Hmmm... another post that hasn't seen the light of day...
I have some work to do. What is it? Oh yeah, what is adoption loss? What is it that makes me want to run and hide when I hear someone walking towards me as I write? I'm an adult now. I've raised two awesome children. I've got people telling me I'm all kinds of cool on a regular basis. Why do I feel like I just got the rug pulled out from underneath me by a simple, "What's that?"
My mind arranges lots of information explaining it from the various points of view: adoptee, adoptor, and mine. Explaining is not what I want to do. I want to be free in my own skin, not to feel like I have to explain my feelings or my situation or me. Explaining my feelings is trying to carve out a niche for myself, to say it's ok for me to be.
I want to look at adoption loss and just see it. To see it without trying to fix it up or hide it or run from it -- without judging myself. My adoption loss in tied up in Joy's adoption loss, which is tied up in her aparents adoption loss.
Denying my own pain blocked me from acknowledging Joy's. I knew nothing worse than giving up my daughter was going to happen to me. I found cold comfort with all the "You did the right thing". Yet I clung to, "She's in a good family". She's being loved, nourished, nurtured, cherished by people who were devoted to providing for her growth and development. I may have been worthless as a mother, but at least I helped to provide some joy in their world. Seriously, I thought of surrogacy as a noble and charitable act, though I wouldn't consider myself a volunteer.
So adoption loss, what's that? Losing. Losing my baby, losing my self worth, losing touch with reality.