 by Laura L. Engel A miracle happened in my life in 2016. I was seventeen when I was sent to a home for unwed mothers where I was pressured into surrendering my newborn son to adoption. For almost fifty years I secretly mourned the loss of that baby. In 2016 my first son discovered me through Ancestry DNA. All those years ago I had been a sad pregnant teenage girl with no support, no options. Now I was a grandmother in her late sixties, but that girl inside of me had lived on and was overjoyed my son had found me. Content Warning- This essay includes references to adoptee suicide.  Meeting my 49-year-old son was a dream come true, a prayer finally answered, and something that changed me as much as leaving him had changed me decades before. Our reunion was a whirlwind. First, there was an email from Ancestry – Parent/Child Match. For the next twelve hours, nonstop missives flew back and forth between us. Tears streamed down my face as I answered his questions the best I could and then he asked if he could call me. “Oh yes, please do!” And when I answered the phone, my first thought was ‘I know his voice’ and his first words were “I know your voice.” I will cherish that forever. Our first phone call lasted over four hours. We were both hungry for any knowledge we could glean from each other’s lives yet hesitant and cautious with each other. By the time we hung up in the wee hours of the night, both emotionally exhausted with bittersweet smiles on our faces, we were laughing and promising to talk again the next day. I had searched for my firstborn over the years and hoped and prayed we would one day reunite, but I had never thought past finding him. What now? What was going to happen? Was this blissful feeling which felt so much like falling in love too good to be true? I was scared to death. Years later he admitted to me that he too had been overjoyed, but terrified. Who was this woman who had given birth to him? His adoptive parents had told him I was 14 when he was born. During his lifetime he had wondered if I had been raped at that tender age and wouldn’t want him in my life. The truth was entirely different. The truth was I had turned 18 the month before he was born. His teenage father and I were in love. At least I was, but he wasn’t enough in love to buck his parents’ wishes which didn’t include marrying me. I had wanted to keep my son with every fiber in my body but had nowhere to turn, and no support from the father or my family. I had no choice. I worried that he would never be able to understand the pressure, shame, and guilt heaped on young girls like me in the 1960’s who found ourselves pregnant without a ring on our finger. I prayed he would ‘like’ me. I selfishly hoped he would think of me as his mother, even though he had been raised by another woman who he had called mom his entire life. Was I asking too much? Even though we were reunited now, there was a long and winding road ahead, and we both were intuitive enough to know that making up for 50 years of distance might prove too difficult, too heartbreaking, and extremely complicated. Were we just strangers who were bound by DNA? How would this work out? All the history we did not know about each other stared us in the face. Four days after finding me through Ancestry, my son texted me and said he wanted to fly out to California to meet me. My heart exploded. “Yes! Please!” I texted back. My heart stopped when he told me he would arrive the next day. Jubilation, fireworks, and abject fear hit me all at once. This was it. This was real. Meeting in person was about to change both of our worlds forever. His visit was more breathtaking than I had ever dreamed. I was head over heels and my son seemed enchanted by me. When we first hugged, I felt as if I was hugging my other three sons. This middle-aged man was my flesh, my blood. He looked so much like me and my family and reminded me of my other sons. We laughed at the same humor. We had the same tastes. DNA shouted loud and clear. At that time, I was naïve to reunions with no idea how flawless and easy ours was from start to finish. How lucky we were, because lo and behold, this incredible love for each other was here to stay. Our journey of discovery continued as we happily flew back and forth across the country making up for lost time. During the following years, we told each other so much and packed in a lifetime of healing from the great loss we had suffered. When reunion got complicated, we both bravely forged ahead and reiterated the blessing of finding each other. All along my California family opened their arms to him and his Louisiana family welcomed us. But the truth is, my son, my first-born baby boy, would end our beautiful reunion when he took his own life in 2021. This second and final loss of my son broke me and so many questions still linger in my mind. So many things I didn’t say because I thought we had forever. My heart breaks afresh even writing these words today because I wonder, could I have said more, done more? I knew there were outside influences and trouble that crippled him, but I also knew he suffered from depression and lived with abandonment issues throughout his life. Still, there was so much I didn’t know. During our last phone conversation, 48 hours before his suicide my beloved son told me I was the “best thing that had ever happened to him and that he loved me” before we hung up. Was there more he wanted to say? If this had been his final goodbye, how could I not have known? That truth will haunt me for the rest of my life. Laura L. Engel, a birth mother and an award-winning author, wrote her memoir, You’ll Forget This Ever Happened -Secrets, Shame, and Adoption in the 1960s after a magical reunion with the son she had been coerced to surrender to adoption in 1967. Her memoir takes readers back to New Orleans during the Summer of Love, where women are hidden in an unwed mothers’ home and treated like damaged goods for making the worst mistake of all – getting pregnant without a ring on their finger. Her book is a story of love braided in many ways - at times tragic yet filled with hope and strength. Laura lives in San Diego County with her husband Gene and their Golden Retriever, Layla Louise. They are the proud parents of five adult children and ten beloved grandchildren. Her favorite thing is writing with the hope of helping and inspiring others. You can find Laura at: www.lauralengel.com AKA invites you to hear from members of the extended family of adoption and the surrounding community. 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1 Comment
4/15/2024 02:13:29 pm
Even though I read your book when it first came out, this blog was so beautifully written and a tribute to your son. You’re right that we never forget regardless of what we were told to do. Thanks for the courage in writing your truths. A big hug for you. 🥰 Leave a Reply. |
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