I've been paralyzed since July 12, not really sure what to write,what to say, what to feel. I've felt every emotion. I think I'll do facts for the moment, in case anyone reading would like an update. (Not that I expect anyone to want an update, necessarily,but just in case.)
That Monday, the Monday that changed my life, my journey, my thinking, my future. What can I even say about it. It was one of the most monumental days of my life. I think everyone affected by adoption loss can agree, no matter what spot you reside in the triad (although, I'm focusing primarily on mothers and lost children), that you have 2 monumental days. Before, after. The before: the day you were separated. The after: the day you find out what happened to the spaces in between. Or the day your questions are answered. Or the day you find out your questions never will be answered. or..or..or.
I woke up like every other morning-I just knew. I knew it was coming. The fact that I had finally finished the letter it had taken me years to build the courage to write (see below) doesn't seem to be a coincidence to me.
I got an email from the social worker. She told me I had missed my mother by 2 years and 2 months. Her name was Betsy.. Betsy. I tried it out loud, to see how it felt. It made me cry. The information (email? really? an email? she redeemed herself later, though, and for that, I am thankful) said that she had died from diabetes complications and kidney failure in Galveston in April of 2008. the very same day I quit my job to stay home with my babies again, to rest, to recover from the brain cancer ordeal-to heal, believe it or not. I wasn't given very much more information. It said that everyone who would have known who my father was had already passed. Her husband had passed before her, there was no one left. Laws prohibited her from even telling me what city I had been born in, I was hopeless, I was lost.
I sat there, feeling my heart beating like it wanted to come out of my chest. Everyone was asleep in my house.. I didn't know what to do. I didn't expect my reaction. I managed to get myself inside the safety of my home as I had been outside drinking coffee and playing around on the laptop, as I'm doing now..
The sound that came out of me haunts me. Primal (fitting..), hopeless, lost, devastation in its purest form. My 17 year old daughter heard it first, and the next thing I knew, it was my children who were all gathered around me. I felt horrible for scaring them. I was kneeling on the cold Mexican Tile, laptop askew on the couch, I couldn't talk, I couldn't breathe. My daughter picked up the laptop, read the email. Rubbed my back, cried. My little one was off spending the night so she didn't get to witness this, thank God. I tried, god how I tried to compose myself. I couldn't scare my kids, no matter what. I got myself to the bathroom, made it to the toilet where I vomited, I was so sick.
That entire day, I scoured every obituary in Galveston .. crossed referenced them to NC, as we didn't get a set date on exactly when it was, we went through YEARS of obits, finding nothing.
I prayed, I cried, I was numb, then I wasn't. I thought I had prepared myself. I thought I was ready for anything. I guess you never really can be. I thought that at least after I found out about her, I'd have some peace. It was the longest 8 hours of my life.
I emailed the social worker back later in the day. I thanked her for her time. And her kindness. I pushed the envelope, as it were, and asked.. "If her name was Katherine, can you please, even though I know it is against the rules, just write back, say hot or cold or whatever you can.. just please help."
2 minutes later, a reply came through. "Her name was Betsy, and she named you Ashley."
I sat there for a few minutes.. no tears came at that moment. It gave me the fire to keep scouring those obits. I thanked her. I thought it was just over, no hope. No hope of ever seeing my mothers face. No hope of reuniting. No hope. Lost. Gone forever, just like.. that.
She emailed me again, a few minutes later.
"Don't give up just yet, I'm working another angle. I'll let you know."
Little did I know.
She called a little while later.. "Don't ask me how, I can't tell you how. I don't want thanks. I just want an update one day."
"I just got off the phone with your sister. She lives in Hawaii. Her name is Carla, and she's been waiting for you. They all have. Your other sister, Carrie, and your brother, Kevin. Here is her number, she's so excited to finally talk to you. You weren't a secret. "
The angels sang that moment, I swear to God, they did. I was in such shock, I still don't know how I didn't have a heart attack that day. I called my parents, and my sister. I felt they needed to know the new development. They were so excited. After they had heard the story and found out she was gone, they were all just shell shocked. This new development just blew my mind. It still does.
