Monday, June 3, 2013

The Mole


I spent years hating it.  Hours of focused disgust and hostility.    I tried lemon juice and fade creams.  If I had a scalpel, I probably would have cut it out.  My cheeks were fuller when I was a teenager and I could see it from every angle anytime I looked at myself in the mirror.  My mole.

I used to scrutinize the photo album of my parents wedding.  My mother looked like Jackie Kennedy with her short curly dark hair, large hazel eyes, square face and thin lips.  She was gorgeous, as her mother was before her. I didn't look anything like her, none of the six of her kids do.  We look like my dad.    

When I was a teenager I had a lot of time to devote to self hatred, so I did.  Just like every other adolescent. I didn't want to be me.   But, when I grew up and moved away from home, that started to change.  My parents followed me.  All I had to do was look in the mirror.  Not only did I have my dad's long face, I also had his stubbornness.  And while I didn't think I looked anything like my mom, I have her nose, her soft curls and her inhibited goofiness.

When I adopted my kids, I was thankful not to pass on my acne and moles.  They would simply be whoever they are without my blemishes tarnishing them. That is left in the hands of a stranger they'll probably never meet. Somewhere in the world is the woman they don't know with the eyes just like theirs.  Or the man with a thick head of hair and hearty laugh.

While I had the privilege to come to terms with who I am and where I came from, my kids have a hole.  One that I can never fill.  

13 comments:

A Brilliant Life said...

You have a mole, they have a hole. Just kidding, really wanted to say thank you for posting this. This subject is very interesting to me and thanks for sharing even the slightest bit of it with us. I have the utmost respect for you.

Hugs.

The Zerns said...

I didn't know your kids were adopted. Never thought a out it. From the perspective of an adoptee, I'd rather have my mom's mole. Something of her to know her if that makes any sense. I often wonder who I look like. Mole or no mole your family is your family.

The Loerzels said...

@ Carrie-Thank you!
@ Abbi- I didn't realize you were adopted! Or I did and forgot.

Cerebrations.biz said...

I don't think it's a whole- it's a question mark, that you get to fill in with the love they will treasure for the rest of their lives.

Chantel said...

Crazy weird that I just began writing about the flaws (two moles) on my face...how I had this photographer once try to "hide them." The first time I realized there was something wrong with me. *sigh* For the record, I think you're lovely--and awesomely unique. So much better than Barbie, eh?

My best friend adopted her youngest. She tells him, "some babies grow in their mother's tummy, you grew in my heart." xo

The Loerzels said...

@ Roy- Beautiful Roy
@ Chantel-What I didn't mention is I now love my mole. Definitely not barbie especially with my lack o' t&a....which I'm also quite thankful for btw!

Cookie said...

Wow! I luv this post.
I have a mole on my forehead. I never thought much about it until last year, when a man stared into what I thought were my eyes, and said "have you ever thought about having that removed?" It has crossed my mind over and over since....
I have no idea where I inherited from - but glad I knew my parents.
And I am glad there are folks out there who are able to adopt little humans! That is a seriously special love!

Cathy Tittle said...

We are so hard on ourselves as teenagers...when we should be celebrating our uniqueness, all we want to do is be someone else, anyone else.

I am glad you realized just how unique you are, and I am also sure you will help your children to understand that no matter who or where they came from, they are one of a kind...

Great post Marie...

The Loerzels said...

@ Cookie-Moley people unite!
@ Cathy-Exactly, teenage years suck regardless and we're bound to be unhappy until later when we realize what morons we were.

MuMuGB said...

Well, while reading your posts I couldn't help thinking that we all have a gap. a hole somewhere that we can't fill. Maybe that's just part of life after all.

Joy Page Manuel said...

I must admit that I wasn't expecting that ending. I've always wondered about that, that 'hole' when it comes to adoption. However, as cliche as it sounds, I am certain you have filled that hole for them as best you could and more than you ever imagined. As Muriel says above, we all have holes and finding people who love us fills all that and we can only hope that in the end, it's not the holes that define us but the love we give and receive.

Barbara said...

Brilliant, Marie, and by the unexpected twist at the end of your post you switched on a powerful lamp drawing my attention 150 % .

I have come to terms with my gap, especially since it was such a smash hit in India: it is considered good luck.

We can be whole with a hole and I think the important thing is not to camouflage it.

Penelope J said...

Poignant story but depends on perspective. A facial mole used to be considered a beauty mark in Latino societies where women like
my mother would use an eyebrow pencil to make it more predominant. What can ruin an adolescent's self-image in this country would have enhanced it in another. However, I think the key is not your mole, but the comparison between you and your mother and grandmother. Your kids, adopted or not, will also have their adolescent angst to contend with.

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