My family is not perfect, but its perfectly compete now that I've found the missing pieces. I never realized until I found my mother and father, sisters, brother, stepbrother, stepsister, nieces, nephews, aunts, cousins (I could go on!!) how much I needed them. I was happy being adopted as a kid. I never felt any different with my family. My mom was my mom, my dad was my dad. I did miss having siblings. I always wanted sisters! Boy, now I have them. (yay me!)
I always wanted to know my mother. I always had a love for her. I had a vision of who she was in my mind (and when I met her, saw her younger pictures, it was right on). I even had a strange "dream", call it what you may, when I was about 12 years old. I woke up and told my best girlfriend Jessica who was sleeping over that I knew my mother's name was Pat. True story. Kinda strange.
When it came to my father, well, I didn't know any of the facts like I did with my mother. I knew she was young and did not have much choice in the matter I knew she didn't have her mother to help make decisions or help parent me if she kept me. I knew ENOUGH to know that whether she knew it at the time, she did not have any real choice but to put me up for adoption. Most importantly, in my years of NOT knowing her, I knew I loved her for putting me first. With my father, I had zero information. Nothing. Nada. What would you think?
Well, my parents had no information on my birth father so they had nothing to give to me. Those of you who read my blog know the story, i'm not going to rewrite that chapter today. He didn't know about me. Period. But as a child growing up, I didn't have this history. In my mind he was all kinds of things, but it honestly did not occur to me that he just didn't know.
I thought for many years after meeting my mother that I was fulfilled. I didn't think I needed to know my father. Of course I was interested in him. When she told me he didn't know about me, the interest sparked more. I could dismiss all those years of not so pleaseant thoughts I had about him running away from her in distress. Its always been my mother I've worried about. Funny to think now, that even as a child, I worried about her life and if she was ok. I knew I was happy. What about her? I wish for her sake that she knew I was ok. Well, I guess that is a whole other blog post!
As I watched the Locator with Troy Dunn on television again last night, I could see a piece of me in everyone one of those men and women searching for their birth parents. I cry with them everytime they find what they are looking for, good or bad. I've lived their lives in some ways, felt the highs and lows, made the hard decisions to search or not search. I feel a guilty happiness for me along with a sadness for them when I realize my outcome is better than many of them . (if you haven't seen this show, grab a box of tissues and see if you can make it without using one!)
I always wanted to know my mother. I always had a love for her. I had a vision of who she was in my mind (and when I met her, saw her younger pictures, it was right on). I even had a strange "dream", call it what you may, when I was about 12 years old. I woke up and told my best girlfriend Jessica who was sleeping over that I knew my mother's name was Pat. True story. Kinda strange.
When it came to my father, well, I didn't know any of the facts like I did with my mother. I knew she was young and did not have much choice in the matter I knew she didn't have her mother to help make decisions or help parent me if she kept me. I knew ENOUGH to know that whether she knew it at the time, she did not have any real choice but to put me up for adoption. Most importantly, in my years of NOT knowing her, I knew I loved her for putting me first. With my father, I had zero information. Nothing. Nada. What would you think?
Well, my parents had no information on my birth father so they had nothing to give to me. Those of you who read my blog know the story, i'm not going to rewrite that chapter today. He didn't know about me. Period. But as a child growing up, I didn't have this history. In my mind he was all kinds of things, but it honestly did not occur to me that he just didn't know.
I thought for many years after meeting my mother that I was fulfilled. I didn't think I needed to know my father. Of course I was interested in him. When she told me he didn't know about me, the interest sparked more. I could dismiss all those years of not so pleaseant thoughts I had about him running away from her in distress. Its always been my mother I've worried about. Funny to think now, that even as a child, I worried about her life and if she was ok. I knew I was happy. What about her? I wish for her sake that she knew I was ok. Well, I guess that is a whole other blog post!
As I watched the Locator with Troy Dunn on television again last night, I could see a piece of me in everyone one of those men and women searching for their birth parents. I cry with them everytime they find what they are looking for, good or bad. I've lived their lives in some ways, felt the highs and lows, made the hard decisions to search or not search. I feel a guilty happiness for me along with a sadness for them when I realize my outcome is better than many of them . (if you haven't seen this show, grab a box of tissues and see if you can make it without using one!)
I think often of Troy Dunn's famous quote " You can't find peace until you find all the pieces". What a beautiful true statement! My puzzle has been completed, my pieces fit together now with no holes or gaps. My puzzle sits on my dresser in my bedroom in the form of beautiful pictures of men and woman who are a part of me, one way or another, linked to my heart.
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