I called my sister, Carla. She's 17 months younger than me. We had hours of conversation, it was so beautiful. On each of the girl's 8th birthdays (a rite of passage, perhaps?), she sat them on the bed, with the door closed, and told them about their big sister.
She did hold me that day. She did miss me. She died a sad and broken woman because of this choice. My heart bleeds for my lost Betsy.
I got to talk to my other sister, Carrie, the next day. I was so worried for them. I wanted to protect them, I knew it had to be hard.
I had known I was coming .. and didn't know they were there. They knew I was there, but didn't know I was coming.
Carrie cried as soon as she got out the "hello." Sobbed heart wrenching, gut tearing crying. She had been the one who had taken care of our mother as she was dying. She had the conversations about me. She told Betsy she had to get some peace about this all before she died.
They scattered her ashes in the Gulf of Mexico. 4 Plumeria flowers out to sea with her. Plumerias, like in my letter to her below, are my passion. The first picture I got of Carrie, a Plumeria was in her hair. I was on a boat that summer, in the gulf. The closest I have been to my mother since the day I had to leave her.
Fitting.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
dead. died.no longer here. gone.
Well, she's dead. and those are the only words i can find right now.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Dear Mother (what should I call you?)
I've always wanted to do this, to write her-to tell her all the things about me-but in typical Rachel fashion, I put it off for another day figuring if I wrote it, I'd have nothing left to say and then what would I do?
Today is the day. In December of 2009 I made the decision to find you. To try to find you, I guess I should say. As far as adopted people go, I guess I'm pretty late in the game of life to attempt this-I hope you're still out there somewhere. In the past 8 months, I have been working with the state of NC to try to navigate through this maze. After many many starts and stops, today is the day that the DSS of Wayne Co.(the department director is actually doing this for free which blows my mind..) will receive my records from the courts-she will see my original birth certificate that hasn't seen the light of day in over 37 years. She has gotten the file from the county I was (supposedly) born in. Your name has been sitting in a file with mine all this time. They had tried previously to find our file.. they would call every week or so and tell me that they still couldn't find it. Meanwhile, I waited for them, hoping someone would have enough tenacity to keep looking-my non identifying information was in that file-and I was so desperate to have it.
Finally, it was found. They had been searching under my a parents name. Guess where it was? Yeah, under your name. I cried, not sure why, when I found this out. I wept, actually. All these years, I wondered if you remembered me and in some weird metaphorical way, I was with you the entire time in that file. I felt safe-how odd. While waiting for the info to be sent to me, it almost drove me mad-knowing your name , all your information was sitting on the desk of some 26 year old social worker that graduated in 2006 from UNC. My god, I had all my hope and faith invested in some girl whose quote on facebook (yeah, i stalked her, so what) said "I pretend to work, they pretend to pay me." No wonder it took her so long to type all that up. Scary. And the main reason I chose to have someone else do my search.
Anyway, so here we go, I guess. I don't know how other adopted people do this for years and years. It's the most emotional and exhausting thing I've experienced. It's not the hardest thing-that was the Brain Cancer Debacle of 2006-but it's the most painful, for sure.
I'm hopeful that I find you. I'm hopeful that I find you alive. Mentally, I have to prepare myself as much as I can that you might not be. Also, you might want nothing to do with me. I still have to be brave and try, though. It's as natural to me as breathing, the need to know where and from whom I come from.
Do I want you to tell me you've loved me, missed me, all this time? I don't know.. I think I do. Then again, I'm overly cynical-and I'm not sure I'd believe you if you did. Please know I've loved you and missed you my whole life-words that are hard for me to say, even in a letter. I have a hard time putting my feelings out there-especially when I'm not confident that my feelings will be returned.
A friend of mine has a unique perspective on adoption, and the animal instinct of what it is to be a mother. Of what it is to be a mother that abandons its young. Abandonment equals death in nature. I am no different. In some surreal parallel, as is my friend, we were left out there in the wild-physical death escaped us, but the soul-well, that's been another story.
I won't get into my pain in this letter-it's not fair to you. Besides, I don't want you to have the guilt while you are reading this, I just want you to know who, what, where I am-all the questions I have for you, I will do the same, and give you my answers. I'll leave this letter somewhere safe, in case something happens to me before I find you. That's my big fear, you know? To get smacked by a bus, or have a heart attack or something when I'm so close. Everything else in my life, I'm pretty peaceful about-my relationships with the people I love-If I died tomorrow, I'd know they know -but you.. you don't know. It's irresponsible of me not to write this. So I'm writing.
