My birth mother lived in Centralia, a railroad town, named as many were, for its central position between population centers. A place to refuel, park unneeded cars, exchange workers. Lumber and the railroad employed most. I was her second of five at twenty-one, and the only one given away. That was in 1945. The language in the social worker's report was full of distanin. Shame dripping from the pages of the documents. Thousands of us were given away in those years. I was so shamed by these simple facts that I was unable to search for my birth family until my adoptive parents had died. Even then, discovering that my birth mother was still alive, I couldn't reach out. I waited until she died to make contact. Somehow it seemed safer.
My birth mother lived in Centralia, a railroad town, named as many were, for its central position between population centers. A place to refuel, park unneeded cars, exchange workers. Lumber and the railroad employed most. I was her second of five at twenty-one, and the only one given away. That was in 1945. The language in the social worker's report was full of distanin. Shame dripping from the pages of the documents. Thousands of us were given away in those years. I was so shamed by these simple facts that I was unable to search for my birth family until my adoptive parents had died. Even then, discovering that my birth mother was still alive, I couldn't reach out. I waited until she died to make contact. Somehow it seemed safer.
Ted. Truly crushing. Hard to comprehend the level of their desparation. How the shame took root in us, their forsaken. Thank you -
So powerful...and so true. The erasure was brutal and absolute.
Thanks for your comment, LLM. I just wrote a longer post about this, inspired by Substack writer Dr. Barbara Sumner. You can find it here: https://tedleonhardt.substack.com/p/becoming-inventory
Thank you for reading, Amy Rose. 🫶