People often ask me what my favorite chapters are in the book. That’s a hard one because the initial answer is of course “All of them!” I like my intro and outro where you hear some of my story and evolution through the writing journey. I love the chapters on the topic of reunions, 24 and 25. I love Chapter 3 on the history of American adoption. I love Chapter 26 where we get into the crazy laws here in the US that seal our birth certificates and the fight to gain access to them.
But one of the chapters that deeply affected me when I wrote it, and that was mentioned keenly by my beta readers and critique groups, was one right in the middle if the birth parent section: Chapter 13, The Cloak of Grief and Shame. So, we’ll begin here. In the center of the storm.
We’re talking grief in a big way. From the book:
“Birth parents always grieve their loss, whether they acknowledge it or not. But what they most often experience is disenfranchised grief. This is any loss or sorrow that is not acknowledged due to societal norms. These emotions are often minimized or not understood by others, which makes it particularly hard to process and work through. No one comes visiting with banana bread or a casserole. They’re on their own, and often alone with no one to share their suffering. Even close family will not acknowledge what has just happened. Co-workers avoid them. Friends and extended family are at a loss. Worst of all, no one wants to talk about or even see how traumatizing the relinquishment has been.”
These amazing women opened their hearts to us, and in this chapter, they strike a big chord:
Shayanne~
I was not okay for a long time. I was really, really not okay, and I am proud of myself because I almost didn’t make it. I realized that my kid was gone and I was not going to get a visit no matter who I asked or what I did. I think becoming a foster parent subconsciously helped, as if by being a foster parent I was as good as these other people. I was going to be as good as his adoptive parents and then they won’t be afraid of me anymore. They will let me have a visit.
They will do this and that and the other thing and it’ll be like I proved to them that I’m good enough. And I still wasn’t good enough, even after raising these other kids and becoming a foster parent. I was a shell. I just laid in bed and cried because of the devastation from realizing, “Oh my God, I don’t have a choice. There’s nothing I can do.” I have never been able to not help myself before. And it was so infuriating for me to realize, “I can’t do anything.”
The Impacts of Shame
Shame is systemic in adoption. Everyone takes a bite of this bitter sandwich, it seems. It’s plated up pretty with assurances that everything will be fine, everyone’s OK, it tastes fine. But its liverwurst dressed up like a juicy BLT. And the aftertaste lingers forever.
That’s one of the things about birth parent grief, and particularly so for our mothers of loss. Their longing, emotional pain, shame and guilt grow as time goes on, rather than diminish.
Disturbing Data
One other important part if this chapter we owe to the recent work from researcher Dr. Lynn Zubov, who gathered rather startling statistics on the consequences of relinquishment for birth mothers, in particular. Their health suffers, including even their life expectancy. Her preliminary research numbers show the following:
First mothers are 39 times more likely to attempt suicide than the general population
Of the 245 first mothers who were reported deceased by their relinquished adoptees from the survey, nine died by suicide
The death rate of 3.59% by suicide for first mothers makes them roughly 511 times more likely to die of suicide[1]
More study is needed, but one thing noted in the three years of researching for the book, birth parents are by far the least studied group in the triad. And most of that research has been done in Australia and Canada, not in the US.
Cathryn~
I can’t think about this. I can’t ever think about this again or I’ll lose my mind. So, I didn’t. I pushed her down and away. I thought, I have to keep going—there’s no choice. There’s nothing I can do. It was as if she was dead.
I held a gun. The girls were young teen- agers. My husband was a hunter, and he had bought a handgun for small game hunting. I’ve always hated guns. I considered taking my life just because I was in so much pain, and I didn’t know what was wrong.
Honoring The Lost Mothers
The shame for some women who relinquish consumes them. They continue to make bad choices or meet unkind people who further abuse them in a cycle of self-harming behavior that reinforces their shame. Others never learn to tell even one person and remain isolated and alone with their secrets to their graves.
For the ones who don’t make it back into the light of day, may they be heard from now through the eyes of those who survive them.
The chapter closes with stories told from adoptees who have survived their first/birth mothers. Initially I had three stories here, but in the need to trim the length of the book one of them had to be cut. Here it is:
Tina, honoring her birth mother, Marilyn~
It really did mess up my mother’s life. She never recovered. She got married within a couple of years of my birth, had my sister, then lost custody of my sister to her parents.
She became a drug user and an alcoholic. But she was turned on to that by her then husband who my grandparents loved. They thought he was the greatest. But he was the one that turned her on to all these drugs and stuff. She would disappear for weeks at a time. Then my grandfather would go find my biological father, who was a police officer by that time. [My birth dad] would go find her in different drug houses and bring her home. So, the dynamic ended up with my birth dad being the good guy. Her husband was the bad guy.
But she had done what her parents told her to do. She went with the guy that they told her to go with, and it wrecked her life. She never recovered from giving me up. She never recovered from losing custody of my sister. It was like constant blows to her life, and she just never could get on her feet after that.
I think that maybe things would have been a little bit easier for her, if she could have had just a tiny bit of support. I think that started her downward spiral, and it just went on for another thirty years.
[1] A Preliminary Exploration into Adoption Reunions. Data on when adoptees knew they were adopted. Facebook, 7 2024, 3:19PM, https://www.facebook.com/profile. php?id=61555968231690, Accessed14 Jun 2024.