I've always said "If she's like me, she'll want me to find her, but if she's like me, she won't want me to find her." Did I get this mind that questions everything, that analyzes everything to the point it's bent and broken and not worth anything to anyone once I'm finished with it from you? Is it a trait I found dealing with all of these issues I have from being adopted? Rhetorical-I'm the queen of rhetorical questions.
I had always wondered what color your eyes were. Mine are the color of Jack Daniels-I can't just say "amber" or "hazel," I'm dramatic-mine are the color of whiskey. When I found out you had green eyes, which, by the way was the one thing I mostly wondered about you growing up-the color of your eyes-I was surprised. I guess I shouldn't have been, 2 of my children have green eyes. My youngest, who will be 13 next week, has eyes the color of a carpet of moss on a forest floor. I looked in her eyes after I read your eyes were green. I searched them, telling her to be still (which she thought was quite weird..) thinking maybe this was what I would see if I ever got to see your eyes. This will have to do for now.
When I found out you were so short, I actually laughed-it was the most shocking of all the things I do know about you. I'm not an amazon or anything 5'7" and shrinking daily, but my kids are tall..really tall, 5'10" for one of my daughters, 6'3" for my 15 year old son. It said my father was 6 feet. Anyway, that surprised me.
I've missed you. For 37 years, I have missed you. Some years more than others. Some days have just been plain heartbreaking and excruciating because I thought I needed you. I did need you, and I just couldn't figure out how or where I could find you. I'd look up at the stars when I was a kid-and while everyone else my age was wishing on a star for a boyfriend or a pony, I was wishing for my mother. I felt safe, knowing that if you walked outside one night, and stared up at the same star I was looking at , that somehow we were still connected.
My life was good. Don't feel guilty about that. I was never abused, I did have a pretty cool life. All the things they say our mothers wanted for us, I did get-so rest assured. Many adopted people weren't so fortunate. I can't say lucky-I don't feel lucky. Of course, my family is what I know, and love-still, it wasn't the bond that I missed from you. I'm not sure we will ever bond, you and I, I'm confused-they say it might not happen, I guess I should prepare myself for that, as well.
Your decision for me took me around the country, went to some pretty cool places. I got a sister-she's 2 years younger-also adopted. My best friend. Oh, I got to live in Hawaii.. that was cool-we had Christmas every year at a beach house on Bellows. If you google it, you can see the same little cabins that are still standing out there-I wonder what you were doing those days of Christmas, when I played in the sand and rode the Hawaiian Punch float almost all the way to New Zealand. I always believed in Santa-he was as mythical to me as you were. Oh, and I couldn't wait to open presents, still can't.. although I don't snoop for them like I used to. I used to unwrap them carefully in the middle of the night, because I couldn't stand not knowing. I'd tape them back and none would be the wiser. My favorite Christmas ever was a Mandy Doll when I was 5-she loved me the most. How sad is that. I felt like a doll loved me more than people. She understood me, way back then. I don't know what ever happened to her, I suppose I grew up and didn't feel like I needed the understanding anymore.
I suppose the social workers told you way back when that I deserved to be in a 2 parent family, with a mom and a dad who loved me, and loved God and could provide. I got that. Don't worry. They kept us in church 3 times a week, and we always went to private religious schools. When I was about 7, I was so scared I'd die in the middle of the night-so I held on to my pillow, my blanket and my Mandy doll, so if I died, they'd get to heaven with me.
I used to skin my knees a lot.
My mom owned a gym when I was in 3rd grade. I won a red velvet pillow-I felt so lucky-I was a winner! I still to this day sleep with my red pillow. It's been out of the country with me, been in the hospital with me having my babies-it's been through everything really-my sister knew how much it meant to me, so when we would fight, she'd pour glue on it, or poke staples in it. I swear, every now and then, I still find a staple from the 80's that pokes me in my ear as I'm sleeping. I had to start checking it in the luggage after 9-11-because I didn't have the patience to explain that my sister was the one who put those there while going through airport security. I love that stupid pillow.
