Healing Ourselves: The Support Group
We've been attending a support group for couples who are in the process of adopting or thinking about adopting. All of the couples have struggled through infertility. Each has reached this destination after many disapointing IVF treatments. Some have suffered miscarriages. Many feel like failures, even though it is their bodies that have let them down. There is a sadness in all of their eyes.
The four couples have joined the group for a number of reasons --some are in the process of adopting, while others are trying to figure out what the next step for them is in their pursuit of parenthood. Some are conflicted about adoption. One husband doesn't feel compelled to have children at all, and feels that if it hasn't happened after all the medical intervention then perhaps it wasn't meant to be. Another man who was feeling conflicted about becoming a father as he had a terrible role model in his own father, felt so relieved to hear about other people's ambivalence, anxieties and fears regarding adoption and parenthood in general. It made him feel less alone -- and now he is starting to imagine himself as a father.
Many sessions have been devoted to discussing the adopted child's longing for their birthparents. Phyllis, the facilitator and an adopted parent herself, has shared stories of children searching for their birthparents. One ten year-old-girl chose Mother's Day to get on the Internet to look for her "real" mother. We talk a lot about how to deal with these issues when they arise.
As I sit in these sessions, I am struck by how hard it must be to feel abandoned by one's birthparents— to wonder where do I belong. I have never felt these feelings because I have the comfort of knowing my parents, my grandparents, and my siblings—I have an identical twin sister. How nice to know where you come from as it must be very lonely to feel like you are genetically related to no one. So this is part of the experience of the adopted child.
We have learned about the triad of adoption. That is, the loss that the adopted child feels not knowing her birthparents; the sadness of the adopted parents who will never know their own genetic child - and the bereavement of the birthmother who will not be there to watch the child she has conceived grow up.
There is a lot of sadness going around. Phyllis said we must address these issues in order to prepare ourselves for the experience of adopting. And in this way, we will be ready to welcome our children into our hearts.
Our last session was particularly emotional. Phyllis was talking about the need to mourn the loss of one's "fantasy" child, the birth child we will never have. I have always imagined my "baby" to be a little version of myself—a cute little girl with a pixie haircut and bangs. G., a Scottish man in the group, talks about his imaginary children "who are literally at my feet" at family gatherings or doing chores. J., another woman in the group, said she had never "imagined" he own child because she was too busy trying to get pregnant and going through one IVF treatment after another.
Phyllis seemed adamant that J. should mourn the loss of the child she would never have. J. seemed confused and slightly angered by the insinuation that she was in some sort of denial. I actually thought Phyllis was going to conduct some kind of seance to get in touch with all of our unborn children—something akin to a Lifesprings gathering or EST. It wasn't a pleasant thought. It was like were were in some kind of TV movie of the week episode about adoption
In my opintion, Phyllis went too far and I spoke up: "I think you're being a little heavy-handed here." We have all experienced terrible losses and are dealing with our sadness in our own way". Phyllis thanked me for my comments and commended me for having the courage to challenge her.
It was hard not to leave the session feeling like our adopted children would be plagued by feelings of loss and abandonment. Would they one day want to meet their "real parents?". But then it occured to me that we were just being educated about the possible issues that would arise in the natural ebb and flow of life. Our children will be our children because we will love them madly and devote ourselves to their wellbeing and happiness like good parents everywhere. And we will make many mistakes, like good parents everywhere too.
When we completed the session, we all felt a little closer and a little lighter too. There was laughter and a sense of hope in all the participants. As we walked to the subway J. thanked me for saying what I said to Phyllis on her behalf. Her husband, who had expressed reluctance about adoption, seemed slightly more open to the idea. There is something to be said about the company of strangers who find connection and healing together in a small quiet room on the Upper West Side.
Last sunday Jeff and I attended a party where we met a couple who had adopted a little girl from the Ukraine. And she was there too. A beautiful, funny, energetic sweet little girl of three, full of beans and enjoying the company of the family dog. Her mother told us she looked like a chicken when they took her from the orphanage: "She was so skinny and bald." The little girl's mother said that she knew at first sight that she was the right child for them. And she told me that we would have the perfect child for us as well, no matter what delays or difficulties we experience along the way.
