A Mother's Gift

I asked my mom if she’d be interested in sharing a little bit more and I suggested that we each make a list titled “200 Things You Don’t Know About Me.” There are so many people who are so superficial that wouldn’t be able to write such a list. Not her though – Immediately she was up for the challenge and I began diligently writing my list.

I am still working on mine. I’m on # 122. On Monday morning I decided to check my email one last time before I left for pre-op, and I saw her name in my email. That always makes me smile. I get those crazy butterflies in the tummy and then I notice the subject line. “200 Things You Don’t Know About Me.”

I opened the email and there it was. Totally completed and sent to me at 3:00 am, the wee hours of the morning of my surgery. Coincidence? So I printed it out and stuffed it into my hospital bag. While I was waiting for the lab and before I saw my doctor. I was laying there freezing and I asked the nurse to bring me some warm blankets and pull the curtain. I held onto the papers. I was so excited to begin reading it. There in my hands were 200 things I was about to learn about my mother. I should mention that when I was searching for her – I had very little information. These are the only things I knew about her:

1. Brown hair
2. Blue eyes
3. Sensitive
4. Indecisive
5. Artistic

Then when I found her and we began emailing, I learned a lot about her life and the way she lives it. I learned a lot about my siblings, very few about the time of my conception and birth and some about her likes and dislikes. Our letters to one another quickly turned into chit-chat about daily life and experiences. Then I met her face-to-face and I saw how she lived first hand, but still lacked all those little details that most people know, and take for granted, about their mothers.

Here I was with this paper in hand – wanting desperately to read it but also wanting to savor it. I wouldn’t have traded this paper for gold. I briefly contemplated reading just 10 things a day but I began reading and of course I could not stop. I’ve received a lot of gifts in my life. I got my VW Jetta when I graduated from high school. I got my gold earrings in January from my boyfriend. My grandmother made me my first princess dress that I still cherish today but there is no better gift than the one I received from my mother on Monday. Hands down this was the best gift I’ve ever received in my life.

You live your life as an adoptee always wondering. What does she look like? Who do I look like? Did she hold me? How could she do it? Was it hard to walk away? Did she try to come back? If she could have; would she have? You are so full of questions and there are never any answers. Even after reunion, you’re too afraid to ask. God forbid she look into your eyes with those familiar blue eyes and say “No. She didn’t regret losing you.” So instead, you opt not to ask. The answer could be too painful. So you continue wondering.

I learned so many things about her. I learned about some of her secret dreams. I learned that she likes antique shops, toy stores, wine tasting, what makes her happy, what makes her sad, that she’s quirky like me, how much she loves her children and her husband, what kind of friend she is, her favorite food, and her favorite candy, her favorite book, but most of all, the biggest gift to me was #s 7, 47, 100, 148, 168, and 200. I learned that she loves me, she misses me, she has thought about me every day of my life, she never wanted to give me up, she held me and sang me a song when I was born, and that she wishes everyday that she had kept me.

I read this letter so many times this week and I can’t seem to put it down. To learn 200 things about my mother is a dream come true. Cameron asked me what we’ll find to talk about now. Knowing just 200 things about someone you’re lacking 25 years with is still just an ice breaker. There is so much more to know. I look forward to spending the rest of my life adding to this list.

Just a health update

I've been getting your emails. I promise to get back to you late tonight. I just got home from work and have had a really hectic evening with a sick little girl :-( (pray for her please)

Anyway,
Surgery is official and it will be on Monday. My tumor markers have doubled and I've got the glows on my scans. My gyn/onc also can palpate a small mass near my bladder so she wants to do a laparotomy; a "second look surgery." My nmom wanted to come and unfortunately I need to call her next and tell her that it's better that she doesn't. I'm so torn about this because I do not want to hurt her in any way whatsoever. I've thought all day long about this and I have to do what I feel will be best in the long run. If my 1st mom comes, my 2nd mom will do or say something that will cause stress and resentment. I can warn her not to until I'm blue in the face; but she will, it's a given. She will then completely deny that she had any ill intentions. I've done this for 25 years, I know the game. I know how it ends.

Additionally, this would be only the second time I've seen her. I'm not ready to go there yet. I can't bring myself to be in this position at our second meeting. There is so much to me, who I am and what I have to offer. I'm so much more than cancer. I want her to continue to know me and care about me without any road blocks like pain, hospitals, crying, whining, IVs, narcotics and prognoses.

