Birthmother: One adoptee's perspective

Birthmother: (noun) the biological carrier for a child through the gestation period; one half of the genetic donor towards a whole human being.

During my life as an adoptee, I realize that much attention has been paid to the birthmother. There are several reasons for this: the main one being she chooses to carry the child to term, bond with the being in her uterus, only to part ways with him/her once he/she is born or later on, as it is in a lot of cases. And the birth or biological father? Well, even though he may be emotionally attached to the child, no offense, stereotypically, the biological father "donates" his genes and then goes on his merry way either choosing to ignore his donation completely, or in some cases (like mine), not know about the child at all. I'm sure in many ways I shaft my biological father in the sense that I call him 'Bo-bo the sperm donor' despite the fact he is ignorant of my existence. But I'm getting off topic.

Apparently the subject of birthmother has become a hot topic, and as I attempted to nap today, I kept thinking about the entire issue/subject. During my readings of other adoptees, there is much emphasis placed on the birthmother; finding her, hoping to get missing "pieces" from seeing and interacting with her. Oddly, in my adult life, I've never considered meeting my birthmother as putting together a missing piece. As a child, I fantasized about her merely because I was the only one who was Asian within a 100 mile radius (I'm sure I'm exaggerating here, but as a child, 100 miles was hard to imagine). The idea of meeting another human who had black hair, almond shaped eyes, and fair skin was something of a dream. Everyone around me was blonde, brunette, or even red-headed. They had blue eyes or hazel eyes. Heck, all I really wanted was for someone, anyone to look like me!

The cornerstone of my birthmother memories was when a religious authority figure found out I was seriously inquiring about my birthmother. His way of dealing with it? Pulling me out of Sunday School to tell me that I was making my mother feel sad and unloved by asking about my "other" mother. And that in order to show my parents I was "grateful," I shouldn't mention it again. I never did. I kept it to myself. When I mentioned this encounter with my mom, she was upset because she never said anything to that particular person, nor did my father. She couldn't believe that the authority figure had said anything to me at all.

Perhaps it was this encounter with the religious authority figure that kept me from talking about my birthmother. Maybe I lost interest because I wanted to "fit in" and be a "real" American by everyone's standards, including my own. Either way, I stopped thinking about my birthmother because, in my mind, she was happy and I was happy. I thought any search for her now would disrupt her life and the life of the children she probably had.

The first time I went "back" to Korea, (I use the term "back" only technically since I was born there, but for me it was the first time I remembered it), I just wanted to see copious crowds of people that looked like me; what it felt like to blend in for once instead of looking like an easy "What doesn't belong in this picture" Highlights magazine game (which by the way, I hate those types of children's games now). I was told, "this is your homeland." In some ways, those who told me that were right. I was born there, I gestated there. But, I didn't grow up there. My family was in the States.

See, this is what I don't get about the adoptees and other people who insist the "real" mother is the biological mother. Personally, I believe these adoptees and other people have a poor idea of what adoption really is in an ideal situation. I don't know their situations, and I'm not here to judge them. What I am here to say is that from my perspective "real" is in how you define the term. "Real" to me is something tangible, you can touch it, you've experienced it. Sadly and humorously enough, I've almost decked a guy twice my size in church because of his blatant and substantial ignorance of my idea of "real" no matter how I attempted to explain it to him. To him, and others I have encountered, my real mother should be my biological mother...as if blood always took precedence. I'm here to tell you, blood doesn't mean a darn thing sometimes.

In a situation with adoptees, there is no black and white. Every experience is different. For me, blood doesn't mean a darn thing. Though I am grateful to my birthmother for life and selflessly giving me up, she is not my "real" mother. My "real" mother sat by my hospital bedside as I lay in ice in the doctor's last-ditch effort to get my fever down; my real mother kept a fever-induced hallucinating me from jumping out of a moving car I thought was on fire; my real mother sat with me and talked about my sorrow from breaking up with a boyfriend, my real mother taught me how to make cookies, laughed with me, cried with me, held me, and kissed my boo-boos. My real mother disciplined me when I was screwing up big time and needed to be straightened out (which, by the way, happened way more than either of us really like to remember).

