I Could Breathe Again

I Could Breathe Again

48x36

I've been working on this painting all week. It's the next one in the Silent Voices series and is about the day I met my daughter for the first time.

Today is my daughter's 34th birthday and yesterday was the 11th anniversary of the first time we met face to face. We first reunited in 2002 but we didn't actually meet until 2003. It's hard to believe it's been so long. The memory of seeing her for the first time is so permanently etched in my brain. I think I held my breath for the entire flight to Ohio.

first hug

That night I wrote in my journal....

Well today has been many years in the making. I met my daughter for the first time. What a long day. I'ts been - up at 4:30 to get ready for the airport, 2 hour flight leaving at noon. Nothing can compare to the feeling of putting my arms around her for the first time. The relief was amazing - I could breathe again. When I got off the plane and made my way through the airport I thought I would faint! I couldn't breathe. I could hardly walk. I didn't see them up by the gates so I made it down to baggage claim. I spotted Josh first, then Cindy - oh my gosh - what a hug, and there were many more to come. Then I turned around and there she was - my Liz. She was just standing there smiling. I ran to her and then I just couldn't let go. We stood there for the longest time hugging and crying while Cindy ran around in circles shooting pictures and Sam handed us tissues. When I finally let go I couldn't take my eyes off her. Cindy was amazed at how much alike we look. She said we look like we belong together. Amy said we have some very similar expressions and mannerisms. 

So from the airport we went to get food. By this point the nerves had settled and we all got very hungry. Without knowing it I ordered Liz's favorite meal - meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans. She said she had Cindy make it for her every birthday. Cindy cracked up when she heard my order.

The day we met really did feel like the first day I took a breath. It wasn't just the anxiety sitting on my chest and crushing me that day at the airport. When I finally put my arms around her it felt like I had been holding my breath for decades and at that moment I could finally take in air - as much as I wanted, expanding my lungs fully. I had been shallow breathing all that time and now I can take a deep, deep breath. 

Easter Sunday 2003

Do you remember the feeling when giving birth? - the hours of contractions, unrelenting pain and pressure, pushing and sweating, crowning, head pushes out and then shoulder and then finally the small body slips out and suddenly there's such a rush of relief. The agony is released and you go limp. The experience of meeting her was like birthing her a second time. The pressure had been building for decades, the emotion of waiting and wondering was constantly flowing in waves like the pain. The grief hitting like the tears released between contractions. And then all of a sudden - it's over. I could relax and look at her, touch her, talk to her.

It was the end of a phase and the beginning of a new one. It was the end of the unknown and the joyful beginning of a relationship. It was also the beginning of a new understanding of what was lost to both of us. Reunion brings with it a new set of  bags to carry. They're still the adoption bags but the weight has shifted a little. I could breathe again but the grief is still there. I don't think that ever goes away. Then there is the learning curve of how to fit into each other's lives. I think we've done pretty well. There are ups and downs, quiet times to get through, distance to deal with but I'm grateful.

I'm grateful I get to say Happy Birthday to her.  

It doesn't get old

I was going through my sketchbook looking for ideas for another painting and came across these notes. It was about a small interaction that would seem to be insignificant to the ordinary person who hadn't experienced what we've experienced. It was a moment of real simplicity yet something that could mean so much in the heart of a mother.

An exchange between me and my daughter-in-law about going to the movies to see the latest in the Twilight saga became something more. My daughter lost and found, expresses a desire to go along says.... "If you and mom go see it let me know how it is!"

"If you and mom".... there are the magic words. It's been 10 years in reunion and I still get a thrill when I see or hear the word mom or momma come from her. It doesn't get old. I don't think it ever will.

A good read

I just read this book The Light Between Oceans by ML Stedman. It wasn't my intention to sit on my butt all day last Sunday and read but once I started I just couldn't stop. I started and finished this story in one sitting. It wasn't adoption themed but in a way it was. It was the adoption loss core of me that it touched. Through the story you see isolation, grief, joy, prejudice and what happens to a child caught in the middle of adults who are grieving, overwhelmed, needy and delusional.

