The Story of My Life: You Are Not My Momma

I had found my birth siblings on Wednesday, July 23, 2014 and began communicating with my birth mother that same night. The conversation with her started off well with us exchanging information about ourselves and comparing the things that we had in common. Within a day or so, she started using terms of endearment with me which caught me off guard and left a funny feeling in my stomach.  I didn't really like her calling me her "sweet daughter" and her saying "luv you" to me.  By Saturday, July 26th, she had begun venting to me about the questions my half-sister, Jessie, had about what happened to me and then told me that we should just keep the questions between us. You can check out that post here.

When Sunday rolled around, I decided that I should try to address with Carol how she was feeling about the fact that I had been found when she wasn't really looking for me.  Since we were planning to go to Florida in a few weeks for a visit  with my half siblings and I was sure there would be lots of pictures posted on Facebook, I decided asking what she thought in regards to that would be a good starting point. 

Carol responded, "If you don't want to do it, then don't. That is your choice and no one can make you do it." Then she started going off on Jessie again saying that what had happened to her was "her business" and didn't need to be brought out in the open.  She ended with, "Don't tell them anything you don't want to tell. It is your life not theirs."

I assured her that I wanted to do this, that I wanted to meet my siblings and I wanted to tell people. That even though the siblings and I were super excited about it, that I could understand how this situation could cause her some anxiety. I had been her secret and it seemed that the circumstances around my existence weren't the best. Everything I had read said, in many cases when an adopted child was found that wasn't being looked for by the birth mother,  it brings up all the hurt, shame, guilt and other emotions from the birth experience. I imagined this to be the case with her which is why I told her that I wanted to know how she was doing and that she didn't need to worry about me. 

Her answer: "I have no problem with that....I will deal with it when it happens.  It is Jessie I worry about......"  

*sigh*  I was getting pretty tired of this. Why did she keep venting to me? I was not the one that she should be talking to about that.  So I decided not to answer her for the rest of the afternoon. 

Fortunately VBS was starting at church that evening and I was helping with the teaching part of it. I had something else to capture my attention for a while and it was desperately needed. But the distraction didn't last too long. 

When I got home from church, Carol had texted me again.  This time she was asking about how church had been and told me that she knew there was a storm coming our way.  

We actually had a pretty good talk this time. We talked about how things were for each of us as we were growing up. We talked about how I met Steve and how she had met her husband, Ron. We talked about our parents and their professions. We talked about church. She told me she had been saved during Bible school many years ago.

I couldn't believe that we were actually back to having a fairly normal conversation.  But then it happened.....

She texted me a picture of herself.  

The caption -  "Me.....your momma."

Now I am not a person who usually cusses. I wasn't raised that way and if I said any word that even resembled a cuss word when I was a kid, my mouth was sure to be washed out with soap.

But at that moment, a fit of rage welled up inside of me.  I threw my phone on the bed and said, "Who the hell does she think she is saying that to me??"  (Sorry, mom and dad.)

The only way that I can describe how that phrase she said made me feel is violated.  Yep. Violated.  It was one thing for her to call me her "sweet daughter."  It is possible that she viewed me that way and I could understand that. After all, she did carry me in her belly for nine months and then give birth to me.  But for her to put on herself the title of "my momma" felt like she had forced upon me the position that she wanted to take in my life.   That position was already filled.  It was taken by a woman who cared for me as a wee infant, who jump roped with me in the living room of our trailer in Wisconsin, who was at my high school and college graduations and who was there when I walked down the aisle to marry the man of my dreams.  And I had no plans to replace her.

So again, I did not respond....

A few minutes later Carol texted and said she was headed to bed. That she loved me and would talk to me later.

All I said was "goodnight." And I wondered what in the world I had gotten myself into.