Are You My Mother?

Each time I read my children the book, "Are You My Mother?", it stirs up something not-so-deep inside of me.  Most of you reading this know that I'm adopted.  Probably not one of you really knows what that is like, just as I don't know what it's like to know my roots.  Since this is National Adoption Month, I thought I'd tell you.

The book is a good jumping-off point.  It's about a baby bird whose mother, as he is hatching, flies off to get him some food so he'll have a nice hot meal when he enters the world.  This baby bird hatches early, though, and decides that instead of waiting, he'll go find his mother.  At the very beginning of his journey, he passes his mother as she is tugging a worm from the ground, but he doesn't recognize her.  After all, he's never actually seen her.

I could just read those first few pages.  That thought sticks with me - What if I've met her?  What if I've passed her on the street?  Was that my mother?

In church yesterday, I noticed the minister standing on the outer sides of his feet.  I notice these things.  I notice everything about everyone that does anything remotely the way I do.  I stand on the outer sides of my feet.  While not noticeable to most, it is something in others that I can't avoid noticing.  "Are you my father?"  He has blue eyes (like me), but the age and other features don't fit.  So close...

There is another man, one who my husband and I count as a dear friend.  One day my husband commented that he wouldn't be surprised if he were my father.  Now this was so crazy - he was right!  I hadn't noticed!  Maybe, like the baby bird, the one who really IS related to me I didn't even consider!  He has blue eyes (like me), he has high cholesterol (like me), the age is correct, some of the familial details are correct, but most amazingly, he and I have the very same personality.  It's odd.  Beyond odd.

But what do you say to a dear friend that you think maybe, possibly is your father?  "So, 'Hank', I've been noticing alot of similarities between us the last few years.  Did you by any chance have a brief sexual encounter with an 18 year-old girl about 42 years ago that could have produced a child?  I figure, we're so alike, maybe you're not just a friend, maybe you're my dad!  Super, right?" 

I once dated a man 20 years older than me.  I had to ask him alot of questions before I would go out with him.  He just thought I was just young and curious; I was trying to make sure I wasn't dating my dad.

Now, there isn't enough time or space to mention all of the occasions that I've asked, "Are you my mother?"  I've never asked anyone directly, of course, but almost any woman I've found to have a special bond with was considered a prime suspect.  There must be thousands over the years!  Teachers, friends' mothers, shopkeepers, members of organizations of which I was also a member, bloggers, church friends, artists, secretaries, doctors, authors, lawyers, Facebook members, telemarketers...  "I'd like the crew neck sweater in size small in forest green on page 38.  By the way, are you my mother?"

The little bird in the story goes to a kitten, a hen, a cow, a dog, a boat, a plane, an old car, a crane, each time asking, "Are you my mother?"  It doesn't seem so silly in the story.  The bird has no idea that he's a bird.  He has no idea what his mother would look like.  We get it.  We understand and giggle at his yearning to find his mother and his confusion as he seeks her.  Once he finds her, he finally understands that he, too, is a bird.

No one has ever understood my yearning to find my mother, nor my confusion as I seek her, nor my desire to understand who I am.  

Before I close, take a moment to ask yourself, if you are a woman, aged 60 or 61, are of Polish descent, from Maryland, gave birth to and put up for adoption a daughter in North Carolina in 1970, and have any of the above traits...Are you my mother?