reunion
by elizabeth barbour

Deena was beautiful. Glowing. Radiant. Content. In Love. At Peace. Her long blonde hair reflected light in the evening glow of the lamplight as we enjoyed our fried fish sandwiches in the humid Florida night. Her white smile sparkled as she laughed at the conversation or when she glanced lovingly at her husband. They are expecting their first child together this month and they are the picture of joyful anticipation. I got to visit with them a few weeks ago when I flew down for Deena’s baby shower.

Deena is my sister. She’s only been my sister for seven years, though. We are still growing in our intimacy with one another. Distance makes it difficult but we plug away at it as consistently as we can with busy lives. It is natural and easy when we are together. She has opened up to me slowly over time. I see and feel the trust that she has in me and it fills my heart.

But I’m still struggling to trust myself. I fear I may say or do something to offend her or worse yet, make her angry. The adoptee’s classic “fears of abandonment” resound strongly within me and I still worry that my newly discovered family may slip away.
New? I’ve been in reunion for 7 years now, I think to myself. But how do you catch up on 29 years of separation and expect to be instantly bonded? A question that is ever present. The answer? You can’t and you don’t.

Her pregnancy, although joyous, has sparked numerous confusing feelings for me. First and most obvious is my absolute, unabashed joy about becoming a biological aunt for the very first time. I think most people are excited about having a new niece or nephew, but when you’re an adoptee and didn’t grow up with your biological family, there’s something infinitely special about the first child that’s born of the next generation. It’s as though his arrival in the world, and my presence in his life, and hopefully our children growing up together, will somehow compensate for all of the years that I didn’t get to grow up with my brothers and sisters. The dream of our kids being bonded in a way that we weren’t may set things right somehow.

Then there’s my own pesky longing and deep desire to have a biological child of my own. At age 36, time seems to be moving at warp speed and the collective urgent societal messages of “you’re too old, it’s hard to get pregnant, maybe you should just adopt, blah blah blah” resound in my psyche daily. I trust that Divine timing is at work in my life (well, most days I trust!) but the ego part of me experiences confusion when I think of motherhood and my family and all of the intricacies involved with it.

Why is my longing to have a biological child so strong? Why can’t I just adopt? I was adopted and I had a good life and great parents and wonderful opportunities. Why isn’t that good enough for me?

Lastly, there’s my private grief—and inordinate relief—that I am not the first sibling to be producing a grandchild for the family. Coming into a family after 29 years shifts the dynamics of birth order.

Or does it? While technically the oldest sibling and the first born, I am reluctant to claim that position or that role in the family. I feel that it belongs to my respective brothers (both my birthmother and birthfather raised boys as their eldest children).
Yet there is a very private notion I held for a long time Well, if I couldn’t grow up in the family, at least I could be the first to give my birthparents a grandchild and that will somehow make up for my absence and all the pain that was caused during the years of separation. And it might make me feel more special and more included and not like the outsider that I imagine myself to be.

Yet there’s a conflicting feeling of relief that my beautiful sister Deena is the first to have a child. I, like many adoptees don’t want to rock the boat or cause any problems… psychologists say that it all goes back to that fear of abandonment crap! As much as I try to dismiss it, I believe that cellular memory is strong and real. The relief is real, too – just as the grief is – and I’m working through allowing those seemingly disparate feelings to reside together. A paradox of sorts.

Once I meet my new nephew, I am confident that all of those worries will fade to the background. I’ll gladly celebrate with Deena at this exciting time in her life. I love her and support her and can’t wait to take on the role of “favorite aunt” (at least I hope that’s what my nephew will think!)

And I’ll continue to wrestle my complex feelings about who and what I am in my family. If I’m honest, the only thing I really need to do is be me, the real me, and the rest will fall into place.

Elizabeth Barbour, M.Ed., is a life and business coach who found her birthmother, birthfather and 11 brothers and sisters in 1999! Learn more about her at inspiredentrepreneur.com.