One day when I was at school as an 8 year old child, I discovered through a classmate, that I was an adopted child. When I asked my Mum about this when I got home she was devastated. Over the following years if I ever tried to talk to my mum about this she became extremely upset so I grew up believing that was something I must never talk to her about as it was too upsetting.
When I became a mum myself, and my second child had a serious medical emergency, I was asked for my medical history. I had been asked for that before for myself but always just told them I had no knowledge of it as I was adopted.
This time however, it was my baby’s life at stake. I felt so powerless, and useless for not being able to give any information at all.
Afterwards my husband urged me to try again to ask my Mum. I did ask but the only information I was given was that my birth name was Gloria Mary Doyle and my Bio mother’s Aunt had arranged my adoption. Her Aunt had been an important person as she was the Minister of Child Welfare when I was born and she had arranged my adoption. Her name was Dame Hilda Ross. She was dead. We had no way of finding out my bio mothers identity. in the meantime, Doctors had discovered what the cause of my baby’s illness was. She had contracted a rare form of viral meningitis. She experienced a full recovery over the next few weeks.
The desire to get hold of further information about my bio family was stronger than it had ever been before for both my husband and myself. However life got busy, everyone was well now, and keeping the peace seemed to be easier than rocking the boat any further.
After the birth of my last child who had spent his first 10 days in intensive care, the Doctors had once again been asking me for my family medical history. This time I was in no doubt whatsoever. I had to do it. The anxiety about upsetting my Mum was still very strong, but along with my husband, I was also very determined that we needed this information.
I had been doing a journal writing workshop just prior to this premature birth. So I decided to journal my way through this challenge.
In doing this I actually ended up writing a letter to mum. Having done that I felt much more at ease, and felt I would actually be strong enough to ask her. I went to see her with the letter in my bag in case I chickened out which was what eventually happened.
Just as I decided I would give her the letter, she suddenly said to me…” By the way! I have been thinking about how difficult it must be for you not knowing anything about your natural family. I’ve got something here for you.” With that she walked across the room and picked up a worn brown envelope. “These are your adoption papers”.
The letter I had written to my Mum was still in my handbag in its sealed envelope.
I couldn’t believe what had just happened. But I learned something powerful. I learned that when you write something with deep passion, unconditional love and powerful intention, and then let it go with gratitude….
Magic Can and Does Happen! And the Universe is Always Listening !
Love yourself Enough to Trust your inner promptings to express yourself, ask your questions, whether it is to write, paint, dance, sing, run or express yourself in some other way.
The Angels of the Universe, the Magic of the Universe, the Creator of the Universe, is always listening. But we have all been given the free will to make our own choices and they cannot intervene unless we Ask, or unless it has been agreed to before we came here.