What does it mean to be truly child centered when considering adoption? It begins with listening, sincerely and without dismissal, to the adoptees involved. Most importantly, being child centered in adoption means that the interests of the adults are set aside, and the needs of the child are prioritized over all others. Quite often, this is not the way adoption is practiced in the US, although many like to think it is so.
It begins with our first, natural mothers.
I am angry at the way many birth mothers have been treated in the past and continue to be treated. During the baby scoop, some mothers were left to labor in hospital hallways because delivery rooms were only for proper married ladies. In 2005, when Shayanne (who readers will meet in Chapters 15 and 16) was in labor, she was left to lie for four hours in her amniotic fluid after her water broke. The dignity extended to these women has not improved as much as one might hope.
My natural mother may indeed have made some mistakes and used poor judgment. I do not romanticize her but see her for who and what she was at that time. I don’t know her full story, but from the non-identifying information in my file, she was an eighteen-year-old young woman with an abusive stepfather, and a boyfriend who couldn’t support her and wouldn’t marry her.
But she is more than just a sad story and deserved the opportunity to prove that. Automatically assuming her incapable of parenting me is a myth, and she likely would have made a good mother. My adoptive parents also made mistakes and, in spite of that, were good parents whom I love, respect, and cared for through the end of their days.
I am a product of both my first and raising parents. When people with power exert coercive pressures or treat my mother with a lack of care, harsh judgements, or disrespect, you are treating me the same whether you understand the truth of this or not. Biases about her and her situation create the belief about my “need” to be “rescued.” If her options are limited, and you think they deserve to be because she got herself into this predicament, then please recall a certain parable about people carrying stones in glass houses.
She had sex and may not have been as responsible as she could have been about using birth control. For some of these women the sex was not consensual. Now, this baby forming in her womb is unplanned for, but that does not mean she doesn’t want to parent. When you judge her, you are judging my existence. And because she was “irresponsible” I therefore need to be better provided for by others. Maybe some view her as no longer of the same value she was before. These biases were applied to my mother back in 1965 and are still present today.
Our society says to modern mothers, “You’re irresponsible and can’t possibly raise this child, so we’ll take better care of it than you can.” They deem that such children should be raised by another, more suitable, family. We pretend this is her choice, but others have manipulated her options and are profiting from her misfortune.
The outcome of an adoption means that barely out of the womb, I’m separated from the one person I need and know more than any other human being. This is done supposedly for my welfare, and people will say she did a good thing by being so noble and brave. Society then declares me lucky, and insists I agree.
Everyone needs to understand the bond between a natural mother and her infant is not a casual one, and that breaking us apart has consequences. An infant pays dearly for that separation and so will their mother. When we use adoption as part of our social safety net, we fail everyone involved. Financial hardship must not be the only factor in the equation of when an adoption occurs, nor should society or religiously imposed shame. If these are the only reasons an adoption may be happening and the mother wants to parent, then that adoption is unnecessary.
ALL ADOPTIONS CONTAIN TRAUMA
Separating an infant from its mother at birth is inherently traumatizing. These actions will affect both of them for the rest of their lives. This has been shown in a multitude of studies in mammals with rats and monkeys, and much study has been done on human beings. What is unknown is how and at what level that separation trauma and loss of attachment so early after birth will manifest in that adoptee’s life.
Many will say endlessly that the adopted adults they know in their life are fine. Many adopted persons reading this will agree. It is true that many such individuals are successful and appear to have no problems. But consider another view.
Adopted children grow up with messaging they are “chosen, special, and wanted.” If their nervous system is already geared around abandonment because this is how their primal instincts have interpreted their separation, one of the ways this can manifest is a highly driven need to be perfect. The preverbal trauma responds within their nervous systems and intrinsically motivates them to be sure they are wanted and kept. These individuals may be driven to be good or even the best at what they do, which can make them highly successful in their careers and lives, and are traits this society admires greatly.
An adoptee who wants desperately to be loved and to “fit in” with the world around them may develop a “chameleon” personality, which makes them highly malleable and likable to be around. This persona seeps into their being and does enrich their lives, in that they may have many friends and appear well adjusted. On the surface, the world interprets them as happy and maintaining great relationships.
One question worth asking is if the adoptee is more resilient, or did their adoptive parents bond with them more thoroughly, or did they disassociate from their pain in childhood so completely they are not in touch with their honest feelings? Does a chameleon personality know who it truly is or what they want from life? Or, what happens when a perfectionist who equates their success with love struggles with normal human failures?
The adoption competent therapists interviewed for the book all had stories of the 40-to-50-year-old adopted adult who wandered through their doors seeking help, believing they had always been fine. But then, a divorce or death occurred and suddenly they found themselves unable to cope as they had in the past. Feelings, long buried, surfaced in these moments, but if they don’t have the right help, it is hard to accurately diagnose what is going on.
RECONCILING THE COLLECTIVE DENIAL
There are so many good adoptive parents out there, my own included. They loved me unconditionally, celebrated my unique personality and differences, and never allowed me to be belittled or “othered” by anyone around me. They were always honest and, overall, got more things right in adoption than wrong. And people are people, and we are all beautiful and flawed in our own ways.
