When to Stay and When to Go - Lessons Adoption and Reunion Taught Me

My birth mother hasn't texted me in weeks.

My adoptive mother hasn't texted me in months.

In the throes of New Zealand summer, I'm as comfortable with those two realities as I can reasonably be. I don't doubt that both women loved me in their own way, but ultimately, there were significant gaps in their parenting decisions. Parenting inevitably leave scars, and I can't fault them for their gaps of knowledge, understanding, or desire to comprehend the unique nature of the adoptee's experience. In the 90's, adoption was painted as no different than biological childbirth and the adoptee's behavior blamed on faulty bloodlines while adoptive parents were cocooned in comforting rhetoric that sought to pathologize the natural grief of a child ripped from their bloodline as 'psychological disturbances' beyond the scope of even a well-meaning parent's management. After testing the waters in adulthood, I accepted both women's limitations to further education. This was not something they wanted to hear about. I blossomed beyond the scope of their interest and found my life colored by depths they had never dreamt of.

Silence fell between us.

Still, even as the silences stretch into estrangement, I am content. I am moving where these two women cannot follow, both emotionally and literally. Three principles guide me as I prepare to move on and move abroad permanently.

First, I have sought out healing for myself. After nearly a decade of therapy I have finally recognized the authoritarian parenting style exhibited in my childhood is, in fact, an inflexible character trait of my adoptive mother which limits our adult relationships. Her vision of the world and our relationship will only fuel a fundamentally neglectful behavior that will continue to invalidate my most precious moments in perpetuity. That is not the mother a child needs, nor the one I tried so hard to invited into conversation.

Secondly, I am learning to trust my gut and recognize what I need. People pleasing was the natural response to the authoritarian parenting of my youth. Self-advocating was a challenge for most of my early adulthood. I was still learning to honor my own needs when I entered reunion. Watching my birth mother scramble to ‘make up for lost time’ those first few months of reunion was a real wake-up call. Slowly we both realized that her lifelong struggle with poverty and addiction will not simply disappear with new circumstances. As her health wanes and her stability fluctuates, I know better than to pin my stake to her and her family. Their disfunction is not mine to reunify with.

Thirdly, as best as I can, I have tried to repay what is due. I believe I have honored my adoptive family as best I could. I have given back 110% of what they gave me. After sacrificing my on the altar of their disinterest, I finally accepted the fact that our natural disharmony does not warrant further relationship. Learning to forgive and accept my birth mother was a strong lesson in justice. The art of expressing intentions gently but firmly. Entering the messiest of conversations without batting an eye or projecting unwarranted shame or caution. Cautiously and carefully I learned how to make it clear: I love my birth mother exactly where she is.

Not everyone can make the choice to pack up and move to a new country. I will spend my entire life trying to absorb the reality of that privilege. Still, whenever shame or uncertainty creeps into the corners of my decision, I waive it away. I firmly believe nobody should stay in places or relationships where they do not belong.

As my assigned families demonstrate their limitations and the U.S. grows increasingly callous and commercialized, I am more than ready to find a place where I feel safe and secure.

Together with my husband, we have made an incredibly difficult decision to leave behind promising careers and the financial security they bring to start anew in Aotearoa - New Zealand.