*Spoiler alert*

A woman still grieving the recent stillbirth of her baby hears a cry. She finds an infant crying and left alone with what appears to be the body of the child's deceased father. They're in a small boat that washes ashore an isolated island where the woman is living with her lighthouse keeper husband. She convinces her husband that they don't have to report finding the dead man and infant. In her grief she tells herself the story that the child's mother surely must have drowned and God brought this child to her to raise. She decides she is meant to be this little girls mother through divine intervention. Where have we heard that before?

A few years later, back on the mainland a mother is still grieving the loss of her infant daughter and husband. The small boat is found but no bodies. Of course all assume that both are dead until she receives a note telling her that her baby is alive and well cared for. With new hope she fights to find her child and finally succeeds. By the time the mother is reunited with her daughter, the girl is 4 years old and of course doesn't understand what's happening. She has no memory of her mother and all she wants is to go back to the woman who found and kept her. The scenario brought to mind all the recent articles of parents fighting for the return of their children from people who were trying to adopt them, people who know the child is wanted by their mother and/or father but still hangs on to the child along with the delusion that the child is supposed to be theirs.

This is the story of 2 grieving women and the little girl caught between them. It's also the story of a man caught between his love for his wife and doing what he knows to be right - returning the child to her mother.

Easter weekend

It was Easter weekend when I met my daughter for the very first time. I remember flying in to Columbus OH airport, (not a very long flight from FL although it felt like an eternity) and getting off the plane. No one was at the gate to greet me so I headed to the baggage claim area. I think I hyperventilated all the way down there. At one point going down the stairs I thought I would faint. My breathing was labored, my pulse rapid, I had to stop and lean against the wall to try and catch my breath, all I could think was - I'm about to meet my daughter! It was only 22 years in the making and the year that we met was also her birthday weekend.

I didn't know what to think. I know what I was feeling - pure terror! I wasn't afraid of her - I was afraid of all the emotion that the reunion was going to bring up. I was afraid I would be a blubbering idiot in front of all these people - all these people being her adoptive family. What would they think of me? What would she think of me? I figured some of them would be at the airport to support her and that was fine and dandy. I'm the one who made the decision to go alone for the reunion so I had no one there holding me up. It was my own fault. For some reason I felt like I had to do this on my own. I was alone throughout the pregnancy, I was alone when I gave birth, I was alone when I signed the papers and I needed to be alone to meet her. It was between me and her. There was one thing that she and I shared - and no one else - and that's her birth. No one else can lay claim to it. Her adoptive family could sing happy birthday to her but it was me who was there. It was me feeling the labor pain. She arrived in this world through me. No matter what else happened it was me and her.

So since that reunion it's been me and her figuring things out, getting to know each other and feeling our way through the labyrinth that is reunion. We took things slowly and it was worth it. We've been remembering our connection and learning how to navigate it. She's learned I'm 'momma' and I rejoiced the day I heard her say that word. I remember crying with joy the first time she called me that. There's just no describing what it feels like to hear your daughter call you a term of endearment for the first time ever, decades after giving birth. It's a tricky thing to feel like someones mother yet at the same time be on the outside looking in. It's a weird place to be. How far do you go with the 'mom' thing. She has another mother, the one who was there when she was growing up. I wanted to be the one who was there but wasn't allowed to be. It took a long time to figure out how to fit in now that she is grown up. I think we got it figured out though. It was hesitant at first, became a friendship over time and then it grew and filled in the spaces that make up 'mom and daughter'.

Because her birthday is so close to Easter, this holiday used to bring with it a grieving. While I was having fun watching my other 2 children hunt eggs there was a sadness that sat just below the surface. I didn't dare think about it. That got completely turned around in that spring 9 years ago as I sat next to her, shoulders touching, on a bench in Ohio, watching my grandchildren play in the yard. Easter once again became a time for new life and this year I get to celebrate another new life with my granddaughter's first Easter.

Life is good with all my children and grandchildren in it. Happy Easter Liz, Aaron, Sarah, Josh, Kory, Jakob and now Maxine. xoxoxoxoxo

The Show

Well, there's already lots of writing and talking about Oprah's show yesterday so I'm not going to go into all the details here but I did want to put some thoughts down. I watched it at first with trepidation. Since I was at work all day and had to watch it late last night I didn't want to end up crying, angry or both right before wanting to sleep. Getting a good night's sleep doesn't happen that often anyway so adding some late night stress doesn't help.

