“Adoptee Bob”: The “L” Word – Be Very Afraid
Sometimes life is filled with little coincidences. My wife and I are both adoptees, and as luck would have it, we were placed by the same agency in the state we live in. After many years of thinking about doing a search, we both decided to get serious about it and pay the agency to do first contact. Our motivations for searching were very similar, basically wanting to know our real last names and genealogical information, so we could fill the gaps in our “self-image” that only knowing where you really come from can answer. Both of us, if given the opportunity, would have preferred to just get our files without the b-parents being alerted or contacted in any way, but unfortunately in our state dual consent is required, and there was no way to avoid this. The letters were sent, and the die was cast. We began our wait.
Fortunately, we did not have to wait long. Both searches resulted in contact within two weeks, both b-moms overjoyed that we were looking for them (at least at first). Funny thing: before we paid to do our searches, we had attended a adoptee support group meeting, and rolled our eyes at all the angst-ridden whining adoptees who had already been reunited babbling on about what nutcases their b-moms turned out to be, and what hijinx and headgames the b-moms were laying on them. Gee, wouldn’t it be fun to go to the meeting and tell them how great our reunions turned out? Good thing we waited a few months, considering where we finally ended up.
My wife’s first call to her b-mom goes well, and the first thing out of her b-mom’s mouth is “Oh god I love you so much”. Hmmmmmm, this gets me a little worried, I thought it was a little early to be slinging the “L” word around, kinda like a girl you pick up in a bar telling you she wants to have your children after the first date. Then she was begging her to call her “mom”, and to drive up as soon as possible. Okey doke. We drive up and she was all over my wife, telling her that they were going to be best friends and do everything together for the rest of their lives. I call this the “Honeymoon Period”, and we go home thinking this is the coolest thing that ever happened to us.
My first call to my b-mother goes much the same. Lots of b-mom crying, asking my forgiveness for giving me up, and few shots at herself as “not being worthy” and “needing to lose weight before meeting me” and a few other self-loathing type comments. Fortunately, my b-mom lives on the other side of the country, so I had plenty of buffer distance and we could not see each other anytime soon. I came away from the call thinking my b-mom was a little kooky and down on herself, but a nice lady, and she immediately started passing out my phone number to all my aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters, and my phone was ringing off the hook with “overjoyed” relatives who declared that “now the family was complete again”. I call this the “Honeymoon Period”, and I hang up the phone thinking this is the coolest thing that ever happened to me. How deja-vu!
Fast forward to visit #4 at the wife’s b-parents. Turns out that b-grandpa had a taste for little girls, and b-mom was at the top of the list. Sad, and disgusting, and not something you would normally share with your b-daughter in casual conversation. But not only did b-mom like to talk about it, she liked to go into gruesome detail, describing sex acts, positions, etc. My wife politely rode the conversation out, but it truly disturbed her, not only to hear that she was a blood relation to a child molester, but now she could picture the crime in detail in her head, thanks to b-mom’s colorful blow-by-blow (literally) description of the event. Later that evening, b-mom drives us by her brother’s place and we have a nice two-hour visit, really liking my wife’s new uncle. My wife and I are both like, *whew*, at least THAT was pleasant! This warm fuzzy feeling does not last long, however, as on the way out of the driveway, b-mom goes, “yes, he is really nice, but did you know he got caught screwing his stepdaughter?!” ALRIGHT ALREADY, we had had enough at this point, and my wife breaks it down for b-mom: we understand you have been though a lot, but could you please save all this soulsearching for another time? We hardly know you, and you are unloading a boatload of really vile family secret type crap on us, and in addition to ruining our self-esteem you are making us puke. Could you please have mercy on us and change the subject? Well, the honeymoon ended right there. B-Mom starts crying, and goes “but that is part of me, and you have to accept it, and if I can’t talk about it, I can’t be close to you”. She then stopped calling and corresponding (they would send cutesy little cards to each other almost every day) and put on the deep freeze anytime my wife would call, suddenly no more I-love-you’s or come- up-and-see-me’s. I call this the “Reality Period”, that she never really gave a crap in the first place, and that b-child was fun to have around until it did something b-mom didn’t like.
