The Primal Wound was first published in 1973.  The author, Nancy Verrier is an adoptive mother and a psychotherapist. I believe the book was Nancy’s academic thesis.  The Primal Wound is a deep exploration into the emotional and psychological impact of adoption on the adoptee.  The concept of the book centers  around the theory that  separation of a mother and child, which the child experiences as abandonment, rejection and loss is responsible for numerous issues and adoptee faces – shame, trust, loss and lifelong trauma. 

 Ouch. 

From the onset (in fact, page 1) she writes, “Many doctors and psychologists now understand that bonding doesn’t begin at birth, but is a continuum of physiological, psychological, and spiritual  events which begin in utero and continue throughout the postnatal bonding period. When this natural evolution is interrupted by a postnatal separation from the biological mother, the resultant experience of abandonment and loss is indelibly imprinted upon the unconscious minds of these children, causing that which I call the “primal wound”. 

Reading that tore into my heart – to the place where my own wound resides. And I cried. And set the book aside for a few days.

Now, weeks later, as I sit powerless and in the dark (literally, my power is out) I’m thinking what a perfect metaphor that is for my initial reaction to reading the Primal Wound.  Once again, I felt in the dark – unaware of yet another consequence of my actions and once again I feel powerless to right a wrong I may have caused my children.  It wasn’t an easy read for me.  I found myself vacillating between wanting to know more and walking away – keeping an unknown consequence of adoption – safely in the dark.

As a birthmother,  I really didn’t want anything else to add to my “I gave my children up for adoption” plate. I didn’t’ want to get triggered.  I found myself defensive at times, wanting to refute everything I was reading and other times I felt my children were doomed – and I was going to have to accept that burden also.

But  I did read it – in small bites.  The first few chapters really were incredibly difficult.  But I finished it. I’m glad that I did. I am a birthmother as well as an adoptive mother.  I chose to participate in the tour as a birthmother and obviously it was challenging. I found myself thinking not only about the experiences of my birth sons but the effect on my adoptive child as well.

My twin sons were born in 1973. Six months after Roe v Wade and at the tail end of the “Baby Scoop Era”.  It wasn’t until I was 8 ½ months pregnant that I found out I was carrying twins.  That news was another blow – proof that I was being punished.  Today, I am so thankful that I had twins, two beautiful boys who were adopted together – hopefully they gave each other a  sense of true identity and belonging.  I like to think it helped.

Back to the book – Did I mention it was a tough read for me?  Not only did it trigger a lot of my own feelings, now I was finding out that there was a whole new set of issues my children face – and that’s what I didn’t want to know. 

I began to feel guilty all over again.  And for me, it was decision time.  How was I going to choose to read this book, how would I assimilate the information and what was I going to do with what I was learning? So it was emotional but it gave me another opportunity to look at myself and pay attention to where I was still triggered and unresolved. Those triggers provided another level of healing for me. I’m sure that wasn’t  the purpose of the book but it was an unexpected gift for me. 

I chose to read the book as an observer – for insight and knowledge  - instead of reading through the lens of an emotionally conflicted birthmother.  I realized that I cannot be guilty for what I did not know.  Not being emotionally involved was a little more challenging yet it allowed me to think critically, ask questions and not take on responsibility for more guilt.  As I continued to read I asked myself some hard questions and also began to question some of the work.

I suppose there was a part of me that only looked at the impact adoption had on my life.  In my mind, my children,went on to live their happily ever.  Maybe that’s what I needed to believe and maybe some of that was my experience with my own adopted child – although I now have a different awareness. – I think the possibility that it isn’t all smiles and rainbows played on my heart more than anything else.  

Initially, my reaction was okay, Nancy – we are all messed up, birthmothers, adoptees, adoptive parents…now what?   It’s clear there needs to be sweeping reforms in adoption, education and healing but in the meantime…? Are we better off abolishing adoption altogether because there is a possibility our children will be so wounded they will never be happy, functioning people?  Give us another, better, option.  Should we just have abortions – no child, no wound?  Of course, in that situation there’s the possible lifelong suffering for the girl aborting her child but is that much different from birthmoms who lost their children to adoption?

Does life itself outweigh the wound? Is the decision to give life to a child (even when you have no hope of raising that child) worth whatever emotional challenges that child may have?

