My Papers
I thought I'd start with some history. I was born on December 28, 1979 in Bradford, PA to an unwed 24 year old woman who didn't know my father's last name. She left me at the hospital. I lived with a foster family for 3 months before moving to live with my parents who adopted me 6 months later.
The only thing I have to help me connect with my past are some papers, I'm sure that if you are an adoptee, you have the same thing. It is a collection of non-identifying information about your birth family including some medical history, physical appearance descriptions and various other information. I always knew these "papers" existed, and when I was in college, finally got up the nerve to ask my mom for them. I've read them a hundred times, at least. I have every word on those papers memorized. It seems dumb, but if my house was on fire, my papers are one of the first things I would want to get out with. It's like reading a fairytale, very surreal. I know there really was a 5"4' blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman of Swedish-German descent who gave me life. However, she is no more real to me than Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty.
When I read them, I feel completely engaged in the story. She "needed time to think through her feelings", "didn't know father's last name, was probably a one time deal". That one always gets me. The "one time deal". She worked at a bank. She was in the National Honor Society in high school. To me, she's still that same 24 year old in the story, even though I know that she's over 50 by now.
My papers are the only link I have to my beginning. I sometimes think about how my birth mom was probably in the room when the doctor took the notes. I wonder if she saw when he wrote that she was "giggly, but can be serious at times". I also wonder if that is why I laugh so much. I wonder what the reaction was when she told the doctor or social worker it was a "one time deal" with my father. Did he sneer at her? Give her a dirty look? Or was he compassionate and understanding? I was probably there in the room, too, which is even harder to wrap my head around. It is like immersing yourself into some sort of alternate reality. The idea that I actually lived inside of someone for 9 months seems untrue to me. Sometimes it is hard not to feel like some kind of alternate being, like you fell out of the sky and have no connection to anyone else on the planet. After all, the only way you can prove that you actually had a mother like everyone else is by some papers they gave you. And I don't even know who "they" are!
Right now, my papers are everything I have to explain my entry into the world. Over the next year, I plan to search for my birth mother. I know that I have a one in a million chance of success, but I don't think that my scars will truly finish healing until I've at least tried to find her, even if I am never successful.
The only thing I have to help me connect with my past are some papers, I'm sure that if you are an adoptee, you have the same thing. It is a collection of non-identifying information about your birth family including some medical history, physical appearance descriptions and various other information. I always knew these "papers" existed, and when I was in college, finally got up the nerve to ask my mom for them. I've read them a hundred times, at least. I have every word on those papers memorized. It seems dumb, but if my house was on fire, my papers are one of the first things I would want to get out with. It's like reading a fairytale, very surreal. I know there really was a 5"4' blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman of Swedish-German descent who gave me life. However, she is no more real to me than Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty.
When I read them, I feel completely engaged in the story. She "needed time to think through her feelings", "didn't know father's last name, was probably a one time deal". That one always gets me. The "one time deal". She worked at a bank. She was in the National Honor Society in high school. To me, she's still that same 24 year old in the story, even though I know that she's over 50 by now.
My papers are the only link I have to my beginning. I sometimes think about how my birth mom was probably in the room when the doctor took the notes. I wonder if she saw when he wrote that she was "giggly, but can be serious at times". I also wonder if that is why I laugh so much. I wonder what the reaction was when she told the doctor or social worker it was a "one time deal" with my father. Did he sneer at her? Give her a dirty look? Or was he compassionate and understanding? I was probably there in the room, too, which is even harder to wrap my head around. It is like immersing yourself into some sort of alternate reality. The idea that I actually lived inside of someone for 9 months seems untrue to me. Sometimes it is hard not to feel like some kind of alternate being, like you fell out of the sky and have no connection to anyone else on the planet. After all, the only way you can prove that you actually had a mother like everyone else is by some papers they gave you. And I don't even know who "they" are!
Right now, my papers are everything I have to explain my entry into the world. Over the next year, I plan to search for my birth mother. I know that I have a one in a million chance of success, but I don't think that my scars will truly finish healing until I've at least tried to find her, even if I am never successful.
posted by everyscarisabridge at 8:57 PM
2 Comments:
Unless your circumstances are truly unusual, you have a good chance of finding your birth family. It happens a lot more often than many people think.
As a reunited birth mom, I know many others who are now in relationships with their birth families. Soon, I will be doing a blog at Adoption.com on Birthfamily Searching. I hope that you will come visit it. I will be following your blog in your journey.
My belief in reunions is unwavering though I did not search, but was found. I needed to be found though and am grateful that my son gave me that gift.
For me reunion (and lots of therapy and support) has provided me a sense of peace and some healing. Nothing but reconnecting with my son could have given me the resolution and peace in my heart.
thank you so much for your comment! i tend to be a pessimist, at least when it comes to things like this, and it is really good to hear your side of the story. looking forward to reading your blog!
Post a Comment
<< Home