I met my birth mother this weekend. (Here is the first post about it.)
It is difficult to know what to share here. She remains a very private person, and it is not my role to tell her story. Except, of course, that her story is my story.She still does not want to tell her other kids about me, and I understand her wishes. (So, I’m not using her name, and I’m still not going to contact her children. I had included her photo here, but after this post got so much more traffic than usual, I decided to take it down. It’s an imperfect science.)
I visited with her for over 3 hours. She answered all my questions. She received the photos I gave her of me and of her 3 wonderful grandsons. She said I could continue to write to her and call her occasionally.
I now know I will have spectacular silver grey hair in my future.
I have always known that placing a baby for adoption in 1968 was very different than my experience of placing a baby for adoption in 1989. Hearing her talk Saturday, I realized just how very different our experiences were.
I’m grateful to have met her and given her a hug. I was able to thank her for giving me life and for giving me up. I tried to convey gratitude from my parents. One of my boys said to tell her he was thankful she had me so that I could have him.
I don’t know if I’ll see her again, but I’ve seen her, and for that I’m forever grateful. It is enough. Anything else will be pure gift. I am satisfied and at peace.
Thank you to everyone who prayed for me, sent me good thoughts, called, texted, and commented this weekend. Even as this has been a solo journey of discovery, I’m so grateful for your support and love. I never felt like I was on my own.