Tag Archives: adoption

Happy Birthday Baby Girl

September 15, 1979 at 1:17am, my baby girl was born. After 25 hours of labor, she was pulled into the world with a pair of forceps. Back then, hospitals didn’t kick you out the door 24 hours after giving birth, so I spent 3 days with my girl before leaving without her.

At the time, I had been a resident at a home for unwed mothers. Back in the late 70’s being a pregnant teenager was a disgrace. Being single and pregnant was a disgrace. Being a very young, pregnant teenager who was impregnated by molestation was the most disgraceful thing to be.

During those 3 days at the hospital, I got to hold my baby and to bottle feed her. Being just six days past my 15th birthday, the whole thing was quite surreal. Because I never entertained the notion that I could actually bring my baby home and keep her, I didn’t bond with her particularly. And being so young, I was very clueless in general. But I loved her nevertheless.

Initially after her birth, I was placed in a room with 3 other mothers whose new babies spent a lot of time with them. When the mothers needed to sleep, the babies were taken back to the nursery, where nurses looked after them.

I remember sitting, eating a bowl of cereal for breakfast one day, talking with one of the other girls from the home for unwed mothers that had delivered a day after I had. Something she said brought me to tears. I bawled at the thought of leaving my daughter. When I couldn’t stop crying, a nurse came in and asked me what was wrong. She figured out that I would be better off in a single room. Why no one thought of this in the first place baffles me.

I can still remember the day I walked out that hospital without my daughter. It was a cool fall day, with dry air after a very hot, humid summer. The sky was deep blue. Such a juxtaposition between the physically comfortable weather (and not having a baby sitting on my bladder and pushing up into my lungs), and the pain in my heart. Six weeks later I got to visit briefly with my daughter before signing away my rights to her.

The irony is, 23 years later when I walked out of a hospital without my son, it was oddly familiar and didn’t seem weird. But this time, he was in another hospital, needing to grow and mature for a few weeks before I brought him home.

Happy 36th Birthday baby girl. I love you.

Letter to My Daughter’s Mother

To the loving, wonderful woman who adopted my daughter, thank you for being there to adopt my beautiful baby when I could not raise her. Please let her know that I gave her up so she could have a good life. I was only six days past my 15th birthday when she was born, and there was no way I could keep her. No one has parenting skills at 15. In fact, for years, I never even dreamed about thinking of her as mine.

What I was told about you is that you were a teacher when you adopted her. I asked for my daughter’s adoptive family to have an ethnic background similar to mine. And I was also told that your husband was an engineer. After the adoption went through, I was told that you kept the name I gave her as her middle name, and gave her a new first name. I was told that name.

I am so thankful that you took her in and loved her. You dealt with the sleepless nights, tons of diapers, the fussing, whining, tantrums and meltdowns that comes with raising a little one. And for your reward, you enjoyed laughter, smiles, hugs, and a little one calling you Mommy.

For a long time, I could only think of my daughter with the pain of loss, and the shame in which she was conceived. But now, when I think of her, she is a grown up woman with her own life. I imagine that she played the flute or the violin. And she played basketball, field hockey, and swam on the high school team. She got to the beach in the summer, and went boating. She went to a four-year college, got out and worked until she met Mr. Right. I imagine she’s married and has children of her own.

In my mind, I can pretend I have even the tiniest clue how my daughter grew up. But, only you know her. You bandaged skinned knees and helped her learn to ride a bike. You have been there through all of the teenage angst and drama. You watched her as she changed as fast as the fashion trends during the 80’s and 90’s. You helped her with homework. You were there when she graduated from school. You have dealt with the rainbow of moods and you have her love. You are her mother. And for that I am grateful.

Last December I received a box in the mail. A mystery box. There was no return address. The only clue as to where it came from was the postal stamp, the one with the zip code. Inside the box was some beautiful red and gold paper wrapped around a corked test tube that was filled with some sand, seashells, and a note that was rolled up and tied. The note thanked me for my daughter Elizabeth. There was a little more to it, but that was the gist of the note. Next to the day that my newborn son came home from the NICU (neonatal intensive care), that note was the best present I’ve ever received. Thank you.

In case you were wondering, I grew up and went through school, worked, got married and finally, in my late 30’s had a beautiful boy. I hope that one day I will meet my daughter. I’d love to see if she resembles me, or if we have anything in common. I’d love to give her a hug and answer any questions she might have about me. And I’d love to give you a big hug of gratitude.

Thank you for being my daughter’s mother.

Bittersweet Mother’s Day

I was raped over and over and over again. It started before I was old enough to have my period. So I was 11 or 12. I got my period when I was 13. Got pregnant at 14. Delivered a beautiful, healthy, perfect, baby girl 6 days after my 15th birthday. And signed away my rights to her six weeks later so she could be adopted. I spent four days with her: the time I was in the hospital.