My father, as a school psychologist of his time, quoted the “blank slate theory” and believed it, as it was the dominant view then. Were he alive and still mentally active today he would be reading the work of Gabor Maté, Bessel van der Kolk, and others, and learning how wrong these older notions were.
It would crush him to know that his ignorance at the time may have harmed me or the formation of my little self while growing up. I wish he’d known. If his essence carries on in another plane of existence where he watches over us, I know he’s listening closely and is proud of me. The same is true of my mother. I love my raising parents and cannot regret being their daughter.
I don’t know the answers, but they begin by setting aside the false assumptions that have been built by the adoption industry and our culture’s simplified rhetoric that adoption is a beautiful way to build a family. As a fellow adoptee and good friend recently said, “We’ve all been bamboozled!”
The paradox arises from the idea that when adoption is necessary, it can be or at least should be beautiful. It should be. I want it to be beautiful! If you have a child who is unsafe in their home or truly cannot be raised by its natural mother, then being raised by a new family and given the ability to belong and be healed can be beautiful. But it is born of rupture, of trauma, and a loss so profound it must not be ignored. It is not the adopted child’s responsibility to make it beautiful. This depends on the adoptive parent’s ability to accept their child as he or she is, and understand they need to help them heal. When that occurs, adoption can fulfill its potential.
Healing is possible and necessary and, for many, is a life-long journey. For me it comes down to finding grace and understanding for everyone involved. My first mother and father could not figure out how to make it work, and the world they lived in was uninclined to assist. My adoptive parents loved me dearly, and I them, but collectively we didn’t know what we didn’t know.
I’ve worked hard on myself for years to heal from the more visible and clearly understood problems created through my adoptive mother’s alcoholism and my father’s denial of it. I’m grateful for the Adult Children of Alcoholics groups and mentors who helped me. Those wounds are still present, but the new information learned in writing this book has created an internal revolution that reveals more. In spelunking through the internal caverns of my implicit memories, I now understand my adoption’s impacts. I’ve always believed I was fine, and that adoption never affected me. Ironically, I’ve found new peace in understanding how it did.
New revelations surface where suddenly things fit. I have a chronic inability to understand when I need help from others, and don’t ask for help, ever. That tendency likely formed because when I was born and separated from my mother, my little baby brain thought she abandoned me. I received loving care but that was not enough, because no one understood I needed her, my first mother, and had no words to tell anyone. My implicit memory formed under the emotion of loss, and my cries never brought me the help I needed. Which made it very likely I was less able to bond to my already psychologically insecure new adoptive mother. We were both harmed by the lack of knowing.
I had another epiphany about my innate hyper-vigilism which many adoptees share. My nervous system is geared for subliminal stress. If life doesn’t create stressors for me, I will manufacture them because that is my normal. Even if things are calm, I feel an unease, waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.
Putting these patterns of behavior into proper perspective has been revolutionary, because no other therapy has been able to touch these struggles. No one ever told me it existed. Now I know. Had I learned earlier, it is hard to compose an explanation for what might have been different.
Seeing all of this with a clear lens gives me the power and freedom to heal. Being around other adoptees and first mothers has been cathartic for my soul. In them I have a community and safety I never expected to find. Other powerful allies are the adoptive parents who have also moved into awareness of these complexities. I have new friends in unexpected places, with a highly diverse and loving band of brothers and sisters bonded by our trials. Each of us toils separately through our lives, but we are never completely alone because we know there are friends just a call away who understand. Healing in community is powerful, and I invite all within the constellation to join.
Appreciating something that is flawed, holding this duality of thinking and emotional intelligence is hard. My love for both my first and second set of parents is unending. It will swirl around and around and feed back upon itself escorted by an eternal fire. One that was lit inside of me first by my natural mother, then tended by my adoptive parents, and now lives under my care. It glows bright and steady and is mine alone, which is as it should be.
Adoption contains love and loss and forces the human spirit to entertain new ways to experience both of those emotions at the same time. This duality is always present. Adoption is a paradox.
Mother’s Day is a triggering day on the calendar for many people. For those of us impacted by adoption, it can be ten times that on the Richter scale. As an adoptee who has sought more information about my first mother, I’ve now compiled a cluster of anniversaries that begin in late April and last until mid-May.
I was born April 21, 1965, and formally relinquished on April 30, just ten days later. After signing the papers in court that morning in Spokane, Washington, my understanding is my mother boarded a train that night headed back to the only home she had in North Dakota. I’ve often envisioned my bereft young mother running away from that terrible scene as fast as she could.
My adoptive mother died on May 6th, 2017, and my adoptive father on May 15th, 2004. I was the only child of my raising parents, and I believe also from my first mother. I can be grateful for my loving family and still be curious about where I come from. These two wishes can, or at least should, be able to peacefully coexist. Living as an adopted person is inherently paradoxical.
***
In my late fifties with my parents gone, I’ve reached out to my first mother. I’d like to see her, know her if she will let me. Or at least, understand more of my heritage, parentage, and birth right.
Born as I was in Washington State, it is one of only fourteen that allows adopted adults to have access to their original birth certificates. This is how we find her. From what I can see, she married later in life and has no other children. My birth father is unnamed. Even with DNA testing there is no clear path to learn who he might be. It is still a mystery, and she is the only one who can unlock that information.
