Ramblings of a Shadow

There are two sides to every question.
Protagoras

Tonight, my son and wife were talking about the new baby. He was asking if my wife would have a phone in her room so he could call her. She told him she did when he was born. He then asked if she remembered what the number was but she didn’t. She told him that she wouldn’t be going to the same hospital but instead to the one closer since we moved after he was born. Anyway, he commented that he wished the baby was going to be born at the same hospital.

My wife replied that her sister and she were born at two different hospitals and that it was okay. She then explained which hospitals they were born at. I was in his room making his bed when I heard him ask her what hospital I was born in. I felt my heart skip a beat. She told him she wasn’t sure so he came to ask me. I told him that supposedly I was born in Orange Memorial but I am not sure. He asked why. I told him the agency won’t tell me and that I couldn’t really explain why.

This child of mine, this sweet brilliant child of mine says to me, “but you’re an adult, why can’t you know now?”

I could only look at him and smile that smile. The smile I use as a defense against letting my feelings really be shown, or my pain. Such a simple question which should have had such a simple answer. Funny how absurd this seems thru the eyes of child but not in the rules of an agency.

Oh well, it’s all about protecting the children, right?

Facing a mirror you see merely your own countenance; facing your child you finally understand how everyone else has seen you.
Daniel Raeburn

My son had recently found my old game boy and has been playing non-stop. My wife had put a limit on his time, and since he was over, I told him to turn it off. The normal moaning about being unfair was heard but no biggie. About half an hour later, I went to check my email and there was a note on my computer that read, “I know you hate me, end of story.” (Okay, it actually read “Dear Dad I kow yu hate me! end fo store)

I was floored. Intellectually, I still get that kids say stuff but emotionally, it was a dagger. I went to him and asked him about it and he just said that was the way it was. I explained I didn’t hate him but he just kept saying yes you do. I was so angry.

Let’s face it though, it shouldn’t have bothered me as much but I have already been a bit angry this week and it struck that hurt child in me. Even with the name, it’s like finding a particular needle in a needle stack. Nothing seems to match my non-id even remotely and everytime I find someone who seems to have something, there is something else that doesn’t match at all. I’m not quitting though.

Then there are the questions, “why are you still doing this if she doesn’t want to see you?” “Don’t you think you are pushing to hard for this?” “Are you going to contact her if you find her?” “What about her right to privacy?”

What about her right to privacy? Is there really a right to privacy between family? Is her choice to give me away for whatever reason, preclude my right to know where I came from? Does having the information and knowledge mean I have to disrupt her life? Of course not, there is still an aunt and uncle out there who supposedly know that I exist, even if they don’t know who I am. There are a multitude of possibilities out there. Heck, even just to write her a letter directly, without the agency having ro review it, and ask for my father’s name and nothing else would be great.

“Why don’t you just get over it?” I think this is my favorite one in a not sort of way. Do you cut a tree down and tell it to get over the loss of it’s roots? Do you expect to graft a lemon tree onto an orange tree and expect it to start producing oranges? Of course not. In many ways I wish I was blood related to the people who raised me. Unlike some adoptees parents I know, they are good people. People who took me in as their own. Not as “if” but as there own. That would be a honor but I can’t be. I will always carry the family name and always consider them my parents and nothing will change that. But despite all that, to never have the need to know where you came from, to never not know. How cool would that be but it’s something I can’t really imagine just as many people can’t imagine what it’s like to not know but to want to know to the very core of your being.

There are no accidents. God’s just trying to remain anonymous.
Brett Butler’s unnamed friend

A funny thing happened right after I wrote that last post. I went to work, had a blah day, then came home to another envelope from the agency. Inside was a note stating they had closed my file and asked me to fill out a questionnaire on their services. Riiiggghhhhhttttt. I would be glad to share my feelings with you.

However, you have heard the saying about God closing a door and opening a window? Well, he closed the door on this agency and opened the french doors for me. I accidently came across her name. I don’t know if it’s her maiden or married name and there is a chance it’s not really her name but more than likely, considering the context, it is one or the other. I and a host of others have been trying to match something up with this name and so far no go but we haven’t given up yet.

Too have a name though. When I found it on Thursday, an hour before leaving work for the funeral, I was in shock, tears, and grinning like a fool.

Friday, I couldn’t concentrate. I kept re-reading stuff and still have no idea what it was. There are certain steps I have to do every Friday at work and I found my self having to go thru them again and again because I kept forgetting what I had already done. My boss told me to take the rest of the day off when I told him. So I went home and started to search but my brain couldn’t put two thoughts together coherently. Heck, it’s amazing it could still keep my blood pumping and lungs breathing, although I am positive my heart was skipping every few beats.

Saturday was my son’s birthday party so I was extra busy with that all day and today I have been playing with my son. This evening I haven’t done much either. Just relaxing watching an old twilight zone.

So another week starts with Christmas just around the bend and I have a name. I don’t know if I will have anything more by Christmas but it looks like I have a name.

Okay, so besides not having my name right, the other thing as I mentioned last post was that it starts off with “We are delighted that we could assist you with search and reunion services. Our best wishes to you for a continuing, positive relationship.” As I said, I am not sure what relationship they are talking about because it obciously wasn’t with my mom or with them. Anyway, I wrote back:

On Friday I recieved a letter from (The Agency) with a request for a letter of recommendation or a donation. However, I don’t know if you are fully aware of the way this letter comes across.

