Hello. Ring ring ring ring......
Not answering.... again. I don't remember the last time I talked to my birthmom.
I do not recall us having a bad talk.... I know she got a new apartment and was going to move- she had stayed in one place for 10 years waiting for me and her son to find her. She said she would not move without telling me and letting me know. I have always done the same for her.
Every time I let a year go by I worried everyday that something had happened to her, she moved, died, got sick..... and I would not know.
We have a set up now that some of her friends would contact me if something happened to her.... but her friends I have learned are not all that reliable.
But it is not like her phone is disconnected- it has never been. She is quite responsible about her bills.
So... what is she thinking as the phone sits ringing. What does she want? Does it put her in a mood- is she MAD? Does she turn the ringer off- cringe? Roll her eyes?
Is she happy to just know I WANT to talk to her?
Where is she at with me and all of this? How does she feel now knowing that I did want her and need her.... that my life is not all peaches and cream... or does she think- that it really was and I am just really a lying spoiled little brat who has no appreciation for her sacrifice?
the thing is- I did not ask for any of it.
Had I been there who knows what I would have decided? I wasn't asked. She did what she thought was best- and it probally was best.
After giving me up things that happen to me were not her fault- it was the people that did those things fault? Now is it my fault for not hiding in a shell and LYING to her about everything being perfect as I had for 6 years..... I don't know. Did I make the wrong call? It is apparent to most I am not perfect and have some "issues" - everybody does?
She is no saint that is for sure.... she wanted better for me- and I got it. Thanks. So now you want me to be grateful and perfect to.... what is this the theme in my life?
I think it is funny to think that humans would not be affected by being adopted and raised by a different family. How could we not be?
Sure I don't know all the ways I was affected and I never ever will.... but to think that I wouldn't be affected is just ludicrous.
Call it whatever you want to- being an adoptee means something. Being adopted means something.
I also think about those people who think that their children pick them.... well- why would we choose such a rocky road? Are we destructive souls from the start? Bumbling idiots who couldn't wind up in the right womb?
If children are to pick their parents wouldn't many pick better?
What about the starving children in 3rd world countries.
It doesn't make any sense.
So enough about that.....
I plan to write her a short letter just asking for her to drop me a post card and tell me she is okay.
She is okay- she is just you know- messed up. She's had a rough life.
I miss her and I love her and I just want her to pick up the damn phone.