How Can an Adoptee Love their Birth Family?

You hear this allot in regard to adoption, usually when an adoptee is faced with reunion. How can they feel this way? Their family of origin is made of strangers. They don’t know them. It is not a reunion for them..they have no memory, they have no previous contact, all it is is shared genes and one act of their life: birth.

And you know what? I can understand that. I know some adoptees have great feelings to know their families of origin and some don’t. The pressing need to find or not find, bulid a relationship or not build a relationship, be close or not is really all based on personal feelings, temperament, beliefs, etc. I am not going to tell anyone that they are wrong for wondering all this. I can only encourage them that when they do contact their first family, that they might be surprised.

How Can a Birth Mother Love the Adoptee?

Now, the opposite was just questioned on SoA. How can a mother of adoption loss really truly love her child who she has not seen, talked to, or even known for 17, 20, 30, 40 years? She doesn’t know them. She has no clue of what this child now adult might be like. How can you love a stranger with such intensity?

And it was suggested that maintaining this ideology of “love” is someplace that we moms get stuck on. Or actually, it went like this:

“….and I ask the same question..
I do not think its real love.. this love of the lost child.. the child taken from the person.. I believe the child is objectified.. Becomes a symbol of the pain and suffering..The what is missing in someone’s life..
The grief that has no end becomes the great love…”

And this is from a mother of loss speaking..so if another mom can’t quite grasp the feelings of other moms, then I guess I can’t expect anyone else to either. So typical of me, this makes me think. And as I am vacuuming my gloriously filthy house, I ponder the concept of objectifying my child and what love is.

Do We Love the baby When Still Unborn?

When one is pregnant with a baby, we have no clue as to who this particular child might be. Their hopes, their dreams, their personality, their hair color, attitude, temperament, all a complete unknown..yet, how many people while a child is still in utero..will hold off the feelings of love and bonding because they don’t know who the babe will be when they grow up? Ask any pregnant woman..even one planning to relinquish her child, and she will tell you that she loves her baby. Are we objectifying? Is this real emotion? Or is it just an openness to accept this person and love them no matter who they might be?

Now, when you hear prospective adoptive parents speak, and especially after a “failed match”, they will also speak of loving the child. Sometimes they speak of loving the yet unmatched, unknown child that is out there “somewhere”. They don’t this kid. They don’t know sometimes if they are getting child a vs. child b, but they feel love. They have this love, and they want to give it to a child, and they also have an openness to accept this child and love them whomever they might be. And then, how many times have we heard adoptive parents say things like, “I can’t imagine not having this child. This is the child for our family”.

Having a child through a closed adoption..is sort of like a really long pregnancy. Mine was almost 17 years. I loved my baby when he was inside me. and I loved him to death when he was born. I had no idea then, just like every other new mother on the planet, who this boy would turn into. But the love, it was there.

Love the Potential for Every Thing

I knew that I didn’t know him. Crap, I didn’t even know what he looked like. And just like when I was carrying Scarlett, and I could not imagine what my daughter, a girl, would look like, but the minute I first saw her face I was like “Oh, of course that is what you look like.” I felt the same way when I saw the first picture of Max all those years later. The same feeling. Years of wondering, imagining, thinking, then one shining moment of “Oh, of course, that is him. He looks like that.” It just all made sense.

For almost 17 years, I was open to loving my son no matter who he might be. Being that I had left him to be raised outside of Boston, I often wondered if I would meet a colleigent, preppy, very normal kind of kid..and I was Ok with that. I wondered if he might be into weird stuff that was just not “me”, but would be him, based on how he was raised..and none of that ever made me question my feelings. And when he turned out to be a pirate loving, Mohawk obsessed, Ska and punk listening musician, Dr. Pepper, prosciutto eating, kilt wearing, briefcase carrying, book reading, non studying, rebellious all around freakaziod…well I didn’t have to stretch my imagination very far at all to feel that I “knew” him..because I did. I knew him and loved him and rejoiced that he was able to have the freedom to really be who he was. And I can even thank his folks for that. His roots were allowed to take hold, they provided that soil and he grew to be..him.

And I do love him. No doubt about that. I might know him to a lesser degree than I know my other three, but that unknown aspect does not distract from the feeling. It is real love. Just might take a while longer for all the “known” qualities to be known. Heck, the other kids have a jump start on him. He might have been born first, but known last, but I still have no clue who my children will be when they grow up, who might be gay, who might do less than great things, who might be depressed, whatever..and my love for my kids is not contingent on that.

A Mother’s Unconditional Love

They have a name for that..unconditional love. That’s the best kind, you know. You don’t just love the idea of the person, but all of them. Not who you want them or need them to be, but the warts, annoyances, issues, idiosyncrasies, the good and the bad, even the ugly. That’s the love we are suppose to have for our kids. That’s the kind of love that makes a marriage work. The good stuff…reality based.

He is not a symbol at all for pain and suffering. He is the beacon of light though all the tears. Finding him, at the end of this, is a fine pleasure. The pain and suffering can stand on their own, away from him. He doesn’t need it. I don’t want him to touch it, be soiled. The grief is loss for what is not. The love is for what is. The great love is just his alone.

I don’t think you can objectify someone if you never put your expectations on them. I keep on thinking of a typical 16 year old girl, who wants to be “in love” and she wants a boy friend. So some guy asks her out and she “loves” him…like immediately! But she just really wants to love someone, she really loves the idea of love, and maybe has some self esteem issues wrapped up in there..she is only whole when she has a boyfriend, etc. But she is looking for scenes out of a romance novel..and this guy is just not doing it..so she is constantly upset and all. She tries to get him to do what she wants, what she needs…he is bad for going out with friends, etc. Come on..you know the drill..we were all 16 once..and “loved”, but not the warts, not who they really were. Who they really were was incidental..they were just a handy guy.

These lost children..they are not just some handy found adoptees. I mean, yes, I had this love for “my baby” now no longer a baby..and while I wanted a place to put it..it didn’t have to go anywhere to make it real. It could exist in my heart my whole life. I don’t need him to do what I want to make it real. If I don’t go to his wedding, or get mushy mother’s day cards, or whatever, I still will have this love for my child. I’ll accept what comes with time. And yes, I might want certain things, but if I don’t get them..I am not going to “break up” with him or think him bad. It just is..and you know what? I am open to whatever might happen.

Like I had no idea what was missing in my life because I had no idea who he was. I knew missing first days of school, boo boos, etc, but that is generic. What makes it real is the interaction with the person, the memories created, and for this I have none. He is not the symbol of what is missing, he is the person I was missing these things with. Having other children to kiss, does not make me miss or love him any less..nor make the unmade memories any more real. It is still about who he was, what it would have been like with HIM. Not just any baby, not with another one of my babies, but with this one particular baby/child/guy…this combination of my and his father, this individual..the only one, the unique..my first son..only Max. And so I missed him in my life..not “something”..him.

Who he is, what happens between us, where the years take us..all as unknown as it was when he was a little baby still inside my womb. And that’s Ok because I just love him. I am open to accept him and be as amazed with him as I am with my others. Children constantly surprise us and I love the wonder of it all. I stand in awe of my children and the gifts they bring to my life. I am humbled by the magnificence of these creatures I created…I don’t care who helped – fathers, other parents, they are still incredible..all of them.

And I love him, and him, and her, and him. Because I am their mother. And they are my children. And we are part of each other. And that makes it special…no matter who they may turn out to be, no matter where they have been, or even who else they call mom. He is my son and I am his mother and I love him.