the_siobhan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_siobhan) wrote2003-06-14 12:04 pm
the_siobhan) wrote2003-06-14 12:04 pm
Entry tags:
more adoption stuff
I've been in a really weird mood all week.
It started because I went to Chidren's Aid on Tuesday. I answered a bunch of questions about who I am now, signed a release form that gives them permission to give my daughter my contact information, and came home with a bundle of paper about the process.
Along with the lists of support groups and other stuff, there was a copy of the Centre's record of her adoption for me to review for errors. (There were a few. Apparently I am 5'3" and love baseball.)
Her bio-father had been a ward of the CAS, and I found out a whole lot of stuff about him that I hadn't known before -- that I don't think he knew. Like that he had a half-brother who was hospitalized for schizophrenia.
And of course I found out a bunch of stuff about her. I hadn't known that she was born with a heart murmur. (She grew out of it.)
I found out her name.
I think that's the point where it finally hit home. This is real. She's a person, with a life and history I know nothing about.
It's... weird.
Part of my reaction to is from reading about the circumstances of her birth as they are described in the files. It makes us sound so rational, two normal kids trying to do the right thing. I wonder if that is what we really looked like to the sweet, maternal, slightly dotty woman who was our caseworker, if she was really that oblivious. Or if she recorded that way knowing that the baby would one day grow up and want to read about how she got here.
And what the hell am I going to tell her about that? About her father?
I'm digging up an awful lot of dead bodies here. Things that I had thought long ago dealt with. They're pretty stinky.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still happy -- but I'm also more than a little freaked.
The worst part of all this is that I haven't really been able yet to sit and chew on it all in my own head. I have the keys to an empty apartment in the city, and a deep desire to get a bottle of wine and just stew by myself for an evening -- but I haven't had the time. The four days off from the sucky job that were supposed to happen this week got pared down into one, and I have just an insane amount of stuff to deal with right now for the not-sucky job which has me completely overwhelmed. And of course a stack of things-I-have-to-do-real-soon-now (paying my bills might be a good idea, just for an example) that is threatening to topple over and bury my desk.
The whole situation has been making me kind of... well, moody.
So. How did I deal with all this emotional turmoil, you might ask?
Simple. I went out last night and saw The Dwarves.
'Cause it's really hard to be angsty when you are listening to really loud punk-rock.
(But I still might do that sit at home by myself thing tonight.)
It started because I went to Chidren's Aid on Tuesday. I answered a bunch of questions about who I am now, signed a release form that gives them permission to give my daughter my contact information, and came home with a bundle of paper about the process.
Along with the lists of support groups and other stuff, there was a copy of the Centre's record of her adoption for me to review for errors. (There were a few. Apparently I am 5'3" and love baseball.)
Her bio-father had been a ward of the CAS, and I found out a whole lot of stuff about him that I hadn't known before -- that I don't think he knew. Like that he had a half-brother who was hospitalized for schizophrenia.
And of course I found out a bunch of stuff about her. I hadn't known that she was born with a heart murmur. (She grew out of it.)
I found out her name.
I think that's the point where it finally hit home. This is real. She's a person, with a life and history I know nothing about.
It's... weird.
Part of my reaction to is from reading about the circumstances of her birth as they are described in the files. It makes us sound so rational, two normal kids trying to do the right thing. I wonder if that is what we really looked like to the sweet, maternal, slightly dotty woman who was our caseworker, if she was really that oblivious. Or if she recorded that way knowing that the baby would one day grow up and want to read about how she got here.
And what the hell am I going to tell her about that? About her father?
I'm digging up an awful lot of dead bodies here. Things that I had thought long ago dealt with. They're pretty stinky.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still happy -- but I'm also more than a little freaked.
The worst part of all this is that I haven't really been able yet to sit and chew on it all in my own head. I have the keys to an empty apartment in the city, and a deep desire to get a bottle of wine and just stew by myself for an evening -- but I haven't had the time. The four days off from the sucky job that were supposed to happen this week got pared down into one, and I have just an insane amount of stuff to deal with right now for the not-sucky job which has me completely overwhelmed. And of course a stack of things-I-have-to-do-real-soon-now (paying my bills might be a good idea, just for an example) that is threatening to topple over and bury my desk.
The whole situation has been making me kind of... well, moody.
So. How did I deal with all this emotional turmoil, you might ask?
Simple. I went out last night and saw The Dwarves.
'Cause it's really hard to be angsty when you are listening to really loud punk-rock.
(But I still might do that sit at home by myself thing tonight.)
no subject
*kisses your cheek and gives you a hug*
Don't worry hun. She's going through the same thing too. I think my innards did twirly whirls for a month before I met my birthmom.
no subject
Let it churn away in the background while you drink the wine and sort the bills. I find big stuff usually resolves itself best when I'm idly mulling it over but actually thinking about something else.
Some things are best left to the hindbrain for a while :)
no subject
no subject
and ps i'm really really really fucking elated for you.
bizarro world
no subject
How 'bout...good luck.
Kidstuff
no subject
[hugs] sent if they would be welcome and helpful.
no subject
There are other truisms about skeletons never staying in closets and such.
I hope everythings turns out.
Given you have her name, and she's 23 (net saavy and probably easily locatable), what happens now?
steps
no subject
*Snork* That's priceless. Do you also vote Conservative and live in the burbs?
Or if she recorded that way knowing that the baby would one day grow up and want to read about how she got here.
This makes sense. It's obvious from reading your next entry that the birth father was anything but cooperative, but counsellor may have omitted much of that precisely because of the reasons you mentioned above. She may have thought that it would not benefit your daughter to read that her birth father was violent and abusive. Searching for her birth parents is probably nerve wracking for her as it is.
And what the hell am I going to tell her about that? About her father?
Only as much as she asks? She may not want to know as many details about him as you're afraid of her asking. (Did that make any sense?) Maybe a simple "We were young and things didn't work out. I haven't seen him in years." will suffice. Your daughter is at an age where she's probably had a couple of relationships already and knows about shit just not working out sometimes. It may be you that she really wants to know about, and the hard conversation you're anticipating may not happen for some time. After all, you and she have 20-odd years to catch up on. :)
(no subject)
Hm.
If she's looking for you, she's looking for him too. Although I don't suppose she'll find him - likely he didn't put his name in saying that he wanted to be found.
For what it's worth, she'll probably thank you for putting her up for adoption to save her life - when she's ready to know that.
M.