Give Away Daughter by Dee A. Welborn
July - August 1997 Issue, Adoption Triad Forum
Give Away Daughter by Dee A. Welborn
July - August 1997 Issue, Adoption Triad Forum
My daughter RonNell and I were reunited by phone 5/29/96, to date we haven't met one another. I wrote this poem last year after one of my fellow workers asked, "How are things going with your give away daughter?" Stinging words! They brought these words to my mind. More damaged souls, the fallout of closed adoptions.
Shadow Mother
Weeping willow shed your tears.
Wind whisper through your leaves.
Swaying branches part to see -
A shadow mother's pain to view.
Nestled beneath the tangled branches
Give away daughter sleeping.
Anquished pleas - to awaken dear child.
Open your eyes to view -
Our disjointed journey to womanhood.
Tangible reunions postponed.
Silence the pain of separation -
Severed branches regrafted?
If only hearts open to Love.
Journal Entry:
Yesterday, I sat listening to the competitive calls of the cicadas, each attempting to out do the other. The irritating buzz seemed to ride on the waves of the wind. One reverberating louder than the previous. It was maddening, especially to a restless soul. A soul tormented with the issue of the non-relationship with a give-away daughter. No matter where I sat, in the house or outside the house.. there was no peace, only buzzing thoughts irritating the soul. Venting my feelings on the internet didn't ease the turmoil. The anguish is literally unbearable. There is no escape. It's not that patience is even an issue anymore. The transition has wandered aimlessly way past that milestone. Waiting has been futile. So much time spent on resolving what happened to me as a young woman, twenty-four years ago. Been told that one can't live in the past, but know that unless allowed to grasp the moment, no matter how harsh...the moment comes full force wickedly to be relived later.
Reality is that my give away daughter has no intention of ever allowing a relationship between us. This thought has been scrutinized to the molecular level. Tears flow..I can't bear this pain any longer. Silently, I beg my Higher Power to take this from me...it is more than I can bear.
As I see it, I have only one of two ways to cope and live. One is to neatly sever this decaying flesh from my mind with a hot blade, much like removing gangrene before it destroys the rest of the body. What is done, is done. The other is continue waiting in despair and slowly and completely die emotionally. Either choice, brings no relief. Leaning towards amputation, I let go.
Told to go home and forget...may all those who abandoned and refused us in 1973, see what really happens when a young woman does an unnatural act of leaving her baby behind to be cared for by others unknown. May they experi- ence one ounce of the torture. Kenny, the denying, abortion-solution father, my own father refusing assistance, my Church for sweeping the shameful sin under the rug and out of town, for a one-sided agency with only one option in mind... to give away a one and only daughter. The lie whispered, "You will have other daughters." A lie. The blade falls.
Maybe someday I will publish my journal, so that people can see that not all reunions are rosy.
Last updated January 22, 1998