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Hello, mother, it's me - Cassandra
Oct. 17th, 2003 11:51 pmMy ... well, I guess technically, the PI for my attorney called me today.
They told me a couple of months ago that they had confirmed J- as my birthmother. The PI had also found my maternal uncles, all three of them, and my maternal grandparents.
She was calling to tell me that so far J- hadn't responded to any of the inquiry letters that had been sent to her. She was calling to tell me that I shouldn't give up though, because sometimes, biological parents don't respond to PI letters, thinking that it's a hoax.
She gave me alot of the information she'd collected about J- and her family, including that she has a daughter that's 27, and a son that's 10. She also gave me known birthdays, addresses, and phone numbers. I know how to reach J-. The PI says I should do it now. She says that sometimes they need the direct contact from the adoptee in order to open up, to feel like they aren't going to be scammed or hurt, to realize that the baby they knew is an adult now that just wants to know them.
Here's the thing though, I don't know if that's all that true. I think that can sometimes be the case, but what if her lack of a response is her answer?
My adoptive mother is actually taking it pretty badly. I know that sounds like a really strange thing to say, especially considering I spent much of my 20s not searching for my biological parents because I didn't want to hurt my adoptive ones. At some point, my adoptive parents changed how they felt, curiousity I suppose got the better of them, and they realized that it wasn't a need or want to replace them, or saying in any way they had failed me. I just wanted what a lot of adoptees want, to look in a mirror and see who I look like, to know where my ancestors are from, to know my medical history, to simply find some sort of answers about how it came to be that I was here in this place, this time, and ultimately, to find some closure.
As I was saying though, my adoptive mother is really upset that J- hasn't responded to the letters. She (my adoptive mom) spent most of my life telling me just how very much J- loved me, how she hadn't even really wanted to give me up, how she'd done it because she thought she was doing the best thing for me. I think this lead her, and me included, to believe that if I ever found J- she'd be eager to hear from me.
Of course, this is fantasy, or maybe hope - much of adoptees' thoughts about their biological parents tend to be romanticized. Ironically, however, most adoptees picture that their biological families had a difficult life, after they were placed up for adoption. I suppose this stems from the fact that at the time the adoptee was relinquished their biological parents were having a difficult time. It's the opposite for biological parents, most of them when they picture where their child is now would think that they are happy, successful, better off. This also, I believe, stems from the fact that when adoptees are given up, it is often to the biological parent so they will in fact have a better chance at life.
I knew deep inside, that despite the fact that I wanted J- to rush to me with open arms when she heard I was looking for her, this was likely not going to be the case. I am a dreamer with a realist's heart. I don't think my adoptive mother ever considered that J- might not want to know what happened to me, and as the person that raised me, I think it's hard for her to grasp not wanting to know who I am, and how I am doing. In a strange sort of way, it's one of the best compliments my adoptive mother has ever given me.
But, back to J-.
I knew that she may not want any contact with me, I knew it could happen, I like to think I had prepared myself for that possibility. I try to put myself in her shoes. She has a daughter only 7 years younger than myself, a 10 year old son, she's divorced, supporting her son on her own, and from what we can tell, living at home caring for her very elderly parents (they are 83 and 84 years old).
From all accounts, my maternal grandparents were very influencial in her decision to put me up for adoption, and they are still alive.
I doubt her brothers knew I was born, or ever even conceived. It was the 60s, they lived in Warner Robbins, and my mother was sent away, to the Florence Crittenton Center for Unwed Mothers here in Atlanta for her last trimester and my birth. Her brothers were young, her being in college could easily have explained her abscence.
She was married at some point, and she's now divorced. I am not sure for how long now, but long enough that she's raising her son alone. Wasn't that one reason why she'd put me up for adoption? She didn't want to raise me alone, she felt I deserved a home with both parents, yet here she is now a single mother. Though I am old enough to know and understand it was a different place and a different time, how does she feel about it? Does she feel guilty that she's a single mother now and couldn't be then?
Does anyone even know about me? What if she never told her son or daughter? What must the prospect of me showing up be doing to her?
So, I put myself in her shoes, and I am trying not to let myself be disappointed by the fact that she didn't respond. I don't know where she is in her life, I don't know what she's thinking, and I don't know why she's not responded, but that's the way it is.
Without her help, there are some things I will never ever have the possibility of knowing. I will never know who my father was. I will never know which Indian tribe he was raised in. I will never know my heritage, hers or his. I will never know my half-siblings (my father had twin daughters a year before I was born, as well). I will never know what diseases run in my genetic line. I will never know or understand what caused so many sever illnesses so early in my life. I will never be able to tell my son what diseases could have been passed on to him. I will never be able to look at any of my biological family and see them in my son's face. I will simply never know.
So, the PI tells me, I should pick up the phone and call, or write her a letter and send her pictures of myself, my family. She tells me that I shouldn't give up, that I should reach out to J-.
