Carole Roy

1266121966174516Carole Roy’s Story — an adoptee, conceived in rape, Carole is from Ontario and is available for speaking — wings@personainternet.com

Before the moment of my conception, my life was already planned. Though I’ve taken some detours along the way to where I believe I was supposed to be, I know that I was always protected by the gentle Hand of a loving Father who I would come to embrace and hold on to in awe and adoration.

Psalm 139 touches my life in a significant way. Knowing that the Father’s hand was upon me, forming me in my mother’s womb, and planning my life before me, these words from God reveal a special meaning and purpose for my existence.

I was born to worship and glorify God. Even though it has taken me over 40 years to come to this realization, it is only through His mercy, His forgiveness and grace, and by the guidance of His Holy Spirit that I may say I am born again in spirit.

When I began fervently reading the Scriptures, I was drawn to the passages that referred to adoption. The thought of being an adopted child of God was a new concept that fascinated me. I began to connect with these words, letting them envelop my mind as I pondered the fact that God really did take me as His own, as Ephesians 1 confirms.

This new discovery of being adopted by God brought to me the identity my soul had been searching for all my life — but adoption had already touched me from the moment of my birth. As a member of the adoption triangle, I would like to share some details of my life that might be helpful to other adoptees, birth parents and adoptive parents.

When my birth mother was 16 years old she was raped by a 40 year old man while she was babysitting for her cousin. Even though I am the product of that incident, I have never felt ashamed of this knowledge because I knew deep inside that God wanted me here.

A short time after I was born, I was put into foster care in the loving arms of Albert and Jeannette Roy. Although remaining as their foster child for a few months, God had already chosen these special parents to adopt and nurture me, the tiny newborn infant who could only be fed with a dropper.

After a few months of caring for me, my mom became gravely ill with pneumonia, and I had developed Whopping Cough and needed extra care. Not being able to properly take care of me, my dad contacted the social worker to have me transferred to another foster home. I have often heard the story of how, once my mom was well again, she constantly contacted the social worker to bring me back to their home, because they wanted to adopt me. Although the social worker told her I had already been adopted, my mom was very persistent. It took many weeks of her constant calls and visits to the Children’s Aid Society, when finally on Christmas Eve in 1962, I was delivered back into their home, where I became a permanent member of their family.

In those first few months of my life, my mom carried me on a pillow, because I was very tiny and needed additional care. Even though I had been carried in the arms of love during those early years, I suffered from a fear of abandonment throughout my life — even into adulthood. Being initially separated from my birth mother, and then again from my adoptive mother in the first 6 months of my life, my infant soul panicked and I was left with a great fear of being left alone.

I can recall the numerous times in my childhood when I would not even let my mother go across the street to get the mail, that I would cry, terrified she would leave me. I emotionally grabbed a hold of her and would rarely want to be out of her sight.

A couple years ago while I was in the midst of writing poetry to the Lord, I asked Him, “Where did I go? What happened to me during those times when I was away from both my birth and adoptive mothers?” He replied, “I was holding you.” Even in these latter years of my life, it reassured me and comforted me to know that I was never alone without His Presence.

Despite these early traumatic moments, I grew up to becoming a curious young girl who grew to admire and respect the ones I called mom and dad. Though I knew it was biologically impossible, over the years, some people had commented on how I looked like my dad. But I would like to think that I inherited his quiet spirit and his love of nature. My dad enjoyed camping and fishing. He loved the outdoors. And he would sometimes take little tomboy Carole fishing with him. Those memories of catching my first fish with my dad are ones I hold dearly. Special moments like these are forever etched in my heart for I will always have a deep abiding love for the quiet man who raised me and gave me his name.

After he passed away 12 years ago, I wrote a poem which I had engraved on a plaque and given to my mom.

 

DAD

Your memory will always be
A treasure of your love for me;
Your smile, your laugh, your loving soul
Are always in my heart to hold.

I long to kiss your cheek goodnight
And hug you in the morning light.
To sit with you and hold your hand
For you were such a gentle man.

