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Jocelyn Bedard |
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Kindred Pathways |
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Birthmothers of Canada E-mail: info@birthmothersofcanada.org |
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My motherhood experience has been varied. My mother was unable to parent me. My father raised four of us as a single parent. At 15, I got pregnant and my son was born in 1989, 6 years later at 21 years of age, my daughter was born in 1995. I was ambivalent about parenthood. I was coping with depression throughout most of my life. I went to counseling and discussed every moment of my life with a therapist. Still, something was wrong. In 2005, at the age of 32 I finally found the answer to that question. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. Most importantly, I was ready to hear it and to accept help from a tiny little white pill. If only I had known sooner. Would I have been better able to parent my children? The option that gave me the most peace with myself at the time was adoption. My children were both adopted into the same family at birth. I am currently married with two step children born in 1989 and 1990. Through this I have learned how to be a different kind of family. A blended family. This is what adoption can be, My experience was different. I did spent some time trying to start a new family and was not able. I could have pursued fertility treatments but I continued to feel ambivalent about parenthood. I saw my mother in myself. She left us because she was coping with an undiagnosed mental health illness. I felt angry about small things and found it difficult to control my temper. I removed myself from situations that I knew would cause me distress. I understood that the stress of having children would put my life out of balance and that understanding leaves me with a peace about choosing not to conceive another child. My relationship with my children has been through letters and pictures. When my son was 10, he asked to meet me. His parents said that when the children ask for me they would do their best to make that happen. We met at the adoption agency. I was given a riot act including several directives that summed up into speak only in response to questions the children directly ask you. I was devastated about the letter. The adoption agency said they were trying to be, “clear,” because I wasn’t getting it. Getting what? I was asking questions about open adoption and sent them some literature on the subject. I was told that if I pursued the topic, that they would no longer communicate with me. I didn’t hear from them for two years around that time. I had to focus on the children to get through the meeting. It was 3 hours. We shared some games together and they gave some home made chocolate chip cookies. All was well with us. We met a second time when Joanna was 10. She asked to meet me. I was invited to Santa’s Village...Santa’s Village...Santa’s Village. Yes that is what was offered to me. There have been so many reunions in McDonalds, they should take reservations. I declined the offer and the meeting took place at a friend’s cottage. We played games and went swimming. I followed their lead as they walked across the beach. Joanna asked me if I was staying for supper. All was well. We took a group picture after 3 hours and things were winding down. I watched the kids play and eventually our visit ended after 6 hours of memorable moments. The response from Jonathan and Joanna’s parents was unexpected. They were furious. We were selfish and had interrupted their day. After 16 years, I was begrudged 6 hours of time with my children. My husband had mentioned that he has the best talks with his kids when he drives them back and forth to visit their mom and there is space to casually talk. This comment was misinterpreted as a request to take them for a drive. OK...well you know, so what if we did? Large GASP here….. Sit back and think about it. When I tell someone I had a child that I relinquished for adoption, I get one of three reactions. Abolute silence accompanied by a pin drop. How could you and how wonderful. Really, what is it that I have done? I gave birth to a child. I chose life and I made sure that child was cared for. Why did I feel like a criminal. Hidden, feared and treated with such disrespect as to not be invited to dinner, It was the term Disenfranchised Grief that changed my life. Grief that is not recognized by society. It is not allowed to be expressed. I started Birthmother’s of Canada with other Birthmother’s in Kitchener-Waterloo in 2001. I attended a group at a local maternity home and met other birthmother’s for the first time in my life. We were getting older and learning that our loss needed to be acknowledged. Our decision to plan a Birthmother’s Day of Recognition was controversial. We were asked to leave the group and did so only to start our own with the understanding that we will always love our children It has been difficult to get women together who have been through the loss of a child through adoption. There is unspoken pain. There is shame and grief. I help the most by answering email and meeting individuals one on one. Often I never get more than one email or a call from someone that doesn't want to say their name because no one knows about their past. I give out my phone number but never get a call but I hear a lot of thanks for being there. For just existing. I stand in the gap by continuing to plan an annual Birthmother’s Day of Recognition. We navigate the waters of a wave of emerging support groups and move through the process of defining ourselves as strong and independent women in our society. We are no longer forgotten or alone. Above all else, we are mother’s. When my son was born, my family felt that it was best not to see him. I had him in my room for only a few moments. When I went to reach for his hand, my family wheeled his bassinette away We couldn’t be allowed to bond. We were already bonded. I had to say hello before I could say good-bye. When my daughter was born I was afraid but I held her and I felt peace. I was able to see that she needed more than I could give. We made a decision to provide a family for our children but we never stopped loving them. Adoption is born of loss. Infertility, the loss of a child’s roots and the loss of a mother’s connection to her child. The only option to address this loss is to share the love. A child needs to know the truth and have access to his roots. He will be loved by a bigger family. The adoption constellation around them. I am waiting to be a recognized part of that constellation. I also have a frozen chocolate chip cookie in my freezer. |
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