Handing me over - letting me go.

I never askabout the day I was adopted.  There are photos of the arrival into my new home and family.

I don't recall there ever being a conversation about the hand over.  I can imagine mum taking a pretty stunning outfit to bring me home in.  Did she change me at Bethany?  Did she give the clothes to a worker to get me dressed in?  Did I come in my own clothes? What happened to those adoption day clothes? 

The big question I have is - did mum and dad think about the young woman who was handing her baby over?  Did they ask for her to be thanked?  Did they empathise with her pain?  Did they judge her?  Did they feel pretty pleased with themselves taking her baby for a better life?

Norma told me that the relinquishing mothers would be aware that their baby had been selected for adoption and would be going.  On the day I was picked up Norma happened to be in the nursery.  I didn't ask her what the routine was and I presume that one day they would go to feed their baby etc and it would be gone.  So she was there and knew the exact moment I was taken.

Norma is a resilient woman, she is determined and just a little bit feisty.  The moment during our conversation that she softened was when she told me 'It was hard, really hard'.  My eyes met hers and I felt like those few words connected us deeply.  It felt like her apology and her desire to tell me that she didn't adopt me out without a second thought.   

Norma watched me leave out a window.  She told me that my parents had a flash new green car (true).  That my mother had a smart outfit complete with gloves and hat (true).

How must it have felt?  

I imagine huge relief - her big problem had been resolved.  The worry and anticipation had now been faced and were over.  She could go home and not face judgement from her mother, she could carry on.

Perhaps relief that it seemed like her baby was going to a home that could provide what she couldn't.  

There must have been loss and sadness.  Grief.  For us both.

Chapter Eight - The meeting

So I drove away from Norma.  But I had seen her and I had heard her voice.  I suppose I could have carried on chatting about her dog to make the moment last longer.

I did a bit of a drive around Armidale - I wasn't ever going to visit there again.  Its a really pretty town, particularly in autumn.

I thought it was pointless to go back to the hotel - with all the too-ing and fro-ing it was almost 1pm.  But I decided to as that was where I said I would be and if nothing else it ended this adventure.

As I drove up to the hotel there she was - through the glass I could see her with her sleeves rolled up and pacing back and forward.

I parked the car and made my way inside.  If I have felt terror before, I was now feeling terror times 5!  Dry throat, knees seemed to be disconnected, and heart leaping all over my chest.

There we were facing each other in the lobby of a hotel.  Man was she cross!  I managed to wrangle her into a lobby chair and we sat and talked for three hours.

I could see myself in her.  For the first time in my life I was with someone who was physically related to me and who looked like me.  Unless you have been at this place I suspect its difficult to understand but I have longed to look like someone - to know where the dark thin hair came from, and the nose, and the height.  I can't really describe the impact of this on me adequately - but I felt a deep sense of calm.  Here she was.  Finally.

She told me that she could see her family in me but nothing of my birth father.  Several times she mentioned that I was like her sister Jenny . When I asked if this was a good thing she said she loved Jenny very much.  I also reminded her of her son Tim but no mention of her other two children as being similar.

I talked with her as if I had known her forever - it didn't take too long for her to start to share her story.   The story of me and mine - bless you Norma. 

Norma was brought up in a small farming community - Taree, New South Wales.  From memory she is the eldest of seven children - three girls and four boys.  

Farm land near Armidale, NSW, at sunset.

Her father she described as a quiet, smart and bookish man.  Her fathers parents had died young and he had been brought up by his grandparents.  He encouraged her to read and as a railway employee had access to a large library and would bring books home for her and talk with her about what she was reading.  The warmth and respect she felt towards this man was evident.  

Her mother didn't fare quite as well.  She felt her mother was not her fathers equal.  She dominated him.  Her mother didn't treat all her children the same and had clear favourites - some got tennis lessons, others didn't.  Norma was not a favourite.  

Norma had been dating a local chap Kenneth - he came from a Moorland farming family and she thought they would marry.  She could see herself doing well as a farmers wife and was in love with him.  Kenneth by her accounts was a 'bit of a lad'.  She had stayed at the farm and felt Kenneth's mother didn't like her doing that and didn't approve of her.  

