Mother's Day for Birth Mothers Is Hard

The headline says it all, doesn't it? 

We remember the child we lost to adoption. 

We remember the heartache of the day the child was born. 

 We remember the last time we saw our child. 

Or maybe we did not see the child at all. That was my choice, at least not some hospital nurse or social worker and I made the choice because I was having such a hard time dealing with the reality I would be facing. She would be gone. I know many others have made other choices, and cuddled their babies tight, but I was such an emotional mess--I was hysterical right after she was born, and gone--that I knew seeing her would only make relinquishing her all the more traumatic. And I did not feel I had a choice. 

So here I am today, more than a half century later, thinking how will I get through Mother's Day tomorrow? Many of you know, from my book and other writings, that I found my daughter, we had a tumultuous relationship for a quarter of a century plus, and she died by suicide. I have two granddaughters, one my own daughter gave up for adoption; and one she kept. 

The kept one is in my life as much as any granddaughter would be, and I am eternally glad for that. I was back in Detroit, where I am from, a few weeks ago, and saw her three times over four days. She's an art teacher, and doing well, and I am proud of her. 

The other granddaughter I found through a private searcher, and while we spent some days together, we have not been in touch for years. Fate sometimes makes its plans without consulting you. But it's partly my choice too, for I did not want to have the roller coaster relationship I had with my daughter all over again, and I could see that ahead. Since she did not have a reunion with her mother, I knew I would bear of brunt of any adoption-related feelings and issues...all over again. 

 And some of you know that I lost my understanding husband of 43 years last fall. That has been hard too as I face challenges as a widow. I have a house to sell, possessions to dispossess, a big move to make in the future. Which brings us to Mother's Day, tomorrow! 

 I have always urged here before for natural/birth/first mothers like us to make other plans and I admit I don't have any firm plans yet. Most of my friends are coupled, and have children. But I am not going to spend the day moping because...that just leads to a pity party and more moping. I won't go to lunch in a restaurant because too many tables will be filled with children honoring their own mothers. 

I might go to a movie that will not make me cry. I might go for a walk on the beach, which is nearby. I might go shopping and try not to buy something I do not need. I might go to an art museum nearby. Or I might just end up working on a project that I promised my husband I would take on before he died--rewriting a draft of a book he left behind. Work is always absorbing. 

Oh! I could also get to the gardening store and choose the plants for my deck garden and that usually takes a couple of days before I'm done.  After yesterday's rain the day here on Long Island is gorgeous. I am going to add up the good things in my life: I was able to turn my life's biggest sorrow--losing my daughter to adoption--into a passion and cause, that is, working to change society's perception of adoption and in the process, help to unseal adoptee's original birth certificates. 

Sealed birth certificates and closed adoption is a blight on the land and has caused untold misery for so many. So the fact that I have been granted a voice to work for change is a plus in my life. I am thrilled that my last memoir, which I initially self-published, was picked up by Marylee MacDonald of Grand Canyon Press and together we came out with a better, fuller edition of Hole In My Heart covering so many issues. So while I can't be a cheerful Pollyanna today--thoughts of my lost daughter and my life will drift in and out today and tomorrow, I am sure--but I'm going to do my best to make lemonade out of the lemons in my life's basket. 

 And I hope you all will too.--lorraine