Who is My Mother?
When I was seven years old, I received P.D. Eastman’s best-selling children’s book Are You My Mother? as a gift. It was my favorite book for a long time.
In the story, a mother bird’s egg is about to hatch. The egg begins to rustle around, and the mother bird goes off to find her soon-to-arrive baby something to eat. The baby bird hatches while its mother is away, and he wonders where his mother is. The baby bird goes off to look for his mother but, not knowing what she looks like, walks right past her.
It was at a Royal Family KIDS training and after forty years of pushing “mom thoughts” out of my mind – it happened.
It took me right back to the feelings I couldn’t put words to or explain as a child. I realized that I didn’t know some very important pieces of information about my birth mother. I didn’t know what she looked like. I didn’t know what her voice sounded like. I didn’t know what she smelled like. I began to heave sobs. Somehow that little guy’s voice and the yellow words in the darkness became a long-lost key to a door that had been locked for over 40 years.
THEN… Just before my book is released, my cousin calls and says, “are you ready for some news?”
Robin and I were sitting outside our daughter’s (Ally) work.
It turns out that my cousin found my birth mom. She’s 78 years old and has been living in Lakewood (where we lived for 25 years) for the past 9 years. What?!
You mean I actually could have passed her in the grocery store or at the mall? Yes. At present she doesn’t want much to do with me. Realize, this is a lot to spring on a senior after 50 years of trying to forget. I sent her a copy of my book and told her that she has three additional, beautiful, grown grandchildren and that I’m doing well. I hope somewhere inside this brings her comfort and a little bit of pride. Believe me, my life would have turned out very different if it hadn’t been for Jesus and my wife, Robin.
So today I’m reflecting on Mother’s Day very differently.
I miss my adopted mom very much. She died in 2009. I always dedicated my “mom thoughts” to her on this day.
But now my mind also shifts towards the woman who gave me life. She carried me through 9 months of vague, tumultuous relationship with my bio dad. She had 9 months of wondering what to do with the youngest of her 7 or 8 children (possibly from different fathers). After I was born she was instructed to leave and never have anything to do with me. That’s the way it’s been for 50 years.
The story continues. I’ll keep ya posted as I find out how things turn out.