adoptee, adoption, anger, birthfather, birthmother, family, father, grandfather, grandmother, hospital, mother, orphan, parenting, pregnancy, reunion, senior, shunning, Uncategorized

So much big stuff

 

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So much big stuff has happened. It took me awhile to sort it all out.

First, the pandemic. Everyone is all scared and upset, but for me, it’s been like a little slice of heaven. Best of all, I didn’t have to go to work, for 73 days. I got my full pay for all of them. I work for the state. My husband worked from home for much of that time. I deep cleaned the entire house. I planted a garden. I loved being home so much. I’ve had the deep blues since I’ve had to go back.

My adult daughters, who live at home have been getting unemployment. It’s more than they’ve ever made in their lives.

I had a granddaughter. My first. It’s so powerful to see my line carrying on. This little girl will be alive long after I’m gone. It’s a very comforting thing for me to know this.

The bad part of the pandemic, for me, was not being able to be with my daughter during her labor and delivery, and not being allowed to visit my granddaughter in the hospital at all. My DD suffered a great deal. She had a long and hard labor, and maybe I could have made it a bit easier for her. My knowledge could have helped her.

But, mother and baby are home, and doing well. I haven’t told anyone in my father’s family, because, why should I? They never share anything with me. It’s pretty clear to me they do not care at all about me, or my children, or grandchildren. I’m tired of trying to matter. It’s never going to work. Dad’s going to be 80 this month. Maybe he’ll have a party. Who knows?

A-mom fell. She lives with us, and we heard a crash. We went in and Hubby found her lying on the floor. She had been walking around holding onto the furniture for awhile. We told her, over and over again that it wasn’t safe. We begged her to use her walker, but she wouldn’t listen. She tried to get up from the sofa using a rickety folding table, and it toppled over. SHe was dazed and bleeding on her arm. Hubby got her up, and gave her her walker and she toddled off to the bathroom.

She didn’t come out for awhile, and I finally went in and saw she had soiled herself, and the whole room. It was very bad. I cleaned her, and we let her lie down for awhile, hoping she was just in shock, and would feel better with some rest.

She woke up a few hours later, and couldn’t get out of bed, so we called the ambulance. She didn’t want to go with them, but the EMT talked her into it. As they were wheeling her away she said, “I guess you want to get rid of me”, and “I guess I won’t be seeing any of you again”.

It’s all true. I’m very happy that she’s gone. I haven’t seen her again. There is no visiting in the hospital, or the nursing home where she’s gone to recover from her fractured shoulder. When she fell, her walker and other assistive devices were only a few feet away, but she choose not to use them.

We cleaned her whole apartment, and it was very dirty. I’m so happy that she’s not here, and dread the day she comes back. I even think of moving away, and not telling the home. I feel guilty for these thoughts.

I was adopted to do a job. I am supposed to be a loving daughter. If I’m not, there is something wrong with me. It is not supposed to matter that she’s not really my mother. I’m not supposed to even notice that.

I hope she never comes back, but I don’t think I’m strong enough to keep her away. I know I’ll cave in and take her back, and I’ll hate every minute of it. Non adopted people don’t understand. They tell me she’s my mother, but I know she’s not. I’ve been trying to escape for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never been able to.

3 thoughts on “So much big stuff”

  1. What you have been going through is not easy. Please: Always remember to have compassion for yourself! That is the cornerstone for good mental health.

  2. I understand how you feel.

    At some point in my life, my adoptive mother told me that she adopted me to take care of her when she was old and dying. I resented her words and sentiment. Still, she loved me, and doted on me when I was a child. I know she loved me. I loved her, too, but still, I resented that I was adopted to do a job, as you said.

    These are all complicated feelings; for me, guilt and remorse, love and commitment, regret that my natural mother had died when I was an infant and I could not ever know her in this life. No matter what I did, no matter how I felt, I was trapped. In the end, I took care of my adoptive as she wished. By that time, we had grown closer than ever. We even mended long-persisting misunderstandings. In the end, she called for me to hold her as she slipped away. I did.

    I’m not saying you have to feel this same way or do as I did. I’m saying, like you, I was told I was adopted to take care of my adoptive mother when she grew old and in need of care before death. I did my job. I did it with mixed emotions that non-adopted people could never understand.

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