Tadpole

Today (8/24) we started the actual therapy after I told her what a mess the prior week had been. Dr. Dragonfly chose the memory we were going to start with. At first, I didn’t follow her. I didn’t understand. I don’t remember if I mentioned that I was adopted or not, but that’s important here. There are things that your body remembers, but you don’t.

She asked me how I thought my life was while I was still in-utero. I guess I kind of looked at her like she was insane, but she pressed on. She said that no one has a memory of that, but our bodies do. So, fine, I’ll play this little game with you. I saw myself as a little tadpole swimming around in nice warm water with a pleasant pink light emanating through. How do you feel as you grow and the space around gets tighter? What do you think your mother is doing? Do you think she’s reading or playing music or talking to you? I had never considered these questions before. I never even thought about them. I told her that I hoped that she was talking to me and reading to me, but that I didn’t know. Teenage pregnancy wasn’t socially acceptable in 1969. What do you think might have been happening, then? I said, maybe she was constantly arguing with her family over what was going to happen to the baby. How do you think that would’ve affected you as a happy little tadpole swimming around in your now hostile little pool? I told her that I don’t think I could’ve done too much about it. Yes, you could. You could’ve let go and said bye. I was confused, like a spontaneous abortion or stillborn? Yeah.

So now you’re in this crowded little womb that has no room for you. You’re in a hostile situation, what do you want to do (even if you’re not in a hostile situation)? I just said, get out. Exactly, she said. Then what usually happens? They make sure the baby’s ok, weight it, bundle it up and give it to the mom. Yes, and what happens when they give the baby to the parents? It bonds. Did that happen to you? No. I was adopted. Michael, try to imagine yourself being given to your mom just after birth. I’ve seen it 1000 times on TV or in the movies. I tried to picture my baby self as that kid going into his mother’s arm, but I couldn’t. I saw nothing. I felt nothing. I felt empty and started to cry. That connection was never made with me and my body remembers that while I don’t. I kept crying as she tried to talk me through it, but in the end she had to bring me back through guided meditation. It’s a truly horrible feeling to know that at the moment of personhood, you never imprinted with/on anyone. I was a sickly child so I believe I was in the hospital for 3-6 months before my parents could even bring my home. My mom won’t talk about it. So for the first 3-6 months I had very little human contact and learned that when you cry, no one comes.