Norma left Taree and travelled to Dunedin, New Zealand on a working holiday scheme, it was here that she found she was pregnant.  When she told Kenneth about this he didn't believe it was his baby.  

Kenneth married a wee while later, to a girl Norma felt was proud and walked with her nose in the air!  

Kenneth's brother attempted to date one of Norma's sisters at a later stage and she warned her off him pretty smartly!

Moorland, Taree, NSW - near Kenneth's family farm

So there she was in New Zealand on her own and given her family relationships - not able to return home easily.  There was no way her mother would have her in the house, her father wouldn't stand up for her - Taree is a very small place.  

Over the next few months she travelled in New Zealand heading towards Auckland.  She tired to make it on her own and could see that she wouldn't be able to survive alone and with a baby.  In Auckland she moved into Bethany Hospital.

I don't have a soft spot for the Salvation Army - and I had always imagined they were judgemental towards woman in Norma's situation - baby for board type arrangements.  Norma tells me they were lovely.  Bethany was a safe haven.

She couldn't recall my birth - the time of day or my birth weight.  I was told I was 5lb 2 oz and premature. She does recall that I was tiny baby but a good feeder.  Interestingly my adoptive mother told me I took hours to feed and would promptly vomit everything up after every feed and she would have to start again.  Who says the baby doesn't notice the mother switch?!

One of the saddest thoughts I have had about my adoption was the thought that between being born and being adopted I was left on my own.  Norma told me that she feed and cared for me during this time.  This is a huge weight off my heart - I have often felt grief about a new born not having physical comfort, touch and sound.

She can't recall why she choose Kerry Jane as my name.

I suspect these details are well locked away or long forgotten.  I wish I did know.

Chapter Seven - The day I met my mother.

Well its been a long while between posts - the only explanation I can offer for the delay is the hope that this post would be my opus - beautifully written, capturing every detail and a person needs time to get that sort of writing done.  Well that's not going to happen so I might as well get it all down as best I can.

The purpose of this blog is for me to capture my journey in a way it can't get lost and it can be shared if anyone was every interested.  I have done so much thinking and discussing and thinking and reading and thinking since June - sorting and sifting through my feelings and thoughts trying to gather them together.

Having re-read what I wrote earlier I can see some pretty big information gaps.  One - I was born, adopted and live in New Zealand.  Last year I travelled to Armidale, New South Wales, Australia in the hope I would meet my mother.  

I suppose this could raise other questions - how did I find her?  Why make the journey now?  Hummmm I can cover these at another time - as its been quite a process getting to this point.  But I did find her, I did make the journey and this is what happened after she slammed her front door in my face and I felt like I had committed a crime as I left her house....

In the safety of the rental car I drove around the corner out of site of the house and took several deep breaths.  I felt so proud of myself - I had done it, I faced the terror and uncertainty and I had done what I set out to do.  Perhaps this was just the after effect of too much adrenalin - doesn't matter I felt triumphant.

It didn't occur to me to race around to the back door and try again.  I had already got so much - to see, hear and meet my mother.  Already the trip had delivered more than I could have hoped for.

I took one more drive past the house before heading out of town and there she was - walking down the driveway of her home.  We looked at each other and I kept driving.

I decided to take a quick drive around Armidale - not likely I would ever be back there again.  Its a beautiful wee town and as I was driving I decided that I needed to be at the meeting place I had suggested just in case and if nothing else to finish this properly.

As I pulled up to the hotel about an hour later - there she was standing in the lobby, pacing and with her sleeves rolled up.  Yikes this woman looked like she was ready for a fight.  As I walked into the lobby I honestly thought I was going to freeze with nerves - I finally knew what people were talking about when they say their knees were knocking and their mouth was dry.

The minute she saw me she was on to me - 'What do you want?' 'Why are you here?' etc.  We sat down and I think I said something like 'In seeing you and hearing you, you have probably already given me all that I want'.  I just sat and looked at her.  I think we were both a little taken aback!

Again - if I could just have frozen that moment in time it would have been perfect.  Where is the film crew when you need it?  

