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Guilt or Grateful or Both

Sitting across a Baker's Square table from my birth-brother, sipping coffee and eating pie grateful slowly turned to guilt. I first met my birth brother, 5 years younger than me, 20 years ago. We met when the State agreed to open my closed adoption record to help me learn more about my medical history.

I met him, my birth sister, and birth mom at a restaurant outside of Chicago- a middle point for us to meet as we lived in different states. When I walked into the restaurant I almost ran into this man near my age, who I immediately recognized, because he looked just like me. Meeting my biological family members was not romantic or glamorous, but it provided answers. However, as someone who was raised in a home with all sisters I was immediately fascinated with the idea of having a brother. We ended up losing contact and not reconnecting until the advent of Facebook. 

And now I find myself sitting across this table from him. I have questions, but mostly he needs to tell his story. Before this night he once told me in a phone call that he was secretly jealous I was adopted. Now, I really understand why. I knew my birth mother struggled. What I know about her childhood is her ACE score is high and her adult adversity higher. Now my birth brother is sipping coffee and re-accounting the details that reveal his childhood adversity. He tells me of not knowing his father, to this day, moving every 6 months as protective services circled or a new man entered or they ran from a man. He describes how one of his "dads" beat him to make him more of a man. 

We laugh over how we both dreamed up who might possibly be our real bio-fathers, of course both famous men. But all of the laughter cannot quiet my guilt. I got out. My birth mom became pregnant at age 16 and was quickly whisked away to live with a foster family until I was born. When I was born she didn't see me. I was then whisked away and placed with my forever family a month later. 

As I take another bite of the decadent piece of pie I selected I realize I offer my brother something no one else can. I can listen, hear with a deep, shared connection but without all of the expectations, issues or pressures a family member might have. I have no judgement of what he is saying. I offer him all I can- a positive, stable, adult relationship. I am grateful I know him. I am grateful I love him. I am grateful we are friends. I am grateful for this man who is faithful to his wife of many years, is a wonderful father to his daughter, is a kid's soccer coach, loving dog owner, and well-liked co-worker.

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Hi Cathy,

So happy to hear that you and Shenandoah are working to apply TIC concepts to the foster care industry. Foster caregivers perform such a critical task; attentiveness to their needs is key!

I agree that adoptees and adoptive parents have a unique vantage point and could benefit from a trauma-specific approach and interventions. Thanks again for posting your story!

Jill,

I see in trying to comment back to you I have reposted your comments! Oh well, they are welcomed!

My understanding my own ACEs in relation to my adoption, birth family, and adoptive family I believe has been one part of bringing me to the work I now do. My business partner, Shenandoah Chefalo, conduct workshops translating the evidenced based trauma/adversity research into skills which can be used immediately. We have had the opportunity to now provide workshops for 2 foster care agencies. We worked specifically with foster care parents. I look forward to opportunities to also work with adoptive parents. Part of our workshop focuses on self-care, which includes encouraging everyone to examine their own adversities and triggers and mitigating those with daily self-care. 

I would love to see a group here form of adoptive adults. I think we have a unique perspective to offer.

Wishing you well,

Cathy

Jill Karson posted:

Cathy: I am so moved by your story, and I appreciate your perspective. I love that you say, "I realize I offer my brother something no one else can. I can listen, hear with a deep, shared connection but without all of the expectations, issues or pressures a family member might have. I have no judgement of what he is saying. I offer him all I can- a positive, stable, adult relationship." Life is full of beautiful twists and turns!

Like you, I was adopted as an infant because my birth parents were teenagers. On paper, my adopted parents looked like the model family: A nuclear physicist married to a stay-at-home mom, five children, four of whom were adopted. What could be better? In reality, there was an inordinate amount of toxic stress in the home. This is not to say that I don't deeply love my adopted family. I do. And I feel great compassion for my adopted parents. After all, they were just repeating the damaging patterns that started generations ago. 

But I often wonder whether I would have been better off with my birth mom, even though she was young and single. (Today I have a close relationship with my biological family, which I met when I was 21.) And I think of my older brother, who was also adopted, but committed suicide at the age of 22. I'm sure his birth mother assumed she was placing her baby in the care of a stable, nuclear family. And in some ways they were. But she had no way of knowing that my parents had suffered extremely harmful early life experiences that impacted their ability to nurture, because, as is true for so many, their adult adversity was not readily apparent.

It makes me ponder what kind of trauma-informed approach might inform the placement of children--foster, adopted, etc.-- with caregivers who have high ACE scores themselves.

 

Cathy: I am so moved by your story, and I appreciate your perspective. I love that you say, "I realize I offer my brother something no one else can. I can listen, hear with a deep, shared connection but without all of the expectations, issues or pressures a family member might have. I have no judgement of what he is saying. I offer him all I can- a positive, stable, adult relationship." Life is full of beautiful twists and turns!

Like you, I was adopted as an infant because my birth parents were teenagers. On paper, my adopted parents looked like the model family: A nuclear physicist married to a stay-at-home mom, five children, four of whom were adopted. What could be better? In reality, there was an inordinate amount of toxic stress in the home. This is not to say that I don't deeply love my adopted family. I do. And I feel great compassion for my adopted parents. After all, they were just repeating the damaging patterns that started generations ago. 

But I often wonder whether I would have been better off with my birth mom, even though she was young and single. (Today I have a close relationship with my biological family, which I met when I was 21.) And I think of my older brother, who was also adopted, but committed suicide at the age of 22. I'm sure his birth mother assumed she was placing her baby in the care of a stable, nuclear family. And in some ways they were. But she had no way of knowing that my parents had suffered extremely harmful early life experiences that impacted their ability to nurture, because, as is true for so many, their adult adversity was not readily apparent.

It makes me ponder what kind of trauma-informed approach might inform the placement of children--foster, adopted, etc.-- with caregivers who have high ACE scores themselves.

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