Choices

Choice, a word that is thrown around a lot on adoption blogs.  Who has a choice, and who doesn't.  And what follows is usually a decision.  A lot of times we try to make things black and white when it comes to choices.  A lot of time, the discussion is centered around whether or not a first mother has a choice.  I'm a firm believer that some do and some don't.  It's a complicated issue.  My first mother did.  Other's did not.  Some had a choice, and made the wrong decision (and I've read this on first mother blogs, that they know now they made the wrong choice in placing).  I've also read other first mother blogs where they stand by the fact that they made the right choice for them.  It goes on and on and on.

Choice is something that I've struggled with.  You see, I had a choice.  Not when it came to my adoption.  In that, I didn't have a choice at all.  Adults made a decision and changed my entire life and identity forever.  Nobody asked me what I wanted because I was only two months old.  No choice at all.

But I did have a choice when it came time to search and reunite. In all honestly, I didn't see it as a choice.  At the time, it didn't seem that way.  Between the time that my sister handed me that file and the moment I dropped that letter in the mailbox, I struggled with deciding what to do.  And I had to be honest with myself finally and realize that the choice I had to make was pretty clear.

The way I saw it, I had two choices.  That was it.  I had to decide between searching or not searching.  Not searching could be changed into searching later, but I knew that if I found them, I'd never be able to go back.

I could have not searched.  I tried that for six months.  I gave it my best shot.  I didn't search at first.  I waited.  My mom asked me if I wanted to, and even offered to help.  I said no.  I wasn't going to search.  After all, I could always change my mind later right?  And where would I even start to search?  It's not like I had a ton of information to go on after all.  After six months, it was pretty clear that it wasn't working out for me.  I wasn't sleeping.  I had trouble eating.  I was constantly wondering about what I had found.  I kept going back to that paperwork.  And I was having a really hard time concentrating on the other parts of my life.  I was slowly loosing it.

On the other hand, I could search.  Who knew what I was going to find.  My first parents could have been horrible people.  I had it in my head that my mother was a crack whore.  She's actually a Catholic mother who works hard to be the best mom she can be to her kept daughters.  She's actually a good person, just a slightly different person when it comes to me.  But before I searched, I didn't know what I was going to find and it scared me.  I could search and find she was dead.  Who knew if I'd even be able to track him down.  And I could potentially hurt my adoptive parents and adoptive family.

In the end, we all know what I decided to do.  I felt I didn't have so much of a choice.  I couldn't not know anymore.  I needed the medical history information.  And I needed to find those missing puzzle pieces.

But it was a choice.  A hard one, one I felt compelled to make, but at the end of the day, I did have a choice.  And so I do need to understand that.  And I do need to realize that even when things don't go the way I want them to, it was my choice to search.  And it was my choice to get in touch.  So when things don't go at my pace, I need to remember that I went looking.  They didn't find me, I found them.  I can't play the victim.  I can't pretend that this just happened to me.  As hard as it came be when things get rough, it was my choice, my decision.  And I stand by it.

And I am trying to make the choice to be happy.  It's not easy, but I do believe it's a choice that we all have to make.  I'll leave you with a link over to Amanda's page.  Because this story is what it's all about.

The One That Wins

PS - Today is my adoptive dad's birthday.  Happy birthday Dad! (I know, lots and lots of birthdays this time of year!)