So..... what was I worried about? I was worried that the stereotypes were going to rear their ugly heads. I had never seen any of the shows she's done previously on adoption but I heard that she was very pro-adoption. I just didn't know what to expect. As it turns out I thought it was a good show. At first I sensed, and it may just be my perception, that Oprah was angry with her mother when she talked about confronting her with the story. If that's so, I can understand it to a degree. Finding something out this huge, so many years later, is truly unsettling. But then later in the show, it was a relief for me when Oprah had her epiphany regarding the shame that her mother must have felt. I thought it was important that she acknowledge what so many natural mothers experience and why there are some who are reluctant to face their past. I also thought it important that the issue of poverty was discussed as the reason for the adoption.

I was pleased that Patricia was able to explain how she felt about being adopted, what it meant to her to find her family and other family members were able to express how the situation affected them. I thought the topic was handled with dignity and I loved it when Patricia said it (reunion) should be handled within the family. Yes! She was referring to the possible media circus of course because of Oprah's celebrity status but to me that means the government and agencies need to stay out of it when an adoptee wants an OBC or adoption records. What they do with those records then is their business.

Anyway, I thought the show was done well. I think Oprah will now have a new perpective on adoption and what it does to people, that's what happens when something hits close to home. I wish all of them the best in getting to know their families.

Pieces

I painted a self-portrait a few years ago. For those of you who get involved in creative endeavors you understand this feeling. You go into the studio, or sit at the computer and in a flash the entire day is gone. That was the day I painted this. I started it in the early morning and didn't come out of the room until it was done later that evening. I don't even think I ate anything that day (I should paint that way more often).

This was done post-reunion and in a way it was about a reunification of my fractured self. When you lose a child a piece of you is missing. You go on with your day to day activities, you laugh and love and you raise your other children but there she is. She's always there, in the hair color of a little girl you see in the grocery store or the eyes of a child you see at a party and you wonder..... could she be? How can I find out her birthday? How can I find out if she's adopted?

Like I mentioned in my earlier post about looking back and not recognizing the letters I had written - the self-preservation mode - living life with adoption is like that. One part is living a life that's happy while the other part is always on the look out, always searching and longing. This portrait was not only about the experience of a mother but about the pieces of a life finally coming back together.

While reading some articles and blogs I see this quite a bit.... adoptees need to quit whining, adoption is a miracle, mothers need to get a life and stop being hateful and bitter, everybody needs to just shut up and be grateful for the generosity of the adopters. In fact, here's a real gem of an article that puts all these attitudes together in one place. The writer of this...... thing.... obviously has no clue about what really happens in adoption. She just sees one tiny piece and comes to the most ridiculous conclusions. Unfortunately this happens a lot, people only see one little segment of the picture so let's look at some more pieces of adoption world.

This is a very, very short list of adoption agencies - some big, some small. If you look through these you'll see the machine in action. These are the people who make the money, the ones who use vacation packages and college scholarships to entice young, vulnerable, pregnant women through their so-called "birthmother" outreach, one of these spends millions a year on advertising to mothers. These are the people who use counselors to advise mothers - counselors who are paid by the adopters through the agency who stands to make the money. Can you guess what they're advising them? Questionable ethics here? These are the people who claim they can get a baby in 4 months because they are results driven!

http://www.adoptionnetwork.com/adoptiveparents/domestic-adoption.shtml?h_ap_t
http://www.adoptionsfirst.com/BirthMothersSite/index.php
http://adoptionshepherdcare.com/pregnant.html
http://www.littleangeladoptions.com/
http://www.abondoflove.org/Birth_Parents_Who_Chooses_Adoption_and_Why.html
http://lifelineadoption.org/pregnant/not-consider-adoption/
http://impregnant.bethany.org/index.php/adoption/adoptionmyths

These are the tools the agencies use. They teach the hopeful couple how to advertise. There are now businesses popping up that help with the marketing to the mothers. If the couple doesn't have that artistic flair these folks can make their brochure stand out among the crowd.

