Mom & Dad & hearts and minds

It’s funny. I can be resentful or angry at my parents. I can blame them for difficulties I have. But as soon as someone else badmouths them, or faults them I am reminded that they were always doing their best.

My niece recently challenged my brother, about why her grandparents “banished” me when I was pregnant, instead of letting me stay with them and keep my baby. He was only vaguely aware of my pregnancy and loss. He kind of remembered visiting me, once. It just now struck him that I may have been lonely.

Why did they do what they did? What were they thinking? Who were they trying to protect? Was it me? Was it themselves? What did they think would come of it?

I think I know. They consulted their pastor. They consulted the youth pastor. They talked to a couple friends who were at the top of the county social worker ladder. They sent me to a counselor. All the experts agreed. It would be for the best if I gave my baby up for adoption. The innocent babe deserved a better start in life than I could possible offer.

By the time I was showing I was clean out of town, a two hour drive. They told me it wouldn’t be acceptable for my grandparents, who were coming out for the winter, to see me in that condition.

How weak were my grandparents to not be able to see their pregnant teen granddaughter? I’ll never know what their reaction would have been at the sight of me. Banished. Grandpa wrote me weekly letters for the three months they were nearby. Lovely long letters about his walks through Appalachia and the characters he met. He was a good storyteller.

Not only were my grandparents spared the sight of my belly, so were the neighbors. People I had never felt accepted me were spared knowledge of my immorality. No one outside the family was to know, except the ones I told. And I told everyone I met. I think that’s why they wanted me out of town. I never developed an adequate sense of loyalty or appropriateness or discretion. They were trying to protect me from myself. If they could just keep this hushed up, until it was “over” (as if there is such a thing as “over”!) then I could “put it behind me” and “get on with my life”.

Did they really believe that?

The experts were all lined up with it. Just stick to the “plan” and she’ll get over it and start living up to her “potential”. Hmmmmmm… (What was my potential?)

So yeah, we were doing what we thought was right. Cleanly separating our hearts and minds. As though I could simply recover from such a tragedy if I could just keep a secret.

I was the second of three tragedies in the lives of their children. Their third child died of pneumonia at five years of age, having never even learned to lift his head or focus on another face. They’d never exhibited any shame about him. It was tragic, but not something to hide or deny. Their community supported them throughout that experience.

But my pregnancy was a source of shame. I was a source of shame. God, I’d started out so well. Lots of good marks until puberty when everything went to hell. They tried to corral me. They did everything they knew how. But this thing that I was was an uncontrollable mystery. After giving birth, I returned to their house for a couple months before setting out to find my way on my own, and through the kindness of strangers.

Roughly four years later they encountered the third tragedy in their children’s lives. My brother had a three year “psychotic episode”. Now that kept them busy! But they never tried to hide it. They were open with everyone, again consulting all the experts and wannabe experts. Looking in every corner for a solution. They campaigned. Once his life was “back on track” they stayed with the cause, researching, writing, lobbying and reaching out to other families with similar issues. They didn’t back down from public scrutiny unless there was a chance it could infringe on my brother. They were very aware of the stigma and discrimination towards the “mentally ill”.

So I wonder, how is it they were so open and supportive regardless of social stigma in the mental health tragedy after being so closed off and hidden with the pregnant teen? Was it just because my brother was the golden child? And what happened with him was through “no fault of his own”?

I feel a tinge of resentment about that golden boy status he resided in. And hey, that’s twisted, to be jealous of the one that had a 3 year psycho trip. Amen.

I’m sure they learned something through the tragedy of losing our own flesh and blood and the grief that followed ~ that was SO expanded and compounded by secrecy.

That fierce loyalty to what they THOUGHT was best, pledging allegiance to their minds over their hearts burst after a while. Their hearts were so big and full. But back when their teenage daughter fell pregnant, their minds overruled them — trapped them.

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7 responses to “Mom & Dad & hearts and minds

  1. I know, I think this is part of what makes my adoption so hard to take, there was no real reason for it.

    With Marlie it was different, and I think that helps her, it was different in that her grandfather shot her uncle, her mother was younger, you know a very unstable background, but in my case there is nothing really wrong with the people I come from, in fact they are good people it is too bad. Really too bad.

  2. A little late – but I’ve found your new digs.
    (I like!!)
    I love your writing.
    Poss. xx

  3. Joy inherited your amazing talent at writing.

  4. Ah, KimKim, you know I do see similarities. You are so kind.

  5. “Cleanly separating our hearts and minds.” Can humans achieve this feat? I guess so.

    I am weak – I could not separate my heart and mind. I was too weak watch my daughter grieve while she separated her heart and mind. We are too weak for adoption. Good thing we did not take that path.

  6. Happy G’Ma,
    Nah, we can’t really separate ourselves. It’s a lie, an illusion.

  7. Thanks jmomma. Thanks for helping us to maintain the the wholeness of our hearts and minds with your open and honest blog. And, yes, our parents were doing their best for us. Their minds were trapped. My most fervent hope is that I will not be trapped in illusions.

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