I Don’t Know My Mom

The Voice of An Adoptee in Recovery from Relinquishment Trauma & The Mother Wound

I don’t know my mom, but I wish I did. I’ve dreamed of her everyday ever since I was a little kid.

Spending a lifetime of searching, I finally found her name but uncovering the truth has been a heartbreaking game. 

Adoptions don’t have beautiful beginnings, instead they’re grounded in loss but the world says we’re winning. 

How am I winning when I didn’t know her name? The woman that brought me into the world, our fingers, toes and DNA are the same?

I don’t know my mom, but I wish I did. I’ve dreamed of her everyday ever since I was a little kid.

I waited for her to come back, but she never showed up. Did she have a clue how her actions would keep me stuck? 

Wading knee deep in my grief, loss & sorrow, many times wanting to end my life. Struggling to find hope or find happiness in tomorrow. 

Do they even think about how an adoptee will feel?

What if our wounds are too deep to heal? 

Did they consult with the adult adoptees before they made this life sentencing deal?  

What if love isn’t enough, or a house full of stuff? 

Did they care about the memories gone, or our grief or our loss? 

Did they know we would forever have a hole in our hearts, and what’s left is shattered in a million parts? 

Did they care that we would spend our lifetime picking up all the pieces?  

Using all our strength to find a glimmer of what deep down peace is? 

I don’t know my mom, but I wish I did. I’ve dreamed of her everyday ever since I was a little kid.

The beautiful bond, broken too soon. Did she know the sorrow she would feel after she walked out of the delivery room? 

How can the world celebrate such a deep rooted trauma? 

Oh, that’s right they have no clue what it’s like to never know or lay eyes on your momma.

Her smell, her smile, her laugh, her touch. No matter who or where she was, I loved her very much. 

I don’t know my mom, but I wish I did. I’ve dreamed of her everyday ever since I was a little kid.

Living life as my [ her ] – story unknown, created constant intense inner conflict and torment.

Parents unknown has been my greatest source of pain, case closed. 

I’m no adoption fairy,  I’m not into serving adoption feel good juice. I’m focused on dishing out 100% adoption truth. 

I don’t know my mom, but I wish I did. I’ve dreamed of her everyday ever since I was a little kid.

p.s. I’ll never get over it, so stop spinning that b.s. 💯


Don’t forget this article along with all my other articles are available in audio for your convenience, just look up Pamela A. Karanova Podcast on Google Podcasts, iTunes , Spotify. and Amazon Music. Interested in treating me with a coffee, to add fuel to my fire? Click here. Many thanks in advance to my supporters!


8 thoughts on “I Don’t Know My Mom

  1. Thank you, Pamela, for sharing all of yourself again. Your courage is inspiring! And yes, isn;t this the fear many of us relinquishees share? “What if our wounds are too deep to heal?”

        1. I’ve been living with this loss for 50+ years. Reunion for 20. My daughter, silent/pull back many of those years – and in pull back as I write this.

          At this point I claim my truth – this can be difficult for my daughter – and I’m ok with that. Our most recent “issue” is regarding her two sons, both adults, who I have not seen or communicated with since they were toddlers. She resists any forward motion to foster a meet up or communication claiming they are not ready. (??). My gut tells me SHE is not ready/comfortable with the reality of what will come from openness and contact with my grandsons, in the spirit of truth.

          So, we are silent. It’s a pattern – I’ll simply be here when she is ready to reach out … again.

          My heart hurts for all of us tangled up in our story. I abhors how the heinous separation, secrecy and mind fucking layers of adoption have affected our lives! How can any of us find peace of heart, mind and soul?

          Thank you for all your efforts to help us find our way …… ❤️❤️❤️

  2. I don’t know my mom, but I know her name, how old she is, where she lives, but I don’t know my mom because I have never met her—you see, she doesn’t want to know me, but doesn’t she actually know me? The longing never stops.

    1. Hi Lynda,

      I am so very sorry for your pain and the outcome with your biological mother. I know this pain all too well, and I understand it completely. It still hasn’t gotten any easier, but I have accepted the reality that it likely never will. I just learn how to navigate the pain as I move on with life. It will always be there, especially when there is no memories to remember…. It’s hard, I’m thinking of you! ❤️

      1. Thank you for reaching out to me regarding my comment. Yes, it is hard and as so many times the word “Accept” comes to mind. What we can’t change, we need to accept. Some things can’t be fixed they can only be carried.

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