it's a lot.

Pardon me if there are some repeated thoughts/ words here. It's been the biggest - well - weeks, months, year, I reckon. 

                                       

My 48 year old physical self aches. Getting out of bed isn't the quick hop it used to be- I have to think about it for a while, and my limbs have to decide whether or not they're going to cooperate with the bladder begs. Getting off the couch or out of a chair is equally as mortifying; though I have to say, I honestly thank God that I am ambulatory. My stroke-addled brain is thought-burdened & overwhelmed, often confused, slow, and glitchy. My heart is full and overflowing. My tired takes over most days. My sad shows up and happens for various and sundry reasons. Life rolls along, bringing with it all the things and all the feels that accompany said "things." Mostly, though, my peace is incomprehensible, and wow, I'm just- underneath it all- solidly, genuinely grateful. 

God loves me, I know that much, and wow, do I love Him. Additionally, I'm fully aware that He has planted people in my life and on my path that have taught me and led me to see just how miraculous and incredible He and His plan are. 

A few months ago, I set out, determined, to at least find the name and the face of the woman that, 48 years ago, gave birth to me. I didn't have a whole lot of expectation- people admonished, actually, saying "be careful, it may not turn out the way you want it to." I was able to say, though, with deep sincerity, that I had no presumptions whatsoever as to how my aquisition of any information would go- I am quite secure in my role as a daughter of Christ and a daughter of my adoptive family. Quite literally, I had no worries, and was driven purely by curiosity. Mostly, I wanted to see if there's anyone on the planet (besides my kiddos) that I look like; that was probably the biggest driving force. 

                                                          

I posted on Facebook, joined a couple of groups, and was led to a site called "Search Angels" by some high school friends and a couple of colleagues. Within a week or so, I was contacted via email; my newly-acquired angel gave me thorough and comprehensive search information, and asked me a few questions about my specific adoption. She listed some suggestions, including DNA sample services. After I had sent off my swab, I waited the prescribed amount of time (horribily impatiently, I might add) for the results. After I had gotten those back, it was only a few days before my angel had searched them, created a tree in ancestry.com, and added quite a few family members on both the maternal and paternal sides. In less than 2 weeks, I received an email from her stating that she had found my biological mom and biological dad; she included pictures and contact information, as well. Question one was immediately answered- I do look like my mama, without a doubt. See previous blog entries re. our hands. 

                                                        

*Interesting to note: it turns out that my biological mom grew up - and still lives - in a town about 2 hours from where I live. She and my adoptive mom shared that same borough for a few years, actually, and have acquaintances in common- a fact I find incredibly lovely and odd, and only something God could have tiled into my life-mosaic.  They lived only a couple of blocks from each other, shared neighbors, walked the same Main St, USA street, maybe got pop from the same soda jerks or possibly loved the same local foliage.

                                          

So,  I waited for about a week, praying, wondering how to approach, unsure as to whether or not I should call the numbers I had (which initially were the wrong ones, it turns out). I sent messages on Facebook, as had my husband, but we got nothing back. Then, a colleague with whom I used to teach (she happens to be from the same town as bio mom), was able to get a current cell phone number for me. I felt slightly devious, like I had stolen something- I had her phone number, I had Google-mapped her address, I knew who her kids (my siblings) were from my own sleuthing on Facebook, had a husband's name ... a little stalker-esque, admittedly, and I felt both creepy and justified somehow. Heart pounding, my entire body shaking, I managed to send a text. I couldn't take my eyes off my phone screen, waiting for those three little dots to show up...

In retrospect, thinking about having to read "I think you're my biological mama" would probably have slammed my legs out from underneath me, had I been her. Perhaps not the most subtle or gradual workup to a punchline, and maybe I should have given it some more care and some deeper consideration. Ah, impulsivity. It had been 48 years, and I was ready, I suppose. I had her phone number for crying out loud, I had to use it. And then, three pulsating dots appeared on my screen: ticking, pounding possibilities with which I had never been so close. Three "I'm messaging you back right this second" dots... three little moving signs that screamed to me that the person from whom I had been taken- the person who had to make a horrifically difficult, life-altering decision- was holding a device much like the one I was, and was seeing my words and forming her own- perhaps crying, perhaps throwing her phone on her couch, perhaps not breathing... was she angry? Did she remember me? Did she even care?!?... I didn't know what she was doing, but those wee specks told me she was there, and those specks, like tiny living ellipses, were a "wait a minute" that felt absolutely like the worst and longest forever. 

After our initial contact and some generic though verifying/ affirming messages, she had to breathe. Clearly this had come out of nowhere for her, and shocked her to her inner everything. I understood but was excited and impatient, too- again, patience is not a strength of mine. It took a day or so of me sitting on my hands and waiting to hear back, but since that day, we have texted or talked almost every day (save one or two days when we've each been bonkers busy) in some capacity. 

                                                         

I loved her instantly.

For my whole existence, I've loved the idea of her and the knowing of her, but to now have an actual person to attach the feeling to was a healing, punctuating soul-balm, with which I had been life-long unfamiliar. 

On Mother's Day weekend, 2022, a Mother's Day weekend like no other I've ever experienced, I was able to wrap my arms around my biological mother for the first time. She had held me once, so briefly, in her hands, but then in her heart only, until that day.  We cried. We stared at each other. I finally did the thing I've wanted to do my whole life- I got to thank her. I breathed in her skin, her hair, and felt her hands- the ones that look like mine. I saw genetics. My genetics. 

I texted her a few hours later to tell her my hair smelled like her. It was the lovliest smell I've ever experienced, and it was the scent of home and of true finding. Belonging. Incidentally, she calls me "baby" and I have zero problems calling her "mama." 

Both names are so true, so real, and so much ours. 

                                                 *see entry titled "mama" for the reunion video

I have so many things to say- so many questions and now, so many answers. It's weird, though, because the answers haven't just filled in blanks like I thought they would. They've actually created an endless stream of open-ended topics, more questions, more blanks. Right now there are "hands-off topics;" deep, raw experience and heavy sad in her eyes shuts my lips, forces me to hush my wondering, possibly to never revisit. I told Aaron that my curiosity and my questions weigh significantly less than the possibility of trauma for her, and if pieces of her life aren't for me to know, I have to be okay with that, even if the pieces tell the beginning of my story. I've said before that it's not just my story- I'm only one character in this whole thing. 

Oh, because I needed more to cram into my psychological & emotional tank, I met my grandma a week or so ago. I also met my brother the same day. I have a baby brother, and I have a grandma, y'all. All good, good things. As mama says, "it's good, but it's a lot"...

                                        

I'm going to stop there, because whoa- so much to say about that. I'll pick this up in a day or so, to tell you about this no-nonsense, stunning, blood-related-to-me DAR. I'll also tell you about our surreal (that word doesn't even come close) visit, the necklace, the book, Queen Elizabeth, a cool letter g'ma gave my mama, and how I'm biologically predisposed to being a wordy bird, artsy fartsy, and stubborn as hell. Also, I'm putting it here to remind myself: perception. 

Did I mention I have a grandma?

                                                   

Incredible.

-selah