I’ve sought advice, therapy, and talked with other birth mothers. Two years ago, I made my first attempt to reach her. I sent a carefully worded letter. Full of grace, love and understanding. I told her that whatever happened she had done her best. That good people had raised me, and I’d had a good life. That I loved her no matter what, never resented her, and would always hold space for her in my heart. I opened the door if she wanted to communicate in any way and included a few photos.
No response.
The wondering never ends. Did she receive my letter? Tracking says that yes, someone at the home did. Maybe they travel and are gone a lot? Maybe her husband is controlling or cruel and hid my letter from her. What if she has dementia? What if something else happened to her and she is ashamed for me to see her? These useless but never-ending thoughts whirl. I want to hope for the best but prepare for the worst. What if she really doesn’t care and never did? My conversations with other mothers who have relinquished children to adoption say otherwise. But really, what if the blessing is that she did not raise me?
I cling tightly to the only photo I have of her – the black and white senior yearbook picture that mirrors me so closely I can barely stand it. She is frozen in time at that moment and only she can come to me and breathe her essence into the scene in my head. Without that I know this is only one piece of her story.
***
Two years have gone by, and there is a conference I’m attending in the same city she lives in. So again, with much thought and care I write to let her know I am coming and when. I say I will meet her anywhere, that I understand her husband may not know her past. Three more weeks pass by with no reply, and I head to the event.
***
One day after leaving, a letter from her arrives at my home. She says she loves me, does not wish to hurt or reject me, but she does not want to meet. Her family around her do not know and while she says she loves me, she asks that I respect her wishes.
I was devastated and so was my husband back at home having to share this letter from afar. I also knew I needed to protect my heart, be kind to the wounded little child inside of me. And, to know I would be Okay. I never needed her affirmation and see clearly this has only to do with her grief, shame, and limitations. Not my baggage to carry.
This is adoption’s greatest toll – to have people unable to reach across the divide created by stigma, fear, and guilt. I’ve spoken to many adoptees and their first mothers who have reunited. These wounds caused by their separation are never fully healed, even by coming together again.
***
Two days later, a friend in tow, we drive to the address I have for my mother. We had planned this day for weeks in advance, well ahead of her letter waving me off. But we’re here, so why not go and at least see where she lives. It’s a lovely townhome in a nice suburb. I’m glad to see her stable and doing well for herself in her later years.
The house appears to be buttoned up tight, shades drawn, no sign of anyone home. A few doors down, my comrade in the lead, we find a nice elderly lady who chats and lets us know why yes, she knows my mother and her husband. Time-shares she says. We ask a few questions, and she tells us they booked a last-minute trip to Washington – left a few days ago and coming back later next week.
She ran away. While unknowable for certain, it is the most probable explanation. It is the one that feels true. Just like that night on the train fifty-nine years ago. Unable to face my presence or explain her true past she could not risk exposure. She has hidden my existence from her husband for decades.
Her secret will remain safe, and I will push her no further.
***
I head home to my life and plan to move forward as I always do. I speak with my good friends and know I did everything right. I was respectful. I will honor her wishes and set this aside for now. It just didn’t work out. There was no luck in the stars this time. However, other forces have worked against us.
Adoption is a lie. We believe we are saving one family from the judgement and immoral indignities of an unplanned-for child. That a more deserving and financially sound family will better provide for the baby. We also believe we are taking greater care of society by creating a superior family. But the aftermath is one of destruction.
As I try to see this all with a clear lens there are no answers. She cannot undo what was done to her, and right now may still be shielding herself from the pain of those realizations. What was clear in the non-identifying information from the Salvation Army (they so graciously allowed me to have) is that she was in love with my father and wanted to marry him and keep me.
She has tamped down that pain so far into her inner self she cannot face it. And while the situation of what she endured was horrendous, it was also not my fault.
***
Two more dates have been added to the calendar now in this landmine of a season. Spring is supposed to be the time of renewal and growth. I wish my mother would grow forth to know that there truly is love awaiting her on the other side of the abyss.
Her letter was mailed on April 23rd, two days after my birth. Surely, even with her shaky penmanship, she noted the timing? It arrives at my home on Friday the 26th. And I knock on the door of an empty house on April 29th, the day before she released me to God and the powers swirling around her all those decades ago. Demanding she relinquish me.
This isn’t over. She may still find her way. But only she can claim what is also still her right – to show up for Mother’s Day. To allow herself to own that title. And I’ll be here with an open door if she does.
** This story initially appeared in CUB Communicator in the May, 2024 Spring Edition.
Within the sub-culture of adoption, few theories are as celebrated and simultaneously controversial as “The Primal Wound”. The book with the same name, written by Nancy Verrier in 1993, calls out the idea that separating an infant from its mother is always inherently traumatizing.
Adopted people flocked to the book, many crying out, “finally someone understands how I’ve always felt.” Others have called it dangerous because they say it creates generalized views that all adoptees are “damaged” and perpetuates negative stereotypes. Adoptive or would-be adoptive parents have called the book and the theory “terrifying” because they feel it sets up a scenario for failure from the beginning.
One huge issue for many adoptees is that the debate in and of itself is yet one more way others dictate to them about how they should feel about their adopted lives – especially when many wish to see simplistic descriptions of what are far more complex and nuanced experiences.
