s boo-boos better.
I gave up the chance to hold his hands as he took his first steps.
I gave up the chance to hear my sons first words.
I gave up the chance to experience all the joys motherhood brings.
I gave up the chance to experience all the struggles motherhood brings.
I gave up a part of my heart to someone else.
I gave up a part of me.
I gave up the right to have my name on his birth certificate.
I gave up what my life could have been.
I gave all of that, and more, up because my love for my son outweighed all of that.
I gave up all of that so that my son could have a better life. A life I could never give him myself.
I gave up my hopes and dreams because he deserved more.
I did NOT give up on my son. I gave him a chance a better life.
I gave my son up for adoption, which placed him into a loving family.

By saying I ‘gave up my child for adoption’ does not in any way, shape, or form, or mean that I gave up ON my son! I loved my son from the moment I knew I was pregnant, and my love for him has only continued to grow. I have only ever wanted what was best for my child.

Adoption is a very sensitive topic. Adoption touches people differently. Some people have good experiences, some have bad.
If you are a birth mom and you prefer to say that you placed your child for adoption. Then I will respect your preference.
However for me, in my life, in my situations, I am comfortable with myself, my choices, and the words gave up for adoption.

To label something as negative, that is what makes it negative.
Do not just throw a blanket of negativity out over a term, and thus over people who use it.
Words and terms mean different things to different people, respect that.

Adoption is about love. Creating an adoption plan. Placing a child for adoption. Giving up a child for adoption. Placing for adoption. Which ever term you use, a great sacrifice was made in the name of love.

But of course this is just my personal opinion on it all.

~ Michelle