Chapter 6 - If it wasn't so serious, it would be hilarious!

Its been some time since I blogged - this doens't mean nothing has happend.  In fact the exact opposite.  Long story short - I found her, heard her voice, hugged her.

As I pulled up outside Norma's house I was a bag of nerves.  There was a car in the drive so someone was home.  I parked around the nearby corner and walked to the house -  as I approached the house the car zipped out of the drive way and off down the road.  I hadn't expected that!  At a glance it looked like a woman driving but I couldn't be sure.

I went back to the car, took some deep breaths, then went to find a coffee place to re-think my strategy.

About half an hour later I drove back to the house and was pleased to see the car back in the drive.  Again I parked the care and stepped out and headed towards the house again, not quite as anxious this time.... and the blasted car had gone again!  Seriously?  It all felt like a French farce. 

Given I was already a bit edgy and one strong coffee down - I thought another coffee wasn't going to be a good idea so I went window shopping for a bit.  

So I figured that as an older woman, if Norma was anything like my parents, then she could be expected to have her lunch bang on the dot of 12 noon. 

I returned at midday, the car was back in the drive way.  This time I parked right outside (to keep an eye on any comings and goings!) and marched to the doorway.  By this time I wasn't anxious, nervous or worried at all - all those feelings had been replaced with 100% determination to make my move before anyone could leave the property again!

The house was an older style villa where you can see right down the hallway from the front door.  The front door was open and I briefly glimpsed Norma sitting down to have her lunch on the verandah at the rear of the house.  She was talking to someone so I moved slightly out of view and knocked.


Yap yap yap yap yap...... a wee sausage dog roared into action barking with enthusiasm behind the screen door at the front of the house.  Norma came out onto the porch, wrangling the dog - and there she was,  my birth mother, right in front of me fussing about the dog and reassuring me he was all bark and would lick me to death with kindness.

If I could have frozen that scene just for a moment I would have - just to look at her, just to stand in that moment and experience it slowly. 

The conversation went something like this 'Hello my name is Gill Rxxxxxx from Wellington, New Zealand'.  I assumed she would recognise my adopted name as it was known to her.  Not a flicker of recognition.  

Deep breath 'You will know me as Kerry Jane Gxxxxx' (this is my birth name).  Nope not a flicker - zip, zero.

'Norma I believe you are my birth mother, I am your daughter'.  BOOM!  She was off that porch and back in her house in a flash - snapping 'No, no, no, no, no!' as she went.  And as the front door was slammed shut, I threw the card into the hallway.

It said something like this....

I know you don't welcome this contact and I understand the need for privacy is important to you.
You will probably understand that the need for information is important to me.
I am looking for information not a relationship, and in the first instance you are the best person to get information from.
I will be at Quality Hotel at 1pm if we don't arrange another time or place to meet when I introduce myself. 
Kind regards
Gill
+ contact details

As I walked away from the house a feeling of terror hit me - I felt like I was in immediate physical danger and the flight response kicked in.  I was absolutely terrified and my body felt like jelly.

I got back to the car and pulled myself together and text my buddies 'Well that's a no then'.

I felt all sorts of feelings at once but the overriding feelings were:  numb - after months of planning and plotting, worrying and wondering it was done and I felt depleted.  I felt proud and brave - I had done it, I had honoured a promise I made to myself.  I felt joy - I had seen her, I had heard her.  This was more than I had hoped for already.

Chapter five - meeting day in Armidale ?

I wake to a beautiful day in Armidale, New South Wales.  Th drive from Sydney took 7 hours not the five and a half I was expecting.  The route through the Hunter Valley and New England Highway was a delight - the autumn leaves were at their best.  This is one big country!

Autumn in Armidale, New South Wales, Australia.

Being in procrastination mode (leaving flight option open) I hadn't booked a hotel room.  I ended up in a large family suite at Quality Hotels.   

The small group of friends I have told about this trip were texting and ringing  to check in on how things were going.  

