Friday, December 13, 2013

the first four days and my life will never be the same

i shed my first real tear today. i got a little misty on tuesday, reading all the responses to my fb updates about finding my birth mother. i was holding someone else's 5-month old infant, strapped onto me in a carrier. she cried most of the day. she missed her mother.

my eyes got wet on wednesday evening when a reunited adoptee offered to meet for coffee and talk. she told me about her reunion, and hearing her story it began to set in. the earth shattering life altering absolutely wild incomprehensible sum total of what had just happened, what was about to just happen.

today, during the intake for a physical medicine appointment i told my doctor about my search. i told him i wanted to tell him because it was in my body but i wasn't ready to talk about it. i guess i ended up talking a bit, enough, to shed a tear. a real tear. i did not blink it back or stifle it, i let it run down my cheek. just one. the first.

on tuesday morning i got the email. it was early - i didn't have to be to work until 10 but i had to get up at 7 to take my thyroid medication, and then i could eat and shower and get ready for the hour-long commute to my nanny job. so 7 am. i had a tooth extracted the day before, my jaw was stiff and sore and my mouth still tasted of blood. i looked at my phone, as i do every morning, bleary eyed, to check my emails.

mostly it's Joann's coupons and store newsletters, but sometimes there is something worthwhile.

i saw i had an email from KAS. because of the magic of mail preview, this is what it said:

KAS
Re: Birth Family Search Request
Dear ---x---. Hello, this is Sara Yun from Korea Adoption Services. First...

i read those words and recoiled. it sounded like bad news. or at least, more of no news. i had accepted that i might not ever get an answer to my searching. i didn't really think this could be The Email. whatever it was - it was 7am and i was going to have a long week and i was not ready to read it.

after about 5 minutes, i said to myself "you ridiculous human being, what are you doing, OPEN THE FUCKING EMAIL," and so i did.

and --that-- is the moment my life changed forever.

i'm scared. i'm terrified. i'm excited. i'm feeling everything that it is possible to feel, i think, and probably a few more things. this is truly standing on the edge of the unknown. and i know, i KNOW, that whatever comes next will fuck with my heart in ways i can't even begin to anticipate. nothing will protect me from what this process will do to me. as an adoptee - nothing has been easy. nothing has been painless. but i have survived it.

and so, what choice do i have but to take a deep breath and step into the abyss.

when i started my search, i did it because i didn't want to live my life not having searched. i was only 25 but had recently met adoptees older and younger than me who done their searches only to find their mothers had already passed. this possibility had never really entered into my consciousness, and i realized that i could wait around until i was "ready" (and really, when are you ever "ready" for this?) or  do it before i ran out of chances.

i emailed my local agency on August 23, 2010 to start my search.

four days later, i sent this email to my close queer adoptee friend:

"i have started my birth family search. that's about all i have to say on the subject at the moment. they said it could take a while. but. opening."

i'm trying hard not to have expectations. i am trying to go forward with an open head and open heart for whatever may come. i'm not looking for this to "fix" me - i don't feel broken anymore.

the waiting is the worst. first, three years, countless emails, to get to here. and now, waiting again. for the next step. knowing that people who don't want me to know my birth mother are the ones in control.

whenever i get a new email i feel like i'm going to throw up. and when it isn't ESWS, when it isn't me being one.step.closer to knowing my mother's name, my heart hurts.

here i am. day four and my life will never be the same.

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