Just the other day, I realized my mother and I share the same wound..
My birth mother chose adoption. That’s why the image of my ‘parents’ next to my birth year is blurred — no faces, no detail, just space.
My adopted mother had left her Jewish faith to marry my Catholic father. Her family left her in return.
Now, I was living my life. I did things way outside of the box of what usual girls and women do. I was a tomboy. I didn’t want dolls. I wanted cap guns, neighborhood football, softball in dusty yards.
Eventually, I grew up choosing girls for love relationships, not with guys. Choosing women for love cost me. It led me through dark years and into a divorce I once believed would save me.
I was outed to my father. His Catholic convictions rose faster than his understanding. I was disowned.
Then it struck me. We both were disowned by our families.
Did this “disowning” thing happen in both of my mother’s path? What if being placed between bloodlines was not an accident, but an interruption in a pattern.
If the pattern ends with my daughter, then perhaps that is the inheritance I was meant to give — not land, not money, but belonging.


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