So I recently came across a letter written by Amy Geller, “Dear Mom — An Adoptee and a Therapist Writes an Honest, Loving, and Fearless Letter to Her (Adoptive) Mother”. I’ll post the link the comments, so you can read the whole thing if you want. I’m going to “steal” some parts (but, with full credit!), so the following words aren’t mine, but I’ve learned to use what’s out there when they match the words in my soul. Her letter isn’t entirely congruent with my story, so some pieces are removed for clarity. I’ve also added the end, to say the pieces Amy doesn’t say, or doesn’t say quite right for my story:

Dear Mom,

In the past few years, I have been needing to understand and heal the broken parts of myself that I’ve carried inside me my whole life…

I’ve come a long way from the teenager who confused you so. I’ve cleaned out so many of my internal closets, made order out of the chaos of my adolescent days. I’d met so many of the milestones of a “well adjusted” successful adult except for one: When it came to relationships, I was acting like an adoptee. Before you, I had a mother. We were separated at birth. This caused a pre-verbal developmental trauma that left scars. (Please don’t ask me to explain it again. Please, I beg, just trust that I know what I’m talking about and keep reading — and, more to come this week on “trauma”.). IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT. My fate was written months before I was born. Maybe even the day I was conceived. I was going to be given away. I was up for grabs. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. Thank God, it was YOU. It had to be you. The only mother I have ever really known. I can’t imagine it any other way.

As is often the case with an adopted life, some things we feel conflict uncomfortably with other things we feel. So uncomfortably, in fact, that we don’t even allow ourselves to feel them. And if we do feel them, we don’t have the words to express them… If only it were that simple. I was sad and I didn’t know why… I LOVE OUR FAMILY. That part of my life IS true… I remember [watching] Annie… an adoptee like me, and the song “Maybe” hit me like a ton of confusing bricks. “Betcha they’re good (Why shouldn’t they be?) Their one mistake was giving up me…And maybe when I wake, They’ll be there calling me baby. Maybe”. I felt that in my bones… But how could I tell you that? It would hurt you. And I have always loved you so much. I would never want to hurt you. Not then. Or now.

Many adult adoptees either can’t or won’t address this part of themselves until after both of their adoptive parents die. It’s not uncommon that search and reunion happens in conjunction with the loss of an adoptive parent… For me, the search wasn’t to fulfill some need for parenting that I didn’t get or love I didn’t receive. You and Dad gave me endless love, security and support. But…I needed answers… Many adult adoptees, write about feeling “free” after their parents are gone, free to heal and integrate their own adoption into their identity. Isn’t that awful, Mom? I want to be free NOW. I want to share my happiness with you because YOU ARE THE VERY REASON I KNOW WHAT LOVE IS. I want you to have the peace of knowing I am ok. I want you to see that I’m doing this, not only for me, but to help others just like me. And, it turns out, there are a lot of us. And I am helping. I’m making a difference… I see how hard it is for their mothers to accept these realities, like I know it’s hard for you, so I’m patient and gentle. I imagine each one of them is you. I keep a supportive hand extended to them as they entrust their kids to me because I now know they are just as afraid of losing their child as their child is of losing them. I want you to be proud of what I’m doing, Mom… The truth is the conflicted feelings are there for you too. I AM your daughter. You ARE my mother. We love each other so much You gave me a good childhood…

For adoptees, grief is a chronic condition. Our lives begin with loss. It’s no coincidence that I chose [this] career… I walked towards the fire, learned everything I could about [attachment and] loss. I helped…others through their own pain. I encouraged my patients to live without regret… Why? Because I was surrounded by a part of myself I didn’t know how to express. It felt familiar and right, this overwhelming loss. It felt safe that I could provide answers and support. I was really learning how to comfort myself…

You have been very generous in your acknowledgment that parts of me come from my biological parents. “I can’t take all the credit” you say. It made me feel less like garbage to think that some of the good qualities you appreciate about me came from my roots. That I might actually be a person of value in my core instead of a piece of trash dressed up in a good upbringing… I’m certain of one thing; so much of who I am came from you. The low self-esteem I suffered as a child has now turned into confidence. I’m a good mom, a good therapist and, finally, I get to be a good wife. I have a wonderful relationship with my two children. They feel secure in my love for them. When we fight, or I punish them, they know I still love them because I always make that clear. I learned that from you. They can count on me to always be honest because I had that with you. They have space to grow and make mistakes but know that I am always here to support them. That’s how I was raised…You will live on in me for the rest of my life, in everything I do.

…my honesty has cost me some relationships. There is always the fear that people will reject “the real me”… Parts of my story are painful. Being given away hurt. I couldn’t explain that to you as a child. I couldn’t tell you what I needed. But I know you would have given it to me if only I’d asked… There was so much we didn’t know about being adopted. No one told us, Mom. We can’t go back and change that. No matter how much we may want to now. But I need you, and the world, to know that I don’t blame you.

All this talk about my adoption can’t be easy for you. You’ve tried to understand and you’ve grown a lot. You now realize it was naive to think that it would just go away with endless amounts of your love. You can squarely acknowledge that I have two [sets of parents, siblings, etc]. They are real. You are real. And now, finally, I can be real. Thank you. It means so much to me that I can do this while you’re still here to share it with me. I hate that it upsets you, that my reality somehow shatters a part of yours. One more complex complication of adoption. I’m sorry for anytime we have fought. Please know it’s just that I so desperately want you to understand, to know all of me before you leave, to acknowledge that my feelings are legitimate. I want your permission and approval to do what life is asking of me. I want to know that honoring my truth isn’t a betrayal of you. My loyalty to you is fierce, it’s forever. I want you to feel secure knowing that nothing will ever change my love for you. I will always be here for you, like you were for me.”

Amy closes by saying, “I will always wish I wasn’t adopted, that I grew inside your heart AND your tummy. But our stories and our lives will be inextricably intertwined for eternity.” The pieces of her story that weren’t a match for mine, I removed. Obviously not all of Amy’s words apply, we have lived different lives. But this piece I keep because I need to say… Honestly, I don’t wish I wasn’t adopted, and I’m also glad I was. It’s impossible to wish either side of my reality away. If I hadn’t been adopted and had been born to you, I wouldn’t have my sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, Pop…Kate. I am me because of both my genes and my nurturing. My heart isn’t always comforted by the complexity of my story, but to take away any single piece of it would mean that I don’t exist, because I am the culmination of all of these pieces. I can’t wish them away, but i could also NEVER imagine my life without my mom. You.

Since getting my tattoo, I have had many questions. Why “Ryan”? Why a key? The best answer I have is that when I saw it, it just felt right. But, more specifically… Ryan was born, but Ryan didn’t live. And conversely, Melissa lived, but was never born. So the key to truly being me, is to acknowledge that Melissa started with Ryan. Finding Ryan, unlocked a piece of me that allowed me to feel whole for the first time. And none of it would have been possible without my Mom. I love you.