Part 1 is Here. Fortunately, I missed the maternity home experience and the scores of swarming social workers chanting all their dogma. Many of my birth mom friends have filled me in on all that though, and I have read about what that experience was like for many. Glad that I missed that it.

After my son was born, I saw him briefly twice, and then left the hospital and tried for 32 years to pretend that he did not exist. That sounds so cold and uncaring to me now - I was neither. I did what I felt would allow me to survive.

I had a 5 year old daughter to raise as well. For months after my son was born, I remember very little. All that I recall is that I struggled to contain my crying spells until my daughter was in bed each night. Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes not. For a few months after my son was born, I had regular sessions with a psychiatrist that I had been sent to. I recall nothing about those visits. I imagine the anti-depressants the psychiatrist had me taking contributed to some of my memory loss.

Eventually, I learned to disconnect myself from my feelings from my son, and for my daughter's sake, bury my feelings. I became skilled at the art of denial. I blocked out my son’s existence. It pains me now to say that, but, it is true.

When the agency found me 32 years later, I finally told someone that I had relinquished a child to adoption. Until then, it never seemed safe enough to take the risk, so, I did not. Whew, I am glad that I am nearly done with this part of my story! As many times as I have told my story by now, it still takes me back sometimes - and hurts. I need to stop for awhile. I talked about "then" – next I will talk about "now".

To Be Continued......................................