It's hard to believe it's been less than two months since I started my journey. I feel that if I don't put some thoughts in my blog, I'll loose it forever. So much has happened over the last two months. I'm adding another post for my own sake. This will not be shared with the general public, but I will publish it when I'm done typing. The last post I wrote is from a few weeks ago, but I couldn't bring myself to publish it. Today, I will. Honestly, I was afraid to. Out of respect to BMom's privacy, I didn't want to put anything else out into cyber space.
Here I am though, typing away, and although I will hit the publish button, there is only one person I will actively share it with. I hope this makes sense. I'm going to share my blog with my birth mother, and I can't imagine what she's going to think of it. When I first started my blog, I shared it with her brother, and asked him to share it with her. After weeks had passed, and there was no mention of it, I assumed that she had not seen it, and I wasn't sure how to bring it up. My heart is in my throat as I type. As my journey has been to be honest and open, sharing this blog, which is now a part of me; is important, in my mind, to share with her.
I hope she forgives me for being so public about my search. I really don't think that I would have found her otherwise, and not finding her after all these years wasn't an option. We have shared a number of emails, and the fear that she might stop talking to me after reading this gives me MAJOR pause. I'm so fortunate to have an open dialog with her, I don't want it to end. I know she bears this burden alone, and it makes my heart heavy thinking about it. Selfishly, I keep emailing with more stories, and tough questions. For every response I get, I know how much pain and angst I've asked her to deal with. I knew she had to be a strong woman, and she proves that to me regularly. Thank you, and it means the world to me.
Will you speak to me after reading this? As I said, I asked your brother to share it with you before we even made contact. I've hesitated to ask you if you'd read it, until a couple of days ago. Oh the fear, and the angst and the pain - for both sides. I hope you feel the same joy that I do, as we slowly and tentatively share more about ourselves. Regardless of how hard this has been, I hope we get to continue to learn more about each other and can spend the next 40 years getting to know one another.
Here are the titles of a few reunion stories that have helped me to better understand what a number of birthmothers went through. It's so inspiring to read their stories of joy and struggle.
1. The Other Mother, by Carol Schaefer (my personal favorite so far)
2. Second-Chance Mother, by Denise Roessle
3. On the Other Side of Shame, by Joanne Jowell
4. The Secret Adopion, by Thomas F. Liotti (current read)
I will finish this entry with another thank you to MaryAnn for all your loving support. I LOVE YOU and ALWAYS WILL!
With Love,
Honest, Open and Eternally Grateful
Monday, April 28, 2014
Hello Stranger
Hello Stranger,
I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Joanne Racaniello Pelosi. You don't know me, and perhaps never will. Despite the fact that we are complete strangers, I am hereby pleading with you to help me. We have a mutual friend; acquaintance might be more fitting. Actually, I've never met her, but we share something very intimate in common. She is my birth mother.
Ok, I'll give you a minute, better yetl, take all the time you need to process this shocking information. This woman that I have recently reached out to, a stranger to me, is the same person that I have been actively searching for for over 20 years. I know we had at least one brief moment together. It was 42 years ago when we were separated. She was young and naive, and didn't have a support group to rely on. On June 26, 1971 she gave me a gift. It was a most selfless gift, and I imagine it was probably one of the most difficult things she's ever had to do. She gave me away. I believe it was her hope that the family that intended to raise me would do a better job than a young woman on her own could have done. Can you imagine how painful this decision was? With other, easier options, she chose to give me the gift of life, followed by another precious gift, the gift of a stable family that would love me unconditionally, and provide me with the life that she could not at the time.
Think back, and remember how young women were viewed who had children out of wedlock. They were looked down upon like lepers. To carry me close to her heart and part ways with me must have been devastating. How could she know, that burying the secret of my birth would haunt her forever. She trusted the guidance provided by her family, doctors and lawyers. Try to forget about her and move on, they said. She will have a better life, and you too, can start over. Become the person you want to be without the stigma of what you've done. Move on. Can you blame her? How does one move on after that? I don't know if I would have had the strength and courage to do what she did.
