No longer a square peg

by Jim Cannon

Trust is an important quality between individuals, earned by mutual respect. As trust develops, private emotions and information are shared. Respect is another important quality, and develops in much the same manner as does trust. Adults who succeed in creating a relationship with children, a relationship rich with trust and respect, are more likely to maintain a strong and healthy bond than adults who convey a feeling of betrayal.

How often have you heard someone say, "It would be better if he/she didn't know that" or "I didn't want to tell you because I thought you'd be hurt"? Often, people conceal information because "it seems like the right thing to do." For me, learning one secret during adolescence was devastating; the rationale I received was, "We were going to tell you when we thought you were old enough, but it really shouldn't matter anyway."

Estimates vary, but an aggregate average reveals that approximately three percent of Americans are adoptees. Furthermore, anywhere in the US approximately eleven percent of the population is a member of a triad. In this example, members of the triad include the birthmother, the birth father, and the adoptive parents. In our society where genealogy is a popular hobby and medical history is sometime vital for preventive treatment, it's surprising when people become angry because the adoptee indicates an interest in finding their birthparent(s). Anger is demonstrated most often by the adoptive parents.

Unquestionably, some secrets are better left untold; conversely, some secrets need to be shared. I am an adoptee who discovered my status at the age of twelve. A friend, who had been told never to discuss my adopted status with me, teased me during a gathering of teenagers and said, "You know those aren't your real parents!" Not surprisingly, twelve-year-olds are not mature enough to appreciate discretion; worse, the presentation of the information was intended to be hurtful. Immediately, a feeling of rejection overwhelmed me.

I confronted my adoptive parents regarding my friend's statement and was told that he had told me the truth. My adoptive parents spun a tale, asserting that my mother did not want me. I was forced to hear about an irresponsible hussy who was not suitable to be a mother.

The story continued with a statement that "the woman" did not know the identity of my father. Until I discovered that I was adopted, "bastard" was a word used by grown men and older boys to demean other males. Suddenly, the word took on a different dimension; I was a bastard! The life of a twelve-year-old boy or girl is difficult under normal conditions and adding a sense of rejection to a twelve-year-old boy or girl can be psychologically demoralizing.

I wondered whether my adoptive parents had chosen not to tell me other important details. I asked then (at twelve) and many times during my high school years, what information they could provide me regarding my real mother. Each time, I was intimidated and asked, "After all we've done for you, why would you want to know anything about a person who never wanted you?" I allowed the topic to go dormant for awhile.

As I grew older and married, the issue of adoption surfaced again, but this time it was not because of curiosity; my wife was pregnant and her doctor requested medical histories for my wife and me. I approached my adoptive parents, pleading with them to offer me information to search for my birthmother. I explained that I needed to get medical history to ensure my wife's successful pregnancy. You might be surprised at my parents' response; I was. My parents told me that "Doctors can do amazing things today, and that (background) information isn't necessary."

By the time I was twenty-six, I had endured embarrassment and low self-esteem because of being adopted. I could not complete school projects requiring family background details (family tree) and refused to show my adoptive parents in such a chart. As I grew older, I developed a fear of intimacy with women, always suspicious of eventual rejection. I was about to become a father to my own child and knew that he/she would also struggle with the same assignments in school; he/she would be subjected to teasing by cruel, but naive children who would say, "You're a reject; your father is a bastard!"

During the last ten years, my curiosity to search for my birthmother increased. I knew that many people had been successful in finding birthparent(s), but I also had fears: fear of the unknown, fear of rejection, and fear of hurting my adoptive parents. Of the three fears I mentioned, the fear of rejection was the greatest. After all, I had been rejected once, and I did not want to experience rejection a second time, as an adult. Whenever my wife approached me to share new information regarding searching for birthmothers, I always found a reason not to pursue a search.

