there are no words. i can try to describe how i feel upon reading the name of my biological mother, but i really don't know what this feels like yet. i'm excited and glad for sure, but it is going to take me a couple of days at least just to digest this knowledge.
i am certainly glad that in the last week & a half i chose not to worry too much about what i'd do once i had her name. i knew that i couldn't prepare for how overwhelming yet incredible it feels just to see her name, her age, her place of birth.
but at the same time i was so fixated on getting her name that i didn't think about what i'd feel like when i saw my name on the original birth certificate: unnamed female infant m___, born at 5:21 am.
i wonder if she had thought about a name. how long we were face to face.
oh there's so many thoughts to think. i'm just going to let my brain think 'em for the next couple of days. not rush any decisions.
but i do have a next step that's nice & easy: i just write to alabama whozawatzit and can get background info,which is basically health information, like the presence of diabetes, heart disease or cancer in my parents and grandparents. i used to have that kind of information, my mom gave it to me when i was 13 - but just to look at. and she told me she had more information that she'd give me when i was older. i never got the "more information"and the documents i looked at when i was young have yet to turn up in the rest of my mother's belongings.
i'd hoped to find it in her safety deposit box, but it wasn't there when my lawyer finally got the legal authority to open it. my mom did not have a will, so alongside this new information about my birth, this possible path to a new beginning, i'm getting calls from my lawyer in birmingham about developments in the months-long process of settling her estate.
one process is just beginning, not governed by any plan or expected outcome, buoyed by the hope granted to me by the three words i read today, c__ l___ m___ . my biological mother. her NAME! holy smokes.
unlimited potential, wide open future.
the other steadily marches toward the anticipated goal. this process has an end, a goal that upon reaching i - and my mom - can rest. when i can say "that's finished and i'm glad." when i can concentrate on memories, not loss. when i can celebrate the life she lived, not tidy up what she left behind.
resolution, remembering.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
1 step closer
big day: the state of alabama cashed my $20 check! now, this being alabama that i'm dealing with, the state that "lost" $14,000 from its education budget and put its police on 4-day weeks, they might just have cashed it out of desperation. but remembering the end of my last post, the them of this search is optimism! so i'll believe that the original birth certificate is on its way.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
waiting
now i wait for that birth certificate - i can't really do anything to move this process forward until i get those names in my hands. i'm nervous, i'm excited, i'm psyched, i'm scared, i hope it gets here tomorrow, i hope it takes 6 more weeks....
the wait is good, though - it forces me to take a deeper look into why i decided to send my check to the state of alabama to get that piece of paper. even to me it kinda feels like i decided to embark this search on a whim with no more thought than what i put into deciding what i'm going to eat for lunch.
but that feeling stems from the fact that being adopted, to me, is no different than having eyes a particular shade of blue or hair that curls a certain way or a fondness for reading novels that will someday be adapted into screenplays. being adopted is one of the building blocks that makes me who i am, so fundamental that often i take it for granted, maybe even forget a little bit.
but no matter my forgetfulness, the fact of my birth always remains; always there, in some part of my mind, is the knowledge that i was not raised by the same woman who gave birth to me. but although this knowledge is a constant part of me, trying to describe what this knowledge feels like is as easy as explaining what it feels like for non-adoptees to be raised by the same woman who DID give birth to them.
trying to describe how it feels to be a certain way when you've been that way forever is damn near impossible - for me, at least. i have trouble finding the words to describe why i'm doing this, or how i've actually been thinking about it for the last 29 years.
i suppose the best way to describe my adopted status is to claim a sense of otherness. i don't want it to seem like i've felt like an outsider my whole life, like i've felt alien in my own family - far from it. my mom is my mom, my dad my dad, my cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents MY cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents. but as much as i feel like a member of this tribe with the funny last name, there is a sense of being apart, of being an objective observer. it is impossible to be completely objective in one's family, of course - i think a better way to say it would be to claim a dual awareness - i am this, but i am also that. i am of this family, but i am also of another silent, unseen family.