I tend to do things first and then tell folk how it went afterwards.   Part of this journey has been about me trusting people who I know care about me and let them worry, support and be good friends to me.  Let's face it, if my friends never trusted me with important information about their lives I would start to question the friendship so I am letting them do this with me in 'real time' - that's scary for me too.

So here I am in Armidale.  I have done some thinking about what I could be facing and how I was going to keep myself safe and get what I wanted:

Make sure you stay somewhere reputable, consider letting the hotel staff know you are going out to an important meeting and are expected back at a specific time.  Worst case scenario - your absence will be picked up quickly!

Norma may not be home or away from her address .  What you are going to do - check out rest homes?  hospitals? Ask neighbours? She could be on a 6 month cruise!

If she is at home I might face a number of outcomes - death or fainting (a bit over the top but worth planning for!) - what is the local emergency number?  Yelling, screaming, hitting, door slamming, police calling!  What happens if there is a total denial?  She genuinely doesn't think she is my mother?  What happens if I arrive in the middle of a social event/party/funeral?

I had assumed that Norma's life partner had died so I was likely to be dealing just with her.   About a month before I traveled, Norma put a post up on Facebook showing a photo of her Hank her partner.  At least I know this ahead of time so can factor him into my approach - I would have been really thrown if I'd found this out today.  

A common response to threatening situations is fight (lets hope she doesn't have a gun!), flight or freeze.  After all my scenario thinking I think she will want to protect her secret at all costs.  She will want to make me go away.  I am assuming I will be told to leave or have a door shut in my face.

How frightening will it be to have your big secret turn up.  You have had no prior warning and so will be acting on gut.

I have drafted a note for Norma so that when I approach her today I leave her with some written information just I case her mind goes blank. It could also be something I biff through the door when I slams in my face too!

If I don't tell her this I leave her with no control.  I am here in Armidale and she can't get hold of me, know what I am up to or stop me.  Giving her a way to get in touch feels a kind and important thing to do.

Secrets are funny old things.  Isn't one of the first things we are taught are truth and honesty are fundamental to integrity.  But adoption in the 1960s relies on all parties keeping secrets and not always being honest.  

As an adoptee I was made aware of the need to be respectful of Norma's secret - all that stuff about being mindful of the relinquishing mothers feelings, the likelihood she may have told no one and created a new life for herself that needs to be respected....based on half truth? My dad said not revealing the full truth is lying by omission.

Anyway I digress.  It occurs to me this is not my secret and I am not obliged to be complicit.  Sure it would be cruel to expose this unnecessarily but it's not my secret I am not bound by anyone else's actions, agreements or decisions - I did not sign up for this deal, I am in breach of nothing, I am the boss of me! That kind of took the pressure off my planning to make sure everyone felt protected and safe - it's not my total responsibility.

So in a couple of hours its time to attempt to see her and if profoundly lucky, talk with her.  Let's hope she isn't on holiday or has passed away, or moved.........

Chapter four - my good friend Christine

Christine, as the heading suggests, is a good friend!  She has been a really useful person for me as she 'gave up' a baby for adoption.  She has been contacted by her son and they have occasional and pleasant contact.  Christine has been like my touch stone  re contact and reunion.  She has clarity and kindness and a big dose of reality to offer.

It is so obvious that her sons birth was a time of awfulness (her word) from the conception, to the panic of finding out she was pregnant and facing her family, to the birth, to the relinquishment.   And who wants to got back to awful all the time?  

I can hear her voice now 'honestly it's a time in my life I just don't want to go back to' and it's not said with spite or venom but with tiredness.  The whole business was fraught and unwelcome and the thought of having to give it more head room and heart room is exhausting - that's the  kind of the sense I get when we talk about this stuff.


I recall her telling about a dinner party conversation she was at as a married adult -  where her child's adoption got raised (it's that third glass of wine that does it!).  How folk assumed she was sexually confident or promiscuous.  How distressing it was for Christine sit and listen to her friends make light of what was a ghastly time in her life.   As the chat moved on to the next topic she was left to sit feeling sad, judged and humiliated by the experience.  By the time she retold it to me she was fairly outraged!

Other peoples view are a real problem for me.  One of the reasons I am doing this trip alone is that I can't stand the thought of having to listen to someone else's view and opinion.

