|
My Happy Reunion
One evening at bathtime when I was three or four years old, my mother tried to explain to me that, unlike my younger sister, I was adopted and that she was not the woman who actually gave birth to me. She said I immediately stood up in the tub and was adamant about leaving and finding this mysterious woman who had given me up. Although I do not remember this specific event I am very familiar with the sentiment she says I expressed: "I must find her!"
With my brown hair and very dark eyes, I definitely did not look like anyone in my blonde, blue-eyed family (except our Springer Spaniel, I always joked) and I definitely did not feel like them either. I was intense, creative and shy, and my family did not share my introspection and interests. I felt like a "fish out of water" my whole life -- like an alien that was not really connected with anyone in the human race, and, in a fundamental way, I wasn't.
It wasn't until I met more adoptees in college that I began to recognize some of the similarities we have and I started to read up on the subject. I entered a voluntary registry when I turned twenty-one though I was aware of their low success rate. As time went by, my desire to find my birthmother grew until I contacted the adoption agency that I came from in desperation for any information they could give me. They sent me all of my non-identifying information, mostly general physical descriptions and "hobbies/interests" of my birth family members. What a strange thing to know the heights, weights and colorings of my birthpartents, and that they liked "art, music and water sports," but not to have a clear image of them in my mind. They were like shadow images, which was better than nothing at all, but it was not good enough.
When I turned twenty-four the agency I was adopted from, The Edna Gladney Center in Ft. Worth, TX, contacted me to tell me of a new search service they were starting. I was very excited -- this was a more aggressive approach and I was sure they would find her, although I was unsure how she would respond. She had contacted Gladney when I turned eighteen to ask about search methods, but it was unclear if she wanted to search for me or she was afraid of being found against her will. With this new but expensive option, I felt like I was moving forward on this lifelong quest. My parents were uneasy but supportive of this new development as any caring parents would be. Due to various legalities and incompetencies, the search took almost a year to get started but it only took a matter of weeks to find her once they finally started looking.
When they found her I was on tour with my band in England, so my mother called me with the news. I didn't know what to say -- I just wanted to get back to the States and meet her. I finally knew her name. A few days later the strangest feeling came over me as I realized that I had always known her name, at least subconsciously. When I was nine years old I got my first diary for my birthday. In a remarkable event that I still remember vividly, I had an intense flash of an image of an older, wise and beautiful mentor/goddess who was the audience for this diary -- and I was moved to name it "Linda," which is my birthmother's name. Every entry of that diary begins with "Dear Linda..." and I still have the diary in my possession. Either I remembered it (I was adopted at eleven days old) or I had an intense spiritual/psychic experience. This was the first of several synchronistic events.
I returned to the States and we exchanged letters and pictures. I had written that letter so many times in my mind over the years, but holding it in my hand and knowing it would be in hers was an indescribable feeling. I received a sweet letter from her and will never forget the moments spent studying those five pictures so intently, looking for and seeing myself in her and my two half-siblings. I was afraid that they would be very different from me - small-town fundamentalist types who wouldn't know what to make of a radical like me. She mentioned "God" several times in her letter and when she called me one night I was jadedly dismayed by her slow drawl and religious references (since then, I have developed a different conception of that word "God"). But I left the conversation feeing a lot of love and care from her, though I did not know how I felt about her except that I was very curious and anxious to meet her.
A few months later I went to Texas to finally make my dreams come true. She drove the three hours from her town to the house I grew up in to spend two days with me and my family, and then I was to go and meet the rest of my birth family in their town a few days later. The intense anticipation I felt while I waited for her to knock on my door was almost unbearable. She was thirty minutes late and I tried to lose myself in TV, but I just kept hearing the clock tick so loudly until I heard a knock. I ran to the door and opened it and she immediately hugged me for what seemed like an eternity. I felt a bit uncomfortable at first, because I knew that I had to tell her some potentially shocking things and that she might reject me. Needless to say, I learned a lot about life and the limitedness of the human imagination in those few hours! She was more like me than I could have ever hoped for and all of my worries were totally on the wrong track. What shocked her the most about me was the sadness I felt about not having her in my life and that I felt like she had rejected me. She had lived her life thinking that giving me up was the most selfless, truly good thing she had ever done, and to learn that it may have harmed me was devastating to her. I think that we've both learned that although the truth sometimes hurts, it will always set you free.
The love she shows me now has healed more wounds than I could have ever imagined. She is not like a mother to me, and much more than a friend. It's hard to imagine her as being "family" because I just met her. There are no words that can adequately describe our relationship. When I first met her, I thought she was an angel who was going to save me from all of my problems. As time went by, however, I have grown to love the very real person she is. She is beautiful and kind and loving. I even love her voice! I still communicate with her frequently, and I even sang at my biobro's wedding last year. In another synchronistic event, my biobro drove by the house I grew up in when he was on vacation only a few months before I found my birthmother. We are a lot alike in our love of music and fast cars -- in fact, when I met him we were both wearing cutoffs, green Birkenstocks and rock band T-shirts. He turned on the CD changer and I owned all of the CDs he put on. I also have a birthsister who is also musical and a real beauty. We have been writing letters a lot lately and I've been getting to know them better... and of course we all have very dark eyes.
I feel very lucky and incredibly satisfied. I did find my birthfather last year, but that's another story... ;)
Meeting and knowing genetic relatives has contributed to a great new feeling of groundedness and serenity in me I thought I would never have. Though not all of the mysteries have been solved, I do not have so many question marks contributing to the disruptive enigmatic energy I used to have around me. Today I feel very much a part of this world and very loved. Ann Hudspeth is a native Austinite who has lived in Seattle for almost 10 years. She is a designer at Microsoft by day and a singer/songwriter the rest of the time. Her next album will include the single "letter" which is about meeting her birthparents. For more info visit http://www.littlesureshot.com. (This feature appeared in the Summer 2001 issue of the Bastard Quarterly.) Copyright 2001
Bastard Nation
|