For example, the first name on the envelope and letter isn’t mine. The letter was addressed to David Sandifer, not Daniel, at my address and while I can understand this may have been a typo, for someone who is trying to find a part of their identity, it isn’t a small thing.

The second issue was the first two lines. “We are delighted that we could assist you with search and reunion services. Our best wishes to you for a continuing, positive relationship.” Exactly what “continuing, positive relationship” are we talking about? Again, as an adoptee, this struck me as a bit harsh as I don’t have a continuing or positive relationship with my birthmother nor am I likely too and with the holiday season coming up, this was a bit painful to read.

I realise these are probably just form letters, but it seems a bit more care should have been taken to how they would be percieved. Please remove me from these requests as I don’t want to recieve them anymore.

Respone one within 2 minutes:

HUGE MISTAKE!! VERY SORRY!!

Response two within 10 minutes:

M asked me to respond to your message. I am very sorry you received this letter in error. It was unintentional and was not meant to cause you any pain. We understand that this is very difficult in light of your not having contact with your birth mother. I sincerely hope this will not cause bad feelings on your part with (The Agency.) We hope that in time your deep wound will heal.

I feel so much better, in a NOT sort of way. You were right kim.kim, I should have asked for money.

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
Anne Bradstreet (1612 – 1672), ‘Meditations Divine and Moral,’ 1655

So it finally happened. I got a letter from the agency. My heart nearly did a flip-flop. I began opening the other mail on top of it, trying to calm down, not wanting to hope too much for fear of disappointment. Heck, I reread the stupid home mortgage ad twice before I realise it was trash. Finally, I got to the letter. It felt thin so my trepidation rose some as I cut it open and pulled out the letter head. Oh no, not what you were thinking, nor me for that matter. It was a letter asking for a donation. Asking me, who paid them a bunch of money already to be told nothing, to donate a bit more for nothing. To top it all off, my wife pointed out that they had the wrong first name on the envelope. I checked the letter again and they had it there too. Correct last name, right address, but wrong first name. (Okay, the first intial was the same but still.) So you ask for money and can’t even get my NAME right? Do you take Monopoly Money? Did you search for the RIGHT person?

Claud pointed to this posting on MSN groups that is pretty heartwrenching as well. Go check it out but take tissues.

To top it off, the son of an aquaintence of mine has passed away, he too an adoptee who never reunited. I am going to the funeral even though I don’t know them that well, I feel like it’s an honoring of a brother so to speak. He once said to his mom that “no one knows who I am…I don’t even know who I am” I may not know who he was, but I know how he felt.

EDIT: Oh yeah, the letter starts out with “We are delighted that we could assist you with search and reunion services. Our best wishes to you for a continuing, positive relationship.” So exactly what relationship are they talking about?

One kind word can warm three winter months.
Japanese proverb

Winter is upon us and granted it’s only in the lower 70′s here but it is still winter. Thanksgiving has passed and now the Christmas rush is upon us. A time for family and friends, a time to buy gifts and hopefully get gifts (yeah, I know you aren’t supposed to give to recieve but I have a list if you want to see it. ) A time to remember the birth of Jesus and to hope for peace on Earth and goodwill toward men.

So tell me Christmas
Are we kind
More this day than any other day
Or is it only in our mind
And must it leave when you have gone away
(TSO – Christmas Eve and Other Stories This Christmas Day

For the last few years I have been getting more into the family thing. Truly knowing what it is to be loved by another who is not from the family I grew up with. It’s a weird experience to say the least for someone who never really allowed themselves to get to close. I feel a safeness I don’t remember feeling in a long time. A feeling of being wanted and needed, of belonging.

There is another aspect to this Christmas, however. An aspect that occasionally brings that familiar tightness to my chest. My mom knows I want to find her. I keep hoping that the season will warm her heart and give her the courage to contact me. Just one kind word. As the day draws closer I find my mind drifting more and more to that small hope. They say wishes can come true under the Christmas Star. If this is true, then I wish with all my heart. What a gift that would be to know both my moms. One is a link to my ancestry and birth, the other a link to my childhood. Both are linked to my future.

Speaking of my future, my son’s birthday is coming up before Christmas. Another of those moments that can be painful. I still feel the twinges of jealousy toward him, although it has dissipated a lot. I am worried about him. I don’t want him to feel replaced by the new baby so I will have to work on that. We should find out the sex of the baby this week and then we are going to let my son pick out the name (from a predetermined list of course. We don’t want to name our baby Hot Wheels or Legos, after all. Then again, he usually goes for the snake names so it would probably Cobra for a girl and Viper for a boy. Guess that’s better than being called an Asp.)

EDIT: Okay, after I wrote the above and started to drive to my VFW meeting, I decided I couldn’t go and just needed to come home and get a hug form my wife and son. That got me thinkging about another thing that is really bugging me. The thought that she might be alone this holiday, since the agency says she doesn’t have contact with the rest of the family and her husband passed away. It scares me to think she is sitting alone with her fears, shame, pain, or whatever so I wish she has someone who will listen or just be there for her.