My friends fall into two clear camps -

The pink tulle and satin ribbon brigade - those that have read too many trashy novels or watched too many day time Find My Family programmes.  They honestly believe reunion will be bring emotional healing, everyone will get on well, there will be flowers and hugs and tears of joy.  The credits roll and everyone rides off happily into the sunset.

This group aren't interested in the details or complexity they just seem into an emotional moment and their thinking (meaning advice and opinion and recommendations) is best described as light and short term.  Their motivation is faultless, they wish for peace, happiness and closure.  And I love them all.

Then there is the let sleeping dogs lie brigade - these folk have a cautious and sometimes soured view of adoption.  

This is often as the result of a bad adoption experience in their own family or where there is a strong desire to protect the adoption myth or the primacy of the adoptive family. 

I have  a friend Anna who bursts into tears if adoption gets talked about as she finds this really hurtful as it impacts on her view of her own family.  She has two adopted brothers. 

Its important to these folk that we maintain the idea that the new family is the only family.  What happened before was a mistake.  Adoption is the solution.  Any attempt to open up the adoption can of worms could be difficult or dangerous.  Of course their motivation is faultless too they just want to protect and keep me safe.

As I write I can see a third group who are detached or realistic enough to walk a little down the middle.  They are realists who understand the drive to find out more or keep going till every possibility or opportunity has been explored.  They also know there will be disappointment, frustration and hurt.....and they bring tissues and practical common sense.  Bless them all.

Chapter Three - pondering rejection

The Primal Wound by Nancy Verrier was an amazing gift of a book and helped me sort out how I think about the impact of adoption on me.  

Hers was one of the first books I read - others had left me a bit cold and didn't sit well as they just didn't feel right or capture my experience. 

The Primal Wound knocked me right off my seat - I think I read it three times in a row, there were parts that I read and re-read.  Finally someone got it - finally I had words and concepts to describe my reality.  Best of all, it was written from a perspective that didn't seem to be making an ideological stand.  Just a mum describing her own observations of the difference between her biological and adopted children - no axe to grind.

On the surface of it I suspect folk would describe me as pretty up front and not unduly bothered about being adopted. But often the whole adoption thing creeps up on me and is a source of great, great pain and sadness. 

I hit the family jackpot in adoptive family roulette.  I have little to complain about.  Why given a good solid upbringing did adoption continue to be an issue.  How could something that happened so long ago keep popping up?

Until I read The Primal Wound, it just didn't make sense and I would go around and around with this.  I really connect with the idea that a wound that occurs when the mother and baby find themselves apart through adoption. A wound that heals in its own way but leaves a scar that never quite goes away.

For some people the scar will be huge and disfiguring and have a big impact on the person, for others its a battle scare worn with pride.... but we all have a scar.
 
I loved the idea that adoption sets up a life long search for self.  Its not a one off, done and dusted kind of thing.  I don't have to get hung up on the need to revisit my feelings from time to time, its just part of the process.  What a relief! Nancy gave me permission to sometimes feel ok and at other times feel stink!  What I was feeling was normal and perfectly logical.

The chapters dealing with an adoptee's strategies to avoid rejection were perfect. 
  I am pretty self contained and it doesn't take a degree in psychology to work out this is based on not letting people get too close or be in a position to let me down.   I don't gather people around me and there are very few people I able to honest and open with about the things that really matter to me.  I take a long time to trust people at any deep level.

There is every possibility when I approach Norma, my birth mother, in the next few days she could really do some damage.  From slamming the door in my face (literally), to giving me some free and frank feedback about disrupting her life - she has already made it clear she doesn't want contact.

Yip I could be in for a rough ride, there may be unhappy tears but whatever happens this can't be worse than living with the regret of not approaching her or laying my eyes on her.

I can only control myself - I have no ability to make Norma do what she doesn't want to do.

When I started this post I wanted to chew over how I will cope with rejection - the benefit of one finger typing is as I have thought about this - it's not do or die.  It's just part of the journey and there may be a massive speed bump or dead end but at least I had the courage and I kept my promise to myself.