A Journey of Loss and Healing: My Experience As An Adoptee Forced To Give Up My Baby To A Closed Adoption

My Podcast Interview discusses this and more: 

Introduction:

Life sometimes gives us unexpected derailments where we find ourselves in situations that test our strength and resilience. As an adoptee, I’ve always had a longing for connection, to what I didn’t know. But nothing could have prepared me for the heart-wrenching act at the age of 15 - giving up my only known real relative, my baby, to a closed adoption.

A Foundation of Loss:

Being adopted comes with its own set of challenges. Growing up, I often wondered about my birth mother. Why couldn’t she keep me? What were the circumstances that led to my adoption? While I loved my adoptive parents, but also not having any yard stick to judge good parents by, I thought I got good parents. I didn’t realize my family was dysfuntional and sick.

Teen Pregnancy:

At the age of 15, I found myself pregnant from a Virgin Rape, an assault that I kept secret for decades. I was confused, scared and ashamed. Being my parents were Catholic and pregnant girls weren’t allowed to attend the highschool, I spent the long dark months of an Alaskan winter hid away until such time I could give birth and relinquish my baby to a closed adoption.

The Pain of Letting Go:

The day I held my baby in my arms I checked her for similarities. The rush of love and connection was undeniable, but it was accompanied by a sense of overwhelming loss. I knew my parents believed this was the right thing, but how could I give away the only real blood family I had ever known?

The Closed Adoption:

A closed adoption meant that I would have no contact or information about my baby. The only thing I held onto was waiting 18 years until I could find her. Not only would I lose my child, but I would also be left in the dark, wondering about her well-being. What if something happened to her, I would never know, or be called to her side.

The aftermath of the adoption was a rollercoaster of emotions, grief, guilt, and regret. Eventually alcohol and addiction consumed me. I questioned my worth as a person. Leaving her at the hospital, it was as if a shade had been pulled down on my life and my world went dark.

The Healing Process:

I got sober in 1984 then in 2016 I began writing a memoir and that’s where I began to see things that happened to me from an adult perspective and not my child’s stuck mind.