Jun 232008
 

Guilt tells us that we have done something wrong, but shame tells us that we are something wrong.

-Sheila Walsh, The Heartache No One Sees

Emphasis hers. But it would be mine as well.

I have had the guilt/shame argument with those who simply refused to grasp anything outside of their experience. They’re different feelings. They exist for different reasons. They may be tied to the same core concepts but there are differences through and through.

I have guilt, like any mother, over the decisions I have made for the Munchkin and my parented boys. The book Mommy Guilt didn’t touch my adoption-related-mothering guilt. Not with a ten foot pole. I feel guilty that I wasn’t more knowledgeable about laws, ethics and adoptee issues prior to placement. I feel guilty that I have made some mistakes in my relationship with her and with her parents. I feel guilty that… wait for it… I feel guilty. That’s right. Oh, sweet cycle of guilt! But, honestly, sometimes my guilt has made it impossible for me to move forward with something that I knew needed to be done. And, hence, the guilt about the guilt.

But shame is a different level.

I don’t feel guilty about my role of birth mother. I feel shame. The words of others, some said with ignorance and some said with malice, have made me doubt my self-worth and the worth I have to my daughter’s life. When I am asked how many children I have and I respond, “Two,” shame is what keeps me from telling the truth. Because the general public seems unable to separate the action of placing (the “done”) and the person doing the placing (the “are”). As no one wants to slip on my shoes for even the briefest of occasions, they can’t seem to grasp how someone could place a child for adoption and, as such, I am immediately labeled along the lines of heartless, careless and generally distasteful. Their disapproving glances are not seen, by me, as a judgment of the action but a judgment of my person.

It’s probably not en vogue to admit that you have shame. But, alas, I do. I’m working on it. If only the general public would either step to the plate and work on compassionate responses or shut their mouths all together. Then maybe I could make some progress.

I trudge on.

 Posted by at 11:43 pm
Dec 132007
 

Munchkin,

Today you turn four.

I wish I had something profound to say. Something deep. Or meaningful. But the truth?

This is not an easy day for me. I’m awash in memories. All I did was blink and you went from a beautiful baby in my arms to this tall, lanky, amazing little girl with opinions and personality and talent and love for just about everything and everyone. And I’m feeling very angry with myself.

Who gives their baby away? Who honestly does that?

People keep telling me that this gets easier. That hasn’t been my experience. I just get more and more shocked with myself that I let you go. Why didn’t I understand the mother-child bond? Why didn’t I recognize the lies that the agency was feeding? Why why why?

And so, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be all melancholy and self-focused on your special day. I’m sure the postpartum hormones and the presence of a little baby who weighs just over what you did on this day four years ago (since he’s finally growing!) are catching me off guard.

I wish the world for you, Miss Munchkin. I’m just sorry I wasn’t the one to give it to you.

Happy Birthday.

Love,  Me.

 Posted by at 1:20 pm