My (reunited) daughter doesn't speak to me: What did I do now? Cont., Part 4

The weekend Jane and I met, 1981

Fall 2003. I am on a panel of birth mothers at a Concerned United Birthparents retreat. One of the other women speaks rather long and forcefully about her therapist telling her repeatedly that giving up her child “was not her fault,” words a therapist had her repeat until she believes it, she feels it, she knows it. Her relationship with the father is a fleeting one-night stand in France, and maybe she does feel that way but I find her insistent “not my fault” message at odds with my own frame of mind. I did give a baby up for adoption. In some way, that was my fault. I've always tried to own up to what I did.

When I get up to speak, I talk about taking responsibility for our actions, no matter what. There's no winner, no polling of the audience, no instant feedback. I have no idea how those in attendance react.

 Later I attend a healing session led by Carol Schaefer, author of The Other Mother. Now as I hear Carol’s soothing voice, guiding our visualization, I see Jane [my daughter] coming toward me,

A relationship with my daughter goes awry. Reason unknown.

Jane and Lorraine, 1983

Just when everything is going swimmingly for a couple of years there, the tide shifts and the life raft of our relationship breaks apart again on the rocky shoals of Jane’s divided loyalties. 

She and I speak frequently, send each other presents, and appear to have found a comfortable plateau in our relationship. Our closeness, even with the disruption of adoption, reminds me of my relationship with my mother after I left home—we talked about once a week, everyday chitchat, and now Jane and I do the same: Here’s a recipe for a canapé we call Memphis cheesies, made with Rice Crispies and cheddar. How’s Bill? He’s now working full time as a post man? Great. What’s Brittney up to? You got a steamer to “steam clean” your house? Whoa! Tony thinks I’m a clean freak, wait til he hears about this. Arthur is going to China to visit his daughter—you do remember she lives there? With Lulu, the girl she adopted from China? I’m painting the deck chairs white. You’re painting your bench yellow? You wanted that recipe for the turkey brine? Half apple juice, half water, cup of brandy, one and a half cups of salt.