How 1 Adoption Created 3 Generations of Trauma
- Some names were changed for privacy
In 1968, a love story began, only to be entwined with heartache and repercussions spanning three generations. Tam, a 15-year-old girl, and Larry, her 17-year-old boyfriend, eagerly awaited the birth of their daughter, Robyn. However, Tam’s parents had different plans, forcing her to surrender Robyn for adoption against her wishes. In March 1969 she was born in a hospital in Oregon. The birth certificate simply said baby girl Barnes which was Tam’s last name.
As Tam and Larry married and weathered the storms of life, the wound of losing Robyn never healed. Even after their divorce, they tirelessly searched for her, reaching out to agencies and filling out countless forms until the futility of their efforts led them to reluctantly accept her presumed better life.
In another world, Kay had a son TJ, but adopted Robyn, renaming her Shay, to fulfill her longing for a daughter. However, her struggles were not fixed.
TJ & Shay were raised in a challenging environment. While TJ stayed out of trouble and did well in school, Shay, faced trials, including teenage pregnancy and the loss of her child to severe deformities.
In her late teens, she ran away with an older guy named CJ. They moved out to Oklahoma, and when she was 21 years old, they had me. Her first living child. When I was a toddler they divorced. Shay brought me out to California. CJ ended up going to prison for 30 years in the mid-90s.
Fast forward to the late ’90s, and the complexities deepen as Shay, now a mother of three, faces personal challenges. We navigated a fractured foster care system, after being removed for physical abuse, sexual abuse, and neglect, each finding ourselves in different homes. One of my sisters went to live with an extremist Jehovah’s Witness family. Another one went to go live with a firefighter family in the community. I went to live with TJ my “uncle”. The cycle continues with Shay having more children, each experiencing a unique set of circumstances based on her tumultuous relationships and changing circumstances. After her fourth marriage circa 2004, she kept her final two children and now lives back in Oklahoma. Including the teenage pregnancy, she had eight children in total.
Amidst this tangled web of intergenerational trauma, and thinking that I probably would not be a suitable parent, I emerged. Growing up I struggled with identity and a sense of belonging. I hadn’t seen any of my siblings since I was in middle school, some I had not met. I was resentful of everyone around me. Leaving home at 18, I fell prey to human trafficking, enduring five years of hardship before breaking free in 2015.
My very long healing journey began. I’ve been able to confront my traumas, I’ve been able to repair the bonds with my adoptive family, I have a supportive partner in a healthy relationship, and I look forward to having children. I have decided that this trauma will stop with me. Part of confronting my past was understanding why my mom was the way she was. If she wasn’t raised in a nurturing environment, she also didn’t learn how to nurture. She often rejected her children once they reached the toddler stage. She didn’t know any better.
In 2016, I connected with Tam and Larry. The painful truth surfaced: Kay’s decision resulted in over 50 years of trauma, to multiple people, which very well may continue, depending on how my siblings or other family members affected by this decide to raise their children. Both were heartbroken to know that their daughter did not have the wonderful life that they thought she would. We don’t know that they would not have been good parents, because they were never given that chance. Instead, a 15-year-old teenage girl was coerced and pressured into giving her child to the adoption industry.
I love my Nana Kay, but at the end of the day, it is a cold, hard fact that no one needs a child, no one is entitled to a child, and they’re certainly not entitled to someone else’s child. Robyn / Shay came into the world with a job description, and that job description was to make someone happy.
When people assume that because I was adopted, I would want to do the same thing, I want them to understand why I will not. As I share my experiences, I emphasize a critical perspective on adoption. While acknowledging that in some cases, like mine, adoption may be necessary, those extreme cases are far less prevalent than people believe. I challenge the assumption that it universally equates to a better life. I reject the notion that adopted individuals should follow suit, opting instead to end the cycle of generational trauma.
The consequences of adoption extend far beyond the immediate circumstances, affecting individuals and families for decades. My commitment to breaking the cycle stands as a testament to resilience, self-discovery, and the power of understanding my history to forge a different path forward.