What is the primal wound theory?
The premise is that all newborns come into the world with already deep and knowing bonds biologically and psychologically formed with their mother in utero. Babies in the womb hear and know their mother’s voice and those around them. They become accustomed to the smells and cuisine of the mother as it is their sole source of food and sustenance. It has also been theorized that seeping through the amniotic fluid are hormonal messages conveying the mother’s emotional state around the pregnancy.
In return, the baby is sending stem cells into the mother’s blood stream throughout pregnancy, causing the mother to instinctively react to the minute changes and movements of her unborn child. Therefore, within the first moments of birth a known, tangible bond exists between this new life and its mother.
As infants, all humans are completely dependent upon those around them. So, when that infant is then passed over to a “new mother” for care and feeding, on a deep level that baby knows it is not with the same mother. Intricately woven into that bond is also the idea the mother will automatically seek her baby and work hard to obtain him or her over any other.
But then, what does the subconscious mind of that infant register when the mother it knows does not appear no matter what it does? That is one of the many questions raised by the theory – what is the unconscious reaction to this perceived abandonment?
This is the root of the primal wound trauma. The natural mother is made bereft by an adoption, and the infant has also experienced a profound loss. Since an infant cannot clearly express itself, what it feels or thinks, is unknown.
Critics of The Primal Wound
Adoptees are not all in agreement everyone has vast and deep wounds of separation. Some clearly bond with the message while others reject it whole-heartedly. That debate divides the community, creating a rift in philosophy and varied views on adoption. Those who believe the “wound” theory will dismiss those who do not saying they are in denial. This same bias has the potential to influence and affect the validity of any serious study of the concept.
Some professionals dismiss the premise entirely. Dr. Charles Nelson is a Professor of Pediatrics at Harvard Medical School and a leading expert on how early childhood neglect, abuse, and other negative parental environments affect children. He said in an interview in 2013, “there is no scientific evidence to support the primal wound theory that all adopted people carry a scar from being separated from biological parents.”[1]
He states countless people who have been adopted especially in the first two years, but even beyond, are doing great, and “a theory that says just because they were separated from their birthmother leaves a permanent wound is just false on the face of it.”[2]
Dr. Ellen Kempt, Ph.D., who has forty-three years’ experience in pediatrics and is the former director of the Oak Adoptive Health Center, says, “I disagree with the thought of a “wound.” To me it’s an opportunity. I mean, adoption is a choice and desire, they (adoptive children) spent nine months in the middle of the environment of a birth mom who gave them love and nourishment. But the next step is a forever adoptive home. So, I just don’t at all see it as a wound.”[3]
Clarity is needed around the very word “wound” itself. The trauma that Verrier is getting at is the trauma an infant may feel by being relinquished, which is different from calling adoption a traumatic event.
At issue also in this debate is the difference between clinical evidence and scientific evidence to verify an idea or premise.
Clinical evidence is defined as a psychologist or other mental health professional making broader observations about the patients he or she is working with and forms a basis of opinion from that work. This is highly suggestive because of personal bias and the types of patients that a clinician is attracting to their practice. In other words, those in the adopted population who define themselves as happy, well-adjusted people are unlikely to seek clinical intervention, and by that selection become a “silent majority”.
Scientific evidence sets a higher bar as a variety of independent studies are created to evaluate behavior and assess root causes in an impartial review of a wider cross-section of individuals for study.
Many believe that because Verrier’s research for the book is based in part on her own experience along with largely clinical evaluation, that this alone leaves the premise suspect.
Another critic of her work is Dr. Michael Grand, author of the book The Adoption Constellation (with Jeanette Yoffe). He criticizes not the premise itself so much as the solution she proposes. He says, “[The Primal Wound] captures for some adoptees the experience of pain and grief and loss that so many others have denied to them and in that sense, it’s a very important and moving book. I was moved as I read it.”[4]
He points out that the notion of attachment upon which the idea is based means the child who is adopted experiences that loss of the first parent, and then always carries that forward to the new parent. Verrier’s assessment that the pain of separation can then potentially (or always) be solved by reunion. But reunion is not always helpful for either party. He further states that “The research shows clearly that the relationship between one’s early experience and the predictability of later behavior, that the relationship is weak (it’s not a strong relationship).”[5]
Also of concern is the conclusion many draw from the book is that it creates a “victim” mentality for adopted children. There is a significant difference between feeling you were victimized by something that happened to you, versus being a victim taken on as a personal identity.
How significant the primal wound trauma may be and the extent of its impact, the validity of its existence, and how universal that may be, is what fires up such a vast debate – even by people who have read and appreciate Verrier’s work.
Supporting Research
What is interesting is when one seeks independent research about the primal wound premise, the study leads one into biology and natural science explorations rather than psychology. Significant research has been done on maternal and infant separation on mammals ranging from mice to monkeys.
