Although I didn't take the photo that accompanies this post, it is a spot in Switzerland that my dear husband and I have visited. I associate snow with Christmas - so that is the connection to this post. This spot was featured in a James Bond Movie several years ago.

Holidays are stressful for most human beings. However, if you are separated from family members, that separation is more pointed because most of us perceive holidays as family time. Those missing members are even more evident during the holidays.

During the past five years, I have gotten to know the son that I relinquished to adoption so many years ago fairly well. He was familiar to me and I sensed an instant connection the first time that we spoke on the phone. When we are together, it feels incredibly satisfying and still amazing to me. Being with him is comfortable in a way, yet not routine and entirely “normal.” Sometimes I wonder if I will ever get over the awe of the fact that we are together at times.

Closed adoptions do not allow for any contact – ever. A closed adoption presumes that the two parties separated will never meet or even know each other’s names. When an adoption is a closed one, there is supposed to be an abrupt and final break of the bond between parent and child. I wonder now though how any one believes that is really possible.

I tried, I really did try, and was much more successful than many birth mothers. In fact, I would say that I was masterful and quite adept at denial. That may account for why I am skillful at recognizing denial in others. Living in denial was where I resided for decades. I stayed there because some part of me knew that facing the truth about the loss of my child would be way too painful.

I tried to tell myself:

1) That I was okay not knowing who, how or where my son was;
2) That our bond was finally severed when I walked away and let others raise him;
3) That I did not love him – I was not supposed to;
4) That he would not be curious about me or need me;
5) That he was solely someone else’s child, not mine;
6) That he would be just like “them” his adoptive family;
7) That I had gone on with my life and our closed adoption had worked as it was supposed to;
8) That he was not “my” son, but theirs; and
9) That never knowing him would be okay.

Cracks in my denial armor were beginning to appear right about the time my son found me. Nothing overt was happening, I still had my feelings for my son buried deep. However, a recurring nightmare that began shortly before he found me was my subconcious way of finally beginning to touch the subject of the loss of my son.