Lost but not found

When I was found, I was almost 20 years old.    I blindly walked into reunion, expecting rainbows, ice cream cones, hugs and kisses.  I expected them all to love me, adore me, to want to know my entire life, play by play.  I was convinced they would want my precious keepsakes, like baby teeth I left out for the tooth fairy.  My blonde curls my mom cut and preserved in the family bible.  I thought reunion was going to be like "going home."  They would all understand me, think like me, and would teach me how to cook all the special secret family recipes I missed all those years. 

Meeting the families, I quickly realized something was just not quite right.    Why was everyone staring at me with confusion?  One grandma looked horrified and the other was scanning through my baby pictures to see if there was a resemblance.  That is what it looked like to me.  Then my one grandma asks for a nitro glycerin.  OK, I thought to myself, something is definitely not right, and now that grandma is popping a pill while looking at my baby pictures, its a confirmation!  

She starts to cry, something to the effect of, oh my baby, while looking at my baby pictures.   That is what I remember, I could be wrong, but it was for sure a distressed situation.  Looking back, I can now see the unspoken debate that was going on between all the adults.  My birth mom was somewhat amused, and everyone else seemed frantic, and the chaos of everyones emotions was very apparant to me.   My birth mom walked me to my car and I asked her, what is going on?  She gave me some ridiculous story that left me even more confused.   That was a long drive home, alone, with my thoughts.  For 20 years I had waited for this moment, my heart felt heavy, and I knew I wasn't getting ice cream, or cooking lessons,  the hugs and kisses didn't seem too promising.

I didnt know the truth behind my adoption, but I figured it was not going to be the truth I was told by my parents.    I heard a couple different stories, your birth  parents loved you so much but couldnt care for you.  My dad told the story of how I was picked out in the store, he'd  point to the imaginary wall and say, "This baby, no this baby" like they were shopping for a new toaster.   

I was pretty shocked when my birth mom sent me photos of herself and family,  in the mail.  I was expecting her to be a blonde, I had no idea she was part Lebanese.  She now likes to say I knew, but I did not know. I had a paper with non identifying information that really equaled nothing.

I did not receive anything from my birth dad in the mail, but I later spoke to him and we met alone.  I cannot deny the fact that I was so nervous, I was just a kid. 

The truth as I now see it, is a variation of different stories I have heard from different family members throughout the years.  My birth mom became pregnant with me.  She was dating (now confirmed) birth dad.  At some point in time, she wrote a letter to another boy she liked.  Saying something like, she didnt think his parents would allow him to marry her, so shes going to have now confirmed birth dad marry her.  But in this letter she tells this other boy, she cant wait for "Their" bundle of joy.   Probably the most disturbing story I have heard in all these years is the one my birth mom told me after we met.  She tells me her best friend came over,  she sat in boiling hot baths and used a coca cola douche, let your imagination decide what they were trying to do.

So at one point early in reunion, I went out to dinner with my birth dad, his mom and the family.  I was asked what blood type I was, at this point I really was not sure what was going on.  My birth mom has not been the most trusted source, in all these years, but she was very crafty and cunning throughout this whole ordeal.   She was smart, did not tell me the story, instead let me suffer and it took years for me to really understand completely what was going on. 

It wasn't until 2016 when my daughter somewhat forced me into doing Ancestry DNA.   She ordered the test and had it shipped to me.  Weeks went by, and I stared at that test, and finally after weeks of my daughter calling and asking me if I spit in that darn thing, I had the nerve to actually do it.  I sealed the box and dropped it off at the post office.  Then I started wondering to myself, what if my birth dad is not oneof the two men that I was told about ?  What if he's someone else, what then?  Weeks went by  and I was so anxious waiting for the results.  My daughter had already done the Ancestry DNA test and had her results.  I was driving to the grocery store and it hit me,  I can figure out the answer via her DNA results.  I went home and searched through her DNA results.  TA-DAA!    There it was, the answer to the question I have wondered about for 35 years.  

I decided to wait until my own DNA results to come in to tell anyone, even though I knew the man I had met was 100% my dad. 

Let me tell you, getting my DNA results was a  liberating moment for me.  Not knowing who fathered you for 52 years is a big deal.   I beg to differ with all those people who think I did it for revenge or some other stupid reason.  I did it for myself, I wanted to know my heritage and  I think every person should know this basic information, its their birth given right. 

