Birth Motherhood and Other Adventures

Twelve years ago, my life got turned on its head.

I was behind at work and trying to finish up a bunch of stuff so that I could meet the Princess Mom for a Caribbean cruise over the Christmas holidays the next day.  Only I can turn simple tasks into a comedy of errors.  My daughter, the child I had given up for adoption when I was barely 21 and had never seen for fear I'd be searching baby carriages for years looking for her sweet face, had reached out to me.  It was after 10 p.m. on a Saturday night, I was alone at the office, and I had to get on a plane at 6:30 a.m. the next morning.

Any reasonable person would have said, "It's been 26 years.  I can wait ten days.  I'll deal with this when I get back." 

But at that moment, there was nothing about me that felt reasonable. 

And there was NO FUCKING WAY that I could wait another moment.  Thank Sweet Baby Jeebus, the Sunny Ridge Lady was up and on top of her email game.  As it turned out, that letter had been sitting in my file for SIX MONTHS before anyone made any effort to track me down.  Excuse my potty mouth, but FML.  Seriously.

Anyway, I couldn't reach the Princess Mom, because she had already left home and was staying in a hotel in Fort Lauderdale in order to meet the ship the next day.  I had no idea of which hotel, because she hadn't given me that information.  So... I printed off a copy of her letter and color copies of pictures of my beautiful girl on her wedding day, and stuffed them into my suitcase before I got on the plane. 

I reached the ship and checked in before the Princess Mom did, so I dug out the letter and the photos and I left them on the Princess Mom's pillow.  And then I waited, and waited, and waited for her to arrive.

Let's just say we had a tearful hour or two.  And a lot of hugs.  (And one brief (see what I did there) moment of insanity.)

As it turned out, being on a ship in the middle of the Caribbean was the right place to be, because they had an internet cafe.  Daily emails gave us both  the time and distance necessary to slowly share stories and information. 

I got back shortly before Christmas, and made arrangements to meet my beautiful girl.  We met at a local coffee shop, just the two of us.  We both showed up with flowers in hand and hearts in throats.  It was unmistakable that we shared genes.  Speechless, we hugged and tears flowed for what seemed like hours, but was in reality at least a good ten minutes.  And we talked for hours.

What started as her search for family health information transformed into an unshakable, unbreakable connection, and my best Christmas ever.

Years of fears and doubt were erased in seconds.

That was the beginning of a whole new set of adventures, for which I will be forever thankful.

(And click those links above to get the whole story, would you?)

Sometimes...

... when you least expect it, you fall into a meaningful, emotional, spiritual conversation with a complete stranger.

And so it was today when I stopped for a second glass of wine, when I should have gotten on the train at 2:30, and instead fell into a completely meaningful conversation on the 3:30 train home.

I met a lovely senior lady, ended up showing her how to use the clock, alarm, and timer on her iPhone, and ended up talking about our families and how wonderful this Thanksgiving experience was for both of us.

I talked about my daughter, my grandsons, my son-in-law, and my daughter's parents, and how grateful I am to be a part of their lives.

She talked about her sons and her grandchildren, and how different they all are, and about how she connects differently with each of them.

Because our conversation was easy and non-judgmental, I talked about being a birth mother, and how lucky I am that the child I gave up for adoption and her parents have surrounded me so completely with love.  How crazy I am about my grandson, because,  not despite, the differences in their personalities.  And that, to this day, how I still find it difficult to insert myself into their lives because of my own insecurities, and how much I appreciate that I am accepted, included, allowed to love each and every one of them so fiercely, and that I am loved fiercely in return, especially by my daughter's parents.  How I never expected to be this lucky, and how I will never, ever, ever take it for granted.

She then revealed that she was adopted.  And that she will never know her real story, because her adopted mother lied to her all her life.  She only found out that she was adopted when she went to apply for a passport, and had to go to her brother (born to the parents who'd adopted her) for a copy of her birth certificate.  How her mother had favored her brother, but her grandparents had favored her.  How she'd never understood that until she'd gotten that copy of her birth certificate.

She told me that she'd recently gone through Ancestry.com to search for family health information to pass on to her sons, but hadn't clicked the link that would allow her to find genetic family links. 

I assured her, as a birth mother, that making sure she was placed with a family that would love and cared for her was an incredible act of love.

I told her that the information gathered by Ancestry.com is made stronger every day by the shear number of people adding to it all the time.  How my daughter recently connected with her birth father, and found out that she has siblings -- some who have embraced her, and some that may or may not connect.

I encouraged her to go to her local library and have them show her how to add the Ancestry app to her iPhone, and assured her that the data gets stronger every day.  Assured her that she can choose whether or not to share her data with others.  And encouraged her to reach out to the "yes" that might be out there.

Before I reached my stop, Petronlla ("Pet") and I embraced, shared a few tears, and became a part of the family that is not linked by our genetics, but truly limned by our stories and our connections, however brief.