You know her. You've known her for many, many years. Can you imagine the pain she's felt? How does one come clean after years of trying to forget? To pretend like it happened to someone else?
Now, here I am, in her face. Making her relive what was long ago forgotten. I feel for her. I have been searching and praying for many years that one day, I would be able to thank her for making the difficult decision to let me go, and to let her know I'm alright. I've been very fortunate. I have had and still enjoy my loving supportive family, and now have some closure. I recently had the opportunity to send her an email, and pour my heart into it. There are still puzzle pieces missing, and hopefully they too will be filled in soon.
Can you do a complete stranger a favor and wrap your arms around the amazing woman you married and tell her everything is going to be OK. Don't ask her to share more than she's willing or able. She's fragile right now, and I know she needs you, and your family's support. Please give some thought to what she went thorough all those years ago and what she's going through right now. I'm sure she feels like she was in a car accident. There was no warning, just the hard impact one feels when being broadsided at high speed. Please give her a hug, hold her tight and give her your support.
I'll be here waiting, and hoping, that one day you and your family will understand that what she went through all those years ago. Her history is part of what has made her into the loving wife, caring mother, and super grandmother that I imagine she must be.
Now breathe!
I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Joanne Racaniello Pelosi. You don't know me, and perhaps never will. Despite the fact that we are complete strangers, I am hereby pleading with you to help me. We have a mutual friend; acquaintance might be more fitting. Actually, I've never met her, but we share something very intimate in common. She is my birth mother.
Ok, I'll give you a minute, better yetl, take all the time you need to process this shocking information. This woman that I have recently reached out to, a stranger to me, is the same person that I have been actively searching for for over 20 years. I know we had at least one brief moment together. It was 42 years ago when we were separated. She was young and naive, and didn't have a support group to rely on. On June 26, 1971 she gave me a gift. It was a most selfless gift, and I imagine it was probably one of the most difficult things she's ever had to do. She gave me away. I believe it was her hope that the family that intended to raise me would do a better job than a young woman on her own could have done. Can you imagine how painful this decision was? With other, easier options, she chose to give me the gift of life, followed by another precious gift, the gift of a stable family that would love me unconditionally, and provide me with the life that she could not at the time.
Think back, and remember how young women were viewed who had children out of wedlock. They were looked down upon like lepers. To carry me close to her heart and part ways with me must have been devastating. How could she know, that burying the secret of my birth would haunt her forever. She trusted the guidance provided by her family, doctors and lawyers. Try to forget about her and move on, they said. She will have a better life, and you too, can start over. Become the person you want to be without the stigma of what you've done. Move on. Can you blame her? How does one move on after that? I don't know if I would have had the strength and courage to do what she did.
You know her. You've known her for many, many years. Can you imagine the pain she's felt? How does one come clean after years of trying to forget? To pretend like it happened to someone else?
Now, here I am, in her face. Making her relive what was long ago forgotten. I feel for her. I have been searching and praying for many years that one day, I would be able to thank her for making the difficult decision to let me go, and to let her know I'm alright. I've been very fortunate. I have had and still enjoy my loving supportive family, and now have some closure. I recently had the opportunity to send her an email, and pour my heart into it. There are still puzzle pieces missing, and hopefully they too will be filled in soon.
Can you do a complete stranger a favor and wrap your arms around the amazing woman you married and tell her everything is going to be OK. Don't ask her to share more than she's willing or able. She's fragile right now, and I know she needs you, and your family's support. Please give some thought to what she went thorough all those years ago and what she's going through right now. I'm sure she feels like she was in a car accident. There was no warning, just the hard impact one feels when being broadsided at high speed. Please give her a hug, hold her tight and give her your support.
I'll be here waiting, and hoping, that one day you and your family will understand that what she went through all those years ago. Her history is part of what has made her into the loving wife, caring mother, and super grandmother that I imagine she must be.
Now breathe!
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