My tears fall in the night for you
I pray to God to see me through;
I miss you more than words can say
It’s hard to live each passing day.

My love for you will never die
For yours will reach down from the sky;
And take me in your arms so sweet
To hold me tight when we both meet.

Although I give thanks and glory to my Heavenly Father for the creative talents He has given me, my mom has also had a creative influence on me through her various culinary, sewing and knitting, craft making and musical talents that I grew up to admire within her. But it was being together with her children for which my mom lived for, back then, as she does today. Her life has always revolved around her children. She is a true mother in the most important sense of the word.

My mom has often struggled with feelings of insecurity and fears that if my birth mother were to come back into my life, I would leave them to be with my, “real mom”. I believe that adoptive parents from the closed-adoption system often struggle with these fears. And I could somehow empathize with her worries.

Even though I grew up in a loving home, there were times in adolescence and adulthood when I would wonder why I didn’t seem to fit in with the world around me. Perhaps it was the normal teenage blues I was experiencing, or the young adult soul within me that was suddenly interested in finding out the answer to the question, “Why? But in my own search for autonomy mixed with wanting to reassure my mother that she would always be my mom, I wrote her a poem entitled,

Heart of An Adoptee

Why am I here? Why was I born?
Questions that always, left me so torn.
What did I do? What did I say?
For “her” to reject, and throw me away.

A child of abandon, never to know.
A child that was chosen, love made me grow.
Through year upon year, the mother I knew
From your heart I came, from your love I grew.

Your child to adore, to love and to care.
My mom that would nurture, and always be there.
But then came the years, of worry and doubt,
Should “she” reappear, and turn me about.

Afraid that my love, for you would just die,
If “she” ever came, and I’d say goodbye.
But mother it’s *you*, who gave me my life.
Who carried me through, and gave me your light.

How could I abandon, a mother like you?
And turn away from, a love that’s so true.
So rest all your fears in my heart and believe,
Your daughter is here, and I will never leave.

Through years upon searching, for answers unknown.
Why am I here? Why was I born?
To find you and love you, my mother, so dear.
Our hearts joined together, with love through the years.

My parents never did have any biological children, but they opened their hearts to adopt 4. I suspect had they been able to have children of their own, they might have done like most other French Canadians of their era, and had a very large family. Little did they realize that someday they would have more children in their home than they could have ever imagined.

For over 50 years, my mom and dad were foster parents for the Children’s Aid Society. In those years, they fostered over 300 children of various ages, who came from abused homes (a lot of them returning to their parents), and newborns who were being given up for adoption. I saw many frightened children come through the doors of our home, sometimes in the middle of the night. Some of them had been neglected, others severally abused. They were all such precious children to us. In relinquishing so many foster children back to their parents, I believe we shared a commonality in what most birth parents have to go through — not knowing where the child will be, but trusting he will be well-taken care of.

Four years ago, I met my birth mother. In my particular case, it was not hard to find her since my birth mother’s sister was married to my adoptive mom’s brother. Although my birth mother and her family knew where I was, I did not find out this information until I was almost 18. But I knew from a very young age that I had been adopted, or so chosen as my mom always told me.

My birth mother has often tried to get in touch with me through the years, but I was not emotionally ready to open that door. I already had a mom, and because I was so terrified of losing her, I clung to her even more closely — even into adulthood. I have no doubt that the Lord softened my heart to welcome my birth mother back into my life, for I knew that I needed to make peace with this part of my past. But the Lord was patient with me and led me to reading adoption books and stories from other adoptees’ and birth parents’ reunions. I began to see birth parents and their circumstances in a new light, and felt a newfound compassion for them. I found myself wanting to finally reach out to my birth mother to let her know that I did not hate her. I wanted her to know that she made the right decision in giving me up for adoption.

