Holding On and Letting Go.

I don't usually watch the Silent Witness series on BBC TV - it's just not something I've got into and therefore know nothing about the characters etc. However, last night having switched on the box in that interlude between to tired to be up and too early to go to bed, I settled for watching most of an episode.

The subject material was harrowing and probably deeply distressing for any woman who's either been subjected to violent coercion or had a baby taken away for any reason. Whether by legal, state endorsed authority or a violent, criminal power is probably immaterial, because for whatever reason there is something intrinsic to all human understanding that to separate a mother from her child is a terrible thing. Maybe the most   heart rending act of all?

Yet, there was a kind of redemption story in this tale of forced separation and adoption, in the choice made by the birth mother when watching her small daughter for the first time; The decision to let go, to walk away in the knowledge that her child was happy, loved and deserving of an uncomplicated childhood. It's a choice that once made can cost a woman everything - I read so many stories of grief and rage from women who feel as though their mother hearts have been ripped out. I've been there too. 

Redemption comes from understanding that a true mother is not necessarily the woman who gives birth, or the woman who raises a child; She's the one who can open her heart wide enough, in an act of such trust of the Universal Mother that the needs and rights of a child come before anything else in her world. Sometimes this will mean fighting tooth and nail for her relationship with her child and sometimes it will require enough love to let go, and this goes for birth mothers and adoptive mothers alike.

Every situation is unique, everyone of us has a different story. There are no formulas here. But I believe that if we are courageous enough to listen to that Universal Mother heart beating alongside of our own, it's possible to begin the transformation of our grief and pain into love and - yes - even a measure of peace.

Adoption - Choosing to Disclose.

Following on from my first post I want to write a little more about my experience of adoption. What I've observed over the years is that somehow there appears to be a huge taboo around the subject and very few women will openly discuss their experiences. I've noticed that  having chosen to terminate a pregnancy seems to be an easier thing to confess, possibly because abortion is considered by many to be our right. It's a difficult decision that's often supported as being sensible or realistic. I'm not suggesting for one moment that pregnancy termination isn't also potentially traumatic - there will be future posts about this -  but I feel that to be open about having chosen adoption - a rarer decision - can make people, especially other women very uncomfortable.

Many times over the years, I've found that in choosing to share my experience with another, I end up feeling a sense of responsibility for their feelings as the recipients of my disclosure. I notice the surprise and the intake of breath, the slight shock and sometimes eyes welling with tears. I find myself telling people that's it's okay, I've long ago come to terms with the decision I made, and then go on to talk about reconciliation with my son because I know we all have a deep need for stories to have happy endings. We want to know that there is some kind of Universal justice in the world that will always make sense of what hurts or seems nonsensical.

I wasn't a practical, selfless and  saintlike person who made a carefully analysed decision after having weighed up all the pros and cons. I made a choice that was no choice - one born out of desperation and the realization that at the age of twenty I had completely underestimated my abilities and readiness for the task of single motherhood. I had refused to even consider the subject of adoption during my pregnancy because I wrongly believed it to be a heartless option. I believe now, that in most circumstances, carefully planned and prepared for adoption can be a far gentler experience for both birth mother and baby than for both to experience the trauma of being forcibly wrenched apart by impossible life circumstances.

I choose to share my experience openly because now as an older and kinder person, I have ceased to judge myself. I've come to believe that when we are able to embrace even our toughest life challenges with compassion, we invite others to do the same, and perhaps go some way towards lifting the discomfort and prejudice surrounding the discussion of subjects as sensitive as adoption.

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New Year - Fresh Hope.

Today is a special day and a really great way to start this new blog at The Mother Mama. My lovely daughter in law, C., has just emailed the photos from her 12 week pregnancy scan and I'm privileged to see the new life that is my very first grandchild to be! Having been a midwife I've seen a great many images from fetal scans, but to witness the beginnings of another generation of my own family is a different kind of wonderful! All new life is miraculous, but this one is particularly meaningful... 

Over thirty years ago, as a scared and depressed young, single mother, I gave my own baby - his father - up for adoption. There weren't any routine scans back then, not necessarily a bad thing, but after a particularly horrific birth I was fully unprepared for the upcoming tug of war between my new mother heart and my own inadequately parented, child-self.

There were years when I genuinely believed that I would never overcome the separation from my baby son and that it wouldn't be possible for me to truly know happiness again. Despite eventually marrying and going on to have a large family, there would always be a chunk of my heart missing. I learned to live with loss.

Years later we found one another again and began the tentative process of reforming a mother/son relationship based on who we are now, and with no history of shared memories upon which to build. This has meant some determination and the making of conscious choices on both our parts. Each year brings us a little closer and now I feel a sense of such awe and gratitude that I am lovingly  included as part of his own new family to be.

 I am reminded that when we are in the midst of various life traumas we can somehow believe that this is IT - the whole story, and that our perceived failures are an end in themselves. This is not so. Our lives have purpose and meaning, and although it may be a long time before we begin to see the outworking of events that occurred many years previously; there in the background of our daily activities, threads are quietly being woven together to form some spectacular tapestries. Our role is to hold on to hope, learn to love, and patiently trust the process.