And for the first time, I believed that.
The four couples have joined the group for a number of reasons --some are in the process of adopting, while others are trying to figure out what the next step for them is in their pursuit of parenthood. Some are conflicted about adoption. One husband doesn't feel compelled to have children at all, and feels that if it hasn't happened after all the medical intervention then perhaps it wasn't meant to be. Another man who was feeling conflicted about becoming a father as he had a terrible role model in his own father, felt so relieved to hear about other people's ambivalence, anxieties and fears regarding adoption and parenthood in general. It made him feel less alone -- and now he is starting to imagine himself as a father.
Many sessions have been devoted to discussing the adopted child's longing for their birthparents. Phyllis, the facilitator and an adopted parent herself, has shared stories of children searching for their birthparents. One ten year-old-girl chose Mother's Day to get on the Internet to look for her "real" mother. We talk a lot about how to deal with these issues when they arise.
As I sit in these sessions, I am struck by how hard it must be to feel abandoned by one's birthparents— to wonder where do I belong. I have never felt these feelings because I have the comfort of knowing my parents, my grandparents, and my siblings—I have an identical twin sister. How nice to know where you come from as it must be very lonely to feel like you are genetically related to no one. So this is part of the experience of the adopted child.
We have learned about the triad of adoption. That is, the loss that the adopted child feels not knowing her birthparents; the sadness of the adopted parents who will never know their own genetic child - and the bereavement of the birthmother who will not be there to watch the child she has conceived grow up.
There is a lot of sadness going around. Phyllis said we must address these issues in order to prepare ourselves for the experience of adopting. And in this way, we will be ready to welcome our children into our hearts.
Our last session was particularly emotional. Phyllis was talking about the need to mourn the loss of one's "fantasy" child, the birth child we will never have. I have always imagined my "baby" to be a little version of myself—a cute little girl with a pixie haircut and bangs. G., a Scottish man in the group, talks about his imaginary children "who are literally at my feet" at family gatherings or doing chores. J., another woman in the group, said she had never "imagined" he own child because she was too busy trying to get pregnant and going through one IVF treatment after another.
Phyllis seemed adamant that J. should mourn the loss of the child she would never have. J. seemed confused and slightly angered by the insinuation that she was in some sort of denial. I actually thought Phyllis was going to conduct some kind of seance to get in touch with all of our unborn children—something akin to a Lifesprings gathering or EST. It wasn't a pleasant thought. It was like were were in some kind of TV movie of the week episode about adoption
In my opintion, Phyllis went too far and I spoke up: "I think you're being a little heavy-handed here." We have all experienced terrible losses and are dealing with our sadness in our own way". Phyllis thanked me for my comments and commended me for having the courage to challenge her.
It was hard not to leave the session feeling like our adopted children would be plagued by feelings of loss and abandonment. Would they one day want to meet their "real parents?". But then it occured to me that we were just being educated about the possible issues that would arise in the natural ebb and flow of life. Our children will be our children because we will love them madly and devote ourselves to their wellbeing and happiness like good parents everywhere. And we will make many mistakes, like good parents everywhere too.
When we completed the session, we all felt a little closer and a little lighter too. There was laughter and a sense of hope in all the participants. As we walked to the subway J. thanked me for saying what I said to Phyllis on her behalf. Her husband, who had expressed reluctance about adoption, seemed slightly more open to the idea. There is something to be said about the company of strangers who find connection and healing together in a small quiet room on the Upper West Side.
Last sunday Jeff and I attended a party where we met a couple who had adopted a little girl from the Ukraine. And she was there too. A beautiful, funny, energetic sweet little girl of three, full of beans and enjoying the company of the family dog. Her mother told us she looked like a chicken when they took her from the orphanage: "She was so skinny and bald." The little girl's mother said that she knew at first sight that she was the right child for them. And she told me that we would have the perfect child for us as well, no matter what delays or difficulties we experience along the way.
And for the first time, I believed that.
posted by mamainwaiting at 10:43 PM
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