Adopting Salvation: Linda
I found my birth parents this summer. Adopting Salvation is our story in three parts.
When I told my Confidential Intermediary that I was born in 1970 she said, “Oh, that’s good! Most of those women are pissed off.” (If you ever need a Michigan CI and hate minced words, Annette is your girl.) In other words, in her experience, those women are more open to contact; they still feel short-changed by their lack of choice after all these years.
When Annette found my birth mother and first spoke with her, she said she “wept with relief”. To date, this is my only unselfish act during this entire process; offering the relief of knowing I was okay. Annette sent her my information and a request to release hers. She said yes. Within a week I had her name, Linda, and 30 seconds later I had a face, courtesy of Google.
And that’s when something unexpected happened; that’s when the fun began.
It’s fun to see so much of yourself in someone else.
It’s especially fun to see yourselves at the same age while appearing to be in the same bar while wearing the same jewelry and drinking the same drink – basically appearing to have lived the same I-am-up-to-no-good-and-loving-it life.
What’s really fun is discovering that when you look this similar, age doesn’t even matter.
Similar, familiar, comfortable.
Similarity came through old photos, while familiarity came through e-mails and texts and phone calls. Linda spoke of herself with confidence and clarity; she was deliberate with her words and generous with her history and as she spoke I thought
that sounds like something I would say.
Comfort came in the gift of a lifetime when Linda and her husband John came all the way from Michigan to meet me here in Montreal. She renewed her passport, drove fourteen hours and came to a city she had never seen to meet someone she had met only once, and then just barely.
Not only was meeting Linda like looking in an actual mirror, there was an ease in our togetherness. It was emotional without being devastating; joyful without being delirious. Or maybe that’s just our personalities — but that’s just it isn’t it? — our personalities. We were comfortable during arguably one of the most significant moments of our lives. I am grateful for that, for the ease of our togetherness.
What does it feel like to be wanted? To be important to someone else? We assume we all start off that way but to hear it and feel it when we are capable of understanding it, that is a gift. Outside of respecting my boundaries – if I actually had any – there was nothing that would stop Linda from meeting me, from telling me, from holding me. And as she opened herself up to the child she gave birth to, I thought
this feels like something I would do.
Thank you Linda. You could have been anyone, said or done anything, but you gave me exactly what I was hoping for. I’ll always be grateful to you.