I love animals. I want to save them all. Even bugs, which is weird. I used to get so mad at kids that would kill ants.. shouting "but they're God's creatures!" I still scoop spiders up if they get in my house and take them outside-citing "but they're Charlotte, you can't kill them." I know, bizarre. I will kill roaches, though. We had dogs growing up-and one cat-Uncle Fred was his name. He knew if he came to my window in the middle of the night, I'd let him in. My mom gave one of my dogs away when I was 4. His name was Fritzie. I woke up one night, knew something was wrong, went out to the living room, and my mom was giving my dog away to some lady. I couldn't believe it. I lost my dog, Jake a couple years ago. He was my heart. I'm still devastated by that loss. He's under the hammock where he used to lay when I'd talk on the phone. He was always with me. always.
We never really had big birthday parties. One that I can remember-but it was usually just a quiet day. The anticipation of my birthday was so much fun-except for this one little part-the part of me that wondered if you were thinking of me.
My dad directed our church youth group there for a while. Every Halloween, he'd be "Dr. Weirdo," some guy in a white teeshirt, who happened to wear the same kind of boots my dad wore. It took me at least a year to figure out it really was him. He would wear a mask, and talk in a weird accent. He would do the whole spaghetti as brains and grapes as eyeballs thing.
He also would tuck me in every single night of my life until I got married. He prayed with me. He told me stories. He started making up a story about a little girl named Ruby-Ruby Stories- and my sister and I would beg for them -each taking Ruby on some wild adventure with a good moral lesson at the end.
My mom stayed home with my sister and I. She cooked, I still every now and then will cook something she used to make-because it just reminds me of her. She's my mama. We didn't always get along so well, but I think we like each other now, and have forgiven each other for a lot. I know she loves me. I do.
Oh, this is strange. I can't watch Rudolph or Frosty even now. I don't know why. My sister can't either-it makes us sad. I think because they were all alone for a while in those movies. I felt so sad for both of them, and I understood. No matter that the ending was happy-it was just too sad to watch.
I love Disney World-god, still, I run to Space Mountain as soon as the park opens. I used to get disney snow globes every year for my birthday, until my kids started breaking them and that was the end of that.
I love roller coasters, gyros, high thread count sheets. I love white noise while going to sleep, I'm a light sleeper, are you? Oh, and I talk in my sleep. A lot. I also carry on conversations with people sitting straight up in bed-it's odd, and embarrassing. I hate onions and peppers-but just the consistency. I chew gum-Trident-always. I have really nice teeth. I have to Nair my arms, though, and I can't go a day without shaving my legs. Whoever gave me all this Italian body hair was playing a great joke on me. It's okay, though..I got really cute feet out of the deal. Size 7, incidentally , and I have an obsession with gorgeous 4 inch heels. Oh, and expensive bags. I should own stock in Coach-Louis Vuitton is my favorite. I am all things girly, I love makeup and nails and pretty hair. I don't love this whole butt thing I've got going on-but people tell me big butts are now in style, so thank god for trends, I guess. I didn't get boobs-that pissed me off-until I bought them. I love Las Vegas. I'm an avid gardener. I have a green thumb. My favorite flower is a Calla Lilly. Second favorite are Plumerias-I grow the trees here at the house. I was fairly athletic as a kid-I swam, danced, rode horses, played basketball and softball. I was the world's ugliest pre-teen, I looked like a boy. Somehow I grew up into a swan, so I'll thank you for that.
I've got a good and loving heart. I really do. I'm not sure how that happened, or how it still exists with the anger and the rage and the hurt, but it's still here. I can sing-I wonder if you can too. I sang with a group as a teenager, and at a southern baptist "sing" one time, a Cathedral (some christian boy band-don't ask..) told me I had the best alto he'd ever heard. I won't sing in front of anyone anymore, though. Too insecure. I fight depression constantly, but am trying to figure out the root of that problem, and get rid of it once and for all. I am also the funniest person I know-and I love to tell stories and be a general pain in the ass. Oh, and I cuss. A lot. It always makes me feel better to drop the F bomb. I love to shock people. I love to clean. I hate to clean, actually, but I love the way it makes me feel when it's all finished. I could never have a maid, I'd have to clean up before she got there, and that would defeat the purpose. I have horrible road rage. I hit a tractor trailer from behind on the interstate a few years ago-now I have this weird interstate phobia and am terrified of passing 18 wheelers on the left. I literally have to be "talked through" going past one. I am doing a bit better lately, though. Morris Island Lighthouse in Charleston SC is my favorite place on the planet to be. It is my renewal. I love the beach. It is my peaceful and safe spot. I'm terrified to get in the water very deep anymore, though-I'm scared of sharks.
