I understood the trials and tribulations for women in the sixties and the pressure on single mums to give up their babe. I got that they must move past it and often do not share with anyone that time when they gave up their kid. So with all sincerity I was completely ok with no response.
But she did respond and it was nerve-racking but cool. My birth mum wanted to keep me but buckled under the pressure of the time and fears of a poor life for me and her should she keep me.
And I’m a secret. For my bmum it is a “dark secret”, kept since she was 19. She now has two grown kids with kids of their own and she is very close to her kids. She agonises over how to tell them now. The hurt they may feel in her having not shared this secret with them. She is so close to her kids that she actually lives next to her daughter.
It was when she told me this that my mind and heart entered CONFLICT.
I have been busy telling her how it was ok, she doesn’t have to tell her kids if she doesn’t want to. Just having these telephone conversations was fine.
I ignored the emotional surge when she spoke of her daughter, of living next door. I ignored the ‘oh my god that’s what I always wanted…that closeness, that sense of family, of belonging…’
But since that last conversation with her my heart seems to have taken a mind of its own and feels all these ridiculous things that come; not from a 52-year-old women but from a child, an adolescent, a young adult that is screaming “mummmmmmyyyy”. I am embarrassed to even write this. It is not grown up, it is not mature. It feels needy and childish and kinda pathetic.
I accepted a long time ago that I was not ever going to have a mum. Who is this needy child in me? I can’t even ring bmum at the moment because I don’t want to lie and I don’t think it’s fair to put my needs on to her.
Yet, between you and me dear reader I desperately want to meet her, to know her. In my emotional being, the word ‘fair’ does not exist. I want her to want to know me too. I want her to WANT to tell her kids. I want her to want me to be a part of her life.
Hence my mind and heart in conflict. I know how complex all of this is for her and the very last thing I want to bring into my bmums life is conflict.