Many studies have been done on rodents, showing early life stressors including maternal separation “affect both acute and long-term development of neuroendocrine, cognitive, and behavioral systems”[6] In studies on rats it has been shown that separating the pups from their mothers, even when receiving feeding and care from other rat “mothers”, behavior changes are observed similar to anxiety or depression. Prolonged separation appears to increase these results when compared to the control group, (not separated pups). Even as adults, the maternally separated rats displayed abnormal behaviors, particularly in lowered food consumption and an increased startle response, indicating anxiety.[7]
Other models with rhesus monkeys show when separated from their mothers within the first six months of life, these subjects “demonstrate increased distress and passive behaviors” compared to their peers who were maternally raised. The monkeys also have increased cortisol (stress hormone) and display “diminished ability to handle stressful events and exhibit numerous exaggerated behaviors” compared to those raised by their mothers.[8]
Another study on rodents does show differences in these responses based upon the gender of the animal. In general, maternal separation appeared to affect the female rats more than the male rats when exposed to the same types of traumatic stress. Both male and female rats, however, were more likely to develop post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) as adults if they have experienced early life stressors.[9]
One article produced in Australia regarding newborns to two years of age, says trauma of all sorts can have a “serious effect on babies and toddlers”, and that, “many people wrongly believe that babies do not notice or remember traumatic events. In fact, anything that affects older children and adults in a family can also affect a baby, but they may not be able to show their reactions.”[10]
The article also notes regardless of the cause of the separation, the infant will not only register the loss of that parent, but the infant is also coping with their situation. The stressors induced by having to manage thatwithin a baby whose mind and nervous system is not capable of understand what is happening, is in and of itself, potentially damaging. Furthermore, this trauma can make its ability to bond with its parental caregivers more challenging.[11]
In comparing the mental health of adopted adults with the general population, clearly something is amiss. Adoptees are four times more likely than the general population to attempt or commit suicide.[12] Beyond general feelings of unhappiness or depression, identity disorders are also nearly four times more common in adopted adults compared to non-adoptees.[13] According to a survey of adult adoptees done in 2019, “With the large percentage of adults in this study who reported dissociative experiences, it appears that dissociation may be a coping mechanism which is well established by the time an adult client seeks treatment.“[14]
The debate continues around the number of studies done and the credibility of the methods, but most of the study done to date certainly at least implies that adopted children and adults are experiencing more difficulties than their non-adopted counterparts.
The Way Forward
Assume for a minute Verrier’s work is correct and accept the notion that any infant separated from its natural mother will know, and its forming subconscious mind registers this as a traumatic event. Also assume this can impact the infant’s ability to bond with its new adopting parents.
What now? In the work shared by Michael Grand, Ph.D., he points out while being adopted is certainly pivotal in the developing psyche of a child, is it the sole factor? Almost all children have pains, struggles, and events that will affect them in their growth and development. In other words – adoption is certainly not nothing, but it may not be everything, either, in the psychological formation of that human being.
Plenty of children struggle to bond with distant or emotionally unhealthy biological parents, act out in school, have huge struggles through the hormonal barrage of their teen years, and feel unheard, unloved, and unseen by their families. Sadly, many people desperately lack emotional connections with those around them.
However, those “looking in” at adoption often fail to understand this population for whom is denied a blood, familial or close connection – they are the only group told how “grateful” they should feel for their situation. Imagine being told someone should feel lucky for their loss, their trauma, or even their abuse? It is this frustration at not being validated for their feelings, that has so many adopted people later in life rising up with the need to shout, rather than continue to whisper their pain.
Maybe the truth lies somewhere else. The scientific debate around the concept may never be agreed upon. Even researchers who have done the above-mentioned work on primates cite that to conduct the same research on human infants would be too cruel.
With that acceptance, maybe the way to look at the primal wound is less literal, and the profundity of Verrier’s prose lies elsewhere. For those who keenly feel the premise explains their thoughts, what if the power is in asking adoptees to “lean in” to the psychological pain they feel rather than hide from it? If large numbers of adopted adults have rallied around the book and its ideas, then they should not be dismissed. Many adoptees state that when they were young there was no language that matched their experience. Then as adults, they seek to define their feelings in clearer terms, there are still no words. Verrier’s book gives them those tools.
If one accepts that philosophy, then psychologists and parents who completely dismiss the primal wound, do so at the peril and well-being of their children. If those surrounding adoptees are open to more insightful ways to help them hear and respond to these children, then, more the better.
Language has always evolved around updated needs of expression, and if the book has done nothing else, it has brought a completely new verbiage that carries significant value to the foreground of the adoption conversation. What has been buried and undefined is now visible at the surface – ready to be healed.
Which then begs the question, does healing exist for those who need it – and how is that achieved?
As Dr. Marcy Axness, PhD writes, “There are those who consider the primal wound to be a platform for adult adoptees to do yet more blaming and complaining, rather than ‘getting on with their lives’…But only having walked into that emptiness inside me, and felt it – finally, deeply – and grieved it. This in my hard-won experience, is what effective healing is about: not ‘fixing’ it, but facing it.”[15]
When talking to Sharon McNamara, Ed.D., L.P., adoptee, and adoption competent therapist, she shares, “You’ve got these kids, the relinquishment trauma is primary. Then you’ve got other trauma on top of that. And then the acting out… I do the grief work of this really, really, horrible thing that happened when you were a baby, and you have feelings about that. Let’s touch those feelings and let you cry. You need a compassionate therapist who is capable of hearing that level of pain.”