I love CSI, all the Law and Orders. I am a huge trivia buff-I could go on Jeopardy and win. Pippi Longstocking was my favorite when I was growing up. I love to read-I always have. In 3rd grade, I was reading and testing out in the college level. I can spell. I hate improper grammar(although, I'm guilty of doing it occasionally). I am obsessed with the differences of 'your' and 'you're' and 'too' and 'to.'
I suck at math, though. My favorite perfumes are Alfred Sung and DKNY-Be Delicious. I volunteer. Relay for Life, Special Olympics. I hate shower curtains being left open. I can water ski.
I love my babies. They're the ones I live for. Even when they drive me crazy. I'd die for them-I guess that's the way it should be. I love watching birds at the bird feeder-hummingbirds are cool.
I guess what I've tried to do is answer some of the things I wonder if you wonder about. If I hadn't met my own child after all this time, I would want to know every little detail. Maybe you do, as well. If I find you, you'll never read this-but if something happens to me, you will. I suppose if you are reading this now, it means something has happened and I lost the fight or the will to survive. Some days are harder than others, but I keep going. I'm scared I'll die in a fire or car accident , though, so if I do.. please tell everyone "I told you so!" I laughed as I typed that,I'm a cynical bastard. I had a dream that I knew your name a few months ago. I wrote it down on a piece of paper and tucked it away in a kitchen drawer-I wonder if I'll be right. I hope I get the chance to find out.
But if I never do, know this:
My heart is wounded not having you with me. I had a good life. I did, but you are the piece that can't leave me. It is a pain I wouldn't wish on anyone. I have been grieving the loss of you since I emerged that December 9th. I've been missing you ever since. I hope you went on to find love. I know from what I've read that it seems like your life was lonely. I don't want you to be lonely. I've always been with you. Always. Forgive yourself if you feel guilty about me, because I have. I have no more anger-just an overwhelming sadness to find you. I hope you love me. I hope you miss me like I miss you. The ache in my soul for my lost mother is overwhelming these days-I suppose it always has been.
Thank you for giving me life. I enjoyed the hell out of it, usually. Please hold on, please wait for me, I'm coming as fast as I possibly can.
Love,
Rachel
Today is the day. In December of 2009 I made the decision to find you. To try to find you, I guess I should say. As far as adopted people go, I guess I'm pretty late in the game of life to attempt this-I hope you're still out there somewhere. In the past 8 months, I have been working with the state of NC to try to navigate through this maze. After many many starts and stops, today is the day that the DSS of Wayne Co.(the department director is actually doing this for free which blows my mind..) will receive my records from the courts-she will see my original birth certificate that hasn't seen the light of day in over 37 years. She has gotten the file from the county I was (supposedly) born in. Your name has been sitting in a file with mine all this time. They had tried previously to find our file.. they would call every week or so and tell me that they still couldn't find it. Meanwhile, I waited for them, hoping someone would have enough tenacity to keep looking-my non identifying information was in that file-and I was so desperate to have it.
Finally, it was found. They had been searching under my a parents name. Guess where it was? Yeah, under your name. I cried, not sure why, when I found this out. I wept, actually. All these years, I wondered if you remembered me and in some weird metaphorical way, I was with you the entire time in that file. I felt safe-how odd. While waiting for the info to be sent to me, it almost drove me mad-knowing your name , all your information was sitting on the desk of some 26 year old social worker that graduated in 2006 from UNC. My god, I had all my hope and faith invested in some girl whose quote on facebook (yeah, i stalked her, so what) said "I pretend to work, they pretend to pay me." No wonder it took her so long to type all that up. Scary. And the main reason I chose to have someone else do my search.
