Monday, January 30, 2006

A Letter in the Mailbox, A Story in my Head

Getting the mail and answering long distance phone calls have now become the highlight of my days. An "unavailable", "anonymous" or even an unrecognized phone number give me an adrenaline rush. Checking the mail after work has taken on a new meaning. Today, I actually wasn't thinking about what could be in the mail when I got the mail. But when I opened the box, there was a LOT of stuff in there, and I remembered - I'm waiting for something...

2 medical bills, one web hosting bill, an ad for pet medications...and there on the bottom was that very official looking envelope with the return address written in old english typeface, a large ornate seal next to it and my name typed on the envelope. "Pennsylvania Clerk of Records, Register of Wills and Clerk of the Orphans' Court Division" - what a mouthful.

I open it up and there are two pages, so I start looking at the one on top. It is a receipt for the payment I sent. They printed the receipt on January 26. On to the next page. Its printed on letterhead with the same old english typeface and the ornate seal at the top. It is a really, really short letter. Just 2 very short paragraphs. My stomach sank - all I could think was,

Dear adoptee,

We got your money and called your mom and she doesn't want to talk to you.

But thanks for the money.

Sincerely,

Your Friendly County Courthouse


I sucked it up and read it. Basically, they got my money and my petition. They sent my petition to the Orphans' Court Investigator (sounds so CSI, doesn't it?) and she will inform me if there is any information available regarding my adoption. Then it gave me the investigator's direct line and said I could contact her with any questions.

Yeah, I have a question. Is this for real? Because a lot of the time I feel like it is really fake.

It is such a weird feeling to know that "my file" and all the information that I want to know so badly is probably sitting right there on someone's desk. That lady has got some power! I'm thinking of what is sitting on my desk right now - a to do list (or rather a to do notebook), some business cards, receipts and articles. Nothing of any interest to anyone besides me, really.

But this lady has on her desk files full of information that people have been waiting their whole lives to know. It is the rest of my story. It is my identity. My story has a lot, I mean a lot of missing pieces and I've always been a pretty imaginative person, so I've just made up the parts that I didn't know. My mom was a good person. She was smart and pretty and funny and she got drunk one night and got pregnant - whoops! It happens. Now she is older, successful, sophisticated and thinks of me often. I have an entire story about what happened in the hospital. I know what she thought and felt when she was pregnant. These are things that every other kid really does know, but since I didn't have any way to know, I just made it up and has always been truth to me. As much as you might be Italian or the miracle child your parents thought they'd never have or the "whoops" baby that came 15 years after your siblings, I am the kid in these stories. That is who I have been my entire life - the daughter of that woman. No one could ever prove otherwise. But this lady at the courthouse can. She might already know things to shoot holes in my theory, without ever contacting my mom.

So I guess that's what I've been thinking about lately - what is my reaction going to be if the truth doesn't match up with my story? What if my mom was angry about being pregnant? What if she was bitter that she even had me? What if now she's a screw up, drug dealing, alcoholic? Its a lot to comprehend, to think that in a matter of weeks, days even, the entire foundation of everything I've ever thought about my birth, conception and relinquishment, my identity could be changed.

I think that is why I'm still not able to accept my birth mom as a real person and not just something the government made up to keep me happy. Because if she is a real person, she could be different from what I've made her to be in my head, so it might just be better to keep her on paper, the way I've always known her.

2 Comments:

Blogger Cookie said...

I read posts like this one and wonder how much of what you are pondering is what my son did. I imagine at least some of it is. And, I remember him saying in his first email to me after our first phone call, "Well, now that we know that neither of us is a crazy druggie, we can just start the process of getting to know each other."

I loved reading this post, because it helps me know that I matter to my son. He just called tonight -and the honeymoon phase of our relationship is over - it's been 4 1/2 years. But each time we chat on the phone and I hear his hearty chuckle as we joke around, I feel a little bit of a miracle has just transpired. We were never "supposed" to know each other, but, we do, and there's no better feeling in the world!

My fondest wish for anyone searching is that they will "click" as well as my son and I do. I like to think he calls me now when he wants to feel understood, unconditional love, acceptance and appreciation. He knows I offer him that - and I think that he likes it.

8:55 PM  
Blogger Heartened said...

I've had that same thought about some person having my entire history and identity at their fingertips - and just out of my reach. When I read the letter from the Illinois registry I thought to myself, "The person who typed this up saw my birthparents' names!" It was such a strange feeling. And then there are those moments when I want to call and beg, plead and bribe them to tell me. I know I can't do that, but sometimes I dream...

I just have to keep believing that someday I'll have my answers. Some days that is harder than others.

9:23 PM  

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