Into Uncharted Waters

Our first picture together--looking at the scrapbook

The morning prior to our meeting was uneventful, except for trouble finding the florist.  We pulled up in front of L's house after having spotted it first on our advance trip around the block.  She lives on a street that felt remarkably familiar for the types of houses, well-manicured esplanade, and positioning in a neighborhood that saw it's zenith in the 1950s.  Her house itself feels like the houses that I grew up visiting my relatives and friends in: two story with a front storm porch and a garage around the back accessed by an alley.

A Musical Interlude

If you've read through my story, you probably already have a good idea of why adult adoptees like myself search for their birth families--unanswered questions, medical history, mysteries of identity & heritage & a million stories we are always asked to tell because they are  written on our faces.  I've never heard that need to search and the frustrations with the challenges we face(unnecessarily, in my humble opinion) ever so clearly conveyed as in this amazing collaboration between Zara H Phillips and DMC (yes, of Run-DMC fame!).

Many thanks to the Adoption Mosaic blogger Tara who first posted this; I can't help but think it will clarify some remaining questions for readers & hopefully, personalize the agony of the unknown for those skeptics who are lucky enough to be able to take their own original identities for granted.

Even The Simplest Things Can't Be Easy

Boarding the plane in Houston to head to NY for both my momentous first meeting with my birth mother & my cousin's wedding, I still felt remarkably calm.  I was understandably excited but I had managed to build enough time into the travel schedule to feel relaxed.  We were to fly to Newark and then head to Albany (a very quick flight) from there.  We'd arrive on Thursday night early, settle in, have some dinner, get to bed early and meet L the following morning, leaving the whole day open for whatever we decided to do.  Saturday we'd lunch with my brother, Kristin, and my parents & then head to the wedding shortly thereafter.  Travel Day weather was bright & sunny, not a cloud on the horizon, nothing to mess up the schedule.

Planning to Meet

The tickets were purchased, the hotel reservations made, the reply card returned for my cousin's wedding.  A day I had waited a lifetime for was actually going to happen.  So why was I so calm?  Why wasn't I nervous?  Why I wasn't freaking out?

Preparation, preparation and more preparation.  A lifetime of preparation, two decades of potential scenarios and two years of conversations.  I hadn't rushed into this.  I hadn't forced this.  I was ready and more importantly, so was she.

I focused on creating a scrapbook that I could give to L that would give her a visual record of many key moments in my life that included pictures and stories about everyone closest to me including my parents, my brother, my aunts/uncles/cousins, my grandparents, my friends and of course, my husband.  I wanted to be certain that I wouldn't forget to tell her any stories that she might want to hear and wanted to leave her with proof that my life has always been a wonderful one.  I knew that, until she saw a pictorial record, she might never allow herself to truly believe that her decision was the right one, one that she need not feel guilty about any longer.

To Meet or Not To Meet?

Deciding whether or not to meet wasn't really a discussion L & I ever had. We spoke on the phone weekly for the first year after I found her and occasionally made reference to that day when we would "finally meet in person."

When you live 1500 miles apart, the first meeting is something that requires planning. It isn't just a question of hopping in the car and driving to the next town or across the state. It's a flight, a rental car, a hotel and advance planning.

Thoughts on Relationships

Finding my birthmother was a bit of a shock to me. Even though I had searched for nearly twenty years and had thought a great deal about what it might mean to find her and believed myself ready for any reaction she might have, I had never thought about the days, months and years AFTER I found her. Like a bride who is only focused on the wedding day and not the marriage, I had given zero consideration to what the consequences, possibilities, difficulties and oddities that are inherent in creating a relationship with another adult who has baggage (intense, scary, upsetting BAGGAGE) that is deeply associated with me and my birth.

My birthmother, who from now on will be referred to as L, just because it's easier, is a wonderful, loving, effusive, ebullient woman who has enjoyed her life to the fullest. She is also a widow who deeply misses her husband, who has lived with shame, guilt, anguish and regret over my relinquishment, and who has had a cascade of medical problems in the two years since I found her. She is easy to talk to, witty, a great listener, fiercely defensive of those she loves, melancholy, sometimes forgetful, and occasionally guarded. She and I are essentially linked by my birth but we were strangers to each other. She had hopes, dreams and aspirations for me that I could never have known about and I envisioned her life to have unfolded in a myriad of different directions without once guessing the real story.

Letting Things Ride

One of the recurrent realities of my search for my birth family has been that the need, that desire that drives my actions, has been one that ebbs and flows throughout the years. Sometimes I was consumed by the search, could think of nothing else, worked furiously on the internet, in chat rooms, in adoption search groups and read, read, read about other people's successes and failures. At other times, the search took a back seat to the rest of my life, to the immediacies of work, life, friends, family, and other passions.

Apparently, the need to blog about my story has ebbs and flows as well. When last I posted, I was about to detail the relationship that I built with my birthmother since I found her, what happened in the search for my birthfather, how the search impacted my relationship with my parents, and the question that everyone asks: did I finally meet any of these people in person?

Life is a constantly evolving adventure for me with new revelations and new experiences around every corner. I hope you're ready to hear more because I'm back in the writer's chair with lots more excitement to share!

Building a Relationship

How, you might ask, did things go after you found your birth mother? Did you talk and then never speak again? Have you met? Do you care about finding out more about your biological father? How, What, Who, When?

The questions are numerous and the answer is simple. Yes, my birth mother and I have continued to build our relationship since the day that I found her. We have a great deal in common politically, socially, personality-wise and hobbies, but we're also very different as we grew up in different times with different experiences and different world views. We started by finding the commonalities in our experiences and sharing them with each other. I never press too hard on any one topic and leave a lot of space for her to decide what's she comfortable talking about. We try to speak a couple of times each month and our calls are balanced--I don't impose on her and she doesn't overwhelm me.

Reactions

Speaking with my birth mother for the first time had a tremendous effect on me, but what sort of ripple effect did it cause for my family?

When What You're Searching For Finally Arrives

Hello?

Hi, this is Lisa Blinn, I believe you just called me?

There was a moment of silence, just the length of a heartbeat, then a deep breath, and then

Oh, hello! It's finally you! I'm XXXX XXXXXXXXX and I'm definitely your mother. Even if I hadn't been certain from the letter, the pictures leave no room for doubt...... The voice wavered and then there were sobs. As I murmured how wonderful it was to hear her voice and how ecstatic I was that she had called, she continued with what was to be a very important question for her and the first of many she would ask me.