Today’s guest blogger, Cynthia Jones.
I am pleased to feature Cynthia Jones as our Saturdays with Seniors guest blogger today. After a long career in nursing and social work, Cynthia officially retired in 2013 and before March, 2020, had been working part-time at City of Chicago senior centers and a residential facility for people with chronic mental illness. Her furlough is our gain: she now has time to participate in the memoir-writing class I lead via Zoom on Thursday afternoons.
Goodbye Alexandra
by Cynthia Jones
I dressed myself and my one-week old daughter carefully for the meeting. I knew the impression we made would be important and lasting. As part of our adoption agreement, we were to meet Mariah’s birthmother and maternal grandmother at the adoption agency today, the day Alexandra would sign the final paper to relinquish her parental rights.
I was functioning on automatic pilot so as not to get bogged down in my emotions and become unable to prepare. Fear that Alexandra had changed her mind about giving up Mariah. Fear that Alexandra wouldn’t like me and forever feel bad about the adoption. Guilt about “taking” Alexandra’s child. most importantly, not wanting to be flooded with memories and associated feelings about that long ago day when I was the unmarried 20-year-old birth mother signing away my own newborn.
Mariah and I hadn’t yet established the synchronous flow that develops between a mother and her infant. We’d only had 2 days together. But she was my second child so I felt confident in handling and caring for her.
The drive was long and silent with our dread. The social worker my husband and I had met at the hospital met us at the reception desk, whispered that Alexandra had already signed the papers, and ushered us into a conference room.
At least this no longer felt like an audition. Alexandra and her mother, Gwen, sat side by side. Mariah was asleep in her carrier. We sat across the table. I noticed Alexandra’s beautiful sweet smile. I don’t remember much about the conversation except that it was uncomfortable.
Fortunately, my wonderful husband had thought to bring a photo album with pictures of us with our son Josh on happy occasions. It was a perfect ice breaker and gave Alexandra a chance to see Mariah’s new brother.
We’d been told by the social worker that Alexandra and her mom wanted to keep her baby and raise her, but since Alexandra and her family were white and Mariah’s father African American, her father was absolutely against having Mariah in the family. We learned that Alexandra had lived in her parents’ home throughout her pregnancy. After about 20 minutes of that conversation, Mariah woke up crying and hungry. I was prepared with a bottle and settled to feed her.
It was then that I noticed Alexandra was crying. My heart broke for her, and I asked if she wanted to feed Mariah (which I’m sure was against agency policy). Alexandra nodded and I placed Mariah in her arms and the bottle in her hand. She had long brown hair which cascaded over both their faces as she leaned forward to feed her daughter one last time. Mariah made satisfied sucking sounds while Alexandra continued to cry softly. Gwen put her arm comfortingly around her grieving daughter as she, too, cried softly. I tried my best not to cry, but tears streamed down my face, too. So much mother grief in that small room.
After Mariah emptied the bottle, Gwen said softly, “Give her back to her mother now.” This time my heart shattered as Alexandra placed Mariah back in my arms.
Beautiful story and beautifully written.
I can’t help but wonder if Mariah and Alexandra ever reconnected later in life.
Thanks for leaving this encouraging comment, Hank. After I shared this essay w/Mariah [(now 33 years old), she’s decided to try to find Alexandra! Mariah has never had much interest in searching before. The power of words….
I cried when Cynthia read this essay in class. And I’m crying now re-reading it. Thank you, Cynthia, for sharing this very private moment.
Such a touching story.
Cynthia, I’m in tears after reading this. It is impossible to imagine the empathy you had for Alexandra. Did she know about your sacrifice at the age of 20? I’m guessing Mariah is all grown-up now. Maybe, just maybe, Alexandra was given a second chance at motherhood. I’d like to think so.
See Cynthia’s comment above, where she says Mariah is now interested in connecting with Alexandra. Cynthia has told me they have always been very open and honest with Mariah about her being adopted, and Mariah grew up feeling proud to have been adopted.
The power of words. So much emotion!
So heartbreaking, all around.
Thank you for sharing your very personal story. So moving.
What a touching story, thank you, Cynthia. My husband and I also adopted a child, but never met the birthmother. At 20, we helped our daughter to find her tribe (she is Native American) and it made her whole. Our family is still her ‘first’, but she is in contact with cousins and has also taken her own daughters to connect with their biological roots.
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