Anyway, so here we go, I guess. I don't know how other adopted people do this for years and years. It's the most emotional and exhausting thing I've experienced. It's not the hardest thing-that was the Brain Cancer Debacle of 2006-but it's the most painful, for sure.
I'm hopeful that I find you. I'm hopeful that I find you alive. Mentally, I have to prepare myself as much as I can that you might not be. Also, you might want nothing to do with me. I still have to be brave and try, though. It's as natural to me as breathing, the need to know where and from whom I come from.
Do I want you to tell me you've loved me, missed me, all this time? I don't know.. I think I do. Then again, I'm overly cynical-and I'm not sure I'd believe you if you did. Please know I've loved you and missed you my whole life-words that are hard for me to say, even in a letter. I have a hard time putting my feelings out there-especially when I'm not confident that my feelings will be returned.
A friend of mine has a unique perspective on adoption, and the animal instinct of what it is to be a mother. Of what it is to be a mother that abandons its young. Abandonment equals death in nature. I am no different. In some surreal parallel, as is my friend, we were left out there in the wild-physical death escaped us, but the soul-well, that's been another story.
I won't get into my pain in this letter-it's not fair to you. Besides, I don't want you to have the guilt while you are reading this, I just want you to know who, what, where I am-all the questions I have for you, I will do the same, and give you my answers. I'll leave this letter somewhere safe, in case something happens to me before I find you. That's my big fear, you know? To get smacked by a bus, or have a heart attack or something when I'm so close. Everything else in my life, I'm pretty peaceful about-my relationships with the people I love-If I died tomorrow, I'd know they know -but you.. you don't know. It's irresponsible of me not to write this. So I'm writing.
I've always said "If she's like me, she'll want me to find her, but if she's like me, she won't want me to find her." Did I get this mind that questions everything, that analyzes everything to the point it's bent and broken and not worth anything to anyone once I'm finished with it from you? Is it a trait I found dealing with all of these issues I have from being adopted? Rhetorical-I'm the queen of rhetorical questions.
I had always wondered what color your eyes were. Mine are the color of Jack Daniels-I can't just say "amber" or "hazel," I'm dramatic-mine are the color of whiskey. When I found out you had green eyes, which, by the way was the one thing I mostly wondered about you growing up-the color of your eyes-I was surprised. I guess I shouldn't have been, 2 of my children have green eyes. My youngest, who will be 13 next week, has eyes the color of a carpet of moss on a forest floor. I looked in her eyes after I read your eyes were green. I searched them, telling her to be still (which she thought was quite weird..) thinking maybe this was what I would see if I ever got to see your eyes. This will have to do for now.
When I found out you were so short, I actually laughed-it was the most shocking of all the things I do know about you. I'm not an amazon or anything 5'7" and shrinking daily, but my kids are tall..really tall, 5'10" for one of my daughters, 6'3" for my 15 year old son. It said my father was 6 feet. Anyway, that surprised me.
I've missed you. For 37 years, I have missed you. Some years more than others. Some days have just been plain heartbreaking and excruciating because I thought I needed you. I did need you, and I just couldn't figure out how or where I could find you. I'd look up at the stars when I was a kid-and while everyone else my age was wishing on a star for a boyfriend or a pony, I was wishing for my mother. I felt safe, knowing that if you walked outside one night, and stared up at the same star I was looking at , that somehow we were still connected.
My life was good. Don't feel guilty about that. I was never abused, I did have a pretty cool life. All the things they say our mothers wanted for us, I did get-so rest assured. Many adopted people weren't so fortunate. I can't say lucky-I don't feel lucky. Of course, my family is what I know, and love-still, it wasn't the bond that I missed from you. I'm not sure we will ever bond, you and I, I'm confused-they say it might not happen, I guess I should prepare myself for that, as well.
