Sunday, December 13, 2009

A Poem for My Unborn Child





My Precious Little Boy

I love you already
As you wait patiently, safely, in my womb,
For the day you meet your family.

I hope that I can give you
All that you deserve,
warmth, security, peace,
and so much more.

You are perfect, innocent, beautiful,
a little soul that is open, ready to love, ready to trust.
I want to meet you in the purity of your newness.
I hope that your spirit is never hurt by those in the shadows,
those who have forgotten how to love and nurture.

Your yet-unborn sweetness is a song in my heart.
Your little movements, thumps and bumps warm me.
I am reminded of your fragility,
and your strength.

You are strong,
yet you are achingly vulnerable.
You are all that the universe has given you.
Your birthright and your heritage,
Is to use your humanity in the way that you desire.
And not to be blunted by unnecessary pain and sorrow.

My dearest wish for you:
please, world, show you the beauty that exists
in the sun, the stars, the flowers, the animals,
and in the beautiful people who have not forgotten how to love.
May you always live from the perfect love that now exists within your unblemished heart and soul.

My Baby




I am 8 months pregnant with our second son. And I am elated. I am carrying a healthy baby according to ultrasound reports, and it is a joy to be expanding our family to a foursome. It is a wonderful that we will soon meet our next child and provide a sibling for our son Aidan, who will turn four in January.

But in addition to all the anticipatory joy, I carry with me the baggage of being an adult who was parentally abducted as a child. This affects my pregnancy and my parenting. I share this in the hopes that it can help others dealing with custody issues, so that others understand the effects of custodial strife on their children. Being a child of a severely conflicted home inevitably affects adult children as they start their own families.

I was parentally abducted from my mother at the age of four, and would not see her again until I was eighteen. My father took me from our home in Norway to New York City, and I was led to fear my mother´s culture, family and love for me. I spent my childhood on the run, in fear of a mother I had loved. I have spent years rebuilding my shattered relationship with my mother after the devastation my father´s actions caused.

As young adult I began to deal with the long-term ramifications of the abduction. Until then I had accepted my father´s lies and justifications for his actions. I stopped trusting myself and others at some point, since I had believed a lie for so long. I had learned to deny the existence of the part of me that came from my mother. I had to question everything I had been taught about my family history, every perception I had about my life and my past. It was and is painful , but early adulthood was particularly filled with confusion.

My name, identity, background, history, appearance, all the basics that make up a person´s selfhood and frame of reference had to be questioned and patched together to create a new self-image. I stopped fearing my mother as we became reacquainted, which was liberating. It helped me to accept a part of myself I had rejected. For a long time I denied her existence in my life because of the negativity I was taught to feel towards her. I even insisted to other children that I had never had a mother when I was very young, as I had forgotten what she looked like and she had become an apparition to me. I cried when another little girl insisted that everyone has a mother. But as I grew more sophisticated in my understanding of what had really happened, I was left with the awful realization that my father did not do what he did for my benefit, although he tried to make it seem that way. He knew that there were other options, but he chose the most drastic of them all. I felt deeply betrayed, and fell into deep depression and despair.

My name was changed when I was abducted, from “Cecilie Rina” to the name “Sarah. “ While I had several other assumed names during the years on the run, Sarah was the one I had used the most, and had grown to feel most familiar and comfortable with. As I began to make sense of my history, it struck me that the name Sarah was tied to an injustice, and I struggled with how to deal with this. I experimented with using Cecilie as my primary name, but dropping Sarah felt forced. I felt I lost a part of myself when I experimented with letting it go. Sarah was an integral part of who I had developed into. I could not turn myself into the little girl I once was or deny the part of me Sarah had come to represent. However, it felt like I was continuing to live a lie by using it.
A few weeks ago, ready to make legal peace with this at long last, I decided to officially change my name to “Sarah Cecilie” and drop the middle name I never used, “Rina” which had been my father´s choice when I was born. This way, I get to keep a name that is familiar and comfortable, while acknowledging the importance of the name Cecilie in my life. I cannot right all the injustices of my father´s actions, but it feels good to resolve the name issue this way, and to honor my needs and comfort levels.

Naming our new baby will be a joy, but also a reminder that for a vulnerable child, something as basic as a name can create chaos and heartache.

Identity and cultural issues still loom large. My mother was raised Protestant in Norway, my American father was raised as a secular Jew, and the rest of the family is a bit of everything. It has caused tension, especially since family bonds were already weakened by the years apart and the rifts in the family. My husband, John, grew up Catholic. We take part in celebrating both major Jewish and Christian holidays, but cultural divisions still play a role in creating a sense of being split, especially on my side of the family. Unfortunate for a family already divided in such significant ways.

Like many others who have lived life on the run, there is no physical place I can truly call home, and no culture that I am an integral part of. There cannot be, as I did not spend enough time in any one place to develop a real sense of belonging. My roots, my heritage, a sense of connection to these, have been fragmented by parental abduction—lost time with loved ones, years on the run, and the fact that I disattached myself mentally from people and places as a child in order to cope with the feelings of loss as we constantly moved from place to place.

