2012-08-29

Missing Puzzle Pieces

I was around the age of 8 or 9 when Michael Corsey from down the street cornered me in the playground at school and asked if he could fertilize me.  Being thoroughly repulsed, I replied, "Ew!  No!" and ran away.  I was no dummy - my parents had taught me a thing or two.  Fertilizing meant spreading manure!

I realize now, Michael's parents must had given him "The Facts of Life" talk.  I never did get that talk - my mother thought an information pamphlet from the medical clinic would be sufficient.  But not to worry, I figured it all out eventually.

But truthfully, I was never one of those curious kids that pester their parents with questions about how they got here and where babies come from.  I knew where I came from - I was a chosen baby.  At least, that's how my mother explained it to me when, as a young child, she sat me down on her knee and  attempted to explain adoption to me.  I was chosen.

My mom tried to explain it in terms a young child can understand - I was born in a nursing home for unwed mothers and my mother was unable to look after me.  My parents wanted another child, so they "chose" me.  That sounds straight-forward, right?  Except that I knew nursing homes were where old people lived, so for years, whenever other kids asked me why I was adopted, I'd reply, "because my mother was too old."   But I eventually figured out the "unwed" part and put two and two together.

Isn't that an old-fashioned term - "unwed mother"?  And here's another - "born out of wedlock".  And there's a worse one that springs to mind!  I much prefer today's straight-forward approach - "a pregnant teen".  My birth mother was a pregnant teen.  But times were much different then.  An "unwed mother" was someone to be scorned or pitied.  Adoption was the common choice made by good, well-intentioned families.  It was the correct way to handle the situation, a neat and tidy win-win for everyone involved - except I doubt it was that easy for my birth mother, and I know it wasn't that easy for me.

You see, being adopted leaves you with missing pieces in the puzzle that makes you whole.  No matter how loving their parents are, adoptees always feel a little different, and a little alone.  For me, this feeling was most extreme during my adolescence when all girls are struggling to understand themselves.  I would search faces in crowds to see if any face resembled my own.  I'd wonder over things such as where did I get my love of music, why am I left-handed, and why is no one else in my family shy?

Well. . . I am filled with joy to announce I have recently reunited with my biological family.  The other weekend, I met my maternal grandmother who is 97 and still as quick as can be.  She is a warm and loving woman who welcomed me with open arms.  Also present was a cousin and an uncle and aunt - all wonderful people.  Last weekend, I met with another aunt (another warm-hearted woman) and her family, who took me to visit my birth mother's grave.  Since then, the rest of my aunts have befriended me on Facebook and hopefully I'll get to meet with them too.

Although I hide it better now, I'm still a shy person and am uncomfortable meeting new people.  But oddly, I felt right at ease with these people.  I think we share similar temperaments, and I know we share a similar sense in humour - we laugh in unison with the same laugh!  So finally, after a lifetime of wondering, I've found my missing pieces.  It feels wonderful.

My grandmother & her daughters.  My mother is second from left.








16 comments:

  1. Thanks so much for this beautifully written story Kara. Knowing that you and Dan are both shy people by nature makes those of us who now know both of you feel even more privileged to be on the receiving end of your warm and welcoming smiles.
    I can't tell you enough how impressed I am with your very competent handling of race starting at GBYC. In my experience, only Anne has done this as well. It means so much to the health of a racing club to have a great race committee which works seamlessly in the background. You're the glue that keeps us a healthy racing club!!!
    We're very fortunate to be able to count you as friends.

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    1. Such kind comments, Dave! I'll be sure to pass to on to Dan. :)

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  2. So thrilled for you Kara. What a great ending to your mystery. Funny how we feel comfortable with family - even when they are technically strangers. I had that same experience when I met my Amish family. We just fit together. I have checked out some of your aunts on Facebook and I was surprised at how close they lived to your hometown. Wonder how many times you actually were looking into the face of a relative at a local mall. Did you find out why you are left handed? Would have loved to see your face when you first heard your laugh coming out of your Auntie's mouth. Enjoy getting to know them. And good luck trying to figure out Christmas dinner now! :)

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    1. You met your Amish family? You HAVE to tell me more about that.

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  3. A beautifully written story Kara. Thank you for sharing it. I'm so glad you've connected with your biological family and I feel sad that your birth mother has passed.
    A lovely photograph. Now I must go find a tissue....

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  4. Good for you. Kinda like finding that missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle you've been looking for. Congratulations.

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  5. How exciting for you :) More family is just more people to love, and your heart sure is big enough xxx

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  6. this just made me feel so good inside. how wonderful for you. I doubt that I will ever have a relationship with my biological father's family - I have kind of accepted it in my life; but I feel sad that my children don't know the other half of their own history.
    so happy that for you that you found your missing pieces!

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    1. Thank you! It seems, the more we get to know one-another, the more we discover we have in common.

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  7. What a terrible shame that you were only able to see where your mother was laid to rest; to have met her too would have made the circle complete. But how level-headed you are about the whole experience, so many adopted children become bitter and angry. I admire your attitude enormously.

    Now, all those extra birthdays, Christmas cards, distant cousins' prezzies, etc. I wish you luck.

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    1. Anger and bitterness are a terrible waste of energy, don't you think?

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  8. My three brothers (they are biological) were adopted by my parents when I was 12 and they were 9, 10 and 11. Their mother had dropped them off somewhere when they were 1,2 and 3 and called their uncle to pick them up. They were put in foster care, which sucked, for the next 8 years. My parents wanted another child and when they went to meet a young boy, the case worked introduced them to the three brothers. We've been close from that very day! They were able to meet their biological father's family, but he died the week before he to see them. The oldest did get to talk to him on the phone though. The mother isn't interested and my brothers seem just fine with that. Anyway, I'm glad you were able to meet everyone!

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  9. I am so glad the meeting went well!

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