I am not a philosophical person, or terribly introspective, but questions of identity always intrigue me. How do you figure out who you are and your place in the world?
Alesia called me not long ago and asked for information and documents about her birthparents and her adoption. I don't mind complying with her request. It's vital that she start to connect the dots, to see her life with some sort of perspective. It's a tough thing to do, no matter what your life circumstances.
When I was in college it finally dawned upon me that I had lived a pretty sheltered existence, growing up in the suburbs, with a banker father and a stay at home mom. I had some sad and painful things happen to me, including the deaths of my grandparents, but I never really endured anything terrible. I knew who I was. I knew my father. I knew I was smart.
Contrast that with Alesia, and so many adopted kids. Whether or not they know anything about their birthparents, they struggle with the identity questions much more than I did.
There's a great line from the movie Murphy's Romance that I've always remembered. Murphy is talking to his girlfriend's young son and referencing the boy's n'er do well birthdad, and he says quietly, "You can be like him or not, it's up to you." So we have a choice as to whether or not we want to lead our lives copying our parents, or striking out on a totally different path.
At one time, I thought it would be a great job to be a bartender. I could write during the day, tend bar at night. My dad refused to pay for bartending school and was horrified at the thought of me doing that. Now I see he was right. At the time, I thought he was being hopelessly overprotective.
How do we make choices if we don't really know what our birthparents were like, though, or if our view was skewed?
How do we get buffeted along by forces we don't even remember, from early childhood? I've known folks who adopted babies less than a year old, and their babies couldn't attach, were traumatized, suffered night terrors, banged their heads obsessively, etc. Institutions never care for a child very well, particularly not orphanages in poor countries.
So some of Alesia's earliest memories are of a birthmom who simply wasn't there a lot of the time. At less than 5 years old, Alesia was fending for herself a lot. She learned not to trust. She learned she could only rely on herself. The 6 years in the orphanage reinforced that. Most older kids in orphanages learn very harsh lessons and it's very tough to un-learn them.
Despite all the love and care I tried to lavish on my daughter, she never trusted me. I did my best to bond with her, but I wasn't successful. I know she loves me, but that's a different thing.
I am pretty sure she doesn't want to be like boring old mama, who pays bills, doesn't go out at night, never does drugs, rarely ever drinks, etc. I am boring, to her.
So despite all our best intentions, us adoptive moms face huge obstacles in raising healthy, happy secure kids. I don't know any answers to how to do it better. I just know we have to keep fighting the good fight.
A friend emailed me this morning about a an adopted child who got into drugs at the age of 12, but now she is clean and sober and doing well. Thank God for positive stories like that. I need to hear more of those.
There's one thing I do know. Faith makes all these thorny questions bearable.
I was praying about a situation with Michael's schoolwork that presented a knotty problem, and the solution presented itself to me within 24 hours. That's always the way of it. The harder I struggle, the more tangled the web. The more I "let go and let God" the easier the problem gets solved.
If I can't help her figure out her identity or trust me, if I could only bestow ONE gift on my daughter, I would give her the gift of faith. It puts everything else in perspective.
