4 Months

Two days ago I hit double digit milestone 55.  I’ve been thinking about a lot of how I got here, and how the being relinquished at birth and adoption affected me. 

Here I am, tiny, pleasing almost #BabyYoda like cooing and smiling at age 4 months.  Basically, the last few weeks I’d been here, with Barbara and Tony in the mountains of southern New Mexico.  Yet, for 75% of my life to this time, I have no idea what went on.

I know my birth mom relinquished me in El Paso, and then I was in foster care in Las Cruces, and kept there for 10 weeks.  10 weeks.

What the hell went on in those 10 weeks?

There in lies the core of the trauma.  And 55 years later, I’m trying to damper the power of this trauma, and I think speaking about it, saying what I really think, are the steps I need to take to put it fully behind me.

I’m thinking a lot about this, because in a mere 6 weeks or so, my first grand child is going to be born.  My daughter and I were discussing what it would be like to just hand her over to someone else.  I can not even imagine doing this.  It’s the core of ever single story, every single family. Every love story.  Every tragedy.  Every connection.

10 weeks.  What on earth, just a baby alone with strangers and other babies.   10 weeks.