OK, off my soap box!  But seriously, if it were not for modern science and DNA testing linking me to DNA matches who have extensive family trees, I would still not know the answer today. 

Daughter annoyed by birth moms "Thank You" card

My daughter came home from college to visit this past week, and I showed her the "Thank You" card I received from my birth mom for sending her a Christmas card.  I asked her what she thought.

I handed her the card, and she quickly gave it back to me saying she could not read it, she had seen enough and it was ridiculous that she would send me a "Thank You" card in turn for sending her a Christmas card.   She did not want to know what else she wrote, she somewhat shushed me up.

She is right, its strange that she sent me this card, and I wish I understood her purpose.  She's not written me in years,  has never sent the kids birthday cards, or Christmas cards to us, so why this card?

Why not an apology letter instead?  Apologizing for betraying me?  Clearly she has no plan on sending me that type of card or she would have done it by now.    How about a simple card, saying just "Sorry" - asking to move forward and forgive her.   30+ years into reunion, you'd think this would be easy for her to do, apologize and realize what she's done. I met her when I was 19, and I'm turning 50 on June 8th this year.

Its almost ironic that she wants to believe that I am the crazy one, point the finger at me for what she has done over the years.  Make me into the one that has caused all the problems.  Wish she'd get real, wake up, and take responsibility for her actions.  I have apologized for being mad, in turn, for her craziness.  There is not much more I can do...to make her realize what she has done.  Sometimes I imagine just shaking her, slapping her face and telling her to wake up.  I have even suggested many times to go to counseling.  But honestly, when a person refuses to face themselves, for whatever the reason and can easily betray their own daughter, telling others she is mentally ill and a liar, then I honestly doubt I can shake her back into reality.  This is work she has to do on her own.

Maybe the card is the first step?  Or maybe she just wants something from me?

Birth moms pic, tucked away in the [Junk] drawer....

Its amazing how much stress one small framed picture of my birth mom has caused me.  Maybe its more of a debate, within myself?  The picture in the frame is of the "Old" birth mom, before she changed.  When we first met, this is what she looked like.   I cannot explain how much she's changed since this picture was taken, back in 1984.  Yeah, we all change, I know.   But, she was drastically different, she was married, lived in a nice home, did not work.  Loved to garden, sew, cook and smoke salmon.  Once her husband left her, everything went to pieces.   Her views on life became jaded, and she's yet to recover.   That was around the time we were married, 27 years ago.   Considering we've been in reunion since 1984, that pretty much tells you we've had a dysfunctional, painful and disappointing relationship most of our reunion.   Its been a battle, a fight to try and hold onto the birth mom I  initially met, and liked!

I cut all ties with Nancy in February of 2014.  Nancy is my birth mom, by the way.  We had been talking again, but I have not seen the woman in so many years its mind boggling.  Over the past few years she's refused to meet me anywhere, that really puzzled me.  I chalked it up to the fact that my birth brother and I don't like one another, and she is so involved in his life maybe it was hard to see me and keep it a secret?

Why do I have to be the one that is a secret?  Why can't my birth brother be the secret?  I've done nothing wrong, except protect myself from unnecessary harm due to both of their indiscretions, to put it lightly.

She thinks I have a problem because every time we start talking, I cut it off.  She cannot have a relationship with me without rambling on and on about my birth brother or telling half truths about his life.  Drives me nuts, that she lies.  Without getting into details and telling stories, this is the bottom line.  I told her that I can have a relationship with her only if my brother is out of the mix.  She cannot do it, and so I have chosen to walk away.   Its not that simple, writing this makes me sound shallow, and unable to bend.  As I've blogged about in the past,  craziness happens in our lives when my brother is allowed even an inch.  Craziness happens with Nancy in my life too, but both of them puts me over the edge.

