reblog Nov. 4, 2014
 |
| baby me, adopted |
By Trace (Lost Bird-Adoptee)
A
few days ago I became a grandma again. I cried quietly when I got to
hold my precious new granddaughter, who has all her fingers and toes and
hardly cried a peep.
As I was holding her, I imagined how lucky
she is to have her whole family with her (both sides of her extended
family were there.)
Then I imagined how I must have felt when my
own mother Helen disappeared and was not there to hold me. Or nurse me.
Or dress me. Or sing to me.
I was placed in an orphanage. I had two living parents, a huge extended family, yet they put ME
in an orphanage. How can I ever thank you Catholic Charities for
tearing me from my own flesh and blood and for doing this heinous thing
called "stranger adoption" because my mother was unmarried, when my own
father wanted to raise me?
I cannot imagine how traumatized I was
when Helen never came to hold me. I just know it is blocked in my body
somewhere, buried so so deep I cannot reach that primal pain.
For
many infants handed to strangers, they experienced birth trauma, when
shock takes over and your baby tears are actually screams.
Then we get a bit older and experience even more trauma.
Read this: http://splitfeathers.blogspot.com/2010/11/four-traumas.html
There
is so much joy in becoming a grandma. To imagine my grandchild being
ripped away from our family and handed to strangers, it's not possible
for me to imagine that.
It is impossible for me to imagine that happening to her.
UPDATE: Our oldest granddaughter celebrated her 20th birthday recently... our youngest granddaughter will be 10 this year. Trace
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