I'll go ahead and tell you, this is a long post and has nothing at all to do with scrapping...
so you may or may not want to read it. ;)
In case
you don't know, I'm adopted. I've known as long as I can remember and
for that I am happy. My parents never made a big fuss about it, they
have loved me unconditionally - even with all the crap I put them
through. {Thanks}
While being adopted means it takes less time
to do my family history at the doctor's office, it also means that I
have no idea what kind of blood line I come from. The information I have
about my birth mother is limited, frankly very limited. And I would like to know
more.
When I
first started talking to my parents about this many years ago, I think my
Dad couldn't understand. I don't know if he took it personally or not, but I can imagine from a parents point of view it would be difficult. I love my Dad. He and I disagree about a lot of things, we argue, we {not so} secretly despise the other for being stubborn. Sometimes I think we've tried to kill each other with our eyes. But, I will always look up to him. This man taught me to change a tire, to speed (and subsequently allowed me to fail my first driving test because of that), to stand up for my beliefs, to do what needed to be done and most importantly to appreciate what I have. The man was a rock, a rock who makes my blood pressure sky rocket and drives me to tears - but a rock none the less.
My mom had a hand in all my teachings as well, but I've always had a great relationship with my mom. I have no qualms about telling her she is being overbearing and she backs down. I call her when I need advice, I laugh when she comments on how I don't do things the way she taught me (like folding clothes). She is the first person I call when I need help. I can talk to her for an hour on the phone and call her back 5 minutes later because I completely forgot to tell her something else.
My desire to search for my biological parents is in no way reflected on my parents doing a poor job. In fact, I would say the opposite. My parents taught me things, and while I think there are things they may have missed along the way - that is life. Some lessons you have to learn yourself. They molded me into who I am today.
But I still have unanswered questions. Who do I look like? Do I have brothers and sisters? Did my biological parents go on to lead happy, healthy lives? Where do they live?
Years ago I printed the registration form. I take it out and look at it, then put it back in the drawer. You would think, reading my post, that I would have sent it in a long time ago. But you know what, part of me just can't do it. What if she never told anyone about me? What if she hasn't registered and there is no information? What if I send this form in and never hear anything? I have a fear of rejection, I'll be the first to admit that.
But you know what, this year, as a birthday present to myself I am going to take the plunge. I'm going to send in the form. It could take six months or more, and I may never hear anything. But I believe I owe it to myself and to my children, at least to search for a medical history.
If something comes of that, then hooray. If not, nothing in my life will change. I'll still write n/a on all of the medical forms I come across. I'll still have a wonderful set of parents. I'll still have a wonderful husband and two beautiful children.
But as a birthday present to myself this year I am mailing off the form.