On a gloomy day in February 1998 while suffering from lower back pain, I received a telephone call. The caller asked me questions and at the same time answered those questions with details that only a limited number of people knew. The answers would not have been available from credit applications, for example. The caller worked for "Seekers of the Lost," an organization that searches for lost relatives, friends, and acquaintances. Seekers is promoted frequently on national television programs such as Dateline, Regis and Kathy Lee, Geraldo, Jenny Jones, Maury Povich, and magazine and newspaper publications. I had seen television commercials and advertising for organizations such as Seekers, but I had no useful information to provide to a search organization.

Suddenly, the dark sky became bright, and my pain was masked; my birthmother had found me!

Although I had a choice of meeting my birthmother, Ruby, for the first time on the television show Geraldo, I chose to meet wherever my birthmother chose. I wanted to share my intimate event with my family, not the nation! Unfortunately, Ruby had been suffering from a brain tumor and could not travel. My family and I went to Oregon the next day. I know it sounds silly, especially for someone my age, but I had not been as nervous since the eve before my marriage, and my excitement intensified like that of a child on Christmas Eve!

I mentioned earlier that the fear of rejection was the greatest factor in avoiding a search for my birthmother; I didn't have to worry any longer. Ironically, Ruby's biggest fear was the same; she feared that I would retaliate for the hardships she suspected I had suffered as an adopted child.

I will always remember meeting Ruby the first time. She, with her longtime companion, and my family visited and shared stories for several hours. I discovered that Ruby and I shared many interests. We both liked gardening, cooking, nature walks, and children.

Ruby dedicated a large portion of her life to working with mentally and physically handicapped children, in one way a "self-redemption" for losing me. Ruby also perceived life as a journey of learning; she achieved a master's degree at age forty-two. Among the many honors and awards that Ruby earned, she is listed in "Who's Who of American Women 1975-1976."

My life has been enriched, having had the opportunity to meet my birthmother and to share her joy in finding me. Ruby, I'm told, boasted while telling her friends that she was a grandmother. Ruby continued to fight the tumor, long beyond her doctor's expectation, and left us on August 1, 1998, with the comfort of knowing her son harbored no malice toward her. I was rewarded with the comfort of knowing the true reason for her decision to give me up for adoption; she did not discard me, as my adoptive parents had suggested.

Ruby was diagnosed as having a brain tumor in April 1997, and was not expected to live longer than six months. Human beings possess an extraordinary ability known as the will to live; Ruby lived an additional ten months beyond the doctor's estimate. As a result of Ruby's will to live, I was able to receive one birthday card from my birthmother, and she received her first Mother's Day card from her son. The exchanging of birthday and Mother's Day cards was extremely symbolic of a mutual necessity for closure of a void.

I was deprived of the opportunity to have a long-term relationship with my birthmother because of my adoptive parents; I discovered Ruby had sent mail, including contact information, to my adoptive parents, a secret I will conceal from my adoptive mother (my adoptive father passed away). However, I am delighted with the relationship I did develop.

I also invalidated my adoptive parents' assertion that my biological father was unknown to my mother. In years past, society scorned unwed mothers and disregarded a male's responsibility in contributing to conception. I'm thankful that I was not prejudiced by negative input from my adoptive parents.

Some secrets need to be shared. I always wondered who I was, and now I know; I have seen the mold from which I came.

References

Russo, Tina M.. "Statistic on Number of People Touched
by Adoption." 29 Oct. 1999.
http://www.geocities.com/CapitolHill/9606/statistic.html

Russo, Tina M.. "Why Adoptees Are Afraid To Search."
March 1998. 29 October 1999.
http://www.geocities.com/CapitolHill/9606/fear.html

Russo, Tina M.. "Why Adoptees Search." 18 March 1997.
29 October 1999.
http://www.geocities.com/CapitolHill/9606/thought031897.html

Seekers of the Lost. http://www.seekersofthelost.com/

Return to English 122 syllabus
Return to English 122 main page
Questions? Brian McKinney (bmckinne@home.com)