Rebecca Hawkes's Page

I woke up that morning paralyzed by fear and dread. It had been just under two months since my then foster daughter had moved into our house -- two intense months that had turned my life upside down. Two months of her almost-daily meltdowns: I'd been physically attacked; I'd been called a "f**king b**ch." I'd watched my biological daughter transform from a happy, open child, excited about getting a new sister, to an angry, cornered animal who believed her life had been ruined by the…

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The other night at a school-sponsored Halloween party, I had a conversation with the adoptive father of one the schoolmates of my daughters. I had shared a bit of the story of my open adoption, and he responded by sharing that the biological parents of his daughter had recently sent a letter and photos. His daughter hadn't seen the letter or the photos yet, but he and the adoptive mother were planning to show them to her soon. He seemed pleased about the letter but went on to say that he… Continue

My journey with adoption began before I was born. It was the 1960s and teenage pregnancy was still a hush-hush topic, shrouded in shame. “How could you do this to me?” -- that’s what my biological grandmother said when she found out my birth mother was pregnant. Though my birth mother was an academic achiever, she was not allowed to graduate with her high school class because she was beginning to show. Instead, she was whisked into hiding in a nearby city, where she spent the next several…

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"Do you think you will search for your birth mother someday?" That's a question I was asked, in various forms, throughout my life.

 

For many years, I answered it automatically, without much thought. In my childhood years, the answer was, "Oh, yes, probably when I'm older" (in other words, that's a matter for a distant future that I can't even quite imagine yet). Then, in my teen years it became, "No. I have one mother already, and that's more than enough, thank you very much."…

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