http://www.littleblessingsadoption.com/
http://www.foreverfamilydesigns.com/main.php#about%20us/
http://www.ourchosenchild.com/

This is big business so there are now lots of ways to finance buying a baby. Grants and credit cards are available and the government now gives a tax credit of 12,000.00+ to couples adopting a baby. It's amazing how willing everyone is to help adopters get a baby but when a mother needs help to keep and raise her baby it's frowned upon.

http://www.nafadopt.org/faq/faq.shtml
http://www.oneworldadoptions.org/financing.html
http://www.adoptionfinancinginformation.com/grants.html

Then you have the very many reunion registries that adoptees and mothers are pouring over for years, hoping and praying that they can find the part of them that's missing. The powers that be don't think that adults should be able to have their own personal histories. Adoptees are not "allowed" to have their original birth certificates. They're treated as if they're still children and can't be trusted to handle their own relationships.

http://www.adopting.org/adoptions/free-national-world-adoption-reunion-registries.html
http://www.nationaladoptionregistry.com/
http://www.isrr.net/

When you put the pieces together, adoption doesn't paint a very pretty picture.

Birthday Wishes

I've mentioned the painting series that I'm working on and that's the reason I started researching what happens in adoption world. I actually started the series just because it was something I felt compelled to do. I don't know how many of you are artists but sometimes you get a notion about something and you just have to follow through. I think in this case it began as a way to continue my healing. I've been reunited with my daughter for 8 years now and it's been wonderful. I'm thankful every day that I have her back in my life. I spoke to her today as a matter of fact, and I just love hearing her voice. Knowing that I can call her any time I want and hear her laugh makes life grand. It's sad to me that many reunions don't go this way. I wish we were not the exception but the rule.

Anyway, back to the point..... this series began because I felt like I needed to do this for my own healing. Although I had been through 22 years of living and learning how to cope with losing my daughter, and 8 years of reunion, there was still something more to do. In my artwork I was feeling a little stagnant. As artists we need to change and grow over time. We need to try new things. Over the years our style may change, our subject matter may change. Lots can happen as we change with age. In this case I was feeling the need for a deeper content to the work. I needed to do something with more meaning for me. I had already started a series on women and body image and I'm continuing to work on that but this was a feeling brewing inside that had to do with adoption.

These 2 topics are huge in my life - art and adoption. I'm an artist and I survived adoption. It was time to put the 2 together. Although I've lived with being a first mother from a closed adoption for 30 years, that doesn't mean I know everything there is to know about it. I started to read, google and research what was out there. I ordered books like Ann Fessler's The Girls Who Went Away and others and what I found out was that I wasn't alone. I've learned a lot and have tons more to learn. I've met so many wonderful women out there who have walked in my shoes and understand. I've become active in speaking out about the injustices of this industry and I've realized that I need to paint this series. It's a need, a compulsion.

I'll share the artwork about this topic on this blog as I do on my other blog This particular piece started with the idea of birthdays (obviously) because birthdays are such a huge thing in our first mother world. These are the days that are the most difficult. They were for me anyway. Every year there's the reminder of what's lost. As a mom I spent it wondering how she was, what she was doing, where she was celebrating, wondering what she got for presents each year. Did she have a party? Did her family think of me at all? How big is she now? Is she okay and happy? How is she liking school? There's just so many questions and as a first mother I wasn't entitled to any of the answers.

When my daughter turned 18 I baked a cake and with my other children we celebrated her birthday. This birthday kicked off the official search for her. As a good little first mommy I didn't try to look sooner because I was told that it wouldn't be good to interfere with her life. So, 18 was the magic age when I could begin the search. Singing the birthday song to a child I had never met was a surreal experience. I could barely get the words out because of the lump in my throat but I knew that this was the beginning. It took 4 years to find her.

In the background of the painting you can see names and dates. These are the names of first mothers and the dates that their children were born. Some are found, some are not. This piece represents not only me and my daughter but all the first mothers who think about their children on their birthday. So.... that would be all of them. There's not a mother on earth who doesn't think about her child on the day of that child's birth.

Happy Birthday to all of you, from all of us first moms. We love you.

Peace,

Carlynne