Reunions...

A few days ago I was watching a talk show about adopted children reuniting with birth parents. Lena was watching it with me, and I warned her that I was about to get mad. To me, those shows are like watching a train wreck about to happen in slow motion, I can't look away, even though I should. Of course, the show pissed me off. As the now adult child sadly looks into the camera and pleads to find her birth mother, the birth mother walks out behind her and surprises her. The adult child is excited, but then I can see that look come across her face. Perhaps only I catch on to it (although Lena was pretty insightful about it as well), that slight "uh-oh" look saying "what have I gotten myself into?". I know because I was there a couple of years ago. What gets me about these shows is that they then send the birth mom and child off on a luxurious vacation so they can get to know each other. Hasn't the birth mom had enough of a vacation? What about the REAL parents, the ones who wiped her nose when she was sick and held her when she was sad? The ones that wept for joy when she became theirs? Shouldn't they be the ones going on the vacation? Aren't they the heroes here? Of course, that's not the exciting stuff that the tv people want you to see. What happens when all the lights are out in the studio and the real stuff starts? When the now adult child begins to ask the hard questions, like "WHY???". Why did you choose drugs over me? Why didn't you fight to keep me? What was more important than me? I'll tell you what happens...the reality of the truth sets in and it hurts worse than a knife being stabbed in and out of your heart over and over again. Then, slowly, healing begins. It's been a couple of years now since this process started for me. In the very beginning, I couldn't walk into a room without busting out crying. I spent what seemd like forever crying what seemed like endless tears into my mom's t-shirts...my REAL mom. Then, slowly, I began to come out of it. All the anger and fear and hurt ever so slowly began to melt away. With God's help, I began to laugh and be happy again. I began to truly understand that God does not give us more than we can handle. I began to realize that had she not done what she did, I would not have ever had my REAL family. And I began to thank God for all He has blessed me with, instead of continuing to ask why. I realized that no matter what, no answer to my "why" question would be good enough. I know I've come a long way, but I also know I have a ways to go. Now that I'm a mom, I don't dwell on it, but I know it's still there. It's something I work on and with God's help I will one day be completely healed from all my hurt. I truly believe that.