Regardless of the primal wound discussion, themes emerge around healing that are consistent. There are also common strategies parents can follow to help infants who become children, then teens, and finally adults to process these emotions more successfully. They revolve around love, openness, respect, forming a positive narrative with the child and most importantly letting them tell the adults in their lives how they feel, instead of the other way around. That they matter just for being themselves.
A parent may say, “I love you as if you were my own.” What the adopted child thinks is, “Why am I not your own?” Dissolving that barrier is not easy, but essential to help them feel safe – and it’s a concept that will have to be reinforced continuously.
Amy D. Alessandro, LMHC, adoptee, birth mother, and adoption & trauma therapist says, “Can the trauma of infant separation be healed? I wouldn’t do this work if I didn’t believe that was possible.” Her practice, Adoption Savvy, specializing in almost all facets of adoption competent therapies, says, “Will they be as if they had never had adoption trauma? To me, it’s like if your arm was severed in a terrible accident, could you still live a fulfilling life? Yes. You wouldn’t live the same life if you had both of your limbs. You would have to adapt. It’s going to look different, but you can have a happy functioning life. We can get there, but it is hard work.”
Some may cringe at this analogy, but anyone who has experienced some life-altering event will say they are forever changed by it. They carry it with them and must learn to thrive either because of, or despite, it. The world needs to understand that regardless of how one views adoption – lives are forever changed by it – sometimes for the good, but often with a mix of darkness within. Adoption is paradoxical, always.
There is another worthy lore that might be useful. Within the Alcoholics Anonymous Twelve-Step teachings, when trying to cover vast ideas that will apply to some, or many, but not all, there is a phrase, “Take what you want and leave the rest.” Maybe this outlook has some value as applied to the adoption community and these discussions with so much generalized opinion around so many individual lived experiences. A theory or explanation can fit part of one’s life, and not others – let that be OK for one another in the community.
No one should have the language of the primal wound thrust upon them, most especially as children who may have trouble reconciling its depth, and then pre-disposing them to the bias of being “victims” or “damaged goods.”
What it comes down to for many is to give emotional space. Children deserve to speak their minds and express their feelings in productive ways that do not revolve around a narrative, or what their parents or society expects of them. That includes their feelings about being or looking different, or not fitting in, and curiosity about a first family or another mother.
Adoptees all process their experience differently. Their views are as vast as the stars. Moreover, that will likely change throughout their lives as they age, possibly become parents themselves and pass key milestones that cause them to re-evaluate their feelings about being adopted. It is a lifelong journey for most.
What they are fighting for, more loudly and clearly than ever, is the right to define their own experience. In so doing, it is worth noting that dismissing any individual’s point of view for not fitting a narrative, whether an old one or a new one, is harmful to the larger cause – to be heard, valued, and understood.
[1] Davenport, D. (2021, April 26). Does the primal wound really exist?. Creating a Family. https://creatingafamily.org/adoption-category/does-primal-wound-really-exist/
[2] Davenport, D. (2021, April 26). Does the primal wound really exist?. Creating a Family. https://creatingafamily.org/adoption-category/does-primal-wound-really-exist/
[3] YouTube. (2012, February 8). Can an adoptee ever overcome his or her “Primal wound?” YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLcH4wT2nKQ
[4] YouTube. (2020, November 5). Primal wound new theory with Michael Grand author of adoption constellation | Jeanette Yoffe. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZgsbk17UQw&t=80s
[5] YouTube. (2020, November 5). Primal wound new theory with Michael Grand author of adoption constellation | Jeanette Yoffe. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZgsbk17UQw&t=80s
[6] Neurobiological consequences of childhood trauma – the Journal of … (n.d.). https://www.psychiatrist.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/15380_neurobiological-consequences-childhood-trauma.pdf
[7] Neurobiological consequences of childhood trauma – the Journal of … (n.d.). https://www.psychiatrist.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/15380_neurobiological-consequences-childhood-trauma.pdf
[8] Neurobiological consequences of childhood trauma – the Journal of … (n.d.). https://www.psychiatrist.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/15380_neurobiological-consequences-childhood-trauma.pdf
[9] Knox, D., Stout-Oswald, S. A., Tan, M., George, S. A., & Liberzon, I. (2021, November 12). Maternal separation induces sex-specific differences in sensitivity to traumatic stress. Frontiers. https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fnbeh.2021.766505/full
[10] Department of Health & Human Services. (2010, January 27). Trauma and children – newborns to two years. Better Health Channel. https://www.betterhealth.vic.gov.au/health/healthyliving/trauma-and-children-newborns-to-two-years
[11] Department of Health & Human Services. (2010, January 27). Trauma and children – newborns to two years. Better Health Channel. https://www.betterhealth.vic.gov.au/health/healthyliving/trauma-and-children-newborns-to-two-years
[12] Keyes MA, Malone SM, Sharma A, Iacono WG, McGue M. Risk of suicide attempt in adopted and nonadopted offspring. Pediatrics. 2013 Oct;132(4):639-46. doi: 10.1542/peds.2012-3251. Epub 2013 Sep 9. PMID: 24019414; PMCID: PMC3784288
[13] McLamb, Lee J., “A Survey of Dissociation, Identity Distress, and Rejection Sensitivity in Adult Adoptees” (2019). Honors Undergraduate Theses. 606
[14] McLamb, Lee J., “A Survey of Dissociation, Identity Distress, and Rejection Sensitivity in Adult Adoptees” (2019). Honors Undergraduate Theses. 606.