and again, words fail me: those silenced, those unseen - family? biological family? how can there be a family if the members have never met? the shortcomings of language - if there's a whole word for the appreciation of cherry blossom season, there must be those for blood relatives one has never met, or the simultaneous feeling of inclusion and otherness.
these ruminations on the feeling of adoption is all background, of course - despite the wonder that is a constant of my existence, what pushed me to try to transform that wonder into knowledge?
a lot of it has to do with my current emotional existence - i feel ready for this even if i can't express exactly why. in fact, i've felt ready for a while, but i honestly thought the process would be a lot more difficult than mailing a check to alabama. i thought i'd have to hire a lawyer, a private investigator, etc, and begin this Process that would be exhausting and emotional. proceeding this way is no less emotional, but certainly not exhausting. if it is this easy to get a name, why NOT do it?
i was ready last year, but then my mom passed away after years of emotional, mental and physical turmoil. so i put away the otherness for a little while and stood firmly in my daughter shoes. i mourned my mom, i mourned our relationship. i knew that i didn't want to get confused as to what i was looking for in a biological mother, or for her to get the wrong idea of what i was seeking.
but a year has passed since my mom died. i'll always miss her and some days i miss her so much i can hardly stand it - but the hardest part (i think) is over. i'm not going to wake up one day and find her to be not dead - no matter if i find my biological mother 6 months or 6 years or 6 decades from now, the woman who raised me is gone. before i lost her, i thought i had all the time in the world to build a relationship that was stronger than the anger and sadness and regret that had grown between us. before she died, i put years of hard work into becoming a strong woman who could retain her sense of self no matter what life offered, who could remain confident in the face of a turbulent relationship. in fact, i had just reached out to my mother a few months before she passed - i was trying, and i was figuring out what an adult relationship with my mother would actually be like.
but i was too late. i procrastinated too much. i got too scared. and after she died, i promised myself that fear would not get in the way of my relationships ever again, that i would pursue what i desired without regrets. that i would say what i meant and be happy that i said it no matter the results.
and i suppose that lesson is what got me here. i needed a year to mourn, i needed a year to practice (or pretend) fearlessness.
and despite my trepidation, despite my second-guesses and need for introspection, my optimism remains. i wouldn't even get my birth certificate if i didn't appreciate just how special my circumstance is. i have a chance to meet the woman who knew me more intimately than anyone else; i KNOW in my heart that she thinks of me - sometimes i can even feel her, i swear.
this search might end in sadness and disappointment. but it is just as likely is that it might actually be a beginning of the most unique and special relationships of my life. and it is definite that no matter the outcome, i will have no regrets.
the wait is good, though - it forces me to take a deeper look into why i decided to send my check to the state of alabama to get that piece of paper. even to me it kinda feels like i decided to embark this search on a whim with no more thought than what i put into deciding what i'm going to eat for lunch.
but that feeling stems from the fact that being adopted, to me, is no different than having eyes a particular shade of blue or hair that curls a certain way or a fondness for reading novels that will someday be adapted into screenplays. being adopted is one of the building blocks that makes me who i am, so fundamental that often i take it for granted, maybe even forget a little bit.
but no matter my forgetfulness, the fact of my birth always remains; always there, in some part of my mind, is the knowledge that i was not raised by the same woman who gave birth to me. but although this knowledge is a constant part of me, trying to describe what this knowledge feels like is as easy as explaining what it feels like for non-adoptees to be raised by the same woman who DID give birth to them.
trying to describe how it feels to be a certain way when you've been that way forever is damn near impossible - for me, at least. i have trouble finding the words to describe why i'm doing this, or how i've actually been thinking about it for the last 29 years.
i suppose the best way to describe my adopted status is to claim a sense of otherness. i don't want it to seem like i've felt like an outsider my whole life, like i've felt alien in my own family - far from it. my mom is my mom, my dad my dad, my cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents MY cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents. but as much as i feel like a member of this tribe with the funny last name, there is a sense of being apart, of being an objective observer. it is impossible to be completely objective in one's family, of course - i think a better way to say it would be to claim a dual awareness - i am this, but i am also that. i am of this family, but i am also of another silent, unseen family.
