Trauma ~Karen

I was born and adopted in Michigan in 1966, during the American “Baby Scoop Era". I was born in Flint and sent to live with adoptive family at the age of 6 months after staying in a foster home. My adoptive family was Jewish and I always wanted to know if my birth parents were Jewish, too.

In 1988 I requested the non-identifying information about my adoption from the State of Michigan. I was given that information, and a copy of a release of information my birth mother had signed years earlier saying it was OK to give me her name if I ever came looking for her. I found her and spoke to her within a few days.

The reunion was deeply traumatizing for me. I was confused and scared meeting my two siblings that day. My birth mother had never told them about me until a few minutes before I showed up to meet them that day. The shock on their faces when I walked in made me feel guilty and ashamed. Like I had done something personally to them to make them feel this shock and upheaval in their lives.

I was a dutiful daughter. I went out of my way to spend holidays and birthdays with these people. I even had my birthmother and father walk me half way down the aisle when I got married. My adoptive parents walked me the rest of the way. I never told them how much pain being adopted had caused me because I was afraid they would abandon me again.

I felt terrible every time I spent was with them. Seeing all their shared memories, their closeness and affection for each other broke my heart. At my maternal grandmother’s funeral I heard everyone say that nothing was more important to her than her family. I thought, “If that is true, how could she give her first born grandchild away to strangers to raise?” Strangers who abused me emotionally, physically and sexually.

At one point after coming back from spending time with them, I was very depressed and crying. My husband at the time said, “If you were not related to these people, would you have anything to do with them?” I realized I would not. They made me uncomfortable and sad.

A few months later, my birthmother called and left me a voicemail inviting me to Thanksgiving at her house. It was 3 days before Thanksgiving and I already had made plans. She did this to me every year, and in years past I would change my plans and go out of my way to be with her.  But this time I had had enough. If it was important to her to spend time with her daughter and her granddaughters during the holidays, she needed to put a little more effort into it. I did not respond to her voicemail.

I never heard from her again. That was 15 years ago.

From where I sit now, looking back on it all, I know it was in my own best interest to go “no contact.” But the way that it happened was deeply traumatizing. I lived my entire life feeling that she had just forgotten about me and was moving on with her life without me. When I met her, I thought maybe that was not true. But her second abandonment of me made it crystal clear that I do not matter to her at all.

I reached out to her recently. I sent her an email telling her I was molested by my adoptive uncle repeatedly. I did not expect a response from her, but the fact that I still have not received one confirms my belief that she does not consider me to be a human being at all. I think her shame has destroyed her to the point that she has lost her humanity.

~Karen 

  ~Adoptee