These two things combined are the reasons for my decisions + my FREE PASS to do whatever I want to do. :-)
My brother Kieran however, will be coming here. He'll be here tommorow. I think his skin is thicker and he'll handle what my parents throw his way. Maybe he'll even throw back. :)

Rambling

Within the last few months, the sound of the phone ringing would stimulate the sympathetic nervous system, causing excitement, fear and palpitations. I’d take a deep breath before answering and always let it ring 2 times, so I wouldn’t sound anxious. Sometimes it was her, sometimes it wasn’t. When it was her, I’d sometimes need to put her on hold while pretending I just got out of the shower or something, just to take a moment to relax enough to talk to her, without sounding like a total dork. When it wasn’t her, I could feel that instant drop of my blood pressure and pulse, with a feeling of disappointment overcoming me.

Suddenly though it has changed. I dread picking up the phone because I’m afraid it will be the other one. The one who suddenly brings me really down. Really low. She now seems to thrive on bringing me down. I really need to get caller ID.

So this time she’s screeching out something about calling my Aunt Judy. I can’t even grasp what she was trying to say because none of it made much sense. I told her to calm down, that I couldn’t understand her. It turns out that she’s sick or something but I really had no clue what was wrong with her. I hung up the phone promising to call Aunt Judy.

I call Aunt Judy.

She tells me that she was diagnosed with arthritis this morning. I listened to her ramble on about how painful her right knee is and how she’s concerned about the quality of her life from here on out. I console her. I reassure her that everything will be okay. I let her know that I’m here for her. I tell her how sorry I am about this diagnosis and I let her know if she needs anything, she should feel free to call me.

WTF?
God I hate what is becoming of me. I feel so incredibly selfish that when I hung up the phone I said “I don’t f*king care what happens to you Judy.” I’m insensitive and I feel guilty about it, but I still mean what I said (when the phone hung up)

What bothers me is that Aunt Judy is no different from her. Siblings. Two of a kind. The same person molded into the bodies of two. Precisely why she called me to tell me about Aunt Judy is why I’m so angry with her. Whenever anything is going on with me, she must try to one-up me. Be it positive or negative, it must always be about her. She can’t simply just support me because she can’t stand for anything to be happening in the life of anybody but her. Aunt Judy counts as attention focused on her because like I said, one person, two bodies.

I don’t even want to pick up the phone these days. I want to tell the people that I want to hear from to call only my cell phone, and unplug the house phone and never reconnect it. But then I feel selfish again. Ungrateful for all she does. It’s a crazy cycle. The strange thing is that although I feel guilty for being ungrateful, I continue to feel ungrateful. How do you either: stop being ungrateful or stop feeling guilty for being ungrateful.

So it is a strong possibility that I may be having surgery next week. This morning my 1st mother said that she would like to come here if I have surgery. In part, that sounds incredibly awesome, but of course things can’t be that simple.

#1. I am afraid to be vulnerable near her.

#2. How can I possibly allow these two in the same state let alone in the same hospital?

How do you get to the point where you can allow your 1st mom who shows interest in really being a mom, to do so? Is that a crazy concept? Is that just a pipe dream; or can it really be possible? Still I am so nervous around her. How do I get over that? How and when do we stop feeling as though we’re on a first date with the most incredibly beautiful person in the world?

And, even if she did come. What would the other one do to her and say to her?

It’s giving me a stomach ache just thinking about it.

Of all the babies in the world, we chose you

“There were thousands of babies but of all of those babies, you were the one we picked and God picked us to be adoptive parents. God wouldn’t trust just anybody to do that. You were his child first. He chose you for us and us for you for a reason. He has a purpose for everything.”

I have two mothers?

“You have a birth-mother and a love-mother. Your birth-mother loved you enough to give you life and your love-mother loves you enough to love you forever.”

I always wonder what other adoptees thought as children about their adoptions and their natural parents, the scene of when it took place, how it happened and why it happened. I feel really silly writing this but I used to have this big elaborate picture in my mind of thousands and thousands of babies laying in cradles in a hospital, with only a handful of prospective adoptive parents looking into each cradle until they have found the one. The baby that God brought them to rescue. My parents adopting because of infertility didn't even occur to me until I was in my early teens. I remember I once asked them why they didn't adopt any other children and they told me that it was too expensive. I then asked why they didn't give birth to any children and that was the first time I'd realized that there was more to the story of my adoption. God actually didn't really send them to me. God, how naive I was. Pretty embarrassing really.

I wonder how much of this played a role in my original thoughts of finding my first mother. I used to state that I didn't have a need for her in my life. Could it be because I thought that all she gave me was life. Could it be because I imagined that she delivered me and went on to resume her life without looking back? If I knew of the struggle in her decision, if I knew how much love she had for me, if .......would I have felt differently?

