My Daughter Always Makes Me Think

My daughter is nine years old going on twenty. She is independent, intelligent, sweet, sassy, loving and vulnerable all at the same time. This weekend she grew up just a bit more breaking away from childhood by breaking down the myths. She lost a tooth and chose to test the Tooth Fairy so she didn't tell me about it. Her best-friend's mother told me in advance what she was up to giving me the option to continue the fantasy a bit longer. I chose not to do so and Sunday she told me that the Tooth Fairy does not exist and in fact I am the Tooth Fairy.

After her friend left she asked me about Santa Claus and I just looked at her and smiled. All she asked was how we could have afford the electric guitar "Santa" gave her this year. She was quiet for a bit and then said, "So I suppose the Easter Bunny?" Bright kid.

It was a relief to no longer have to pretend but it was sad as well. My little girl is one step closer to adulthood and one giant leap further from childhood. I'm not ready to lose my sweet baby but I do enjoy watching her blossom into a brilliant young woman. Of course all is peppered by an ache in my soul for the mother I will never know and grandmother my daughter will never know. It is all so sad if one allows the truth to come in and examines it with an open mind. The loss of a family, the loss of an identity, the loss of a history and a future. "Grandma" will never hear the story of the Tooth Fairy Caper and will never know the joy of this special little girl. Come to think of it she has missed out on two special little girls only one is a woman now.

My views on adoption.

I see adoption as a modern version of endentured servitude crossed with slavery. We have people basically selling and buying children then erasing their histories and creating a new identity. It is a forced identity protection program only who are we being protected from? Ourselves? I am legally barred from finding out my own true identity. How is this acceptable to our society in general? The same people who claim a "right" to own a gun would deprive me of my right to know my own mother's name.

First Post - Open Letter To The Mother I Have Never Know

This was the letter I wrote to my natural mother six years ago in an effort to affect communication between us. I regret writing this letter as I believe it frightened her away. However, these emotions are still very real and still make me cry. Other than changing some of the terms this letter remains relatively true to this day. This will give the reader a good idea of my view of my adoption.

"Hello;

I was informed by Lutheran Social Services that I am not to know your identity. I was also informed that, perhaps, you would be receptive to a letter and that you had indicated you would be willing to answer specific questions I may have. Since I am never to know your identity, my specific questions are no longer relevant. Those questions were along the lines of: "Whose eyes do I see when I look in the mirror?" or "Whose nose is it that I am not particularly fond of?" or "Whose hand is it that is penning this letter?" These questions will remain unanswered. Then I asked myself, what is there to write if I cannot know "her". It has taken some time and some inner reflection but I have come to an answer. I want "her" to know me. What you do with this information, obviously, is entirely up to you. Per Lutheran Social Services and State law, I will not reveal my name or location. I do want to state, for the record, that this information is available to you anytime in the future should you desire it.

Have you ever observed a candle flame in a state of total stillness? When it appears the flame is not moving at all? I have. This is to know total peace and acceptance of ones life. Recently I learned what I have always known to be true, as human beings we choose our path in life. A book by Sylvia Browne, "The Other Side and Back", reiterated my philosophy in a way that I was able to recognize my anger and pain and release them. Now I am able to move along my path in life, unburdened. I tell you this in order for you to understand that I want nothing from you nor do I feel anger toward you. My life is my choice, therefore, what I become is my choice as well. The basics of my life are as follows: Being per-mature created certain issues. My parents were looking for a "hard to place" child and because of my health issues, I was designated as such. My father was a teacher with two masters degrees and my mother had a BS in Home Economics. My mother chose to stay home with my older brother and myself until we were school age at which time she took part-time positions to work around our school schedules. My mother did not know how to love me. She was happy with her biological son and truly was not capable of loving two children. I was my father's "dream". He had grown up with five brothers and he wanted a baby girl. My mother took very good physical care of me but we have never and will never be close. I respect her for her efforts but I feel very little emotion toward her. My father was distant, as was the norm in the 70's. He worked, came home and did "man things" with my brother. Please do not misunderstand, I am grateful they took me in and they have never intentionally treated me as anything other than their daughter. Not everyone gets Norman Rockwell. I have always been very creative. I enjoyed choir, forensics, and drama through school. Writing has always been and continues to be my passion. I write poetry, songs, short stories and other works of fiction. It is my dream to one day become a published author. I currently work as a software trainer. I am married and have a beautiful three-year-old daughter. I was a single mother for fifteen months before I met my husband. I was twenty-six when my daughter was born. My daughter and I share a love of music, books, animals and her "daddy". We have four horses, two dogs and four cats. I have been able to make an assessment of the "heredity vs. Environment" argument over the past twenty-nine year. I would say it is both. Obviously you and I have several things in common but I share certain characteristics of my mother and father also. I believe this gives you the basics about me. The details make for a much longer letter and will not be included. Suffice to say I have lived and bare the scares as proof. I, however, would not change a thing for to change any small detail may change my life. I am happy with myself and my life. But there is you. The years have seen me go through many phases in my attitude toward you. At the age of four, I was told I was adopted. This I would not recommend anyone do to a child. I had no understanding of what it meant, all I knew was that I was different somehow. Mother's day would arrive and I would cry although I did not know why. Eventually I believed that you did what you thought best for me and I felt bad for you. As my mother grew more distant and it was evident to me that my "family" was not as wonderful as I had once believed, I became angry and hurt. I wanted to know how you could believe this was better for me than to be with you. I wanted to understand how you could give me to someone who did not love me. I became bitter and began to act out against myself. Then a wonderful thin happened, I became pregnant. Suddenly there was someone who needed me. I had to stop thinking of myself and start thinking about this little person. My mother wanted me to give her up for adoption...that would have been a bit too ironic for my taste. I was determined that my daughter would know she was loved and wanted. That is when I began to hate you. With all the love I felt for my daughter I could not imagine abandoning her and I could not imagine how you could have abandoned me. You see; I have been where you were. It was not 1970 but I was just as alone. My mother said I was an embarrassment and that I shamed her. She of course adores her granddaughter but I am still not good enough. I had to take whatever job I could to support my daughter as I had 30 credits remaining on a bachelor's degree. I even had to mover back in with my parents and endure my mother's disappointment day in and day out. My daughter is worth forty trips to hell and back, I would do it again. So my anger grew until one day my best friend gave me a book to read. I read the words Sylvia wrote and I began to let go. I let go of the anger and the need to blame and I accepted responsibility and credit for my own life. I have found a renewed sense of spirituality and a new friend in my spirit guide "Emily". I do not hate you nor do I feel anger any longer. There is, however, something that appears will never change. It is the dull ache in the middle of my chest when I envision my "mother". I have no explanation for the need I feel for you, it is not a need for a maternal figure, it is more of a need for a connection. Why knowing you is so important to me will most likely haunt me for the rest of my life. I believe you would like the woman I have become. I believe you would be proud to call me daughter. I believe my father, wherever he may be, would also like me. Nevertheless, all I have are beliefs. I wish I could lesson your pain and uneasiness. The burden you have carried must be very heavy by now. Please know this, I am not a mistake that occurred twenty-nine years ago, I am not the secret that you have kept so well...I am of your blood and spirit. I may never hold you in my arms and tell you I love you but you will always be in my soul. You are a part of me. The blue of my eyes, the fairness of my skin, my love of music and affection I feel for cats. You will always be with me although you have no name. Thank you for giving me life. Thank you for giving me the many gifts that make me who I am. I leave you now with the hope that God treats you well.


Goodbye,

Your daughter"