On the positive side, I am open to all cultures and religions, and this is a gift that has enriched my life in many ways. But the fact that I am not an integral part of any unit, even that of my own family, is painful. The years spent apart and the inevitable cultural differences informs the way people relate to me. I am thankful for my husband´s family, who have welcomed me with open arms, and this is a new joy for me.

I struggle with depression. It started when I was abducted, and it continues, though not constantly, to today. I had post-partum depression when Aidan was born, which manifested as insomnia that did not allow me to sleep even when the baby did, irrational fears of not being able to protect my baby, deep anxiety, and reliving my own traumatic childhood when I became a parent myself. The emotions were strong, and though I am a resourceful person, it took all my energy to maintain a sense of normalcy on a daily basis. I was exhausted and overwhelmed. I was also deeply in love with our darling little son, which ironically made the depression deeper as I did not feel adequate as a mother. I had no “norms” to fall back upon and incorporate into my own parenting, and I felt lost. I worried about my relationship with my boy while still in the hospital. Gnawing, nagging fears of not being able to communicate with him, of becoming like my father, flooded me. Memories of my own losses also came flooding back, and I did not breathe freely those first months.

I also struggled with the idea that I was going to have the title of “parent.” I had such mixed feelings about parents. Aidan was very much wanted. But at the same time, I knew how awful parents could be to their own children, how blind they could be to the pain they can cause, and how powerful they are in the heart and soul of a child. I had, and have, problems trusting in my own abilities, so I agonized over this.
I am slowly learning to trust myself more, but I still agonize a lot. Aidan is my guide, and I learn so much every day by being with him. He is a sensitive, loving, wonderful little boy, and it is wonderful to have a family of my own. This pregnancy is easier emotionally, thanks to Aidan and the confidence I am slowly building as a parent. The struggles remain, though. The dark legacy of parental abduction casts a shadow on generations after it.

This is a rough draft of a speech I will give on the topic of "Parental Alienation Syndrome," a hotly debated topic these days

Foreword: While I am convinced that the basic theoretical premises of Parental Alienation Syndrome (often called PAS) are a real phenomenon, I am concerned about how legal recognition of PAS wil impact child custody cases and mandated interventions. Some of the currently suggested remedies for dealing with alienated children may cause greater harm than good. Here, I propose a cautious and measured approach to dealing with children who have been alienated from a loving parent, while at the same time recognizing PAS as a valuable diagnostic tool. I hope for more recognition and treatment for PAS, while at the same time asking for recognition of its limitations and risks.