As human beings don’t we all suffer from some of the same thoughts, feelings, and emotions?  As I looked over some of my book notes for this posting I noticed that in many places I had written or highlighted “I feel that too”.   I’m not adopted.  The idea that the emotional trauma described in the book is universal for all adoptees is questionable.  Are feelings of guilt, loss, lack of trust and abandonment issues exclusive to adoptees? I understand those feelings originate from a different place, I’m not questionning the feelings. But I believe most people, especially those that suffer any trauma will have similar feelings.

I felt the author had a tendency for over generalization and assumes  that the Primal Wound applies to everyone.  In fact on Page 215 she writes, “ there has been a general assumption on the part of many people that if a relinquished child is placed with adoptive parents early enough, he will not experience separation trauma.This is an assumption to which I have taken exception”. 

She goes on to write about another assumption on the part of social workers, agencies and adoption facilitators that if an adoptive couple loves a child enough, he will be fine.  She further explains that that places a tremendous expectation upon both the adoptive parents and the child because the one person in the world that can he can expect unconditional love from is lost. Therefore his ability to trust love from someone else is impaired.

Here,  I take exception.  What if a child doesn’t experience intense trauma or life impairing consequences?  Do we become hyper vigilant, looking for every behavior that could be attributed to a primal wound and perhaps creating issues where there may be none?  What about the idea of  looking at adoptive children as victims of trauma.  Is that really the mirror we want to reflect back at them?  I think that can cause its own set of problems.  And what about love?  

Call me crazy, but I choose to think that starting from a place of love is much better than starting from a place of pain.  I don’t doubt a wound exists – I am taking exception to the generalizations  – and I’m not willing to lower my expectations about a child’s ability to love – in a sense I think that also places them as victim.  I think we can do both.  Stay aware, be sensitive to the special issues that may be raised AND continue to see our children in their highest.

For me, unconditional love is acceptance.  Acceptance that my child will love me as much as he possibly can.  That I get. That I accept. What about unconditional love…isn’t that love without expectations.  But suggesting we lowering our expectations – speaks to adoptees as incapable or defective. Hurt, yes. Scarred and wounded, maybe. Aren’t we all?

 I wonder if  the author interviewed adoptees who were not in therapy?   Did she find any happy, well adjusted adoptees to speak to.  I can’t accept black and white and broad statements – that  EVERY child will view separation from the birthmother as abandonment and rejection and suffer traumatic lifelong consequences as a result.

From there, the author continues to list a host of lifelong problems experienced by adoptees – fear, anxiety, inability to trust, relationships, shame, intimacy and rejection. Again, the tendency to generalize can be a roadblock to adoption healing and reform. It may undermine true understanding and cause more separation and alienation between the adoption triad. 

The book speaks to an entire population as being victimized.  I’m not saying (especially as a birthmother) that some victimization didn’t takes place – we were, most of us,  victimized at our most vulnerable time, however what good comes out of a victim mentality.  It suggests that no adoptee will ever become well adjusted, functional or happy without years of therapy.  That is dangerous thinking – maybe as potentially damaging to social reform as the idea in the 50s that every unwed mother is emotionally disturbed, wayward and unbalanced.

All that being said I realize I still haven’t answered the questions.  Seems like I’ve asked more and that’s good.  Questions lead to understanding.  I need and want to understand more.  I just want to wind up my rant.

The book definitely opened not only my eyes but my heart.  I have a new awareness and understanding of myself, my “lost” children and my adopted son.  I have a different, expanded understanding of what might be there and what may show up for them. I agree that we need to do more. I know I need to do more. Learn more, teach more, support more, reach out more, understand more.  I’m grateful that’s what I’m taking from my reading.

As a spiritual counselor and coach specializing in Reunion and Adoption , I see a range of emotions and behaviors – from wounded and lost to highly functional, well adjusted people – and they all have something in common – a desire for wholeness, understanding and transformational growth.   Yes, we all experience sadness and loss and we also experience joy and connections.  Yes, there is a wounding and an emptiness in our hearts – but there is also love, compassion, empathy and forgiveness.  We need to look for it – uncover it and desire it. 

What happens now?  The book was written in 1993.  What’s changed? What have we learned and what are we doing with that knowledge.  Granted adoption may not always be the best answer but for many women it is the only answer.  Do we abolish adoption altogether? 

Preserving families and doing whatever is possible to keep a mother and child together should be the stance we take but is that always best for the child? What about the mothers that cannot keep their children?  Where do we go from here? Adoption reform – definitely. Education – absolutely.

A few things I’m clear about:

1.  Birthmothers need support, honest information and unbiased counseling when it comes to making a decision and they need ongoing support after the adoption takes place. We begin to eradicate the primal wound by reaching out to young girls and women BEFORE they find themselves pregnant.