[15] In appreciation of the primal wound – creating a family. (n.d.-a). https://creatingafamily.org/wp-content/uploads/in%20appreciation%20of%20the%20primal%20wound.pdf
From deep inside the womb, I know both love and sadness. They ripple through my blood, my bones, and intertwine to create the essence of me.
This invisible truth sits inside, certain, a spark that will not die. Like the campfire that no matter how much dirt or water you douse it with, an unseen whiff of breeze keeps the embers glowing. I tend it closely.
***
My mother lives in the bungalow. The house that is not a home where she has been sent to have me and give me up to God and the powers that swirl around her. Other girls are with her. They mirror her story. At the age of eighteen and unwed, she has been sent halfway across the country from the only place she has ever lived.
Beyond the shame of her circumstances, are other pains. Her stepfather of the past five years is not only the Chief of Police, but abusive to both her and her mother. Nothing will happen to him in that small North Dakota town. He can do as he pleases with his women.
***
I come kicking and squealing onto this earth at 11:30 in the morning on April 21st, 1965. With this first breath I already feel my mother’s love. She has spoken without words her hopes and fears of the last nine months. I have drunk from her soul, fed on the unseeable parts of her, grown and thrived despite the desperation of her world. I know only her.
My father, a young, enlisted soldier met her at a dance two years prior. They dated, broke up, but reunite. He is then transferred from the nearby air base all the way to Alaska. He says he will not marry her. Not only because he sees no way he can support them, but also because of their religious differences.
My mother is Catholic and he a serious Methodist. Organized religion has thoroughly indoctrinated these two young people into believing they are too different to build a life together.
More has been done with less, but the constraints of their society show no respite from its pressures.
***
In the bungalow, letters come and go. Phone calls provide no answers. No peace. She recovers from her labors and prays. And curses. And weeps. She holds me and feeds me, maybe even from her breast.
Social workers give advice. “Oh honey, it will all work out. You’ll see, this will all be for the best.” There is only one story allowed in this house, and it is that she must do this, give me away for both her well being and mine. No other options are considered.
***
They bring me to her daily. I know her voice from the womb, know her smell. Within my bundle I feel her fear, her sadness, and her anger. I wonder how many times she cries.
Fifty years later in her darkest nights, does she think of me?
She gives me no formal name, but many of these young women have a ‘crib name’ for their babies. I do not know mine.
***
In the bungalow, there are more words from the experts who guide her, “If you name her, it will be harder on you to let her go.” For days she continues to recover. Her youth feels heavy on her shoulders as she prays to her omnipotent God that provides no new answers.
Eventually the letters and the calls and the unfairness of it all wring her out. She is left with only her shed tears and dying hopes and finds she has no choice.
***
Nine days after I was born, she walks into a courtroom and signs the papers that leave her bereft. I am no longer hers, and she is no longer mine. By the act of a pen and the closed minds that surround her, a woman she will never see again carries me away to be raised by another mother.
But before she goes, I dream, that the last moment she sees me, she reaches out one more time. Within the blanket wrapped tightly around me, her hand brushes the air by my puffy cheeks and barely touches my hair. And that speck of flame comes to life with the tiniest breeze that no one else can feel but me.
Back in the Summer of 1968, my family and I went on vacation to visit my Aunt, Uncle and Cousins. This was not our typical Summer vacation of fishing up North. This particular summer vacation, we drove the entire way from Central Illinois to Nashville, Tennessee.
I was eight years old then, and my older brother was getting ready to turn thirteen. I remember thinking my brother would become a teenager, which for me was such a cool thing!
My parents told me we would be driving through Kentucky, so I made them promise that we would eat at Kentucky Fried Chicken. I was certain I would get a chance to meet Colonel Sanders. Wow, I was so excited!
But of all the things I was looking forward to, nothing compared to the fact that once we arrived at my Uncle’s, we were going to have dinner at the Country Club!
To be honest, I wasn’t sure what that meant, but my brother said it was going to be really good and really fancy. So I was beside myself with anticipation. This would prove to be the best vacation ever!
During our drive South, I remember talking incessantly about the Country Club. I’m sure I was driving my parents up the wall and probably got my little sisters talking about it too. Once we finally arrived, I remember telling my Aunt how excited I was about going to the “Country Club.”
After spending a day or so at my uncle’s house having fun with my cousins, I remember my aunt started to talk about her famous blueberry pancakes. I liked pancakes, but I had never heard of blueberry pancakes! Every time our paths crossed, she reminded me of those blueberry pancakes.
I will never forget what happened. On the day we were going to the Country Club, my Aunt said she had a surprise for me. With bated breath, I looked up at her as she told me we weren’t going to that “busy” Country Club. We were going to stay there and have blueberry pancakes instead!
I tried to hide my disappointment, but doubt I did a good job of it. I remember looking at my Mom and seeing a combination of anger and sadness on her face, yet covered up by a weak smile.
You may have guessed by now that I’m a transracial adoptee. My first Mom was White, and my first Dad was Black. We know what that makes me in 1968 Nashville.
We never saw much of my Aunt and Uncle from Nashville after that. I didn’t know why then. I do now.
