And I guess it would be cheaper than therapy- which I think most people- having the week I have had..... would also need.
I guess I will introduce myself....
My name is Emilie. I grew up in Northern Illiniois and was adopted when I was 13 days old by my family. A teacher and a insurance salesman. They had tried for 8 years to get pregnant and waited on an adoption list for 5 of those years. My dad really wanted a girl so they got skipped over the Number one spot and then they got ME!
3 months later they were pregnant. Yes. I know- that happens alot. and 9 months following they had my brother. Their biological son. But I was chosen. Special.
So my life goes on. I always knew I was adopted. I had a file on my adoption with some information about my birth mother and father. She was 22. Old enough to know better right.
I found her through the adoption agency I was put thru when I was 20. She had had a rough life but had her own apartment and we seemed alot alike.
I had planned to go and see her then... but my amom freaked out and wanted to go along. It was not her place.... so I felt to not hurt my amom I would just not go at all.
So we lost contact and I would call her every couple of months.... or once a year. If I had gotten married, had a baby, moved. Always thinking- the next time I call she would have moved, died, gone to prison.... Something. The guilt I felt and the want to have her in my life and the confusion I felt.... well it was all too much to bear.
So in August I started calling her- regularly. I could tell something was different about her. She was guarded- who wouldn't be. The pain I caused her. Man.
But finally I broke through and we decided she was to come out around our birthdays. We were both born in October- just a few days apart. Then my son broke his femur.... and was put into a SPICA cast- which is this HUGE cast that goes from his rib down his left leg down his right leg to the knee with a bar adjoining the two legs.... oh- and there is a cut out for him to relieve himself.... which mainly ends up wherever he happens to be laying.....
I digress.... so we decided to postpone the trip a few weeks.
She is to be here November 6th. The days leading up to her arrival are full of excitement.
I am preparing the house and the room she will stay in. I have gotten gardening magazines since I know she likes gardening.... and a pair of pink fuzzy socks.... she got me socks too- odd right.
And she arrives by bus. I go to pick her up and we see each other and hug. She is a good 5 inches taller than I- her 5'11 and I maybe 5'6. She had these tall boots on to top it off and tight leggings a maroon v-neck sweater with lots of jewelry. She looked strong and rough. But beautiful.... and so much like me.
We got in my car and headed to my house. She was in my HOUSE! It was so great. Neither of us cried and it was just comfortable.... but we were both excited. We spent Tuesday at my house.... her drinking a few beers and smoking ciggerettes- going thru pictures and just hanging out.
Tuesday night we layed in her bed and we cried. I cried for the mother I never had- her pain and mine. I cried for this feeling of peace and closeness I had never felt before in my life- that I was feeling lying next to her. I cried for what seemed like hours. We talked little and we just held each other and sobbed. It was the most intimate moment of my life. The most open I have ever been. I felt real- not living someone elses reality- but home. Where I was meant to be. True.
I woke up Wednesday morning.... feeling like a new person- and for once with my life- the world felt right and I sat alone with my thoughts.
Wednesday we ran errands did a Dr.s appointment and lunch, and WalMart. She insisted on buying us some things..... and I let her.
We got home and she started to act strange. Very upset with my 3 year old son who is in a body cast. So she went outside. When I went out to her awhile later- I found her very upset and speaking very meanly about my son and my parenting. I tried to explain that he normally was not so whiny but that he was in a body cast.... to no avail. I went inside.
She came in awhile later and I tried to speak to her. She informed me she was leaving.
The confusion and pain seared thru me like a knife. What does she mean?
I tried to talk to her, with her, figure out what was going on and all she did was lash out at me. Screaming at me in an angry tone that I was a spoiled little brat. My kids were whiny spoiled brats and we were basically terrible people. She even said my house smelled like urine.
She was screaming at me and it just never stopped. It still hasn't stopped.
I can not relate all she said to me- as I am trying to forget it. But it was not nice. She took anything I had ever shared with her and stepped on it. On me.
So I left. She was obviously troubled and I got my husband to watch our home and get her to the bus station. She apologized to him - said she would call me- and she has not called me.
Her boyfriend says she does this sometimes... but he can not figure out why she would have treated me this way- as I was all she ever talked about. He was crushed and promised to stay in touch.... he has not either. She may be mentally ill, on drugs and most likely a combination of the two..... it does not make it better to my heart tho. To my soul.
This happend 1 week ago tomorrow.
I have not heard from her and I do not know how to feel.
My friends say things like- well she really was a stranger anyway.... you did not know her.... like she was nobody to me. She was everything to me.