2.  Adoptees need to be able to express what they feel – from the very beginning. They have a right to understand themselves and their feelings. They have a right to have their questions answered. They have a right to be heard. They have a right to be loved by both mothers.

3.  As part of the adoption process adoptive parents also need to be educated, to be aware of the possible manifestations of trauma and how to respond to them. We need to listen, on a deeper level for what’s being said and what may be left unsaid.  We need to be vigilant in our love, our commitment, our openness and aware of our own shadows and wounds so we can help our children heal theirs.

Okay, so I’m finally clear enough to begin to answer the questions.  Here’s the first one…

If you found your surrendered child and discovered they were not aware of their adoption, do you believe it is better to tell them? How would you do so?

My first thought when I read this question was STOP! Right there! Tell them?  I think a better question would be under what circumstance would you feel compelled to tell them and for what purpose. What perceived good would come of telling someone they are adopted if they don’t know?

It’s really a hard question. If I answered based entirely on the theory presented in the book  I would be thinking my child is suffering. He’s carrying around a lifetime of unconscious, unresolved emotions, unable to sustain relationships, trust, grief, victimized by his separation from me. Maybe he would understand why he felt or behaved the way he does.  Telling him would put and end to his suffering, right? Or would it?

Does having an understanding of one part of your life justify potentially destroying another?  So he knows why he may feel disconnected, he now understands the possible root of his trust issues, but what about the life he had. That life has just been shattered.  There’s a huge responsibility and a huge consequence in that.

There is no easy answer. Yes, I understand not knowing the truth is living a lie. However, I cannot see myself being the one to expose that. I would question anyone who was considering telling an adoptee that he was adopted to really look within first and to ask themselves some questions.

          Is this something that I’m doing that is helpful or harmful to my child?

          Is this something I’m choosing to do from love or from my own unmet need?

There are so many variables to consider. How old is the adoptee? Are the adoptive parents still alive? Is the adoptee in harms’ way? Are there medical concerns? 

At the time I surrendered I had to believe I was doing the best for my children.  Maybe it wasn’t the best for me , but I could and did live with my loss. I stand by that. So unless there were compelling reasons to tell – I would choose to let it rest. I’m willing to be wrong here – to look at it from a different perspective but my immediate reaction is no.

In my own experience in Reunion I had someone else contact the adoptive parents first – my reason was to make sure my boys knew they were adopted before I made contact.  I can’t imagine that I would have sought them out and made contact knowing they were unaware.

I would suggest that anyone contemplating telling their child they are adopted when they are unaware to look at their reasons, seek counseling and support and THIS TIME make an informed, conscious decision looking at all the possible consequences and outcome of that decision on your life as well as the life of your child.

Note: A friend of mine told me blogs were “supposed” to be short.  It’s a shadow of mine (a leftover in my Shadow Box of Birth Shadows) to be wordy. I think it comes from a time when I wasn’t heard or listened to, where my thoughts and wants weren’t considered or acknowledged – so I apologize if I did get wordy.  (Like I said it’s a residual  Shadow and it tends to follow me around)

Be back soon with answers to my next questions. 

To continue to the next leg of this book tour, please visit the main list at The Open Adoption

Surrender isn’t a word I take lightly.  For years it meant giving up.  Raise the white flag, admit defeat – mindless, numbing, relinquishment. The dictionary definition of surrender means 1) to yield something to the possession or power of another; 2) deliver up possession of on demand or under duress or to give (oneself) up; and, 3) to give up, abandon, or relinquish (comfort, hope, etc.) .  It was the etc. part that really got to me. 

Sounds familiar doesn’t it?   

I have my own definition of surrender. Surrender means loss and as a birthmother the “ETC” in the defination above signifies the loss of a child.  Actually, it’s the loss of two children – the girl I was at 17 and the child I gave away (in my case twins). Surrender meant loss of control, loss of choice and ultimately giving up on myself.

That’s when I started to make the distinction.  There is a huge difference between surrender and giving up. Giving up is the ultimate disbelief in yourself and what you are truly capable of.  It is telling yourself that there is nothing you can do, or no way for you to change or make your situation better.  When you dwell in this emotion — what do you think this brings into your life?

Not only did I surrendered my children, I totally gave up on myself.  I wasn’t good enough to be a mother, I was unworthy, damaged and less than.  That I was able to create a life for myself with that belief system in place amazes me.  But I did.