This isn't to say that my birthmother wouldn't have done the same thing had she kept me. The difference is, my birthmother could not do those things. She was economically, physically, emotionally, and mentally unable to do these things for me. This is why she gave me away. This one choice alone is why I have a tie to my birthmother: the one selfless act on her part that would change both of our lives forever.

There are those adoptees who will scream: "But I didn't have a choice!" Well, do biological children have a choice when their biological mothers selflessly decide to let them gestate, then keep them and take them home, thereby changing both their lives forever? Does anyone really have a choice in where they are born, what situations they get themselves into? Some would argue yes, but I would say no. Instead, we only get to control how we feel and how we will react in these situations. Some would argue with me, but hear me out.

When I went to Korea for a second time, I decided to call the adoption agency and ask to see my medical records. After all, with my childhood illness, I thought I'd play it safe and try to learn biological family history for my future children. Though I made it very, very clear that I wanted only my medical records, within a week's time, I was informed by a welfare agent that she had found my birthmother and that a meeting was being set up. Did I have control over this situation? No. Did I try to? Yes, I had dictated very clearly I wanted only my records, not my birthmother. I'm sure there are many adoptees out there screaming, "I would kill to be in your shoes!" I heard their voices in the tone the welfare agent took with me when she asked why I didn't want to meet my birthmother.

In all honesty, I didn't want another mother. I had all the mothers I needed: my mom, my sister, and my host mom. That's three mothers, why did I need a fourth? I think that's something any birthmother needs to realize and understand about their birth child if they ever want to re-unite with them. Perhaps they want to see and hug their biological child, but no one can change the past. No one can truly make up for lost time. The selfless act has already been done, and there's no turning back. The child has all the mother(s) he/she needs. But keep in mind, if this is the case, you chose to do the right thing. The child had the mother(s) he/she needed or wanted and doesn't need another. I think that's something many of the adoptees I've read have the most issues: their mother. They want to find a mother replacement and see that in their birthmothers. Those who don't need another mother, have peace and have no reason to seek a mother replacement.

Now, this isn't to say that if I were to meet my birthmother, I wouldn't be friends with her, or not want her to be proud of me. As it turns out, I think the welfare agent wanted us to meet and guilted my birthmother into meeting me; I in turn felt guilted into meeting her. In the end, the "reunion" was stopped by my biological Aunt, who deemed my birthmother "unfit" to travel. I have to say that after 5 or so years and 3 years of therapy later, I now am grateful to my biological Aunt from keeping the reunion from happening. Sure I felt abandoned again... as I remember telling my brother, I went to therapy because I didn't meet my biological mother. But now, I realize I misspoke. I went to therapy because it was all forced by an outsider. Perhaps my birthmother did want to meet, but I wasn't ready for it.... and yet, I said "yes" because I felt it expected of me. The end result for me? Therapy. After all, who wants a reunion in which both or one party feels forced to be there? Remember how disastrous your last family gathering went when everyone or someone felt like they "had" to be there? And we all know that families (tied by genetics or not) will oftentimes send people to therapy (joke by the way).

One day, I hope to meet my birth mother on our terms; not some media-frenzied welfare agent looking for a so-called "happy ending." At the same time, I don't want to meet my birth mother if she doesn't want to meet me. After all, who would force someone they have a complicated, special tie to, to meet them? In this case, I would say it would be similar to a hostage situation in which one of the people would have a case of "fight or flight" syndrome.

Needless to say, the connect between birthmother and child is complex. Though the birthmother is not the "real" mother, there is that selfless act which binds them; not blood. Any outsider looking into the situation really needs to do so without interfering. After all, I'm sure the welfare agent had good intentions, but missing out on what she thought to be her one and only chance to see her only child could not have been good for my birthmother's psyche. Nor was it healthy for me to make a life-altering decision based on being pressured by a total stranger.

In the end, there isn't a right or wrong answer. I don't really know how to end this...perhaps there isn't an ending. I think I like it without an ending... because there is no ending. There's a decision that leads to another one and another; just a beginning to a beginning to a beginning.