My blog today was going to be upbeat and happy but things ‘here on the farm’ are anything but that. But I needed to write today, needed to use this outlet for so many topics but after listening to Michael Ball and Nicky Campbell on the radio, I decided to air my thoughts on here. They were discussing the very popular TV show that Nicky presents and the wonderful reunions the program enables. Well, I am not sure if I am alone in this but I don’t believe every reunion, is as it shows during this show. The reality can be very different indeed. Not taking anything away from the families stories told but some, I am sure, are not as this program depicts. Please bear with me.
I have, rather stupidly in a way, been watching ‘Long Lost Family’ on Mondays, on television. I say stupidly, because every week, it hits me like a ton of bricks, a huge heavy feeling in my heart, a sadness that I know will never leave me.Of course I love seeing mothers re united with their children. Adults finding the parent to whom they were born, the family lost to them up until that day. I wouldn’t be a nice person if I didn’t like to see that. But every single week I see the pain of those who had to let their babies go, for whatever reason and my heart breaks, for them and for me.
All children are borrowed, whether born to you or adopted. They don’t ‘belong’ to us. They are on loan if you like, until they become adults and choose their own lives. But having given birth to your child, you feel a kind of ‘ownership’, in a way that I can’t explain. It’s just there, that’s the way it is. But in adoption, the new parents try and feel that, try and ‘own’ the new baby and I understand that , it is a natural feeling. Over the years, the adopters make memories, family memories, a lifetime of memories with this child who has become ‘theirs’. The last person they want to think about is the birth mum.Most birth mum’s have very little time with their babes. They carry this new life for 9 months and maybe have a few weeks, days or in my case a few minutes. Women, to my knowledge and experience ,both as a birth mum and someone who has worked for post adoption, don’t ‘give up’ their babies. Often they have no choice; very young, in a position where it would not be possible to keep their precious child. Others have adoption forced upon them by officialdom, people who make that decision for them or make it impossible for the mum to do anything but part with their child. In my case, I had to make a choice. Let Jonathan go to adoption or risk losing Lisa and my son because I didn’t have the means to provide for them both. Life was so different back then, no help and unmarried women who had children, were still frowned upon. I had been married to Lisa’s dad and after we had separated for a few years, I became pregnant, so I was an unmarried woman.How far we have come thankfully.
So after adoption,the adopters are happy, the child, baby is happy but the mum who gave that child life, is left bereft, lost and grief stricken. She is left alone,grieving, regretting and with all the maternal needs, all the loss and all the pain. Okay, so maybe not every single mum but I am sure, almost every one.I am sure she hopes and prays that one day she will see her child again.
As time passes the loss is no less.Seeing a baby of the age yours would be, is painful to say the least. At every milestone someone ‘s child hits a milestone and they share it with you, your heart breaks just a little bit more. Hearing someone call the name you gave your child, you turn to look. Why? Just in case? Maybe? I am not sure but turn you do.Do we, as birth mothers, always hope? Always wonder? Always hope that one day they will see their child again? I don’t know but I think they do. I did for 21 years.
One of the things I find so hard, both in this program and in life in general, is a mum who has been unable to tell her family, sometimes even her partner, of a child lost to adoption. What a terrible strain for that mum. How hard to live denying the birth and life of a child she carried. My heart goes out to them all. Keeping a child a secret must be so painful , unable to express your grief, your loss, your pain. A secret that can only threaten everything as the years pass and at some time, you know, could be exposed.
Does she grieve in private? I would think so. Does she keep secret keepsakes? I would think so. Is she always afraid? I would think so.I told my daughters about my son, their brother. Lisa kind of ‘knew’ because she was almost 3 when Jonathan was born. I have always had a photo of him as a baby, on my mantle-piece, next to photos of my daughters, all through their growing up. He was never a secret. I now have all three children’s photos pride of place, and photos of my grandchildren,even though I don’t see Lisa.For those of you who have read my book, you will know the pain of that horrible time. The choices I had to make and the sacrifices that ensued. What you will never know is the pain and grief I felt right up to the day I met him again, our reunion. The pain of those lost years will stay with me always.
I had stayed in touch with Social Services for the first 4-5 years of my son’t life. Sending birthday cards, Christmas cards and letters. I had been promised that he would get them one day but he didn’t. I also wrote a long poem to him , something the adopters asked me to do, write to him and they promised to give him that when he was older.They never.I won’t tell the whole story here, just the time we met again. Our reunion.
I had tried to find him and failed because back then, adoption was kept very secret and I was told nothing. I never gave up, with the support of Lisa, Marie and David I kept looking. After being contacted by a lovely social worker, Sally, who had read my records and apologised for the way I had been treated by S.S. back when Jonathan was born, wanted to help me find him. She succeeded and asked me if she could write to his adopters, enclosing a letter from me. Once agreed she heard back and sadly, his adoptive mum had recently died, so we agreed to leave it for a year. I didn’t think it would happen but after 1 year she contacted me again. His adoptive dad had given him my letter to read and he wanted to meet me. I can’t explain how I felt. I can still recall that moment, my heart seemed to stop and I was overjoyed. I see this in L.L.F’s, how overjoyed the mums are when their child wants to meet them.When the day came for us to meet, I had bought a new dress, had my hair done etc. and was trying to please him in how I looked. Why? He didn’t know how I normally look did he! On the day, a Wednesday, I couldn’t stand up. I was shaking all over, feeling sick and David had to drive me to Eastleigh where the meeting was arranged. We were upstairs in a contact centre, me David, and Sally. It was early, I am always early, I suddenly told Sally that ‘he’ was here. She said he wasn’t because it was too early and she hadn’t heard the door. She went down anyway and he had arrived. I just knew he was in the building. I felt him close, sounds silly but it’s true. I knew he was there.
