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.