Notes from an adult victim of alienation

As an adult who experienced parental abduction as a child, I can attest to the fact that the basic premises argued in Parental Alienation Syndrome are a real phenomenon. It perfectly describes what happened to me as a young child. I was taught to fear my mother, to reject her religion and culture, and to believe that it was in my best interests to live a life of poverty, homelessness and abuse in order to avoid a relationship with her.
I was four years old when I was taken from her. My father took me from Oslo, Norway to New York City, and gave me a new name and new identity. I was devastated at first, but with time (the most effective weapon in child abduction cases) I forgot what my mother looked like. I forgot that I loved her.
In order to survive, I clung to my father and believed that what he did was right. I believed the majority of the negative things he said about my mother and my maternal family. I came to accept the abduction, simply because I did not want to lose him or the life I had grown accustomed to. I did not want to lose my father's love. I was a victim child, stuck between two people who could not reconcile their differences, and I lost so much.
In my case, as my mother was willing and able to compromise and work for a mutually acceptable solution to custody issues, I must place the blame on my father for the abduction and difficult childhood I had. He had no reason to do what he did.
My father had abducted his first set of children to Norway many years before, so abduction had become his way of dealing with shattered marriages. The Norwegian courts gave him custody of my half brothers, believing, in the unfortunate logic used in many custody cases in the late 1960's, that this was in the best interests of the children. They had been with my father for over 5 years and had been estranged from their mother. So the Supreme Court of Norway determined that in order to protect the children from further trauma, my father, the abducting parent, was to get full custody of them. Essentially, a criminal act was rewarded in this case in the misguided assumption that the damage could not be undone. The boys had no contact with their loving and capable American-Ecuadorian mother for five years, and so she and they were punished with further isolation from one another because of this. I too was to suffer the consequences of this decision several years later, as it emboldened my father to abduct me to the United States.
The courts have difficult decisions to make in these cases, as it is rare to come to a decision that is perfectly fair to all parties involved. The children always lose, as they navigate through the losses, emotional turmoil and loyalty conflicts that separation entails.
Parental Alienation Syndrome as a diagnosis has the potential to provide greater clarity to legal experts in custody cases, and can serve as an invaluable tool in reunification efforts between alienated children and parents. However, I offer a word of caution as well. I would have been traumatized had I been reabducted by my mother or forced to return to Norway against my will. While reunification efforts, with the help of experienced professionals, are essential to return a child to a place of connection with the alienated parent, I do not want to see a diagnosis of PAS used to further traumatize already traumatized children.
Dr. Jayne Major, author of Breakthrough Parenting: Moving Your Family from Struggle to Cooperation, discusses the various levels of PAS. Mild, moderate, severe and obsessed. Briefly, mild to moderate PAS occurs among most recently divorced couples but usually eases off within a fairly short amount of time. Severe PAS is longer-lasting, more calculated and more sinister. The alienating parent purposely manipulates the children´s hearts and minds to turn them against the other parent as completely as possible. Obsessed alienators are often abductors, inherently unable to “share” their children, and they will go to great lengths to manipulate the child into hating the other parent. In my view, the severity of the alienation, and multiple other factors such as the child´s living situation, options for reunification, the emotional cost to the child of returning the child to the victim parent, and more, should be key determining factors in what remedies are used.
Alienation must be recognized as the social ill that it is. Stealing a child's trust in a parent, is equal to telling a child that a part of them is no good. As a child, I absorbed the extent of my father's negative feelings towards my mother, He was obsessed. I desperately attempted to hide anything about me that could remind him of her. I took on my father's feelings as my own. I lost my mother because I was turned into a pawn in my father's emotional war against his ex-wives. He used his children as weapons, and as a way to build up damaged self-esteem by demanding loyalty to one parent at the expense of the other. He was an abused child himself. His mother died when he was a young boy, and his father largely ignored him after getting remarried. Unfortunately, he continued the cycle of abuse when he became a father himself.
In my view, the way to approach the issue is to see it from the child's perspective and work from there. As a parent myself, I would be devastated if I were to lose daily contact with my children, or worse still, be alienated from them. But I remind myself that I do not own my children, and that I must place their well-being above mine. Children cannot physically (or emotionally) be split in two, so it is the unfortunate fact that one parent will often lose out in custody cases. This is especially true in international and bi-cultural divorces, where distance becomes a key factor in maintaining regular and close relationships with children. But there is hope, and there are always compromises and solutions to be found. Flexibility and goodwill are the keys to finding ways to maintain strong bonds despite physical distance.
My mother allowed me to reunite with her on my terms, and we have the positive relationship we have today because of this. If she had reabducted me or had given me the impression that physical possession of me was her right and primary goal, we may not have what we have today.
It appears that for many parents and professionals, a diagnosis of PAS gives license to take any measures seen as necessary to rectify the wrong done. But reabductions and deprogramming can backfire in many cases. One danger is that the child sees not just one, but both parents as possessive people who have attempted to own the child's heart and mind. A parent in pain is a powerful force, and desperate actions by the victim parent can potentially lead to more harm than good for all parties.
I advocate building awareness of alienation in the legal, social and public realms, so that new ways of thinking and dealing with children caught in the midst of their parent's custody conflicts can be met and worked with in positive ways. I advocate mandatory classes for separating parents, and guiding them in co-parenting and maintaining good relationships with their children and ex-spouses.
My personal focus areas are recognition of PAS as the description of the process of alienation and the harmful effects this has on children, diagnosis and treatment of the symptoms, and respect for the children´s unique challenges in these cases. Children are in a no-win situation. They have lost ties to one of their parents, and are in danger of losing ties to the other. Encouraging alienated children to recognize that they have the right to a relationship with both parents is critical. I was six years old when my mother briefly reappeared in my life after searching for me for two years. The courts provided us with supervised visitation, which only reinforced my image of her as dangerous. Supervised visitation was mandated because I feared her, and ironically because my father claimed that my mother might abduct me. We were left to our own devices with regard to reconnecting. No therapy was provided or suggested, and my mother had no guidance in how to reconnect with me. I was severely alienated from her at the time. We had the additional challenges of cultural and religious alienation, which was not recognized at the time. With proper support and understanding, I am convinced that we could have reconnected.
But within a few weeks, my father abducted me again in the middle of the night, and I did not meet my mother again until I was 18. I am convinced that my mother and I could have developed a positive relationship had some simple tools and resources been in place.
Whenever possible, I encourage rebuilding trust in a gentle manner and over time. My mother had to wait 20 years before I was willing and able to visit Norway for the first time as an adult. I now live in Norway and have given birth to two children there. It took time, but I will always appreciate my mother for respecting my feelings, as hard it was for her to do so. It would have been very traumatic to have been forcibly snatched away from my father. But if only PAS had been recognized at the time, so much suffering could have been spared us both.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Parentectomy


A parentectomy is, and this is my own definition, when one parent wages a campaign of denigration against the other parent and turns a child against that parent through the use of lies, exaggeration, manipulation, threatened loss of love and care, or other extreme methods of turning a child against their own parent. Often, the intention is to appear to be the only trustworthy and loveable parent in the child´s eyes.

I´ve heard the term used to describe what happens when a child is alienated from a parent. I think it´s an apt term, and it describes the tragedy of alienation and abduction quite well. It can occur while parents and children live in the same household, if the hostility levels are high enough. It occurs, almost by definition, in the case of abduction. My father still insists that he was simply traveling around with his child, ha! That would have to win the understatement of the year award. He abused me, misused my trust, and manipulated my innocence. I love traveling, but not for 14 years straight, with the police on our trail!