Now, the reunion. Jonathan came into the room looking at the floor. He looked like my 2 daughters, Lisa and Marie, all rolled into one handsome young man. My heart melted. I was back there, in the hospital, where I held him for a few fleeting minutes. I wanted to rush to him but was afraid of scaring him off. I was a stranger.
I was his mother.
He didn’t know me.
I knew him from carrying him under my heart for nine months. From giving him life.But he didn’t know me.
He made his way around the room, not looking up. Seemed to take years. He shook hands with Sally and then came nearer to David. He shook his hand and then hesitatingly was standing in front of me. I couldn’t move. I was still sat down in fear of falling if I stood. I was cold, terrified. Wanting to grab him, wanting to run away. Wanting to hold him and never let him go. Scared of him and his maybe not wanting contact.
Would he pull away? Would he accept my hand? Can I hug him? Should I hug him? My mind was whirling and then he touched me. The rush I felt was enormous. The love I felt, that I had held on to for 22 years was in danger of rushing out. If I let that happen it would scare him. He might leave and I might not see him again. I held tight. Held on to my emotions and that was such a mistake.I wanted to grab him, make him come home with me, never let him out of my sight again. But. At first I just sat there with his hand in mine. Eventually after what seemed like days, he sat beside me and there it was. The smell I had held in my heart for all those years, since the day he was delivered of my body. He smelt the same. There he was.My son.
I didn’t cry. I had not been able to cry for many years, legacy of my childhood, didn’t cry very often or rather, didn’t cry tears but my heart had broken silently many times in the past. Tears made me vulnerable so I learned from an early age, not to cry tears. So I didn’t cry. I had taken an album I had made for him and talked him through the photos, starting from that day, my home, my husband, my pets and children and then me as a young mum, pregnant with him and a photo a baby boy. My baby. My son. A photo of him. He had to ask me to repeat some things as my voice was low and shaky. Then he turned to look at me for the first time. He looked me full in the face and began to cry. ‘It is the first time I have looked at anyone and seen myself’. I will never forget his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, the ones that had looked up at me the day he was taken. I grabbed him and held him in my arms and wanted to stay there for ever, make things right but I couldn’t. My heart was breaking all over again.I had promised his father that I would not see him again, that I would not encourage him to contact me again, to see me. I knew I had to keep my promise as he had allowed me to see my son. Back to where it all started, back to having no choices or rather that is how it felt.
At the end of the evening that passed so quickly, he had to catch a bus home. I wanted to take him but was not allowed. We clung to each other and he wanted to come back with me but I had made a promise. Looking back what did that matter? So, I made a promise, so what. But my honesty and loyalty and integrity has always gotten in the way of what I really want and to my detriment. I had to let him go and catch his bus.
So. The reason for this blog. Long Lost Family is a lovely show but the reality, I am sure, is more like my story. Real life story without influences or help from anywhere. Just as it happens.I really hope there are not many reunions like ours. That not many mums who find their children or the other way round and don’t react the way their hearts tell them to. I hope I am alone in this but fear I am not. To all mums who have lost children to adoption, I send my love. To all who have had reunions like mine, I send ,my love and hope life gets better.
People say they sob whilst watching L.L.F. Today I heard Michael Ball talk to Nicky C and say that he and his partner Cathy, cuddle up together and sob throughout the program. I understand that. As I said, I can’t sob, can’t really cry, not properly but this program makes me very close to tears. I feel everyone’s pain. The child whose adoption wasn’t happy. For his mum who is full of regret and guilt. For adopted parents who wish they had told their child the truth. For those who fear losing the child to their birth family. I watch as mum and child hug, kiss, cry and rejoice. In reality and in some cases, it is not always like that. How I would love it to have been. How I wish I had forgotten promises to my son’t adopted father and run to my son. Hugged and held onto him and then taken him home. But life ‘aint like that! I have lost many years but now, after a very turbulent number of years, I have a relationship with my son. Not as I always dreamed I would but having the little I have, is more than I had.
Not knowing where your child is, what they have been told. If they are well. If they are happy. What they are doing. Whether they know about you etc. is like punishment.If you hold guilt, misplaced or not, you accept that not knowing, is the price you have to pay. The child is no longer ‘yours’. More pain. More hurt. More guilt.
To every adopter or would be adopter, I ask that you tell your child as soon as they are able to understand. Whatever the past you assure them that their birth mum loved them. It does great harm to a child being told she didn’t. I know that only too well. Every child needs to know their heritage, good or bad. They need to know where they came from and if they want to find the family they were born to, please help them. If you do, you won’t lose them to their birth family, you will show how much you love them.For those seeking their birth mum, make sure you have support, do it through an intermediary, don’t just ‘turn up’ a their home. Then, take a deep breath and go for it. Good luck.x
Please don’t think I am criticizing L.L.F. I am not. I love the fact that so many are reunited with lost family, lost mums and children, just saying is not always like this for everyone. So next week when watching L.L.F please think about the reunions that never happen or those who are not as portrayed in the program.
Thank you for reading. x
carolannwright 