Last weekend was my second anniversary with my fiancé. He took me to a beautiful winery called, “Raschelica Winery and Art Garden”, in Ramona, CA.

 

We were both feeling excited, happy, lovey, giggly and romantic as we pulled into the winery parking lot. They had Frank Sinatra playing over the speaker system. The building, patio and gardens were designed to make you feel like you were in Italy. There were statues scattered around large walled garden areas and gorgeous vistas as far as the eye could see.

 

We walked up a stone pathway, there was a large statue of a pregnant woman who caught my attention. Her head was down, she looked sad, filled with grief and conflict. One hand was on her baby-filled belly while the other was on her head, as if she felt shame and was trying to hide herself from the outside world. This woman did not feel happy to be pregnant. This stone woman seemed to want to run away from the world and life. This stone woman was my mother. That baby is me. 

I took a sharp breath in, my throat tightened and my gut squeezed as my stomach sank. I pulled out my phone and took a couple of pictures of her. I thought, “well, that was unexpected, I will process and write about this later”,  but I kept moving because this was a joyous moment. I wanted to enjoy my day and celebrate with Jeff.

 

We wound our way around the path and found a shaded secluded table for two then went to order our drinks. I tasted their Malbec and Port. Their Port was the best I have ever tasted so I went with that, Jeff bought me the bottle. It is now sitting on my desk as I type. I filled it with dried reed flowers he got me from his business trip to Charleston. It is a lovely reminder of our day.

 

Funny how life brings us unexpected moments at unexpected times. When I look at this bottle I remember a day filled with love and laughter. I was in such good high vibe feelings then there was the statue moment, a dot of pain, loss and a different kind of love. Love for a mom I will never know and love for an infant who was not celebrated as she should have been. Life is full of complexities.  Life is potent and poignant.

 

Human beings have the wonderful capacity to experience a mixture of emotions all at the same time. How special is that?  We also have the power of choice. I chose to move on because I have dealt with my grief enough to be able to do that, not everybody has. There are many whose grief remains and they have become a tomb to honor what was. They keep the grief as a way of connecting to what once was. I understand this, I was once a such a container of loss. It kept me from fully being able to engage, receive and connect with all that Life was offering. So that day, I was able to move on and I chose the better part. I chose to be present and to let the joy of love and life in.

 

We sat and talked and took some pictures. We sang along with Frank Sinatra and saw a few others dancing so we joined in. Swaying in the sweetness was the sentiment of the day.

 

After our drinks we started to walk through the art garden. When we came back around to the section with the statue I took a few more pictures with my camera. I stood there and thought, I want to hug her and “the baby”. I quickly surveyed the surroundings and saw that no one was around.

 

 

I said, “Jeff, do me a favor, I am going to stand with this statue while no one is here. Please take some pictures.”

 

I quickly moved behind the mother, my mother, and put my arms around her and the baby. I let my body press against her and sent love to them both. As I hugged her I felt into the sensation of hugging my mom and my infant self. Feelings of loss, love, connection and unnamed emotions were present for me to swim in.

 

I thought, this is the hug I will never get to give other than this moment with a statue. I felt love and gratitude for my mom who carried me for 9 months, gave birth to me and handed me over to strangers. I sent love back in time to her and thanked her. I sent love and healing back in time to myself, the baby, who was being carried, but not wanted. The infant who was formed with the fear and stress of a mother who wanted to run away as far as she could. Little me who was innocent, yet was going to take on a wound so big it would take me a lifetime to sort out. 

 

Jeff, not knowing why I wanted these pictures, started to give me some direction as he often does. He said, “lift your head, look up and…smile…”

As soon as he said, “smile”  I said, “oh…this is not that kind of picture”.

 

Sensing my mood had shifted he said, “ohhh, why? Keep doing what you want and tell me about it.”

 

I replied, “This is my mother and she did not want me.” Tears fell down my face. Old familiar feelings of loss, grief, anguish and fear were in those tears. The power of it has faded over the years as I have healed, but they still reside inside me in a shrunken state, more like echoes compared to the scream I once lived with.

 

Jeff came to me and held me as I softly cried. In that moment, I knew I was wanted and belonged. I had a felt sense of belonging, a feeling I have not been able to connect to for most of my life. Another moment of mixture, love and loss, disregarded and wanted, but the strongest of all was the realization that it is in the past. It felt distant. I felt safe and at home, not because of Jeff, but because of the work I have done within myself creating Home and cultivating connections to safety and belonging.

 

I was able to have a moment of grief without my nervous system, emotions or mental state being affected into a downward spiral. I was able to connect with the mom I will never meet again with love and gratitude as well as sorrow and loss. I was aware enough to connect with my infant self and generously love her in a new way, without shame, but with gratitude for all she endured to get me here today. 

 

It was intense, sorrowful and yet a beautiful moment of release, acknowledgment and connection to someone (her and my infant self) that I wanted to connect with; if even for a moment through a statue. What a mirror of what it has felt like throughout my life. I grew up wishing her well, sending love to her and never feeling anything in return. Much like this statue the idea of her felt distant, emotionless, hard, still, cold, and never changing. My stone mother.

 

Are you surprised that I longed for her because I had a loving mom who I was close to? Of course I longed for my biological mom. I always have. I always will. I am her baby. I always will be. Adoption cannot change the truth.

 

Adoptees carry such complexities with ease, perhaps it is because we have two sets of parents, two families and manage these two realities our entire lives. I don’t know if that is good, but it has stretched me and made me compassionate. I am thankful for who I am, how I love and proud of how I live.

 

As I reflect on this moment, I feel a strange concoction of layered emotions; I have arrived at a place in life where I love myself, really really love me and yet, this longing to know or experience things that I cannot will always reside within me a little bit. I will always carry this duality.

 

Not too long ago, I would not have written this. It was too raw and real. I thought others wouldn’t want to hear it. They do not desire to know these truths about adoption that I have lived. I have come far enough to courageously share my experiences.  I have reconciled my beginnings and found Home within. I am enjoying life deeply. I am at peace finally. I will share my story, all of it, the good, the bad and the ugly. 

 

Interestingly, it is clear to me now, I sought this unexpected moment unconsciously for my entire life. A moment to connect with her, with us, back when we were us.

 

Life unexpectedly brought me a moment to hug my stone mother and to whisper into the stone,  Ho’oponopono a Hawaiian practice of reconciliation , “I am sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. Thank you.”