At the time, I was hidden away in a home for unwed mothers. Becoming pregnant was a huge shame in the family. Because I was molested by my brother, the shame was ten-fold. I kept the secret as long as I could, but my body betrayed me. My nipples began to leak at five months along. I denied being pregnant to myself and to the world as long as I could.

When it was found out, there was only about a month left of school until summer break. I hid it well. As soon as school let out, I “went away for the summer to camp.” When school started up in the fall, I “had gotten sick and was in a hospital in a neighboring state. And no one could visit me.” I was only three weeks late returning back to school in the fall. I was a mother and I could tell no one. Not even my best friend. To this day I have siblings that still don’t know.

I have been a mother for over thirty years now. But I’ve only been able to celebrate it openly since I had a child that I had in a socially acceptable way. A child that I have been able to celebrate being pregnant with, celebrate the birth of, and celebrate being a mother to. So, even though most of the world thinks I celebrate Mother’s Day as a mother of one beautiful child, I will always know that I have two children in my heart.

Welcome To My Story of Healing

Welcome to my place. It’s a place I have created, where I can write my truth. It might not be your truth, even if you have shared similar life experiences. But who knows? I go by Persephone because that is the name of one of my healing guides. She is gentle, loving, and lives in her truth. I have been working on living a life of authenticity, learning about myself and how I fit into this thing they call the universe.

My life began some forty something years ago, but my story goes back even further. In fact, it goes back several lifetimes. But for my purposes today, I’ll talk about what I learned during a hypnosis session about four years ago.

But first, a quick explanation about hypnosis. It is one of the healing modalities that I have used with success. It is a state of being relaxed and focused. When you are hypnotized, you can not do anything you don’t want to do, and you can get up and walk around and open your eyes at any time. Ever drive down a road and space out for a while, not really remembering the past several miles? That is a state of hypnosis. Another thing about hypnosis is that when your conscious mind is quiet, and the subconscious mind is brought forth, it can’t lie. Yes, you are open to suggestion, but the subconscious can not lie. That’s why a good hypnotist (or hypnotherapist- I use the term interchangeably) will not ask leading questions or suggest answers to questions they have asked.

Back to an illuminating hypnosis session. I was seeing this hypnotherapist with the goal of losing weight. His education taught him that behind compulsive eating, is a misbelief. And the route to find this misbelief is through our emotions. So, I would go into a session and we’d talk about a situation that brought up an emotional trigger that sent me bingeing. In hypnosis, he would ask me to connect with that feeling, that trigger, and to go back in time to the first time I ever felt it.

This one day, I regressed back to when I was a little 3 month old baby in my crib. I was crying for my mother, who wasn’t coming to soothe me. She was in the house, but left me to cry. I could sense that she was unable to deal with me at the time, so she just let me cry. At the time, she was bipolar and undiagnosed. When the hypnotherapist asked me if this feeling was new or familiar, I said it was familiar. Because I had felt it before, this was not the initiation of the feeling. He regressed me further back.

One stop was in the birth canal. Had to go further back again. I was in the womb and scared like crazy to be born. Had I bitten off more than I could chew? Went back again and was aware of being in a hazy, floaty waiting area. Waiting to be born. Had to go back yet again, and was popped into a small room where I was standing with my Spirit Guide, planning the life that I was about to enter into.

In a moment, I realized that before we are born, we plan lessons into our life. We strive to learn these lessons through our lifetime. And I also realized that when we die, we pass back to this other side and review the life we just lived, to see how we did. Did we learn the lessons? If not, what parameters can we change in our next life, so we might have a better chance to learn them. We judge ourselves. There is no external figure, such as how most people see God, that sits in judgement of us. The Bible got it wrong. This is my truth.

The lesson that was revealed to me that day was that I had wanted to feel “the pain of all humanity so I would be able to empathize better with people. And if I could empathize with them, then I could help them better.” That was what I got. And in order to feel a lot of pain in life, I decided to make an agreement with the soul who would be my mother, that she would be mentally ill (bipolar) and would verbally lash out at me throughout our lifetime together, when she was manic. And because of her mental illness, she would not really be there for me a lot of the time. I also made an agreement with the soul who would be my older brother, that he would be predatory towards me during our childhoods, and that this would evolve into sexual abuse. I made agreements with other souls to participate in my life in the capacity of other family members and close friends, but they weren’t abusive towards me. One brave, loving soul agreed to be in my life for just a short time, being born to me as my daughter, the product of molestation. She was given up for adoption.

Once the misbelief was uncovered, my hypnotherapist asked me, with my adult wisdom, if I still needed to feel all that pain. Had I gotten that lesson yet? The answer I got was that I had learned the lesson, and didn’t need to feel that level of pain any longer. In that moment, something in me shifted. To make sure change had happened, the hypnotherapist moved me forward in time, to each of the stops I had made when I was regressing me backward. At every stop, my feelings of fear, dread, sadness, and the physical tightness in my body that had accompanied these feelings, were gone. In their place was joy, happiness, and a new lightness of being. One layer of the proverbial onion had been peeled away and healed. Many more to go.