"Special, Chosen and Lucky" Pondering this poem...

Special, Chosen and Lucky
by Joe Soll, LCSW, DAPA, author of Adoption Healing… a path to recovery, and Co-author of Evil Exchange and Fatal Flight

How many times do we adoptees hear those three words?
They are presumably said with all good intentions, what goes on inside us when we hear them?

If I am special, do I have to follow the rules?
If I am chosen, did I come from a baby supermarket? Why did they pick me?
If I am lucky, what makes me so?
If I am special, why was I available to be chosen?
If I was chosen, did someone un-choose me first?
If I am lucky, why do I hurt so much inside?
If I am special, why does it not feel good when I hear it?
If I am chosen, who were the other contestants?
If am lucky, does that mean my first family was “bad” in some way?
Each time someone says either of those words, it is a reminder that we are adopted. The intent is to make us feel good, not hurt, not think about our natural mothers. Yet each time we hear these words, how can we not on some level think of where we came from? It’s like telling us to not think of pink elephants. Each time we hear the words it causes us internal pain. We may not be conscious of it, but it has to be there.
The reason why we adoptees do so much day-dreaming (which to the uninformed mental health professionals looks like ADD) is because we are constantly (at least unconsciously) trying to figure it all out. Who and why are the biggest unanswered questions and our minds struggle to understand what no one can or will tell us.
There are phobic and counterphobic reactions to pain and fear.
The phobic adoptee tells no one they are adopted.
The counterphobe flaunts being adopted, tells others how special she or he is.
In reality, the loss of our mothers at birth was a trauma of the highest order that is worse than the horrors of war. (Anna Freud) Each time we hear those three words that trauma is stirred up. When we are separated from our mothers we experience their death. There is no difference in losing a mother to death or adoption. Mommy is here, mommy is gone. Poof! Death as far as the infant’s experience goes.
If we are special, does that mean it is good to lose a mom?
If we are chosen, does that mean our parents took us from our mothers on purpose
If we are lucky, does that mean we are lucky our mothers are dead for us?
I like to throw away words that hurt, like the “R” word… Rejection

Maybe we should throw these three words away as well.
Spread the word, throw out “S”, “C” and “L” because they are not what they say they are.

—Joe Soll, LCSW, DAPA, author of Adoption Healing… a path to recovery, and Co-author of Evil Exchange and Fatal Flight

I am pondering this poem. I want to be prepared to love Baby K through through the process of being adopted. I want to know how to respond and how to help her learn to handle it, but this poem is a bit odd to me. I was adopted. Never once did I mourn....ever. Our family doesn't choose the use the word "lucky". We use "blessed" instead. I never felt rejected. I felt overjoyed that my birth mom made the choice to give me up. She was a teenager for crying out loud. What could she offer me. I feel like we both got something fantastic. I got parents who prayed for me desperately and she got to grow up as a kid and not a mom. I felt like this was an incredible "God thing". I love to watch how God can take something wrong and make it right for him. This poem makes me curious now as to the "pain" that some people say they went through. I am trying to understand it, but I just don't. I've never been one to dwell on the past, but I don't think that is a fair assumption of these people on my part. I am truly trying to understand. Just because I view it one way does NOT make it the right way. I am just perplexed, but I can't assume that K will feel the same way as me. I want my eyes to be totally opened and I want to be prepared. We will share appropriate things about her mother, "she did want her", "she did try, in her own way, but didn't have the support or the tools to be successful". This is a tough thing to process. Of course we feel like we are the perfect answer for her, but she may not always feel that way and she may wonder what the other options may have looked like. For our bio kids, they are just stuck, but for her there were options...she just didn't get to pick them. The state chose and we chose. We chose her! I want that to be enough, but will it? God holds this little one is his hand and I will trust his wisdom for the answers and the process for her. Being bi-racial will be a subject always, but again, God is faithful and we will trust him!