I realized there were two “me’s”.  There was the girl who gave her children away and the other “me” that was determined to be better- to move forward despite the feelings of unworthiness, and never give in or give up again.  So there was the “me” that was scared, wounded weak, needy and damaged and the “me” of my heart and my soul. The spiritual  “me”, my authentic self, pushed forward, always urging me to look, to dig deeper, to forgive and to release. That part of me was the strength that allowed me to be more than just my story or my experience. And once again I had to surrender – to yield to all of it – the fear, the hurt, the self doubt, the anger. I willingly surrendered to all my emotions and all my negative self talk.  I allow myself to feel my weakness and my strength, my damaged self, and my absolutely perfect self.

Surrender meant turning my thoughts away from what happened that was out of my control and trusting that I was more than my experience.  I surrendered to the part of me that was more than the voices in my head – for me – my higher self – and when I released that resistance and surrendered I found a place of healing.

Today, surrender for me is peace. It’s allowing things to be exactly as they are. It’s allowing full expression of all my emotions and all the different aspects of myself. This time – it’s different. I choose Surrender. I chose to let go off my shame, my grief and my “I’m not worthy “conversation.  Yes, surrender is admitting – admitting that I WAS powerless and today I am empowered.  Surrender, is not mindless or numbing. Surrender is a conscious choice for me to move forward.

I surrender all of my fears – those nameless fears which shadowed me for such a long time, dulling my happiness and clouding me with fear and apprehension. I’m done with being fearful, angry, and limiting.

I willingly surrendered to the thoughts, the feeling and the emotions I have.  Surrender is one of my golden keys.  It facilitates my healing.  If I don’t surrender to the feelings I have – they control me. The more I resist them – the more powerful they become.  Surrender now, signifies release. When I’m feeling stuck, sometimes it’s as simple as saying I DO need help, I won’t give up but I will surrender and the answers come quickly.

So this time, my white flag flies with a symbol of peace.  It is a symbol of my willingness to experience all that I am and all that I feel.  I surrender all my feelings to the divine and my higher power. I give myself the gift of grace, surrendering to what is in this moment, opening my arms and my heart to what is real for me, embracing the whole of who I am.

Today’s Soul Candy

I claim surrender as a key to unlock my healing.
I claim my strength.

Healing Action Steps

1)   Today, affirm that surrender opens a pathway to healing.  This is especially helpful if you have resisted or limited the power of true surrender in the past.

When you start to pay attention to your emotions and self talk and begin asking yourself what’s underneath those feelings you begin to realize you have a choice and you are so much more than you imagined.

We are all so much more powerful that we were ever told.  There are many ways to “surrender” and sometimes it’s just saying “I don’t know it all, I am releasing all attachment to the way things should have been, or should be. I am releasing any attachment to the HOW and I am leaving it up to God/the Universe/My Higher Power to give me what I need to move forward.  I don’t need to know the HOW, I trust, I am willing.

2)   Make a list of all the ways you gave up on yourself and all the feelings you have tried to hide. Remember this is about surrendering.  After you complete your list, look at the two or three emotions that you resist the most.

3)   Reflect on your list and ask yourself – How have I resisted these emotions? How do I try to hide, manage or control them?  What behavior have I used to avoid, ignore and deny their existence? Where do I need to surrender?

4)   Close your eyes, breath in the affirmation – I claim surrender as a key to unlock my healing. I claim my strength – and ask your higher self, your inner wisdom – What are the gifts in these emotions?  What have I learned by expressing or resisting them? And, lastly, what would my life look like if I simply surrendered and allowed these feelings to exist just as they are? Would Ihave more peace? More contentment? More grace and ease in my life?

5)   Can you SEE the difference between “giving up” and surrender?  Is there a certain decision and/or path in your life telling yourself “you MUST KNOW the answer”?  Have you “given up” because you have “tried everything?   

6)   Notice what happens as you choose to embrace those feelings rather than reject each of them. The process of surrendering and allowing yourself to feel your feelings can bring about a new perspective, a higher level of healing and unexpected outcomes.

My name is Karen Ciandella. I created this blog with the intention that it become a sacred place for us to share, to grieve, to forgive, to heal and to celebrate.

Our backgrounds may be diverse and our stories unique; however, I believe that most of our feelings are universal.  While we share a common bond and our experience as First Mothers connect us, it is that very experience and our thoughts and feelings about what we experienced that disconnected us from our sense of Self. 

So, I invite you here unburden your heart and begin to heal in this space of sharing, learning, accepting and forgiving.

 I honor you. I embrace you.  I understand you. I celebrate you. I know you. 

I am you.

The girl who gave her baby away.