|
Become
a
columnist.
Or
write an article. |
||
ColumnsFiona
Brewer
|
The Search"I'm
special, I have two mums". What better an attention grabber in
the cut-throat world of a primary school playground, where attention
spans were short and fickle? I
don't recall the moment I was told I was adopted - I just remember
always knowing. All through primary school, it only meant one
thing - a certainty of a gang of riveted children hanging on my every
word. I never once thought of my 'second mum' as a person really.
I didn't really have
fantasies about her or ask about her at home. When
I hit the terrible teens, I started to wonder. Who was she? Where
was she? Did I look like her? And more
importantly, why didn't she want me? Actually, quite important
also was what she looked like. I have never looked like anyone. I
have spent my life being insanely jealous of people who looked like
their mam and dad or their siblings. My brothers are adopted too,
so I had no-one that I could see myself in. Of course I had certain
traits of my parents but nothing physical. I
found myself getting very angry. What was wrong with me? How dare
she! I was very hostile towards her but it was very frustrating. It
is not easy to carry a grudge against something that is not tangible.
I had no solid thing to thrust my anger at. That was the hardest feeling
of all - I had so many conflicting emotions but nowhere to channel
them. I took a lot of this out on my own parents- they at least were
there in person. Part
of me hated her deeply, this woman who had thought so little of me
that she would abandon me. Why should I care about her if she so obviously
didn't care about me. The other part wanted desperately to know her,
to find out the reasons why. Constantly
having to direct my anger at shadows led me to want to find this woman.
Who was she anyway? I thought that if I could know more about her,
I would have something to direct my feelings at. I kept this quiet
for a while because I did not want to hurt my parents. Would they
feel betrayed? I was afraid they would think that I didn't think they
were good enough parents for me. I
eventually broached the subject with my mother and found her quite
prepared for this moment. She made an appointment with the adoption
agency to talk to them and she went with me on the day. In my naievte
I presumed I could start a search immediately and that I would have
it all sorted very soon. As
it was, I was only 16 and therefore by law was not able to start a
search until I had turned 18. I was extremely disappointed but I was
still able to get background info. The change in my emotions was immediate.
My animosity melted as I sat in the office reading my file. I discovered
that my mother was only 19 when she had me. I was shocked, as that
was only 3 years older than I was. I could not imagine having a baby
at that age. I
found out that she had explored every option and realised that I would
get a better life elsewhere. It suddenly struck for the first time
that this must have been the hardest decision that she could ever
had to make. A real person was jumping off at the page at me. Finally,
I had a tangible hold on her. I read that she had the same colour
hair and eyes as me and that she was considered to be very mature
and thoughtful at the time. I
left that evening with a promise to myself that once I turned 18,
I would look for her. I no longer wanted to berate her or question
her. I merely wanted to thank her for giving me the opportunity that
she did. It could so easily have been so different. The
next few years were spent wondering where she was, was she alive?
Did she think of me as much as I thought of her? Soon
after my 18th birthday I wrote a letter to the Adoption Agency that
I was adopted from, asking them to initiate a search. I was told there
was a waiting list and that it would be approximately 3 years. I left
it alone, and waited. It
went out of my mind over the years. I was in college and I had other
things to think about it. However, in 1999, the papers were full of
Adoption news and there was an address for information about searching.
My
original letter forgotten, I wrote another to the agency, again asking
them to initiate a search. I knew that the waiting list was even longer
now and so I prepared myself for a long wait. It
was a few months later that I received a phone call from my agency
to say that I was top of the list and did I still want to start the
search. I was in shock, this was way too soon! I wasn't ready for
this, or was I? I decided
it had to be now or never. The
counselling was very thorough. I was made aware of all possibilities
- that my mother was dead, that she would not want to know me or that
they wouldn't be able to find her. I agreed to go ahead, knowing that
I would not forgive myself if I passed up the chance. That
was in November. By the start of the following summer I had received
another phone call. This time it was to tell me that they had found
my mother. Not only that but she was very interested in contacting
me too. I was in work at the time and obviously not prepared for this
bombshell. I cried and cried, a million things going through my mind. Was
I doing the right thing? Maybe I should have left well enough alone.
What would my parents think? I
asked the counsellor to give me some time to think. and I spoke about
it with my parents. I must take this opportunity to thank them. I
have so much admiration for them. There were so strong and supportive
about the whole thing. I still felt very guilty, that I had let them
down in some way. Here were two people who had raised me, who had
educated me, loved me and given me everything I needed in life and
I felt like I was turning my back on them. Thankfully, they did not
feel this way but the guilt was still there. I was never looking for
a replacement parent. As far as I am concerned, the couple who brought
me up and cared for are my mother and father and that will never change. The
first step was to write to my birth mother. This took me months. I
made many rewrites. I didn't know what to say. It also took me ages
to pick the right photos. I wanted to make sure I got one that showed
my character. For more practical reasons I had to make sure that it
was a picture with only me in it. Eventually I sent it and waited
to see what would come of it. It
was still not real to me. I was still dealing with a person who only
existed for me on paper. I was still chasing shadows. Then in November
2000 I came home to find the familiar brown envelope in my letterbox.
It
took me a long time to open it. A few photographs fell out of the
envelope but I could not look at them, I was afraid to make her real.
I read the letter but nothing sank in - I was far too emotional. I
read it over and over until eventually a picture of her started to
form in my head. Here she was - my mother. The woman who had given
birth to me. She was lovely, she was friendly and funny. She was a
flesh and blood person - my flesh and blood. She
spoke of how she had always thought of me and always wondered where
I was. It was then that I looked at the photos. The first one shocked
me - I was looking at a mirror image. Well, a mirror of me at 7 years
old. We may as well have been the same person. My heart jumped! I
looked like someone! I looked then to the other photos of her now.
Those were my eyes, my nose, my smile. I cannot begin to describe
the rush of pride I felt when my boyfriend said that I looked like
her. This was something I had wanted all my life. I felt as though
a huge piece of my life had fallen into place. The
proverbial ball is currently in my court. I have yet to reply to her
letter, it does not get any easier the second time around. After all
my rushing to get this to this point I find that I want to take it
as slowly as possible now that I am here. I am no longer dealing with
a shadow person, this is a real woman with a family and a life that
I am about to re-enter
after 23 years. It is no longer all about me. I will stay in contact and I do want to meet her. I still need to thank her for the opportunity she gave me but I also hope to get to know her. One search is over and another is about to begin. by
|
Topics
Arts
and Entertainment
|