The Excitement of Sharing the Day on My Terms
My anticipation of today fills me with joy and peace as I am waking up to my aunt's call. I am taking her on an all day drive of adventure through the local Native American reservations, places as a child my adopted family's friend would drive me when the house was hung over sleeping all day. Today I get to be with my aunt on my terms, my car and my destination....the one that I choose.
My aunt is my mother's sister. She watched me grow in my mother's belly and she gives me the presence that I never was allowed to exist in. She gives me the ability to exist without the adopted-shame tattooed on my forehead by being adopted. She tells me of her excitement as my mother's belly grew, day by day I was a legitimate presence in her world that she shared each day in her youth with her sister.
On one March morning in 1968 my aunt hugged my mother in excitement as she left for the hospital, in my aunt's loving and kind nature. As she waited at home for the wonderful news that I was born that all young girls are filled with the natural maternal instincts of shared joy of a child's birth into the mundane world of the living.
My aunt remembers the following days when my mother returned from the hospital....without me. She said there was no baby in my sister's arm, she left to give birth to my aunt's first niece, my grandparent's first grandchild, my mother's first and only daughter. When my mother came home there was no baby, but what she brought with her into my grandparent's home was the plague of silence. The enormity of despair. The physical pain that exists after giving birth is magnified by the abomination of my mother's aching engorged breasts unable to hold me as she could hear my cries from 100 miles away. My mother's knowing that her suffering infant is crying somewhere and she can't comfort me will haunt her mind forever and be magnified with time. That my newly destroyed mother can't calm me with her mere presence. My aunt remembers how severe everyone in that home, every member of my family suffered the unthinkable, the unnatural and devastating crime of forced abandonment in screaming bloody silence. It was as though each member of this entire family was psychologically abandoned and alone banished to the depths of Christian hell living in forever torment by allowing this atrocity, assault and the annihilation of their most helpless infant family member.
The horror my family lived was amplified as each new day brings with it a reminder of their despair, the silent home that should be filled with the sounds of their baby grandchild's presence. It is a fate worse than death in the defining silence that replaced the sounds of a family's beloved baby that is joyous.
My family's horror is equal to my own experience of not growing up in my family's home. The shame of being banished from my kin, my trauma from being separated from my mother, and my horror of being bought by a family to fill the void of their dead child and being psychologically abused by my adoptive mother has devastated by soul forever.
Yet today I will take one more baby step toward allowing my scar tissue to hold me up. The devastation's from my life can never be healed, surgically removed or psychotropicly drugged into mental numbness, as I am already numb. I can allow myself to feel the joy in spending the day with my aunt and let her love me unconditionally, as I love her unconditionally. There is no pretense, pretending, effort or dread involved in being with my biological mother's sister. As my biological sister, family, and my aunt is part of the presence that always existed in my childhood, adulthood and now I get to enjoy what was always present in my world with a breathing, talking and loving biological connection that would never leave me, or abandon me again.