so like i said, i've met my birthmom. and she is a full on whackjob (it's actually where bailey gets it from. my mumsy is bipolar but does NOT take her meds...feels that pot is medicinal enough. awesome.).
when i was getting married i looked for her. not real seriously and only the demon groom and i knew i was doing so. and it didnt' go anywhere and the wedding got in the way.
so a few years later, after we find bailey's pinneal cyst (little tumor-like thing pushing on her pituitray) i go great guns. i had a name, because while my folks where signing the adoption papers, the pen ran out of ink and the lawyer left it all out in front of my parents while he went and got another one. my mom didn't tell anyone she'd seen the name because she was so afraid they'd come and take me away. I've always known i was adopted and my parents were always supportive of the idea of locating her (i have a number of weird medical problems, so info would be great) so she shares this with me and i plugged it into a geneology website. and i wait. and nothing. and i eventually forget i've been looking again.
nearly two years later on st. patrick's day, i come home and find an email from this person named "pat" who says it thinks my mother is it's sister. leaves me a phone number and everything. i call my mom and tell her and she asks what i want to do. "i want to throw up" i say. she tells me to go do it and hurry up and call her back. that makes me laugh and sets me straight (i HATE to puke. HATE IT. so much that i cry while i do it, and if you touch me while i'm puking, i puke more violently. out the tear ducts and everything). listen, she says, technically it's a holiday, and we know your mom was from an irish family. they are probably out erin go bragh and won't even answer the phone. i ask her if she's sure this is what i should do, that it won't offend her. "becky," my mother says, "you are bought and paid for. i am not concerned with losing you". so i make the call...
"huwhoa?" says the voice at the other end. shit. shit shit shit. i have dialed a drunken irishman. "uhhhh this is becky, you sent me a message about maybe your sister being my mom?" please gawd, do not let this lunatic be the dad. do not let me be an inbred leprechaun. "oh!!! uhhhhhh WAIT!!!" and i hear shuffling. the voice comes back and says "you must think i'm some drunk. i am so sorry. i had oral surgery today and my mouth is packed with gauze!" seriously, huge relief. i talk to this guy, my uncle pat, for a long time, discussing what i really want from his sister.
now here's the thing. i am a happy, centered individual. i have an amazing family, and i just don't have that empty space that a lot of adoptees talk about. i love my parents. all i really wanted was medical history and my records, since i can't access them myself. and as far as the babyhouse goes? the most selfless thing she did was to decide to go ahead and carry me so that they could have me. which turns out to be a good thing. pat and i communicate over a couple days and he tells me she-kathy-wants nothing to do with me. i learn all sorts of interesting stuff about her-like that giving me up may have been the last truly sane thing she did-and he promises to send me some pictures of her.
that sunday, my phone rings. it's her. now, i can go on to tell you about this fantastic reunion conversation...but that's not how it went. she's paranoid that i want something other than info. and she's very defensive. and discombobulated...in shock i suppose. but we end it that she'll get me my medical records, and i actually learned a bit from her. she then says that she probably won't call me ever again, but that every year, on my birthday, she wonders if i'm okay, and now she won't have to wonder any more. i'm good with that.
so, in brief, here's what happened over the next couple months. she calls, incessantly, and she is a fruitcake. now my uncle, and my aunt, they are super cool. i actually fostered a relationship with my aunt linda and would have dinner with her a couple times a month. i look like her, have her build and personality...she used to laugh and say i should have been HER kid. unfortunately, while i was pregnant with dominic, she died of rectal cancer. "couldn't get get something glamouous like breast cancer," she said, "died of asshole cancer will be on my death certificate!".
the babyhouse begins contacting me more frequently, even sitting outside my house in my drive waiting for me to come home from work. eventually she sends me a letter saying SHE WENT TO MY HOMETOWN. holy biscuits!!! she says she went "kind of undercover" and didn't tell anyone who she was and tried to locate my folks. GASP!!!
eventually this behavior just got worse and worse. for someone that didn't want anything to do with me, this lady sure was infringing on my territory. it finally came to a point where she showed up on my doorstep one day and, in short, i told her if she didn't back off i would get a restraining order. i get a christmas card now and then, and always a birthday card. i firmly believe that if she would have kept me, i'd be living in a trailer somewhere, strung out with about nine kids of my own...or dead.
so...thanks to her for having the courage to be a pregnant teenager, and giving me the best possible parents i could have. i couldn't be less sarah :)
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