Dear McDaniels (DMC),
I am 37 years old. I Lost my mother on January 14, 2008. We said goodbye on January 22, 2008. When my brother walked through my front door, eyes red and silent, I knew he didn't make that half-hour trip for nothing more than to inform me our mother had passed. I screamed for what seemed like hours, screaming, "She wasn't done being my mom." My grieving for my mother literally came to a stand still on August 5, 2008, when, in a moment of hate, my ex-husband told me, "You need to go find out about your adoption." My father, still alive at age 70, was in Jersey visiting his mother. Dad was in bed, but I called, ask and he affirmed, "Yes and Robert is too." I fell to the floor, not only is my mother dead, not only am I adopted, but my brother is, too?
I grew up lighter, shorter and noticeably different in appearance. My mother explained that my great grandmother was Indian or we all come in different shades of the rainbow. Every time I asked, there was a different explanation for my looks, my hair. She lied by not telling me, she deceived me by filling in horrendous deceitful exaggerations of an imaginary heritage. I think I always felt different. My brother was 6'6 and I am 5'4. My parents were both obese and we were thin. After dad confirmed, I cried for the month of August. After visiting my doctor, she recommended a shrink. My doctor went to the first appointment. I have sessions every week. What do we talk about? We talk about my mom, the lies. My mom was a very strong woman, who always appeared to get her way. Dad, after 51 years with mom, grew to appease. And, in this instance, mom didn't want us to know, so we didn't. My brother's pediatrician spilled it to him while he was in high school. He never mentioned it again, nor did our parents. Me on the other hand, I was never told. Dad states there was never a good time to tell me, what with all of my teen issues. In hind sight, the information might have made my, "Am I adopted?" questions, cease and, yes, I did ask mom.
Thankfully, mom got me from the State of Nebraska Welfare Department. I wrote them and they researched the adoption. In the mean time, I dealt with how I was angry with mom, she died and I couldn't talk to her about my anger. After piecing together some of her childhood, add in a little bit of conjecture, I am mending the space in my heart where she once reigned supreme. Now HHS, the state provided me a non-identifying letter describing my birth parents. Of course I was enraged to learn that this letter was mailed to my parents in 1970. It read I was of German decent and my birth mother was white. Um, I was raised in a black family and now I have to add to the crap I am learning. But, that explains my hair and why mom was so adamant of not getting me a perm like other girls in my circle.
In short, the birth mother died 10/18/07. Great, now I can't meet her. I have two brothers and a sister. They all have anger towards this lady, the birth mother who, after keeping one child, gave me up for adoption. She went on to have two other children. It appears, after hearing about their childhood, that God had a different plan for me. In short, the birth mother may have abused her children verbally and/or emotionally. I am a little grateful for that. I think the issue of abandonment began after my divorce. But did it? Of course, this new information gives way to a lot of retrospective thought.
I have almost all of the information that I am due and since I am an investigator for the federal government, (which did me absolutely no good in my search), I feel like I still want to know what happened in those seven days from birth to adoption. Your video, the song, was wonderful. The first time I watched it, I was moved by the nurse going over to the baby showing the baby to the young couple. The second time I watched it, I almost threw up in a hurricane of emotion. During the search, I imagined myself (as the birth mother) waiting outside the hospital, following the baby as the baby journeyed to its new home. Just like in your video. That imaginary good thought of the mind of the birth mother wasn't the case. But, I personally would have. There shouldn't be any secrets. I am not a proponent of abortion, of which we both could have fell victim. That, though, is no consolation to the pain of being adopted, the pain of secrets, and the pain of snatched abandonment that will take as long to get over as we are old. Today, I begin recovery from the truth, a recovery my mom and birth mother, assumably on the other side will have to grapple with on their own. Yesterday, I told my father of the last three months of hell and research. We shared the truth about feelings and facts. I couldn't lie about my search as they had about my birth. Maybe, because we still have each other, my father and I can heal, as mother and I were never able to.
I never really looked at the issue of adoption, its stigmatism or the outcomes... I write this before I see your documentary. But I wanted to share with you. Your video, your story is mine. And in this regard, God Bless us Both. To the birth parents and the adoptive parents, I am okay, I will be better and I am who I am because of all of you...I will let God untangle the elements of my being...since August 5, 2008. Be Well, DMC .
In solidarity,
Kitty
.jpg)
