Nature or nurture? where do my mad fishing skills. Come from ...

After losing my dog Cabo to old age 6 years ago, I decided it was time to get a new puppy. I picked out a little girl King Charles spaniel.

Nature or nurture... where do my mad fishing skills come from?

I wondered if that Christmas morning feeling of excitement in my gut was akin to what adoptive parents feel when they go to the orphanage to pick up the newest member of their family? As an adopted child, I have many such questions and far few answers.

The breeder said the puppy wasn?t able to leave with me that day, but that she would be mine so long as I paid a deposit. She went on to explain that puppies go through 5 critical stages of development and it is very important that they remain with their mother and litter-mates until they are 49 days old as recommended by studies. Moreover she said, that a stable environment between 21-23 days of age is crucial. If not, they will exhibit widespread behavioral and cognitive issues, they will not establish satisfying social ties and they will end up fearful and anxious. We know that human babies also imprint on their birth mothers and suffer a similar negative outcome if separated from her before the age of 5. Important information that is all too often withheld from expectant mothers when they are looking to adopt out their child, (the woman is told that it is in the best interest of the child to be with a married couple who can give the child everything that she cannot). It has been studied and noted that no one can replace what only a birth mother gives to her child. In my opinion, the natural mother would need to display blatant and negative characteristics that would cause harm to her baby before determining that the infant should be taken into care and even then, an open adoption is the lesser of evils.

The Primal Wound book

Diamonds in the Ruff ? Developmental Stages

Adopting a puppy was more about my need than the puppy?s, and I couldn?t help but notice how similar the adoption criteria was for adopting a puppy or a person.
Historically (ancient Rome), and even in modern times, adoption has always been a sordid affair. I would have thought that since the first Adoption Laws were papered in Massachusetts in 1851, called The Adoption Of Children Act, that we would have had all the kinks ironed out by now. Not so. My Human and Civil Rights are being ignored for what the public views as an acceptable social solution to a ?problem?. Knowing your own name is the most basic of rights. It?s laughable to think that I?m not permitted the most basic of truths that everyone else takes for granted. I have read that perhaps this is where the term don?t ask, don?t tell was first coined.

The final decree of an adoption is to ?terminate all legal relationships between the adopted individual and his natural relatives, so that the adopted individual is a stranger to his former relatives.? This in itself is a highly flawed practice in my opinion. While Adoption Law can give a child a new legal identity, it can?t give the child a new biological identity. They didn?t factor in that you can?t sign away psychological, emotional, spiritual ties to one another (as much as people try to do exactly that). I still have blood ties that make up 50percent of who I am as a person. ?Traits?- that have traveled down to me through time from my ancestors. In my mind, this makes it wrong for my parent(s)to deny me my history, after all, no one generation, has the right to deny the next generation its heritage.

The other 50 percent of who I am is molded by my life experience and environment. I wonder if my gift for fishing comes from nature or nurture?

As an Adopted person I?m not a good fit in either world so I toe the line in both. This tight rope act has made it confusing for me to know myself as a whole person (So many conflicting traits).

So, I was destined to a life of emotional turmoil on July 10, 1967 when, on my unceremonious arrival into the world at St. Mary?s Hospital in Montreal Canada, my birth mother made a prompt exit. She (I don?t know my birth mother?s name) wanted to marry him (I don?t know my birth father?s name), but they did not practice the same religion, so the union was not to be, as it just was not done in those day?s. My birth mother was between a rock and hard place since her parents, my maternal grandparents, did not support her plan, which was to keep me and marry my birth father. To further complicate the matter, my US born birth father was conscripted for service with the Armed Forces and could not come back for her.

With all the scars of a puppy that is taken away from its pack too soon, I was alone in the world and at the mercy of others when the Adoption Consent forms were signed 8 days later, thus robbing me of the potential opportunity to know unconditional love.

I cry for that little helpless babe who was handed off to strangers with no mother for protection. The Catholic Church decided for all involved, that God was the only protector I needed and so they baptized me twice for good measure. The first time was July 20th, 1967 in the city of Pointe Aux Trembles, Quebec. I was only ten days old at the time. It was likely that I didn?t make a fuss because the handlers often gave babies Phenobarbital to stop orphans from crying out for basic needs, as well as to sooth their separation anxiety. Imagine giving a baby with a body weight around 6lbs 13 ozs., drugs. The second Baptism would take place at St. John Fisher Parish in Pointe Claire Quebec some time later.

I don?t know anything about the first seven months of my life in Foster Care. No darling baby pictures with me all dressed in pink being pushed by my parents in a pram with balloons tied to the handle that read, ?It?s A Girl? for my baby book. Thankfully I don?t recall any of it including the transition from foster care to home placement with my adoptive family on February 23, 1968. But I?m sure it was traumatic. How could it not? Even puppies cry all night after being separated from their litter-mates. This was the second major shift in my life all before blowing out the candle on my first Birthday cake, which by the way? Birthdays only serve as a reminder that I was not wanted. Not even a year old and I understood, rejection, loss, separation anxiety, trust issues, rejection, etc.

Our little Triad was complete. My biological mother, who felt like a phantom limb on one side of me, and my adoptive parents, on the other . My Swiss Cheese foundation, as adoptees sometimes call it, was not the best possible start in life. No one told my well-intentioned family, that you can?t raise an adopted child as if he or she wasn?t adopted. They are different. They know they are different. They feel different. No amount of love, will undo the damage done by the primal wound. The pain experienced goes all the way down to a cellular level.

Source: http://www.whatacatch.net/blog/?p=182&utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=nature-or-nurture-where-do-my-mad-fishing-skills-come-from

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