Maturing

My choice of bringing Joy onto this planet was from loving her.

I want to give myself to loving.

My daughter judges me as cruel and shallow. She has felt hurt by my words and actions. Dear God what do I do now? She was left alone in the maternity ward, then given to strangers.

That’s a fact. Done.

I now know one prepares for reunion. Read. Talk to people. But when she found me in ’92 I was totally unaware. Reunion and birth mother were unknown terms. I blew it as ‘mother’. I was not prepared. I was knocked on my a**.

That’s a fact, done.

Bit by bit we have built a relationship in which I feel joyous and content – sometimes. Sometimes I look at her, in person or in blogland, and I see grace and beauty in her movement, in her speech, her presence on this earth is magic. And our connection, inside me, is sublime.

But it’s not easy. It was over 15 years on before I learned there’s a ‘honeymoon phase’ to reunion. If I had known maybe we would have had one.

We didn’t.

All my mistakes are mine, my lessons. They were not meant to hurt her.

I was angry this morning. I felt I was being blamed. Joy said how cruel I was and that my intention was to make her feel like sh*t.

How do I work with that? I’d like to have it be water off a duck’s back. Perhaps I’ll learn to groom my feathers, keep them oiled instead of getting ruffled. But part of giving into love is to look for the good in my angry response. I’ve mentioned before I don’t see myself as noble. I’m working on just seeing myself as worthwhile, on equal footing with the rest of us, as part of humanity, rather than as not good enough. And getting angry is part of that, because it didn’t roll off me. It hurt. So I said stop it.

It shifted. Then I felt sad for her, for her believing me to be cruel and shallow. That’s sad. I want to take her in my arms and stroke her hair. Bring her a glass of water or a cup of tea. Honey? Lemon?

I was ‘too young’ when she was born. I wasn’t self sufficient. I was uneducated and unemployed and needed LOTS of help. I was still her mother. We’re still growing ourselves up, and due to adoption, there is so much more to it.

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5 responses to “Maturing

  1. Hugs. I understand. Its tough.

    In anger, I once told my daughter to stop acting like an angry s poiled brat. Her response to me? “My parents never called me names”.

    I did not call her a name. I referenced her behavior (and it was accurate) and it was true and I would have said it even if I raised her.

    I havent heard from her since.

    There are times I feel she will never understand, never forgive me, always punish me and therefore keep herself angry and alienated and blame for the reality she alone is creating. I dont know how to help her. Yet I hang on. That is what a mother does and what I always wanted to do.

    Love to you and Joy.

  2. I count on things changing, even though they repeat and the changes seem small sometimes. I remind myself that things change — over and over and over…

  3. Well,just to give you a flip-side, my honeymoon phase ended after about the first five minutes of our meeting when she turned to me and asked me if I was “highly sexual” because apparently it’s a family trait.

    Pardon me?

    Then she spent the next several minutes expounding on what a “great lover” my father was.
    Ummm….hmm.

    I walked into her hotel room. I got a hug. That was my honeymoon. Oh well.

    Reunion is hard.

    That is all.

  4. Pingback: It’s All True « Joy’s Division

  5. Joy is right. It was ’90 not ’92 when we met again. I remembered that last night but figured what the dif…

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