More Labs Done

It was a typical day at the CC - gave some blood. Didn't get my scan though, that will depend on the tumor marker results. If my numbers are low, I won't get a scan for another 4 weeks. Waiting always seems the hardest. Maybe it's just the power of suggestion but I feel funny. Different. Talked to my gyn/onc for almost an hour. I swear she should do therapy on the side. She is amazing and always knows just how to ease my neurosis. She always lets me know that she'll fight for me as long as I fight for me. I obsess way more than I probably should sometimes. Some women fighting this disease seem to have such an amazing peace surrounding them. Unfortunately I am not there yet. Maybe because Goshdarnit, I'm too young to die. More women die from ovarian cancer than any other reproductive cancer. I can't find peace in that. Not now.
Anyway, that is all I really wanted to say.
I'm exhausted.

Father's Day Over

I'm glad it's over and that I won't have to deal with it for another year. I did not call my biological dad and Cameron and I did go to my adoptive folks' house for a traditional annual Father's Day dinner. It started out OK - they gave Cameron the 3rd degree of course, but he handled himself well; however, it didn't take long before the topic of my reunion was brought up (dear ol' mother) - leave it to her to decide that she just must do something, ANYTHING, to stir up trouble. I expected to talk about my lab draws tommorow and discuss issues related to that. I expected that they would finally decide that my boyfriend isn't evil and actually see what I see in him. I expected that we'd have a nice dinner and be done with it. No that's not really true - I actually expected deep inside to have exactly what happened, happen. I worried about it the entire day.

Ya know, in the beginning, when I first found my natural mother, somehow I was able to sit through their jabs at her without freaking out. I bit my tongue and made it through each visit home or telephone conversation, with a sore tongue maybe; but no fighting or yelling. However it has progressively become more difficult. I find myself protective over her and I become defensive when they spew out nonsense. The truth is that they know very little, if anything at all, about her. So why is it that they feel they can make all these sometimes petty, sometimes viscous accusations? Why does there need to be a competition? Regardless of what led to my relinquishment 25 years ago; what does all of that matter now? And who are they to decide that they know the facts that they SWORE up and down last year that they did not know? And calling her on these inconsistencies is useless because she turns it around as though I am "cornering her," or "attacking her." Am I absolutely doomed to endure this for the rest of my life?

Cameron sticks up for me. My dad sticks up for her. By the end of dinner, Cameron and I are leaving with me in tears and my mom saying: "I can't believe you Nicole. I can't believe you are doing this to me."

Huh?

How have I done any of this to her? Hasn't she done this to herself? When will I decide that I cannot take anymore and stop allowing myself to be put through this? And of course when I do decide to stop letting her do this to me, that will be my fault and she will say I am choosing my natural family over my adoptive family.

Father's Day

For the first time in my life, I am thinking about my biological father on this day. Ever since I found out that he is actually a real life, breathing, walking and talking person, he's become a reality for me.

I called my adoptive dad and sent him flowers, and I will be there for dinner tonight - the usual routine on Father's Day. Still, I'm thinking of my natural dad and wondering if he's thinking of me today. I have his phone number. I know a lot of things about him thanks to Kieran, who has generously shared all he knows. I''ve seen a lot of pictures of him ... some of the most recent pictures were of him with his 18 year old daughter at her wedding. I was resentful when I was looking at them. Resentful because he gave me up for adoption, because he left my mother and Kieran for the mother of this other daughter and resentful because I could see the love from a father to his daughter in those photographs - a love I have never experienced. I guess it's jealousy. I hate being jealous. It's a very uncomfortable feeling that I was never really used to until reunion. I don't like the way it makes me feel. I would rather not even care. But, I do. Why do I care? Why do I care about a man that I don't even know?

He is aware of our reunion and I have no idea how he feels about it. I half expected that if he cared at all, he would call me and in the beginning, I wondered everytime my phone rang. Apparently he's not planning on doing so. So why do I care? So today I am looking at the phone for the opposite reason. I find myself wondering if I should call him. What would I say? How would he react? Would he even care? And why should I care? He has built a happy home separate from my mother and her family. He wasn't the greatest father to Kieran either; Kieran recalls many, many days in which he waited for his father to pick him up, but most of the time he never showed. Yet, this morning I called Kieran and asked him if he called him for Father's Day. He did.

If I called him, would it hurt my mother? Would she feel betrayed?
If I called him, would he dissapoint me in the same way that he dissapointed my brother? Would he make promises that he wouldn't keep? If he gave me up once; wouldn't it be easier to do it again? I don't want to be hurt. I hate being hurt. Isn't it easier to protect ourselves than to become vulnerable to pain? I don't like all these mixed up feelings. I don't like feeling insecure. I am not used to this. I am not used to any of these feelings I have since reunion.

Maybe I just need to get ready to go to my other dad's house for dinner and be grateful that I have him.