I suppose I could bother you with another adoption related post. This one will primarily involve my daughter M. She is the one "casualty" of adoption I did not take into consideration when I had placed Z. While there was a great deal of information out there regarding adoption and siblings, it mostly covered siblings born AFTER the one surrendered. Maybe I didn't look hard enough, but it seemed that outside of a few pony and rainbow stories of all the children being involved and in contact with one another, there was little to nothing available to help a preschool aged child cope with getting excited for months to be a big sister and then have that dream smashed to the ground when she is informed that her little sister is going to live with another family.
Some family, thinking that they were helping, suggested that I just pretend little sister never existed or even tell her that there never was a baby and she imagined it. I couldn't fathom lying to her about such a thing, especially when she had spent a great many nights with her head on my stomach, talking to her little sister and poking at my tummy to get little sis to react and move. I just couldn't lie to her about this. I know family meant well, but the last time this little lie was used, the truth came out 40 yrs later and the family members involved have never been the same since (yes, adoption has played a role in my family long before I joined the ranks of birthmotherhood).
Big sister M was 3 1/2 yrs old at the time and, like any child at that age, could not fully grasp the overall complexities of the situation. I still remember the look of utter devastation on her face when I told her that I was looking for a new family to raise her little sister. "No, you can't do that!" she'd cried out loudly. "You can't give my sister away. I won't let you!" I had tried to explain that things were hard and that I was scared that I wouldn't be able to do it all on my own with both her and her little sister. I can only imagine the horrors going through her little imagination at that point. The look of fear and disgust were blatantly obvious on her face. She didn't speak to me for a few hours after that.
So little sister Z was born and placed. The years passed and, as M grew older, was more able to articulate her questions and desires over her little sister. Every year, we receive pictures of a beaming and happy Z. As infants, both Z and M could have passed for twins other than Z's dark hair. M is fair and blond, Z is fair with dark brown hair, most likely inherited from my mother. As the pictures showed her progression in age, she started to take on more and more of their father's traits. She looks a great deal like their father, my ex husband. You can see me in her eyes. Must be a maternal trait, LOL. My mom has the same eyes, I have the eyes and big sister M has the eyes.
An interesting fact about our situation: Z lives in the same city as us with her parents, B and J. I don't have an exact address, but I know they live in our city. M knows this as well. When she started school, she talked about how she couldn't wait for when she got into 3rd or 4th grade because then her little sister would be in kindergarten and they'd be in the same school. She understood the age gap well enough to know that by now, Z would be in school. Every dark hair little girl she spotted, she speculated was her little sister. Just to point out the odds of potentially running into them: a year ago last summer the children's museum in our city had changed locations and built a whole new place not far from its original location. It was HUGE. They had a grand opening of sorts that offered free fun outside. Sand pits, streams to play in and all sorts of nature inspired goodness. I almost took M down there. We love going downtown. For some reason or another, we decided not to go. A few days later, while browsing our local paper online, they featured a brief article about the grand opening and pictures. Guess who they had a picture of jumping in the sand? Little sister Z.
I tend to think the older Z gets, the higher the chances are now that her and M will run into one another. M actively seeks her whenever she is out and about anywhere. The updates and letters indicate that she is often involved in many activities that take her to some of the same facilities that M herself goes to. This most recent summer had M at the local YMCA for summer day camp. One afternoon, after picking her up, M informed me of her new playmate, a six year old girl named Z. I remember freezing completely when she told me this. I asked her what her hair color and eye color were and M stated that she had dark brown hair and pretty dark blue eyes ("like your eyes, mom.").
Oh hell.
M went on to explain that she really enjoyed playing with Z. They had a lot of common interests. I asked what Z's parents looked like and M said that it was Z's daddy who dropped her off and he had light brown hair, kind of like M's hair (sandy blond) and he looked about my age. Z's adoptive dad, B, has sandy blond hair and is only a few years older than me at the most. As I am driving, I could feel the shakes coming on. I knew the odds were there, but what kind of twist of fate was this? M really enjoyed this Z girl's company and they spent a great deal of time together. "I think it's my little sister," she stated finally, looking at me through the rear view mirror. "I won't tell her who I am, but I am pretty sure that's my Z."
I found out later that the little girl was not "her Z", but talk about a close call. M was visibly upset when it was confirmed that the girl was not her little sister. She had held on to this hope that she'd finally got to see her, to meet her and they'd become close while at the YMCA. Maybe deep down she knew it wasn't her Z, but held onto that hope (or fantasy) with an iron grip. She still holds onto that hope that they will run into each other before they become adults.
The couple that adopted Z have made it clear they do not see Z and M as siblings and most likely have not told Z that she even has a big sister. M knows this because she'd found where I kept their letters and read them one morning before I woke. I think that is why she decided against identifying herself should she ever run into Z. I could be inconsiderate and cruel and say that who cares if Z finds out who M is and it's B and J's fault for not telling Z about her family of origin, but I won't. I don't fully understand their reasoning and logic behind denying the fact that M and Z are siblings, but am willing to respect it. I will say that I can't always control what comes out of M's mouth and I certainly am not going to insist she never identify herself to Z, should they meet while still children.
I suppose the point of this particular post is to show just how adoption can effect siblings. Whether the child surrendered is the first born or second born, the aftermath of it will affect any other children the mother has. Six years have passed since Z's surrender and M has been actively looking out for her every chance she has. Every dark haired little girl with the dark blue eyes that crinkle just like her mom and grandma's do when she smiles is a potential Z. I do often question myself and wonder if maybe I didn't do a good enough in preparing M for Z's loss. I have heard from women who have told their older children that they were nothing more than surrogates and there was no biological link between them and the child in utero, wanting to spare the children the heart ache of losing a sibling. Some have said I should have done that or just simply have said that the baby was meant for another couple. Then there was the well meaning family who suggested I should just pretend the baby never existed and that M had imagined it all. Or just not talk about it and ignore her questions, after all she was "young enough to forget about the baby".
Lying accomplishes nothing. I couldn't lie to her about something like this. Even if the lies were meant well and to spare the child the heart ache, it is still lying and lies come back and bite you in the ass. The two family members mentioned earlier are great examples of this. My fifty four year old mother was about ten years old when my grandmother gave birth and surrendered a fourth born child. No one spoke of the lost daughter and my mom was told she had imagined the pregnancy and baby. There was no baby. My mom honestly believed she had imagined it all until about six or seven years ago when my grandmother finally admitted the truth after a few too many glasses of wine. My mother's memories of it all are now warped from the lies she was told growing up and though she wants to search for her little sister, she cannot remember the exact date of birth and grandma will not reveal that information. We simply know a gender and that she was possibly named Louise.
So, if there is anyone reading this who is considering placing a child and you have older children you are raising, think long and hard about how this will affect them. You can't just place and brush it under the rug, hoping they will forget. Even if your older children are quite young, they will still be affected by this. There is no way to sugar coat it. No matter how much you explain to them, they will never fully understand. And do not ever lie to them about it, no matter how good your intentions are in doing so. They deserve to know the truth.
This is heart-wrenching.
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