When I welcomed my birth mother into my home a few years ago, it was more of a reality check for me than a teary reunion. As I sat on my bed that first night, I realized that the woman in the next room had carried me inside her body in a most intimate way — yet I didn’t even know her. A tremendous sense of grief overwhelmed me, as I was forced to face the fact that my adoptive mom had not given birth to me. And even though it was very brief, I found myself feeling angry towards my adoptive mother for not being my birth mother. But I now realize that I had to go through these feelings of loss and grief, to be able to give my birth mother a chance to get to know me, and for me to know her.

The next morning, she showed me several photo albums of all my birth relatives. But it was only when I saw a picture of her as a teenager that I truly began to connect with her. Although I had difficulties relating to her as an adult, the innocent, young girl that I saw in that picture reminded me of myself, and my heart softened to her innocent, childlike personality.

Two of my three children have met my birth mother, and they immediately picked up on the similarities of our personalities — that we both have the same sense of humour and like to tell lame jokes, and that we’re both rather impulsive — in a good way.

Even though I connect with her more as a distant aunt or cousin rather than as amother, I believe in the years to come, as we continue to learn more about one another, we might be able to attain that level. But one of the first things I said to her when I met her was, “Thank you for not aborting me.” I realize that, under the circumstances and in the eyes of the secular world, many believe she would have been justified had she chosen to do so.

Although I will never know who my birth father is, I ask the Lord to forgive him. And thanks be to God that He always brings good out of every bad situation. For He knew that someday I would willingly choose to give my life to Him and to follow His Son, Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour. And that I would come to worship and glorify Him through the creative gifts and talents He has given me, with the creation of my Adopt-A-Wing Devotionals. These devotionals are distributed in various parts of Ontario, including prisons, to share my love for the Lord, and especially to reach out to those who don’t know God’s abundant love, His mercy and His forgiveness. To be a vessel for the Lord’s Light is a blessing I am deeply thankful for. The gentle Hands that have guided me each day, my spirit now recognizes as those having formed me in the womb of my birth mother so many years ago. The loving arms that have cradled me and protected me under God’s wing throughout my life, I have felt through the love and care of my adoptive parents—my mom and dad.

Adoption is the loving option. I also believe open adoption is the healthier alternative than to having permanently sealed records. It is an adult adoptee’s right, when they are ready to take that step, to be able to know the part of themselves that began at the beginning of their lives — if only for medical reasons.

Therefore, to birth parents, I would like to say that I admire your courage and your ability to trust in doing the right thing for your child. It takes a strong and steadfast person to give up and surrender one’s own child for a better quality of life. From the deepest part of my heart, I, along with many adoptive parents, say thank you for choosing life. As God gave up His only Son to redeem humanity with Himself, He understands what you are going through.

To adoptive parents, I would like to say that your devotion to taking in and loving children as your own, is a gift from God. You have been chosen by our Heavenly Father to receive these little ones and love them as He does. Do not be afraid to let them search for the part of themselves that has been hidden from them since their birth. But trust that they will always embrace and respect you as the mom and dad they have grown up to know and cherish. The birth parents of your child will always be forever grateful to you for raising that child with the love of real and true parents.

To other fellow adoptees, I would like to say that, first and foremost, God is your true Creator, and He created you for a purpose. You were not unwanted. You were designed by the Master Creator for His divine will and glory. And He has a plan for your life that is beyond your greatest imaginations. When God is at the center of your lives, the adoption triangle then becomes a pyramid, with God at the apex, bringing everyone together in harmony, and a divinely created and blessed union with one another.

In closing, as I was preparing for this meeting, and I re-read the poem “Heart of An Adoptee”, I suddenly realized that, even though I had written that poem for my mom several years ago, I had also subconsciously written it for my Heavenly Father, in my soul’s search for my true Love, who chose me before I was born.

But Father it’s *You*, who gave me my life.
Who carried me through, and gave me Your light.
How could I abandon, a Father like You?
And turn away from, a love that’s so true.

Through years upon searching, for answers unknown.
Why am I here? Why was I born?
To find You and love You, my Father, so dear.
Our hearts joined together, with love through the years.

Thank you,
Carole Roy