[RobertHafetz]

I wrote this last year and I wanted to share it again. Every adopted person has 2 mothers and it isnt easy to put them in a place where we feel comfortable. This is how I did it.If it gives insight to anyone then I'm happy for that.

My adoption was arranged before I was born and should have gone smoothly after my birth, but my natural mother refused to sign the release for adoption. For five months, she delayed the adoption as she sought a way to keep me. It must be difficult for a seventeen-year-old child to resist the pressure from the Adoption agency, her parents, and adoptive family, all demanding that she go through with the adoption as arranged. While my mother resisted the process, I lived in a foster home, visited often by my natural mother. During those five months the bonding of mother and child intensified. My mother named me after her departed brother, most likely, to compel her parents to keep me themselves. I believe my maternal grandmother, Irene, also saw me as a replacement for her son, Marvin, who died at the age of seven. It must have been terribly painful for her as well as for my mother.
I am a blessing and a scandal all at the same time. The adoption agency told me that there was some serious discussion between my grandparents as they considered adopting me themselves. It was not to be and eventually my mother gave in and I became the child of Dr. Morris and Florence Hafetz. After my adoption was final, my natural mother wrote frequently to the agency asking for information about how I was doing in my new home. The letters continued for two years and then simply stopped. Clearly my natural mother wasn’t letting me go so easily. In speaking to her cousin, Elaine Bennett, I discovered that she always intended to come back for me.

My adopted mother Florence was all too aware of this and it filled her with a fear that she carried for the rest of her life. When I was a child, she never spoke of my adoption and even as an adult when I would ask; she would refuse to discuss it. I could see the pain on her face and, out of loyalty and love for her; I could never press the issue. The issue, however, never stopped pressing me. Florence always felt she should share what she knew with me, but her fear kept her from doing it.

My natural mother, although unseen, was a real part of the relationship between adopted child and adopted mother. As a child I could never understand the emotions Florence was feeling, but today, as an adult I understand them all too well. She was fearful that no matter how much she loved me, I would always have a longing for my natural mother, who fought the adoption and wrote letters to my adopted family for two years. The possibility that our mother-child relationship could be shared was too terrible for Florence to imagine. It was one thing for her to resist the ghost of my natural mother, but when I asked it became even more threatening. The prevailing wisdom of the era was that the adopted child will have no memory of his natural mother and consequently no desire to know anything about her. Just as I suppressed my grief, my mother suppressed her fear. There it was between us, unmentioned, and yet profoundly felt by us both. Somewhere else a young woman was suppressing her grief too. Like most fears they are larger in thought, than in actuality. There has never been any question in my mind as to who my mother was. She was the woman who nurtured me, raised me, supported me, and guided me for fifty years. I cannot however forget the mother who I was part of, and who gave birth to me. The mother, who fought for me and after much pressure, lost me in the adoption process. She believed that no matter how much she loved me it was best for me to be adopted. One does not replace or displace the other; they both are a part of me and me of them.

[TamaraKay]

Thats beautiful!

[Pinakitha]

Thank you for that. I am sure that many original mothers and adopted mothers share exactly the same thoughts as your 2 mothers had. I am also sure that many adopted people feel the same way about the mother who raised and nurtured them for all those years, yet do not want to discount the mother who, for whatever reason, felt compelled to give up her child for adoption in order that her child might have the chance of a better life than she (the original mother) could, at that time, provide. So much unhappiness and grief on all sides!

Like your mother, I too managed to hold onto my son for 5 months. The 1st month he was in a foster home where I visited him almost every day until I took him back to my parents' home to be with me. Sadly, circumstances (including my having a breakdown as a result of the trauma I experienced) conspired to force me to take, what I was let to believe back then, to be the only choice I had - to give him up for adoption. I asked to meet with the adoptive parents so I could reassure myself that my son was going to the right kind of home/parents that I would have wanted him to have, knowing him as I did. I was told categorically "no". I asked if I could see him from time to time and again was told "no". I asked if I could at least write to him/receive letters from the adopters tellling me how he was getting on and sending me some photos from time to time. Yet again, I was told "no". Nobody told me I could write letters to be put on the adoption file, so I never did that.

However, the adoption file does not record that I asked for all these things. It paints me as a delinquent teenager (I was nearly 21 at the time!) who never wanted her baby and neglected him. Having finally reunited with my son many, many years later, I was shocked to discover that he believed that I never wanted him nor even tried to find a way to keep him. I realised long ago that he would always see his adopted mother as "Mom" and just hoped that, one day, we might meet & he might see me as a "special friend" (who was also his other mother and who loved him as such). Sadly, he ended up being very arrogant and condescending to me - mainly I believe because of what was written in the adoption file and that hurt me beyond belief - he was my only child, I never had another.

At least I have the comfort of knowing that he had a happy childhood, loving parents and a "proper" family (the aparents own 2 children). I know that he had every material advantage available to him (which I could never have given him) and now has a successful career and a happy life. I may be sad that he will never accept me and, in fact, despises me. However, I am very glad that, in the end, everything has turned out so well for him. It has made all the years of grief & suffering worthwhile.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I hope you won't mind my adding my own to them.