Julia, Marina, Sarah reunion
Next to my wife, I have a favorite midlife mother. We don’t share a language, religion, political views or even a continent. The things we have in common are our daughters, who were once sisters-of-circumstance at the Partizansk Children’s Home. Though we have only spoken on a couple of occasions, Natalia and I consider each other to be true friends; friends who can relate to a long and rocky road that we would travel again in a heartbeat.
My wife and I adopted our daughter, Sarah, from the Far East Russian orphanage when she was five. Two months later, my daughter’s best friend, Marina, was adopted by Natalia and her husband. We took Sarah away to the United States and Marina stayed with her new family in Russia. The two best friends were very different from each other. Sarah was outspoken and independent from the beginning. Marina was loveable and eager to please. Both had gone from failed family settings—where parents didn’t care for them—into Russia’s massive orphanage system. Both had been betrayed by their birth parents.
As mammals, we are programmed from the beginning to understand that our mothers are supposed to care for us. We trust our mothers implicitly. In instances where that confidence is grossly betrayed, there is psychological trauma. The longer the child is exposed to such conditions, the worse the damage. Healing from such conditions is not an event; it’s a life-long journey. That is where mothers like Natalia take over.
Natalia had already raised two children to maturity when she contacted a social worker in her hometown of Partizansk, and asked to adopt a baby. She told the social worker that her life felt kind of empty and that she didn’t feel like she was supposed to be finished with raising children. The social worker told Natalia that she would be happy to find a baby for her, but asked if she would be willing to meet a sweet little girl of seven, first. The mother agreed. Natalia and Marina fell in love with each other from the start and it wasn’t long until Marina moved into the home with her new mama and papa. She was so eager to please. The child was talented beyond belief and incredibly intelligent. In no time she was a straight “A” student. Within two years of being adopted, she was playing concert piano pieces to perfection. It seemed as if nothing could go wrong.
After a move to St. Petersburg, Marina entered her teen years where apron-string-cutting happens with even the best of children. With Marina, it took on an added dimension. She set out to see if her adoptive parents really loved her unconditionally, or if they had merely been happy with her performance. The teen refused to play the piano anymore. Her grades plummeted. Her parents were distraught. They wanted nothing more than for her to be happy and successful, but it seemed that their daughter was intent on throwing her opportunity away.
The situation with Marina and her adoptive family is anything but uncommon with children who are adopted when they are old enough to know what is going on. Such conditions make up an area where midlife mothers shine. Midlife mothers are loaded with experience. They know that temporary setbacks are temporary. Their added experience in life has led them to know how to research and strategize when they run up against difficulties.
Often, midlife mothers—like Natalia—have already raised children and they know enough to not take it personally every time a teenager creates an obstacle. Most midlife mothers have lived long enough to know that anything worth having is worth fighting for.
In today’s world, there are many women who find themselves in the middle of their lives, wondering about taking on a new child. I only hope that many of them will look at everything they have to offer in circumstances where mothers with less experience would be overwhelmed. I want to see more midlife mothers fighting in battles where the stakes couldn’t be higher. I want to see more Natalias working alongside more Marinas and helping them to understand that a mother’s love, in most cases, truly is unconditional.