and again, words fail me: those silenced, those unseen - family? biological family? how can there be a family if the members have never met? the shortcomings of language - if there's a whole word for the appreciation of cherry blossom season, there must be those for blood relatives one has never met, or the simultaneous feeling of inclusion and otherness.
these ruminations on the feeling of adoption is all background, of course - despite the wonder that is a constant of my existence, what pushed me to try to transform that wonder into knowledge?
a lot of it has to do with my current emotional existence - i feel ready for this even if i can't express exactly why. in fact, i've felt ready for a while, but i honestly thought the process would be a lot more difficult than mailing a check to alabama. i thought i'd have to hire a lawyer, a private investigator, etc, and begin this Process that would be exhausting and emotional. proceeding this way is no less emotional, but certainly not exhausting. if it is this easy to get a name, why NOT do it?
i was ready last year, but then my mom passed away after years of emotional, mental and physical turmoil. so i put away the otherness for a little while and stood firmly in my daughter shoes. i mourned my mom, i mourned our relationship. i knew that i didn't want to get confused as to what i was looking for in a biological mother, or for her to get the wrong idea of what i was seeking.
but a year has passed since my mom died. i'll always miss her and some days i miss her so much i can hardly stand it - but the hardest part (i think) is over. i'm not going to wake up one day and find her to be not dead - no matter if i find my biological mother 6 months or 6 years or 6 decades from now, the woman who raised me is gone. before i lost her, i thought i had all the time in the world to build a relationship that was stronger than the anger and sadness and regret that had grown between us. before she died, i put years of hard work into becoming a strong woman who could retain her sense of self no matter what life offered, who could remain confident in the face of a turbulent relationship. in fact, i had just reached out to my mother a few months before she passed - i was trying, and i was figuring out what an adult relationship with my mother would actually be like.
but i was too late. i procrastinated too much. i got too scared. and after she died, i promised myself that fear would not get in the way of my relationships ever again, that i would pursue what i desired without regrets. that i would say what i meant and be happy that i said it no matter the results.
and i suppose that lesson is what got me here. i needed a year to mourn, i needed a year to practice (or pretend) fearlessness.
and despite my trepidation, despite my second-guesses and need for introspection, my optimism remains. i wouldn't even get my birth certificate if i didn't appreciate just how special my circumstance is. i have a chance to meet the woman who knew me more intimately than anyone else; i KNOW in my heart that she thinks of me - sometimes i can even feel her, i swear.
this search might end in sadness and disappointment. but it is just as likely is that it might actually be a beginning of the most unique and special relationships of my life. and it is definite that no matter the outcome, i will have no regrets.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
are you my mother?
i loved that book, are you my mother?, when i was a kid. LOVED it. my mom used to read it to me all the time. she never explicitly made the connection, but i'm sure i figured out the theme of the book as it relates to my own life and family at some point; i think that even before i really understood what it means to be adopted, i identified with the chick searching for its mother in the story.
i can't remember NOT knowing that i was adopted as an infant. i've never thought of the people who raised me as anything other than my parents. i've never really had the drive to find my biological mother. i've never felt abandoned or unwanted - my mom and dad made it clear from the beginning that i was wanted and loved. i believed them. i still do.
"never forget for a single moment that you did not grown under my heart but in it."
my mom loved this quote; she even had it framed in our kitchen. i have to say, although it's a little cheesy, like my mom, the sentiment resounds with me.
growing up, i knew a few adopted kids. Two of them, in grammar school, rarely, if ever, acknowledged their status as adoptees - for the longest time, i only knew because my mom told me. i always wondered why they were secretive about it, as if it were shameful. as a kid, i thought it was pretty awesome to have 2 mommies and 2 daddies and 4 grannies and 4 granpops. as i've gotten older, i've become an even bigger proponent of adoption. i sincerely hope to adopt my own kid(s) someday.
i had a good friend who was also adopted. i never really understood her feelings about it...it seemed like she had more "issues" with it than i did. i remember when she did begin to try to find her birth mother, to get a name, but it didn't work out. she was devastated.
