Tag Archives: parents

The home of permanent in between

Non-fiction, , , ,

My biological grandmother was still in high school when she got pregnant. Since she remains silent, a hidden participant in our family’s history, my mother’s origins are a mystery. Was my mother the product of passion, young love that couldn’t wait for marriage, clothes that flew off as kisses multiplied? Or was she the result of a moment — or more — of coercion, the forced coupling in the broad backseat of a car, the push to the ground, the inexperienced fumbling leading to blind acquiescence?

When my grandmother started to show, her parents sent her to the city. They dropped her off at the Florence Crittenton Home for Unwed Mothers. I imagine her emerging from the black car alone, tattered suitcase in hand, looking nervously up the set of granite steps. Inside, somnolent girls in the late, leaden months of pregnancy, inward, deliberate, walk slowly through the gray halls.

It is the home of permanent in between; the suppressed energy of smothered potential thickens the air. The girls, all going by pseudonyms, make very little small talk. In the nursery, rows of bundled babies silent as dolls wait, neatly packaged in individual bassinets. Once retrieved, the babies seek out their mothers’ faces, liquid newborn eyes encountering guarded glances. Both mother and child have learned not to waste energy on tears or outward displays of emotion. The bonding and the break are inevitable.

This is how I picture my mother’s birth: hazy trauma of labor, discovery delivered as flat fact — “it’s a girl.” They undo the straps, let the drugs wear off. Hours later, my biological grandmother holds her swaddled daughter, names her Lois. Lois is tiny — less than five pounds — too little to be released to her adoptive family. Over the next six weeks the pair are entangled in the monotony of new life, the seemingly endless cycle of feeding, diapering, and sleep. They calm to one another’s warm, familiar scent. Their gazes become intimate. Bone-deep.

When the six weeks are up, Aunt Ruth, a go-between, my adoptive grandmother’s sister, comes to take the baby. Waiting in the home’s entrance, the young mother frantically bounces her silent infant, dreading the break. Finally, Aunt Ruth appears, says her hello, and waits.

“It’s time.”

The mother hands over the baby. It is as clean as a guillotine strike.

Before she has time to reconsider, she races inside to the central staircase and runs up two flights of stairs to her room. Her breathing is contained, shallow, a precaution against tears. She’s been trying to memorize every inch of her daughter, the moon face framed by white-blonde hair, her blues eyes, dainty toes and impossibly tiny hands, but already the image is fading. She reaches her room and slips inside, leans against the closed door taking short, sharp breaths. A glass baby bottle sits on the bedside table, a remnant from the final feeding. The girl eyes it, finally reaching out. Then, the satisfying sound of glass irrevocably broken, the implied threat of jagged shards.

Taking several deep breaths, the young woman calms. She begins to push the glass into a pile with her shoe and decides to find a broom and dustpan.

There will be no tears.

"The Struggle, First Generation" – Introduction

Free Writing, , , , , ,

“The Struggle, First Generation”
-Introduction-
Author: Karen Palumbo

Have you ever stopped to wonder what life would be like as an immigrant in our generous country? Have you ever stopped to wonder what life would be like as a first generation immigrant in our generous country? I would just bet that you probably have not given too much thought to such a simple question.

Yet people from all over the world have been arriving in our country for many generations. They all arrive by airplane, boat, drive or walk, but arrive in our country just the same. For many of the immigrants, their arrival goes unnoticed.

Some have made the decision to arrive on our shores as young men and women. Some have made the decision to arrive on our shores as older men and women. However, the result is still the same because arrive on our shores they do.

There are so many new people and each of them comes from many different countries and dfrom all walks of life. People arrive with their own individual backgrounds. The stories they share of their love for their homeland.

When you take the time to listen to some of them reminisce, about how life was before they decided to arrive here, you can almost detect a twinge of sadness in their voices.

If you should dare have the audacity to ask how they came about making the decision to leave their country of origin you will sense an internal tug of war gently pulling them in two directions. They are thrilled and excited to be in our country. However, they dearly miss their country of origin.

Then there are the children who have not made the decision to come to our country on their own, but are the products of circumstance. Their parent or parents have thought long and hard and made the difficult decision for them simply because of their ages.

Can you even imagine the fear and disorientation that must overwhelm the majority? Can you imagine what it must be like to have just arrived in a foreign land and not be able to understand what anyone around you is saying?

You search for familiar surroundings, but you then begin to realize that this exercise is one of futility because you are no longer in your homeland. What do you do? What do you now look for? How will you ever survive?

The realization that you are alone now must be weighing heavily on your mind, your heart and soul. Were you thinking before you decided to take that leap of faith and endeavor to test your talents in a foreign land that you might just be biting off more than you could chew?

Are you frightened? Are you beginning to ask yourself if you have made the right decision? Are you wondering if you should try to go back to your original point of destination? It can and most of the time is, a very excruciating and painful period in your life.

You were certainly brave enough to endure the agonizing and sometimes frustrating first step, were you not? Now is not the appropriate time for self-doubt. You should tell yourself that to look back would not serve you well, so from here you must set your sights forward.

If you have given it some thought and you think that the struggle of day-to-day living is not complicated with so many issues, then please look again. For many it is the most frustrating time in their lives.

For others they are able to adapt to their new surroundings with relative ease. I would imagine that it just depends on where you are starting out.

Have you arrived in our country alone? Have you arrived in our country with a husband or wife? Have you arrived in our country with brothers and sisters? Have you arrived in our country with aunts, uncles and cousins? Have you arrived in our country with existing children? Okay, so where exactly do you go from here?

Do you attempt to communicate with people whom you do not know anything about? What happens if you are not able to communicate with anyone because you do not know the language?

Now that you have accomplished what many have done before you, where do you go from here? You already are aware that you cannot just continue to walk the streets from one town to the next. So exactly what is it that you endeavor to do from this point?

If you came here with other family members, how will you be able to provide for them? Where do you even begin to search to locate shelter? Where do you go to locate the necessary food for yourself and your family members?

As you can see, it can be an extremely overshelming experience to say the least. This is nothing short of a monumental task for anyone to handle. Now to be an immigrant in an unfamiliar land just has to be one of the most frightening experiences to endure.

As difficult a hardship this whole experience is on any adult, just imagine what it must be like to be a child. The children of immigrants are the ones that are placed in the precarious middle position, if you just take the time to think about it.

I would just imagine that at this point you are wondering what I am even talking about. Well, just think about it. What do you suppose the children of these immigrants are thinking? Remember, they are just children.

Now they too are being forced due to circumstance. They must adjust to a place very unfamiliar. When they finally are allowed the privilege to attend school, do you think that they will wonder how and if they will fit in? Do you think that they will be shy and very quiet simply because they are not accustomed to speaking the new language that they are hearing?

While the adult immigrants are one set of issues to attend to and overcome, the children have another set of issues. Of course, that would depend upon whether or not they were born in their original homeland or here in our fine country.

For whatever reason, as time passes, the children become sandwiched in the middle. What I mean is that they inadvertently become the link between the life they were familiar with and the new life that they lead now. They do not necessarily ask to be placed in the middle, but that is where most end up.

This book will take this family on a journey from leaving their home in a distand land to arrive in America to begin a new life. The struggles they will endure along the way are what will keep this family together. It will give this family the strength to continue forward.

This family’s most difficult hurdle will be the language barrier. Their hopes and dreams are consumed with their children’s well being and future.

Let us all join with this family and follow them through their struggles. We will follow them through their successes and failures. We will follow them through their frustrations and pleasures. The love they have for each other. The love they have for their children.