I am an adoptee. I was born in the mid-70′s, during a time I like to call “the Dark Ages of Adoption.” I was born and whisked away from my Birthmother, probably before she even got a chance to see me. There was no such thing as open adoption, there were no updates. She gave birth to me and then I was gone.
For as long as I can remember I have known I was adopted, my Mom and Dad were always very upfront about it, and I’m very grateful to them for that. It was never a secret that I stumbled across later in life, uprooting my whole identity and my whole sense of self. In fact, I grew up to be so comfortable with the fact that I was adopted that I talk about it with a frankness that sometimes makes other people uncomfortable. (Never intentionally, of course.)
If you want more detail, you can find my adoptee story here!
I am a birthmother. In my mid-20′s I found myself with an unplanned pregnancy on my hands and I followed the example my birthmother had set for me, even though I had never met her. I navigated the murky, sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking, waters of the adoption process.
I did meet my birthmother after my son was born, and if that story is of interest – I’ll gladly share it in this blog as we take this journey together, but my son’s story seemed like the right place to start.