Your decision for me took me around the country, went to some pretty cool places. I got a sister-she's 2 years younger-also adopted. My best friend. Oh, I got to live in Hawaii.. that was cool-we had Christmas every year at a beach house on Bellows. If you google it, you can see the same little cabins that are still standing out there-I wonder what you were doing those days of Christmas, when I played in the sand and rode the Hawaiian Punch float almost all the way to New Zealand. I always believed in Santa-he was as mythical to me as you were. Oh, and I couldn't wait to open presents, still can't.. although I don't snoop for them like I used to. I used to unwrap them carefully in the middle of the night, because I couldn't stand not knowing. I'd tape them back and none would be the wiser. My favorite Christmas ever was a Mandy Doll when I was 5-she loved me the most. How sad is that. I felt like a doll loved me more than people. She understood me, way back then. I don't know what ever happened to her, I suppose I grew up and didn't feel like I needed the understanding anymore.
I suppose the social workers told you way back when that I deserved to be in a 2 parent family, with a mom and a dad who loved me, and loved God and could provide. I got that. Don't worry. They kept us in church 3 times a week, and we always went to private religious schools. When I was about 7, I was so scared I'd die in the middle of the night-so I held on to my pillow, my blanket and my Mandy doll, so if I died, they'd get to heaven with me.
I used to skin my knees a lot.
My mom owned a gym when I was in 3rd grade. I won a red velvet pillow-I felt so lucky-I was a winner! I still to this day sleep with my red pillow. It's been out of the country with me, been in the hospital with me having my babies-it's been through everything really-my sister knew how much it meant to me, so when we would fight, she'd pour glue on it, or poke staples in it. I swear, every now and then, I still find a staple from the 80's that pokes me in my ear as I'm sleeping. I had to start checking it in the luggage after 9-11-because I didn't have the patience to explain that my sister was the one who put those there while going through airport security. I love that stupid pillow.
I love animals. I want to save them all. Even bugs, which is weird. I used to get so mad at kids that would kill ants.. shouting "but they're God's creatures!" I still scoop spiders up if they get in my house and take them outside-citing "but they're Charlotte, you can't kill them." I know, bizarre. I will kill roaches, though. We had dogs growing up-and one cat-Uncle Fred was his name. He knew if he came to my window in the middle of the night, I'd let him in. My mom gave one of my dogs away when I was 4. His name was Fritzie. I woke up one night, knew something was wrong, went out to the living room, and my mom was giving my dog away to some lady. I couldn't believe it. I lost my dog, Jake a couple years ago. He was my heart. I'm still devastated by that loss. He's under the hammock where he used to lay when I'd talk on the phone. He was always with me. always.
We never really had big birthday parties. One that I can remember-but it was usually just a quiet day. The anticipation of my birthday was so much fun-except for this one little part-the part of me that wondered if you were thinking of me.
My dad directed our church youth group there for a while. Every Halloween, he'd be "Dr. Weirdo," some guy in a white teeshirt, who happened to wear the same kind of boots my dad wore. It took me at least a year to figure out it really was him. He would wear a mask, and talk in a weird accent. He would do the whole spaghetti as brains and grapes as eyeballs thing.
He also would tuck me in every single night of my life until I got married. He prayed with me. He told me stories. He started making up a story about a little girl named Ruby-Ruby Stories- and my sister and I would beg for them -each taking Ruby on some wild adventure with a good moral lesson at the end.
My mom stayed home with my sister and I. She cooked, I still every now and then will cook something she used to make-because it just reminds me of her. She's my mama. We didn't always get along so well, but I think we like each other now, and have forgiven each other for a lot. I know she loves me. I do.
Oh, this is strange. I can't watch Rudolph or Frosty even now. I don't know why. My sister can't either-it makes us sad. I think because they were all alone for a while in those movies. I felt so sad for both of them, and I understood. No matter that the ending was happy-it was just too sad to watch.
I love Disney World-god, still, I run to Space Mountain as soon as the park opens. I used to get disney snow globes every year for my birthday, until my kids started breaking them and that was the end of that.
