Where do I belong? ~the adopted child

Do you think you could possibly identify with an adopted child?  My opinion is that on a certain level we all can.

I think we have all fallen for that myth from time to time - “IF ONLY I could have that, I’d be happy”, “AS SOON AS I get that, I’ll be satisfied”. I truly believe there needs to be a contentment within our own selves and the hand we’ve been dealt, or there will always be a dissatisfaction and - can I go as far to say, we’ll always have an excuse not to take responsibility for our current situation.

When I learnt that my boyfriend Shaun (now my hub) – was adopted, I was intrigued.  We’d have romantic notions as we gazed out of his large bedroom window at night, thoughts like “somewhere out there, under this SAME sky, is your birth mother”; and other teenage-type fantasies.

Fact is; most of us love a good “adoption reunion” story, don’t we!?  And in our heads, it goes according to a certain pattern.  The adopted child grows up feeling a bit like the ugly duckling, they ‘don’t really belong’, then one magic day they discover their biological family, they all complete each other and live happily ever after.  

Well I don’t think Shaun ever felt ‘ugly’, necessarily, but the long and short of it is; adoption by definition implies complication… and always involves pain, separation, loss and rejection – the things we humans are most allergic to.

The year after Shaun and I met, we had our first baby, and the intrigue regarding his biological family only deepened.  I mean, there were people out there directly related, technically as equal in grandparent-status as my own parents, to our child!  We needed to know these people, and they needed to know us!

To paraphrase the sequence of events that had begun a few years earlier – Shaun unsuccessfully searched the Auckland Library and Election Rolls with the information he had.  At 18 years he was given very minimal further information.  Fast forward to 2001, (by this stage we had two girls who were four & one year) – Child Youth and Family called – they were now able to release “further information” - in a document we were to look out for in the mail.

It was with great anticipation that we opened the envelope, because, after all, inside was going to be the answer.  Maybe a phone number, an address? Could there even be a photo of his birth mum?

Studying Shaun’s face as he scanned the single page, I could see there wasn’t much to it; he read it, re-read it.  Then I read it.  And it was so… brief.  All it supplied were the same old names of birth mum and her parents, which we already knew.  One small difference was that it included the middle names of his maternal grandparents, his uncle & aunt’s names, plus the fact that they had all moved back to the UK not long after Shaun was born.

 With a guttural “ARRRRHH” and such intense disappointment, he screwed up the piece of paper, and casting it into a corner he turned and left the room.  The despair was palpable.

I sank into a chair – it felt 100% hopeless.  I mean, if we hadn’t had success finding them in ‘lil ole’ New Zealand, how on earth could we find them among that multitude, let alone all the way over there? 

Thank God – an angel was in the room (in the form of one of my best friends, Kelly!)  She retrieved & carefully unscrewed the paper, and asked if she could take it home and do a bit of detective-work on the internet (which in the year 2001 was something only “vewy-special” people could seem to do)

She came back to us within days, having discovered that in two places in the UK there were landlines with names of the same initials as Shaun’s grandfather.  She brought the phone numbers over and we were resigned, mostly due to her kind efforts, that it would be polite to ‘give it a shot’. Bear in mind we didn’t hold much hope – for one we had already given up, and besides, how did we know if they were even still alive?  And these were matching initials only, not names.

Well, as ‘fate’ would have it, with that first phone call: success.

As I listened in on the cordless phone beside Shaun; neither of us could fathom what was actually happening when the man’s voice on the other end of the phone line kept answering “yes”…“yes”… “yes”, to Shaun’s questions. ~Is your full name ______?  ~Did you live in NZ around 25 years ago?  ~Do you have a daughter named _____ ~Can you put me in touch with her?...

At this point the questioning was halted as the respondent finally voiced his suspicion and asked directly “well, who are you?”. I don’t think either of us were breathing anymore.

“I’m, um, I’m, ah… I’m, her, um…” his voice trailed off.  The quiet reply came “are you her son?”  And with the weight of 24 years of hoping, wondering, yearning, wishing, dreaming, Shaun answered “yes”.

Now I don’t know what we all expect to be said in these moments, time stood still at both ends… but I know in the blur Shaun was asked his date of birth (which he struggled to remember in that instance)

The next question in this highly dramatic moment was not what you may expect:

~”Tell me son, do you have big feet?”  