me, i thought i'd avoid all of that and never search for my birth mother. it just wasn't that important to me - my parents are who they are. mostly, though, i feared intruding on someone's life and, like my friend, being rejected.
nonetheless, family resemblances have always fascinated me. i LOVE the way brothers and sisters and moms and dads look alike; i think it's hilarious when someone declares who a newborn "looks just like."
in fact, one of the most compelling aspects of finding a birth parent would be finally making that connection: oh, THAT's where this crazy hair or junky trunk or crooked teeth or big feet came from, and THAT's what i'll look like in a few years. non-adoptees spot these resemblances and take them for granted. me? i remember in 5th grade going over to my best friend's house and categorically reviewing her features and comparing them to her parents': mom's eyes, check; dad's nose, check. i told her she had her dad's nose; she said, unimpressed, really? oh.
but satisfying my vain curiosity has failed to be an impetus to finally start the search for a birth parent - until now. in the last year, life's events may have finally changed my mind about finding my birth mother. yesterday, i found myself registering on not just one but two national adoption registries. and today i sent away my request to get my original birth certificate - the one i've never seen, the one with my biological parents' names on it.
i did both of these things without the thought, retrospection or agonizing that accompanies most of my decisions. yesterday i was goofing off online like i always do and googled "adoption registry" like it was just another piece of gossipy ephemera that i read everyday. without slowing down, i signed up for the registry and sent my 20 bucks to the state of alabama to get my original birth certificate.
it wasn't until now, moments before i started typing this post, that i wondered why yesterday, which was a day of no significance, i decided to start this search. not one of my actions made me nervous. yesterday.
but imagining opening an envelope from the state of alabama that contains the REAL NAMES of my birth mother and birth father sends me reeling. i start to shake a bit, i tear up a little - am i ready for this? i haven't even mentioned it to anyone yet. i'm not keeping a secret, but maybe i just want it mine. maybe i just want to do something for once without figuring out my motivation and processing all the accompanying feelings. or maybe i'm scared to say what i'm doing out loud. (typing it is much easier.)
oh my god, what is her name? i'm so close. what will i do with her name once i get it? google it, for sure. but then what? actually contact her? my worst social fear is imposing on people, of being somewhere i'm not wanted. in this instance, the imposition is of the highest order - hey remember me? we met 29 years ago, briefly? i'm back!
one thing is certain - i'm not looking for a new mom. i had a mom and in spite of all that we went through, she's my only mom. i loved her, i still love her and i miss her with all my heart. i would give anything to see her again, to touch her warm hands, to feel her arms around me. i've always professed to want to live without regrets, but i can't keep them out when it comes to my mom. it's amazing how angry i was at her and how quickly that anger melted away when i got the call that she had died. i literally can't remember the last time i saw her. i truly do not recall the last time i hugged her. all i know that it had been at least 6 years and that whatever touch i gave her was given begrudgingly. oh anger! how i wish i knew better then.
i'm scared that bio mama will think i am looking for a replacement and shy away. i'm scared SHE"ll want a daughter. i'm scared she won't. i'm scared we'll get along; i'm scared we won't. i'm scared of what comes after that initial contact. i'm scared of maintaining a relationship that, at the beginning, will likely be awkward at best. all of it, every aspect, scares me.
but i remember that so far, those things that i was most scared to do are precisely those experiences that i value the highest, that i learned the most from, that helped me grow more than i thought possible.
deep breath.
here we go, into the unknown. lookout, mother, here i come.
i can't remember NOT knowing that i was adopted as an infant. i've never thought of the people who raised me as anything other than my parents. i've never really had the drive to find my biological mother. i've never felt abandoned or unwanted - my mom and dad made it clear from the beginning that i was wanted and loved. i believed them. i still do.
