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The Waking
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I cannot go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree, but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
--Theodore Roethke
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Joy's Updates - Straight from the Horse's Mouth.
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Tuesday, February 04, 2003
Nature vs Nurture
My mother and brother are morning people. My father and I night people. Both of my children are night people as well as my grandchildren (so far). One of the many things Kathy and I discussed in our first conversations included being night people. When children are adopted, they don't grow up hearing how they look and act like certain relatives the way the rest of us take for granted. We might have our grandfather's hands, our mother's laugh, an aunt's artistic talent, another aunt's personality, an uncle's hair color, our father's neatness, and the list goes on. We've all noticed how different siblings can be and how their personality, temperament, and other patterns are innate. Pay attention to babies because that's how they are. It's there from the beginning.
Kathy and I have often discussed how many traits and qualities are genetic that we had no idea could be. We both thought a lot of things were learned from example, which of course they are; however, genetics has a huge part. The first things we wanted to know were the most obvious, such as how much we look alike. We're both 5' 2," have naturally curly hair (hers is lighter than mine but still brown), green eyes, and same shoe size. Then when she told me she used to get in trouble with her adoptive parents for her mouth (talking too much and being a smartass - making jokes not being disrespectful), I laughed because she'd have been applauded in our family. Instead of being reprimanded and punished, she'd have heard, "Good one!" followed by laughter. Kathy is like Mother in ways that amuse me. They are both wonderful mothers and good housekeepers and can't stand animals in the house. It was like stereo before I had chemo when both of them said I might not need to have the cats around. They make the best of it and are pretty good sports about them, but their houses definitely stay cleaner than mine partly because of the cats.
There are several similarities between Kathy and Brian that surprise us at times. Their sense of humor is one of them. They both played alto sax in the high school band, are better with words than math, like science, enjoy reading, and are both good, down-to-earth, caring people. There are other qualities they both have, but the best to me is how they care about each other and get along. It would be easy for them to feel jealous of each other or resentful, but I haven't sensed that. Brian has wanted to know her ever since I told him about Kathy when he was 14 and was delighted that she found me and we're all part of each others lives.
Kathy didn't really plan to get in touch with me but was primarily interested in getting her medical records. She hasn't been able to fill out a medical history for doctors all of her life until she could ask me questions. Some things she wanted to know weren't in her files because I didn't know them and others hadn't happened yet. I wrote a letter to place in her records when she was 18. One of the many lies we were told then was that our babies could get in touch with us when they were 18. Twenty years later - a year after adoption files were allowed to be open by our state legislature - she could and did. If a friend of hers hadn't had a good experience when she found her birthmother a year earlier, Kathy might not have pursued it. That's a brave thing to attempt. Kathy said when she read the letter from me, she knew she had permission to find me. She called me the same night she got copies of her records. I searched for her a few times online and talked about it when I was in therapy for depression but didn't pursue it because I didn't want to invade her privacy and hoped she would find me. I wasn't sure she wanted to know about me and was afraid she hated me. She told me in the first conversation that she always thought I did what I had to. I told her that when I held her after she was born and spent time with her those days (we got to stay in the hospital longer then), I told her everything I could think of that I wanted her to know. I cried and told her I loved her and always have.
The worst lie they told us at the home was to forget about it and get on with our lives. Motherhood is a rite of passage. No one can forget she has a baby. We got on with our lives with holes in our hearts and silence that covered a pain too deep to acknowledge. No wonder I experienced depression. And for what? We had to give away our babies because keeping them would have made others uncomfortable. It would have upset the social order. It's impossible for anyone who didn't live then to completely understand how it was in 1963, which was still philosophically the 50's. People didn't talk about things. The movie The Hours illustrated how that was with the women in the 50's who almost talked about medical problems and marriage but even pretended the kiss didn't happen and moved on. This was the rule, not the exception. It felt lonely but we didn't realize it. That's how things were. So many changes have taken place that it's almost unbelievable now. I'm actually a more private person than it might appear since I'm writing about such a personal experience in a semi-public forum. When Kathy found me and I told people about her, I came out of the closet. If people hadn't been accepting and happy about our reunion, I wouldn't be able to talk about it easily. There's so much guilt, shame, anger, pain, and grief to overcome. It was hard to tell anyone, and it felt like 1963 and I was telling people I was pregnant all over again. It's amazing how strong the societal conditioning was and how it's lasted. I thought I had worked through it but didn't know how much more I needed to get over. I'm so glad things have changed enough that people were happy about the news. Thank goodness Kathy and I have such a good relationship. I am so thankful she took the chance, found me, and loves me. We are part of each others lives now, and I am grateful.
It's hard to describe what this relationship is like. Kathy said friends asked her how she felt about me. She said it was a maternal feeling but with no history together. That's about the closest we have to understanding how this is. She's definitely my daughter. I love her overwhelmingly but didn't get up with her in the night when she was sick, didn't discipline her, didn't delight in all the stages she went through, didn't hear about boyfriends, help her get ready for the prom, be there when she got married, was pregnant, and had the children. We're catching up now. We hug and have a bond. She calls me "Mom" and the children call me "Grammy" and are young, so I'm enjoying them now, too. It's odd - she's my daughter without the history. I guess the closest relationship is similar to a daughter-in-law who comes into the family later and becomes part of it - only I gave birth to her.
The online support group for reunited birthmothers has saved my sanity more than once! This incredible group of women who have all been through the same experience is always there for each other. It's wonderful to have others who really do know how we feel and who also have had other variations on this to talk to. I couldn't have made it without them, too.
11:40:00 AM
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