I love roller coasters, gyros, high thread count sheets. I love white noise while going to sleep, I'm a light sleeper, are you? Oh, and I talk in my sleep. A lot. I also carry on conversations with people sitting straight up in bed-it's odd, and embarrassing. I hate onions and peppers-but just the consistency. I chew gum-Trident-always. I have really nice teeth. I have to Nair my arms, though, and I can't go a day without shaving my legs. Whoever gave me all this Italian body hair was playing a great joke on me. It's okay, though..I got really cute feet out of the deal. Size 7, incidentally , and I have an obsession with gorgeous 4 inch heels. Oh, and expensive bags. I should own stock in Coach-Louis Vuitton is my favorite. I am all things girly, I love makeup and nails and pretty hair. I don't love this whole butt thing I've got going on-but people tell me big butts are now in style, so thank god for trends, I guess. I didn't get boobs-that pissed me off-until I bought them. I love Las Vegas. I'm an avid gardener. I have a green thumb. My favorite flower is a Calla Lilly. Second favorite are Plumerias-I grow the trees here at the house. I was fairly athletic as a kid-I swam, danced, rode horses, played basketball and softball. I was the world's ugliest pre-teen, I looked like a boy. Somehow I grew up into a swan, so I'll thank you for that.
I've got a good and loving heart. I really do. I'm not sure how that happened, or how it still exists with the anger and the rage and the hurt, but it's still here. I can sing-I wonder if you can too. I sang with a group as a teenager, and at a southern baptist "sing" one time, a Cathedral (some christian boy band-don't ask..) told me I had the best alto he'd ever heard. I won't sing in front of anyone anymore, though. Too insecure. I fight depression constantly, but am trying to figure out the root of that problem, and get rid of it once and for all. I am also the funniest person I know-and I love to tell stories and be a general pain in the ass. Oh, and I cuss. A lot. It always makes me feel better to drop the F bomb. I love to shock people. I love to clean. I hate to clean, actually, but I love the way it makes me feel when it's all finished. I could never have a maid, I'd have to clean up before she got there, and that would defeat the purpose. I have horrible road rage. I hit a tractor trailer from behind on the interstate a few years ago-now I have this weird interstate phobia and am terrified of passing 18 wheelers on the left. I literally have to be "talked through" going past one. I am doing a bit better lately, though. Morris Island Lighthouse in Charleston SC is my favorite place on the planet to be. It is my renewal. I love the beach. It is my peaceful and safe spot. I'm terrified to get in the water very deep anymore, though-I'm scared of sharks.
I love CSI, all the Law and Orders. I am a huge trivia buff-I could go on Jeopardy and win. Pippi Longstocking was my favorite when I was growing up. I love to read-I always have. In 3rd grade, I was reading and testing out in the college level. I can spell. I hate improper grammar(although, I'm guilty of doing it occasionally). I am obsessed with the differences of 'your' and 'you're' and 'too' and 'to.'
I suck at math, though. My favorite perfumes are Alfred Sung and DKNY-Be Delicious. I volunteer. Relay for Life, Special Olympics. I hate shower curtains being left open. I can water ski.
I love my babies. They're the ones I live for. Even when they drive me crazy. I'd die for them-I guess that's the way it should be. I love watching birds at the bird feeder-hummingbirds are cool.
I guess what I've tried to do is answer some of the things I wonder if you wonder about. If I hadn't met my own child after all this time, I would want to know every little detail. Maybe you do, as well. If I find you, you'll never read this-but if something happens to me, you will. I suppose if you are reading this now, it means something has happened and I lost the fight or the will to survive. Some days are harder than others, but I keep going. I'm scared I'll die in a fire or car accident , though, so if I do.. please tell everyone "I told you so!" I laughed as I typed that,I'm a cynical bastard. I had a dream that I knew your name a few months ago. I wrote it down on a piece of paper and tucked it away in a kitchen drawer-I wonder if I'll be right. I hope I get the chance to find out.
But if I never do, know this:
My heart is wounded not having you with me. I had a good life. I did, but you are the piece that can't leave me. It is a pain I wouldn't wish on anyone. I have been grieving the loss of you since I emerged that December 9th. I've been missing you ever since. I hope you went on to find love. I know from what I've read that it seems like your life was lonely. I don't want you to be lonely. I've always been with you. Always. Forgive yourself if you feel guilty about me, because I have. I have no more anger-just an overwhelming sadness to find you. I hope you love me. I hope you miss me like I miss you. The ache in my soul for my lost mother is overwhelming these days-I suppose it always has been.
Thank you for giving me life. I enjoyed the hell out of it, usually. Please hold on, please wait for me, I'm coming as fast as I possibly can.
Love,
Rachel
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