"never forget for a single moment that you did not grown under my heart but in it."
my mom loved this quote; she even had it framed in our kitchen. i have to say, although it's a little cheesy, like my mom, the sentiment resounds with me.
growing up, i knew a few adopted kids. Two of them, in grammar school, rarely, if ever, acknowledged their status as adoptees - for the longest time, i only knew because my mom told me. i always wondered why they were secretive about it, as if it were shameful. as a kid, i thought it was pretty awesome to have 2 mommies and 2 daddies and 4 grannies and 4 granpops. as i've gotten older, i've become an even bigger proponent of adoption. i sincerely hope to adopt my own kid(s) someday.
i had a good friend who was also adopted. i never really understood her feelings about it...it seemed like she had more "issues" with it than i did. i remember when she did begin to try to find her birth mother, to get a name, but it didn't work out. she was devastated.
me, i thought i'd avoid all of that and never search for my birth mother. it just wasn't that important to me - my parents are who they are. mostly, though, i feared intruding on someone's life and, like my friend, being rejected.
nonetheless, family resemblances have always fascinated me. i LOVE the way brothers and sisters and moms and dads look alike; i think it's hilarious when someone declares who a newborn "looks just like."
in fact, one of the most compelling aspects of finding a birth parent would be finally making that connection: oh, THAT's where this crazy hair or junky trunk or crooked teeth or big feet came from, and THAT's what i'll look like in a few years. non-adoptees spot these resemblances and take them for granted. me? i remember in 5th grade going over to my best friend's house and categorically reviewing her features and comparing them to her parents': mom's eyes, check; dad's nose, check. i told her she had her dad's nose; she said, unimpressed, really? oh.
but satisfying my vain curiosity has failed to be an impetus to finally start the search for a birth parent - until now. in the last year, life's events may have finally changed my mind about finding my birth mother. yesterday, i found myself registering on not just one but two national adoption registries. and today i sent away my request to get my original birth certificate - the one i've never seen, the one with my biological parents' names on it.
i did both of these things without the thought, retrospection or agonizing that accompanies most of my decisions. yesterday i was goofing off online like i always do and googled "adoption registry" like it was just another piece of gossipy ephemera that i read everyday. without slowing down, i signed up for the registry and sent my 20 bucks to the state of alabama to get my original birth certificate.
it wasn't until now, moments before i started typing this post, that i wondered why yesterday, which was a day of no significance, i decided to start this search. not one of my actions made me nervous. yesterday.
but imagining opening an envelope from the state of alabama that contains the REAL NAMES of my birth mother and birth father sends me reeling. i start to shake a bit, i tear up a little - am i ready for this? i haven't even mentioned it to anyone yet. i'm not keeping a secret, but maybe i just want it mine. maybe i just want to do something for once without figuring out my motivation and processing all the accompanying feelings. or maybe i'm scared to say what i'm doing out loud. (typing it is much easier.)
oh my god, what is her name? i'm so close. what will i do with her name once i get it? google it, for sure. but then what? actually contact her? my worst social fear is imposing on people, of being somewhere i'm not wanted. in this instance, the imposition is of the highest order - hey remember me? we met 29 years ago, briefly? i'm back!
one thing is certain - i'm not looking for a new mom. i had a mom and in spite of all that we went through, she's my only mom. i loved her, i still love her and i miss her with all my heart. i would give anything to see her again, to touch her warm hands, to feel her arms around me. i've always professed to want to live without regrets, but i can't keep them out when it comes to my mom. it's amazing how angry i was at her and how quickly that anger melted away when i got the call that she had died. i literally can't remember the last time i saw her. i truly do not recall the last time i hugged her. all i know that it had been at least 6 years and that whatever touch i gave her was given begrudgingly. oh anger! how i wish i knew better then.
i'm scared that bio mama will think i am looking for a replacement and shy away. i'm scared SHE"ll want a daughter. i'm scared she won't. i'm scared we'll get along; i'm scared we won't. i'm scared of what comes after that initial contact. i'm scared of maintaining a relationship that, at the beginning, will likely be awkward at best. all of it, every aspect, scares me.
but i remember that so far, those things that i was most scared to do are precisely those experiences that i value the highest, that i learned the most from, that helped me grow more than i thought possible.
deep breath.
here we go, into the unknown. lookout, mother, here i come.
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