Suddenly, my wife was one of those angst-ridden whiny adoptees at the support group meeting babbling about what a nutcase their b-mom is. Oh, the humanity! But at this point, I cautiously consider myself fortunate, I am getting along great with my B-mom’s family. By now I have met both my uncles and one of my brothers, and am going broke from calling everyone else in the clan every other night long distance. Things couldn’t be better…but then I made the ultimate mistake: I asked “The Question”. What was my b-dad like?
After my ear healed from all the high-velocity shrieking about how dare I even ask such a thing, I hang up the phone and decide to look for b-dad without telling b-mom. She apparently harbored some 30-year-old hatred for him (can’t we all get along?) and the mere mention of his name sent her into a seizure. Anyway, I get his real name from my adoption records (which b-mom doesn’t know I have, she had lied to me about what his name was) and I manage to find an uncle, who relays my message to my b-father that I am looking for him. Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible (since I didn’t know if he remarried or if he even knew I existed) I told the uncle that I would not bother him again and gave him my number to pass along, and if I didn’t hear anything I would drop it, no hard feelings. Unfortunately, the uncle copies my number down incorrectly, and my b-dad goes apeshit trying to call me. Finally, since I had told my uncle I had been reunited with my b-mom, b-dad calls one of her relatives and tries to get my number, and she finds out that I am looking for b-dad. She is not amused.
The next day she calls me, again shrieking, and it goes like this: she was devastated because the imaginary little child (me) who was a constant companion in her head for the last 30 years was now “dead to her” (direct quote) and that whomever or whatever I was had evilly taken his place like some sort of doppleganger. It became apparent that b-mom was a few fries short of a HappyMeal, and she told me she didn’t want to speak to me from this point forward since I had committed the ultimate sin of contacting my b-father….and then she hung up on me. Peachy. I call this the “Reality Period”, that she never really gave a crap in the first place, and that b-child was fun to have around until it did something b-mom didn’t like. Suddenly I am one of those angst-ridden whiny adoptees at the support group meeting babbling about what a nutcase their b-mom is. Oh, the humanity!
Is there a moral to this story? I don’t know, maybe be careful what you wish for (finding your b-parents), ’cause you just might succeed. They may not be anything like you, they may be poor, they may be stupid. They will probably be a little nutty. You will probably end up in a support group and join the legions of the whiny, or just shake your head in disbelief and take it all with a grain of salt. They will probably make you miserable at least a few times, and may make you cry more than make you laugh.
Do I have any advice for you guys out there searching? Sure do. Don’t get your hopes up too high. I almost guarantee that your “fantasy parents” are much more cool than the real ones you will eventually find. Take everything VERY slow, and keep your defenses up until you REALLY know where they are coming from. They will probably lay a bunch of emotional stuff on you (we miss you, we will love you forever, we will always be there for you) that they probably do not really mean. In spite of what they say, you are a stranger to them, and they blew you off once…and it is easier to do it again than accept that you are an adult with feelings and desires EQUALLY as important as theirs. As soon as it gets a little messy, don’t be shocked if you get a pink slip in the mail.
Was it worth it? Yes and no. We went through a lot of crap, and that sucked. The b-moms in this story put a lot of emotional mileage on us in a very short time, and we have nothing to show for it, they are both out of the picture now. (better now than later, though, and we are both grateful we found out how flaky they were early in the game). The silver lining? We both came away with some great relationships: my wife is very close to her younger brother, and I am very close to my b-dad and my two brothers on b-dad’s side. Unfortunately, I lost contact with all the relatives on b-mom’s side as they all jumped in bed with b-mom when she excommunicated me from the clan. They wouldn’t even return my calls to tell them my side of things…I was the “missing part of the family” alright. I call this the “Who Needs You Drooling Cretins Anyway Period” and I am feeling a lot better about everything now. Just don’t sit within earshot of me at the next support group meeting.