The process of accepting this is brutal.  I took her picture out of that junk drawer so many times.  I mean put it up, took it down over and over again until it found its resting spot for now.   There is shame involved in this, not shame for wanting her in the drawer, but for even having her pic in a frame.  Does she deserve to be displayed amongst the loves of my life?  What does she deserve?  Truth is I don't have the answer.  Maybe what she really deserves I am not giving her?  Or, because of her life choices she has changed what she deserves?  Does it matter how bad she is?  If she were decent and honest, I would probably allow her pic to be placed next to my loved ones.   I would not allow my brothers picture to be anywhere in my house.  That man is turning 40 next month, has threatened one too many times to kill my entire family, so honestly he deserves absolutely nothing on the subject of loyalty.

Today, I do not miss her, I do not want her around, nor do I have the desire to even chat with her.  I always have this silent battle inside about her, because she thinks I have the problem, not her.  That bugs me!   She can't own what she's done, and quite possibly she has buried it so deeply, not even she can see it herself.   I have apologized to her many times, saying that I am greatly sorry that I cannot tolerate her being less than truthful about my brother, and every time things go well for the two of us she muddies the water by bringing up his craziness.  Then, later on she tells people that "Her daughter" is crazy"!!!!  Yeah I'm crazy, sick and tired of her lies, and her deceit, and her betrayal and have come to the conclusion she is not mentally well, for whatever the reason.  She does take a lot of pain meds she really does need, so maybe her mind is clouded and confused a lot?

Why does adoption always feel so yucky inside to me?  Why am I the one that is always battling inside, when its obvious I am the only one doing this,  the others don't give a darn.  They probably don't suffer inside like I do, they were never put in this position to feel as though they have to "Manange" so many people, only the adoptee is left to battle this, and I honestly think we are supposed to do it in silence, suffer in silence, and endure the long and difficult battle of reunion alone.

Turns out, not so funny story...I guess?

I was telling my aunt Mary, my birth fathers sister who happens to be my age about something that was told to me years ago.  At the time the story was told, I was probably in my early 20's, and I'm guessing a tad bit easier going than I am now?  You know, just didnt think too much about anything.  At the time, it was dangerous, I was on the edge and knew just to keep everything compartmentalized.

Anyhow, my birth mom  told me the story about how her family found out she was pregnant with me.  How everyone was torn apart, she was in the bath tub, and her mom came in, realizing she was pregnant.  Her father was in the hall, and her mother told him the news.  He replied, "Not Nancy, shes too smart for that" -  REALLY?  SHE's too smart for that, I'm guessing it was the immaculate conception, right?  She got pregnant by herself I was probably thinking when I heard the story.

My birth mom continued with the story, she had been trying to abort me.  Using Coca-Cola, ways I never thought possible, to make the pregnancy go away.  Long hot, almost boiling baths to somehow make me go away.  Her girlfriend had helped her find ways of aborting.  As you can all see, it didnt work, as I type this blog at age 48!  ha!

So theres the story.  Was told many times to me by my birth mom.  When I told my Aunt, she seemed shocked, taken back with this loud noise like she had just seen a giant rat in her house.  I guess its kind of mean to tell such a story to one's child you've just met for the first time, maybe it would have been better to keep this story a secret?

My aunt said something very important yesterday.  She commented on the Coca-Cola attempt and said its like "Your not the same person"  ---we both paused.  Silence.  We both realized that we discovered the truth.  Nancy, my birth mom, does not realize that I am that baby.  I am Cathy,  a person that does not really click in her head as being her child, like my full birth brother.  I am that baby in her belly that was trying to be aborted, she did not want me.  So I get it, she never bonded with me, she did not want me.   I was like this mistake she somehow had to deal with, and when she met me, she only wanted to be sure that I was indeed Doug's baby.  She had been messing around with another man, and everyone pointed the finger at this other guy.  So she really did find me just out of pure selfishness.  Just out of curiosity.  She wanted to clear her name, rub it in everyone's face.  To show the world that yes, I was Doug's baby.

Well, she succeeded.  My grandmother, my Aunt Mary's mom, almost had a heart attack when looking at my baby pictures.  It was clear, I was Doug's baby.  That was enough for her, she went through some of the motions, for a short period of time, but after that, it was pretty much over for her.

So what does this mean to me now?  Maybe, just maybe, it gives me some insight to why she has behaved so badly over the past 30 years?   I would not behave this way, but this could be how she has survived it?

It does not change how I feel, or what has happened.  I do not want anything to do with this woman.  But it could clear up a lot of things, mainly why she sees me and does not connect me with being her baby.