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Roses are red |
05.17.01 --- How I Got Here - Part Conclusion --- "Hello, Kelli? This is Lacey." I sat bolt upright in bed and grabbed the list of questions I was working on. Hubby put two and two together and quickly retrieved the box of Kleenex and placed it right next to me. We were both apologetic, me about dropping back into her life, and she for the decision she made some 20 years earlier. She thought I would be mad at her for the choice she made. I wasn't. She answered my questions and I did my best to answer hers. She knew my name all these years. It was on some paperwork she had to sign. She didn't know if I had known I was adopted, and didn't want to complicate my life unnecessarily. She told me she knew I would find her when the time came. I don't recall how long we talked, but she told me she would call me back soon before we ended the conversation. As it turns out, I didn't need the box of Kleenex. Both of our voices were calm, maybe we were both in a mild state of shock, who knows. A piece of who I was clicked into place for me that day. Not only had I found Bio-Mom, I had just spoken with her. All those years of wondering were over. Just one conversation was not enough now. Each question that was answered and crossed off brought a new one to the list. The two of us spoke several times over the next few days. There was always an undercurrent of "is this really real?" in our voices when talked. She told me that she wanted to meet me face-to-face. I had arranged to take a couple of days off work that week (use it or lose it vacation time) and I let her know that I was available that Friday. She said she had that time off as well. My Mom knew about all of this, and was still a bit uneasy about what was happening. Despite her own reservations, she put together a packet of pictures for Lacey to keep, and even wrote her a letter. Thursday night, I cleaned our little apartment from stem to stern. I was awake until 2:30am cleaning, deciding what I was going to wear, wondering how I should act and what to say to her. Do I hug her? Will I be what she expected? Will she like me? Time dragged until she arrived on Friday. She was real! Here she was, in our apartment, sitting across from me on the couch. I could touch her! There was plenty of nervous laughter as we attempted to catch each other up on our lives during the past 20 years. We looked through pictures, she told me of her family, my half-siblings, her husband, her father and her mother. I told her of my childhood, the stories behind some of the pictures my Mom provided, college, work, and Hubby. She had brought her Polariod camera, and we took turns taking each other's picture so we could go back to our respective lives and show our loved ones the piece that was missing in each of us. I still carry that picture with me. We hugged fiercely at the end of her visit, and promised that we would keep in touch. We did, too. I met her husband and children and her father. I thanked him for helping me find her, although the words did not do justice to the relief and wonderment and appreciation that I felt. I received two birthday cards from Lacey that year. One for all the years she missed, and one for the current year. That was almost 12 years ago now. We have shared so much, and continue to be hugely grateful to *the powers that be* for bringing us back together. She came to our wedding, and saw her only granddaughter when she wasn't even 24 hours old. The similarities in our personalities, preferences and volume of laughter can sometimes be frightening, yet oddly comforting. There is finally someone out there that thinks like me. (I now know where I got my hips and thighs from, too!) We've discovered that the line between nature and nuture, environment and genetics is a very fuzzy one indeed. It has been difficult in the last couple of years to align schedules so that we can spend more time together, and we try to get together as often as we can. She and Grandpa Choo-Choo are very well-liked by Punkin. I continue to thank God for her presence in my life, as well as that of my "other Mothers." They all, knowingly or not, continue to teach me and help me to become who I am. |
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