My biological mother Connie died.
For those of you who don't know, I was adopted as an infant. As a side note, so was my husband, and we adopted our daughter Mia. Throw Dexter into the mix, and we could be a poster for the blended family.
I grew up always knowing I was adopted. My mom and dad made it a positive experience for me. I always wondered about where I came from, and my mom told me everything she knew, which wasn't much.
After I had Dexter, I became more curious. It took me a while to actually commit to doing something about it. My mom encouraged me, and helped me. Eventually, I ended up at the Oakland County Courthouse in Pontiac, and paid for a search. It worked like this: They did a search for the original records of the adoption and released the non-identifying information. Then, they tried to contact the biological family to see if they wanted to establish communication. Not all biological families do, and sometimes, the information just isn't available.
Connie and I exchanged letters and talked on the phone. About a month later, we met. I found out that we shared a birthday, July 28. She gave birth to me on her thirty-third birthday. She gave me pictures of herself in her younger days, and we looked very much alike. We also shared mannerisms. When I met my half-sister and brother, they were a little freaked out, I think, at the resemblance.
I never established a close bond with Connie. I suppose it is mostly my fault. I didn't know what to say or how to feel. I am close to my brother and sister and I cherish those relationships.
My sister took care of Connie these last years, when Connie's health had declined. She carried the burden of making the decisions, much as I did when I lost my mom. I know how difficult it is to see your mother dying slowly, before your eyes.
I'm only starting to be Gobsmacked by this.
RIP Connie, and thank you making the most difficult decision any mother can.