I love my family. My adoptive family is my family. They are my family of identity. I got my name from my family, my treasured (and some not so treasured) memories from my family, my life history from my family, my religious teachings, my educational experiences, my childhood pets and more, from my family. My family is my family and I am attached to them.
I was the extreme example of a “mommy’s girl” as a child. My mother was the only person who could comfort me when I was hurt. I had to leave my first overnight camping experience because I was rushed on the bus so quickly that I didn’t get a chance to kiss her and say good-bye and that lapse overwhelmed me. Sadly, my mom died when I was only 21 and I never did get to know her as a true adult. I think I missed her most when I was pregnant and all my friends had their mothers around to support them, shop with them and plan with them; to tell them stories about their pregnancies and births.
But, loving my family was not always enough. While I remember knowing about my adoption from the beginning, so adoption seemed a very normal part of my life, it did not come without some challenges. Growing up adopted created questions and feelings that were not often addressed.
I remember always wanting to have a twin. I was fascinated by those shows where twins would be separated a birth, only to discover their mirror image later in life. They would find each other as emerging young teens and their lives would be forever changed. I am sure part of that fantasy came from my being adopted and having no personal “mirror” anywhere in my family. No one who looked like me, acted like me, thought just like me or responded to the world like me. Not only was I the only skinny blond in a large extended family of dark-haired, “padded” women, I was also more introspective and out-spoken.
Back then, the conscious thoughts and images of difference stopped there though. Those thoughts and images never went on to include any sense of loss connected to being the proverbial “fish out of water” in my family. They were just part of a fantasy, an undefined longing.
It was only later, when I was moving through my teen years, that I vaguely recall feelings of difference, apartness beginning to creep into my awareness. But, sadly, I was never able to put words or meaning to the feelings.
I was adopted 60 years ago, when there was no talk of adoption issues. No one gave words, let alone, explanations to any feelings about adoption. If a child was adopted into a loving family, it was expected that there would be no issues connected to being adopted. It was also expected that the child would grow up with the same values, traits and interests as the adoptive family. So, why didn’t I? Why was I so different from my family? Why did I gravitate to certain groups, not at all like my family? Why did I have a tendency to feel so strongly about issues that never seemed to cross their minds? And, in return, I began to notice that my parents, too, often wondered who I was and were I got certain traits.
When I was pregnant with my first child, the need to know the answers to those questions grew stronger. Who would this child be? What would he look like? There were so many questions but no good answers. I needed to find out more. That need led to the search for my beginnings and, ultimately, to a search for my birth parents. Strangely, though, after the glow of reunion passed; after the joy of finding matching hands, eyes and even the tendency to resort to cursing when upset (something my adoptive family never did), differences began to emerge. While I shared several physical and temperamental traits with my birth family, I found that many of my life views and responses to the world were very different. I soon realized that I was not totally a part of either family.
That realization created increased feelings of difference and loss. I finally understood the term “existential aloneness”. It felt like I had all the air knocked out of me and for days I walked around, hardly able to catch my breath. I was totally alone, ungrounded and undefined. I had no real truth.
If I couldn’t find myself, my truth, in my adoptive family, and I couldn’t see it in my birth family, who was I?
While I was in the depths of my aloneness I began to fantasize about, and even long for, who I would be if I had been raised by my birth family or who I would be if I had been born into my adoptive family. I had thought I so wanted to feel totally part of one family. From this, though, I saw a very different Me, a Me with so many parts lost. I saw that if I had been born into my adoptive family I would not be the introspective, emotional person that I am and, while that is not always an easy trait to live with, I certainly was not prepared to give it up and be more emotionally shut down and unable to look deeply inside myself. And, I saw that if I had been raised by my birth family I would have missed so many life experiences that have helped me refine my traits and my worldviews. Not something I would be comfortable with either. It was these insights that helped me begin my climb out of that feeling of despair and start to create a new view of myself and of my adoption.
I soon realized that, while my adoption did come with its losses, it also had many gains. I realized that I would not be the person I am without adoption. It took the genetic make-up of my birth family AND the day-to-day experience and environmental influences of my adoptive family to make me who I am today. And, while I still see myself as a work-in-progress, there are not many parts of me that I would be willing to totally throw away.
I do wish I had been able to come to know all this earlier in my life. It would have given sense and understanding to any feelings of difference and aloneness. But, then, at the time of my adoption none of this was discussed. My personal work in integrating my birth family legacy with my adoptive family legacy did not begin until midlife but it turned out to be some of the most important work I have done. This work led to the publication of One Wonderful You, a book for children of adoption. I wanted to help other adoptees, and their families, accept and honor their full histories – including both their biological and adoptive gifts (and challenges). It is only by honestly accepting all that we are that we can truly honor that unique being who is One Wonderful You.
My dad is now 100 years old and living in an assisted living facility in Michigan, our home state. I talk with him at least once a day and try to see him at least every three months. Even though I found my birth mother 29 years ago, and have actually known her longer than I was able to know my mother, when I go up to Michigan I have lunch with my birth mother but I stay with my sister and spend most of the time with my family. I feel blessed that I have a relationship with birth mother but my adoptive parents will always be my parents. And, isn’t that the way adoption should be?
About Francie:
Francie received her Master’s Degree in Counseling from Oakland University. She has worked in adoption for about 16 years, doing counseling, groups, workshops, trainings and preplacement and post placement work with families. Francie, an adult adoptee, brings to her work both personal and professional insights. She has written and had published a children’s book on adoption, several articles and co-authored two research papers on adoption at midlife. Francie has two children and one grandchild and currently lives in Greensboro, NorthCarolina.
One Wonderful You
Author: Francie Portnoy
“As a social worker working in the foster care system I have reviewed many books for children looking for the best book to help a young child with the idea of adoption. One Wonderful You is by far the best, addressing the positive aspects of the biological family and the adoptive family. A child struggling with their identity as an adoptive child will benefit from the simple storyline that allows them to make their own special history. The children love to color in the pictures as we read the book and talk about where they might have gotten some of their personal traits. This book is a staple in the adoption bag we give to all our adoptive families. Thank you so much for making it available to us.” -Susan G. Nelson, SW III -Dare County DSS
Thank you for sharing your story. I get it. I get it. I get it. Especially this part "I finally understood the term “existential aloneness”. It felt like I had all the air knocked out of me and for days I walked around, hardly able to catch my breath. I was totally alone, ungrounded and undefined. I had no real truth." My feeling this way was never validated or accepted as real. I was viewed as overly dramatic and unnecessarily emotional because adoption was supposed to be easy. I am glad to hear a fellow solider made it through the war. :) I know the book you wrote is changing the way kids process their adoption and that is a beautiful thing!
Love...
Posted by: Paula | 10/03/2009 at 04:51 PM
What a wonderful book to read with your children! I'm a adoptive parent of two special needs siblings who are now grown. I wish I had this book to read and discuss with them when they were growing up. It would have helped answer questions as well as started some discussions. I'm sure it will assist many adoptive parents and their kids now and in the future.
Posted by: Vickie McWhirter | 06/07/2009 at 10:49 PM