Bloodlines

Yesterday was my birth mother's birthday. Just three days after mine. I've never not known that I was adopted. However, it wasn't until just about a year ago that I found my birth mother. As I was growing up, of course, I had a curiosity about who she was, why she gave me up for adoption, and if she had another family. I also had a healthy amount of respect for her privacy and for the feelings of my mom and dad. A few years after Kate was born my parents gave me the legal documents pertaining to my adoption. And there is was: her name. My parents had also told me, over the years, just a few pertinent details, like where I was born, and that my birth mom sang in the choir (!). Even with this information, it's really not ever been in the forefront of my thoughts.

But then last April, purely on a whim, I googled her name. And I got a hit. An obituary. I read it, my heart about to pound out of my chest. As I read, every detail I knew about her was confirmed. It was her. She'd died less than a year ago, after a lengthy illness. I read all the condolences left on the online guest book. She was loved by a lot of people. And she had a family. A daughter just about a year older than me. And two sons who died in infancy. A sister. It was a lot to digest.

Because you can find just about anything on the internet, I tracked down the minister who presided at her funeral and sent him an email. Then I waited. One, two, three days passed without any response. I decided to try one more time and within thirty minutes he had responded. He'd just been at the church a short time when she died, but he directed me to the church secretary, who'd known my birth mother her whole life.

The first email I got from this kind woman just made me bawl. She gave me a brief biography of this woman who shared my bloodline. She sang (alto). I sing (alto). She crocheted. I cross stitch (or used to). Her career path was not unlike mine. She died of emphysema. I quit smoking 27 years ago (thank you John Hawes). In the time it took me to read the email I had answered 48 years of questions. It was one of the most powerful moments of my life.

A couple of days later in the mail I received two packages. One contained old church directories with pictures of my birth mother, her children and her parents. I didn't see a striking resemblance to my birth mother, but I could see myself in her mother.

The second package contained an intricate crocheted wall hanging that my birth mother had created. The church secretary had bought it at a hospital bazaar and thought it would be good for me to have. It's a sampler piece that says "Bless This House." It's hanging on the wall just outside my office. Another thing my birth mother had labored over was now mine.

Telling my parents all of this was not hard, just very emotional. I think they were pretty relieved when I said that I didn't have any desire to make further contact with the family. Like I said, I have a healthy respect for both sets of parents and I have no regrets about that decision. I don't even regret that my search didn't happen a year earlier. I am confident that God's timing is always perfect and I have a peace in my soul.

Happy Birthday, Anne.