Blessdom: Story of a Girl

Chapter Nine – Dear Stranger

Unfolding and reading the letter, sent to me by this stranger who had given me life, not once, but twice, was one of the most surreal experiences I have ever had in my life. It seems like a dream, looking back now. A dream that I only have bits and pieces of. The details are gone, and the parts I remember seem clouded. But, I remember the feelings.

The paper seems so loud as I unfolded it. The sound seemed to echo through the house, echoing the vast feeling of …. nothing... I was feeling. How does one, in such an emotionally charged situation, feel nothing. It was more than nothing. It like standing knee deep in a black pool of eternal nothingness. That is the best way I can describe it.

I had shut myself off from feeling anything, because I didn't know what I should be feeling. My life was in utter turmoil, and now I was now about to time travel to what felt like some other person's life.

As I started to read, I searched within myself for some kind of connection to this woman who claimed to be my mother. Again, nothing. She was a stranger. I had a mother. She wasn't it. But her letter told me that she had been engaged to my father and he left her early in her pregnancy. It was pressure from her family that led her to give me up. She had never married or had any other children. Her name was Carol.

I read the letter several times. Still searching for something within me. I finally put it down and felt very much like I didn't need to know anything else. I tucked the letter in with my bills and other assorted mail, like it just normal thing to have a letter from a stranger who is supposedly your mother. I don't remember if I had told anyone that I had received the letter or not. I wasn't big into sharing at that time. (Or really, ever. I have always been private with my emotions and inner thoughts, but I digress)

Later that day, as I walked passed my mail, the thought occurred to me that I would like for Carol to know about me. She should know that I have had a good life and that I have great kids that I adore mothering. That my parents taught me how to love abundantly. And how I had never felt abandoned or unloved, as so many adopted people do. So I poured a glass of wine, and sat down to write a letter.

I wish I could recount exactly how many of our polite and informative letters went back and forth and for how long. I wish I could remember exactly when Carol sent me a picture. It may have been with the first letter, the second, third.... I don't remember. I can't recall when I sent her pictures of me and the kids. After all, I was in the process of divorcing, moving and trying to navigate two young children through it all. But, I do remember, very clearly, how I studied her photograph, and thinking that there was a mistake. We don't look anything alike. She was not my mother. However, in her sisters, I could see my eyes, my cheek bones and a little of my smile. Funny, how Carol resembled her sisters so much, but not me.

Over the next several months that followed, my life changed drastically. The kids and I left our small town and the house that I loved and moved in with my life long friend and heart-sister, Kristi and her baby girl. As the divorce progressed, and fights over stuff and money became less frequent, I found myself thinking more and more about Carol. Letters were still being exchanged. Kristi pressed me to talk about it, not allowing me to keep wading in the pool of nothingness. And I found, that although I still didn't feel like she was a missing piece of my puzzle, I did want to meet Carol. I wanted to meet her, her sisters and her mothers.

One day, during dinner with what had really become Our family, the conversation turned to Carol. I often wonder what my kids thought of that whole thing. They didn't ask a lot of questions. When I had explained who Carol was, they reacted like it was the most natural thing in the world to have a birth mother and parents. At the table that night, however, Kristi had asked a question that I really already knew the answer too. “Are you going to ever meet her?” she asked. I responded that of course I was, one day. And to that, she added, “What are waiting for? You have a day off tomorrow. I can watch the kids. Why don't you phone her and see if you could go visit her.”

Let me tell you that the rush of emotions that flooded over me was the most mixed bag one could experience. Fear. Curiosity. Anxiety. Excitement. Insecurity. Confidence. Even with all that, I knew that this spontaneous approach was exactly right for me. No time to over think or change my mind. The kids thought it was cool. They told me to go for it. Josh, who was particularly sensitive to my emotions, told me to go for it. I heard myself saying, “Yeah. I should do that. No time like the present.” We finished up dinner and dialed the phone.

Actually, I dialed it several times. I was feeling nervous and my hands were shaky, and I kept dialing wrong. But on the fourth attempt, Carol answered the phone. It was obviously the right time for us to meet, because she just happened to have the next day off as well, and didn't have any specific plans. So it was decided, that I would walk onto the ferry the next morning and she would meet me on the other side.

Surprisingly, that night, I slept really well.