Two years ago today my adoptive mom Shirley passed away peacefully in her bed. Her last words were spoken to me over the phone while I was in the foothills of the Himalayan mountains visiting my biological mother Shanti. My gut feeling was that she was about to go. The last three weeks had been rough for her with difficulty breathing and she became more and more tired. Two days later as I flew into the United States her spirit moved on.
My mother Shirley teaching me something!
As I remember her I also think of the many adoptive mothers I have met through this blog. These women are a breed of their own.
My mother didn’t have the depth of understanding or the compassion to know me until her last year of life, in her 80′s. Even then she still didn’t know the depth of what I had gone through as a little Indian girl in a community of no Indians. She lived in so much denial about me with her belief that all was good and there could be nothing that bad about being adopted.
It was not that it was bad but it was difficult to adjust and conform to so many things as a child. She really never took the time to understand me. Although I think she truly loved me but just didn’t know how to be in a relationship with anyone, not just me.
For years I had a perception of adoptive mothers all being like her. The kind of people who look good to the community, who to the outside world appear to be so compassionate and kind, but are slave drivers and unkind at home. They used their adoptive children to make themselves look good without a care for the child’s mental well being. They were do-gooders, telling the world all of the great things they did for others “I adopted Pushpa from India, she was starving and her mother didn’t love her.”
These things drove me to despise and hate her to the point where at the age of 8 I would daydream of killing her with a knife out of my kitchen that we used for cutting meat. In my eight year old mind I visualized the whole thing and feeling relieved with the outcome of her being gone. I wanted her out of my life.
I forgave her years ago for the mean things she said and I forgave myself for being so difficult and having such high expectations of her.
Now, I find myself getting to know other adoptive moms on line and they bring tears to my eyes. They are really moms to their kids. They have compassion for their children, they want to know if they are doing the right things for them, they care more than some biological parents about their little Indian children’s souls and spirits. These women bring me hope that adoptees can have mothers who are kind, who nurture them and who listen to their needs.
My mother was a teacher and taught me many wonderful things but these moms are more than teachers, they are moms.
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