But what if her lack of a response has been her answer?
They told me a couple of months ago that they had confirmed J- as my birthmother. The PI had also found my maternal uncles, all three of them, and my maternal grandparents.
She was calling to tell me that so far J- hadn't responded to any of the inquiry letters that had been sent to her. She was calling to tell me that I shouldn't give up though, because sometimes, biological parents don't respond to PI letters, thinking that it's a hoax.
She gave me alot of the information she'd collected about J- and her family, including that she has a daughter that's 27, and a son that's 10. She also gave me known birthdays, addresses, and phone numbers. I know how to reach J-. The PI says I should do it now. She says that sometimes they need the direct contact from the adoptee in order to open up, to feel like they aren't going to be scammed or hurt, to realize that the baby they knew is an adult now that just wants to know them.
Here's the thing though, I don't know if that's all that true. I think that can sometimes be the case, but what if her lack of a response is her answer?
My adoptive mother is actually taking it pretty badly. I know that sounds like a really strange thing to say, especially considering I spent much of my 20s not searching for my biological parents because I didn't want to hurt my adoptive ones. At some point, my adoptive parents changed how they felt, curiousity I suppose got the better of them, and they realized that it wasn't a need or want to replace them, or saying in any way they had failed me. I just wanted what a lot of adoptees want, to look in a mirror and see who I look like, to know where my ancestors are from, to know my medical history, to simply find some sort of answers about how it came to be that I was here in this place, this time, and ultimately, to find some closure.
As I was saying though, my adoptive mother is really upset that J- hasn't responded to the letters. She (my adoptive mom) spent most of my life telling me just how very much J- loved me, how she hadn't even really wanted to give me up, how she'd done it because she thought she was doing the best thing for me. I think this lead her, and me included, to believe that if I ever found J- she'd be eager to hear from me.
Of course, this is fantasy, or maybe hope - much of adoptees' thoughts about their biological parents tend to be romanticized. Ironically, however, most adoptees picture that their biological families had a difficult life, after they were placed up for adoption. I suppose this stems from the fact that at the time the adoptee was relinquished their biological parents were having a difficult time. It's the opposite for biological parents, most of them when they picture where their child is now would think that they are happy, successful, better off. This also, I believe, stems from the fact that when adoptees are given up, it is often to the biological parent so they will in fact have a better chance at life.
I knew deep inside, that despite the fact that I wanted J- to rush to me with open arms when she heard I was looking for her, this was likely not going to be the case. I am a dreamer with a realist's heart. I don't think my adoptive mother ever considered that J- might not want to know what happened to me, and as the person that raised me, I think it's hard for her to grasp not wanting to know who I am, and how I am doing. In a strange sort of way, it's one of the best compliments my adoptive mother has ever given me.
But, back to J-.
I knew that she may not want any contact with me, I knew it could happen, I like to think I had prepared myself for that possibility. I try to put myself in her shoes. She has a daughter only 7 years younger than myself, a 10 year old son, she's divorced, supporting her son on her own, and from what we can tell, living at home caring for her very elderly parents (they are 83 and 84 years old).
From all accounts, my maternal grandparents were very influencial in her decision to put me up for adoption, and they are still alive.
I doubt her brothers knew I was born, or ever even conceived. It was the 60s, they lived in Warner Robbins, and my mother was sent away, to the Florence Crittenton Center for Unwed Mothers here in Atlanta for her last trimester and my birth. Her brothers were young, her being in college could easily have explained her abscence.
She was married at some point, and she's now divorced. I am not sure for how long now, but long enough that she's raising her son alone. Wasn't that one reason why she'd put me up for adoption? She didn't want to raise me alone, she felt I deserved a home with both parents, yet here she is now a single mother. Though I am old enough to know and understand it was a different place and a different time, how does she feel about it? Does she feel guilty that she's a single mother now and couldn't be then?
Does anyone even know about me? What if she never told her son or daughter? What must the prospect of me showing up be doing to her?
So, I put myself in her shoes, and I am trying not to let myself be disappointed by the fact that she didn't respond. I don't know where she is in her life, I don't know what she's thinking, and I don't know why she's not responded, but that's the way it is.
Without her help, there are some things I will never ever have the possibility of knowing. I will never know who my father was. I will never know which Indian tribe he was raised in. I will never know my heritage, hers or his. I will never know my half-siblings (my father had twin daughters a year before I was born, as well). I will never know what diseases run in my genetic line. I will never know or understand what caused so many sever illnesses so early in my life. I will never be able to tell my son what diseases could have been passed on to him. I will never be able to look at any of my biological family and see them in my son's face. I will simply never know.
So, the PI tells me, I should pick up the phone and call, or write her a letter and send her pictures of myself, my family. She tells me that I shouldn't give up, that I should reach out to J-.
But what if her lack of a response has been her answer?