(It almost felt like the answer could swing the result?! Thankfully Shaun does have big feet which turned out to be almost as satisfactory as presenting I.D.) It served to break the ice as Shaun nervously laughed and blurted out “YES” 

There was a bizarre sensation over us during the 30 minute conversation that followed. A significant event for both of us that remains etched in our minds. Afterwards we just sat, staring at each other, no words. We learnt later that Grandad put the receiver down, sat down wearily on his bed and wept bitterly - Nanny trying to make sense of what had taken place.

Shaun was put in touch with his birth mother who, whilst experiencing many powerful emotions, was prepared to open this door. She visited us two Christmases later with his 11 year old half-brother, and looking back, she was only around 41/42 (which seemed so advanced at the time, now it seems SO young, just saying, ahem) I recognise just how brave was she to re-visit what was a profoundly painful time of her life. She has been another amazingly generous grandmother to our kids and friend to us since, and has actively processed her grief with grace. 

It hasn’t been perfect.  When there’s pain and immaturity, you make some bad choices.  The first meeting ended badly and we didn’t speak for a long time… we reconnected though and my rule of thumb is that reconciliation is usually worth it.  In many ways their relationship with Shaun may have not fulfilled their dreams, and vice versa.

But 18 years deep I am confident we all enjoy a balanced relationship with each other and peace with what happened in 1976-77.

One of the especially enriching aspects is that with that first phone call, perhaps as it was the initial breakthrough, held such gravity for Grandfather and grandson that a special bond was formed between them.  Upon sharing photos the family likeness was uncanny which served to strengthen the relationship.  They also naturally share the same sense of humour and a strong military and military-history bent. 

With our busy life and having two more children, it would be 14 years after that first phone call before Shaun was able to finally meet Grandad, a surprise planned between us and his birth-mum.  (and yes it did cross all our minds as to whether he would have heart failure) (you may hear Shaun’s cousin in my Instagram post quip with relief, “well, it didn’t kill him”).

Woven throughout Shaun’s whole life, (some would say as a result of being told he was adopted, I believe every adopted child knows it deep down but that is another story), is a sense of “If I can just find this missing piece, I’ll be complete”. But what may surprise most is that even sitting amongst his biological family (with their big feet), and enjoying their incredible hospitality, the internal dialogue persisted, “I don’t know if I fully belong here, either”.

I think we have all fallen for that myth from time to time - “IF ONLY I could have that, I’d be happy”, “AS SOON AS I get that, I’ll be satisfied”. I truly believe there needs to be a contentment within our own selves and recognition of the beauty in the hand we’ve been dealt, or there will always be a dissatisfaction and - can I go as far to say, we’ll always have an excuse not to take responsibility for our current situation.

So whilst restoration took place, another type of reconciliation needed to take it’s own path, but somewhere the process (it wasn’t overnight), he encountered a new and distinct esteem for his mum and dad. Appreciating the full weight of what they took on when they adopted him.  From being what the world would class ‘illegitimate’, he became their legal child, a legal heir.  They fully signed up, anything that would’ve been available for biological children, was available for Shaun. Unconditional love - the ultimate healing force. They gifted him belonging.

Somewhere through this, there’s a new, yet somehow original overarching awareness of “I always did belong.  I belong.”

 None of us get through life without being affected or touched by rejection; even within loving families -  in small (and sometimes big) ways.  In school, in friendships, in our careers. 

So what can we take away…?  Well at the very least, at face value we must acknowledge that an unborn child has hugely important potential. 

Some of the things this journey has taught me/and what I am still learning, is to: ~Extend grace and forgiveness for those who are part of your story who have failed, or have just been ‘human’. ~ Take a risk and welcome new significant relationships, the way Shaun’s birth family did; and indeed he reciprocated - it’s such a beautiful and becoming thing to do.  I need to accept people and not control… it takes maturity. ~Recognise God’s goodness in the life you have, and in the family he placed you in (whether biological or not) – see it! … (Can I suggest…Even go a step further and list the good things!). ~Pursue peace and restored relationships.

And KNOW that we are all inherently valuable.  If you are still breathing, God still has a purpose for your life, and you belong.

“He aha te mea nui o te ao, He tangata, he tangata, he tangata” ~ “What is the most important thing in the world?  It is people, it is people, it is people”