It's late but I really want to share what I have just learned.
Tonight I have been FB messaging my 'cousin', Jane*, who is acting as our interpreter at present. (She is a lovely chiquita, who I have recently found out is a Christian too (whoop whoop!) At one point she had my B-Ma on the phone, me on the FB, whilst interpreting our convo back and forth from either party.
As previous attempts had proved confusing with broken english answers, I had to ask thee question whilst I had this opportunity:
Who is my birth father?!
Which led to a cascade of other questions:
Is he still alive?
How did you meet?
Do you have a photo of him?
What did he do for a living?
What did he look like?
Did he know about me?
Unfortunately for me the answers were not easily digestible. He passed away about seven or so years ago. Also, unfortunately, he was not a good man… stink. (for him, and for me)
As with all the crazy news I've had recently I have learned I do not react well. I go into what I am now referring to as, SamaShock. I laugh about it and make stupid jokes about it… Then all hands on deck! Kapow!
So for now, I will say, At least I already got one daddy. Who needs two, aye?! (Haha..?)
Ps. I'm guessing it will properly sink in next week… or maybe the week after.
*name changed to respect their privacy.
Saturday, 20 September 2014
Monday, 8 September 2014
What's in A Name
Birth Mother, Biological Mother, B-Ma, Mother, Mama, Mom, Mum, Surrogate Mother, Ma, Adopted Mother, Foster mum...
"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Shakespeare
Since finding my B-Ma I have had one fact that has irked me. Where do I place her?
My B-Ma and half-sister have been referring to her as "Your Mother" "Our Mum" and it has been uncomfortable to say the least. Also the fact that they have been calling my mother "Foster Mother" or "Adopted Mum" pees me off...
My mother has always been the one who has raised me. The one that has wiped away my tears, scolded me for being naughty and laughed with me through out the highs and lows of 28 (out of 30) years. She is the one that has tucked me into bed, introduced me to my Lord and Saviour, and has prayed with me over many of life's problems and joys.
Sometimes I put it down to bad translation, or even it's easier to write 'Mum' than 'Birth Mother over and over. I mean no disrespect to her, but it is hard. We are starting this relationship from scratch.
I feel that the name 'Mother' is earnt. It is not a given. I'm not trying to be harsh, but I am quite black and white when it comes to these things. A mother isn't someone who had a child. It is someone who cares for, nourishes, teaches, watches, encourages, nurtures a child, whether that child is biologically theirs or not.
For arguments sake, she is my "mother". She created and birthed me. Biologically I owe my 'Sama-ness' to her and my Birth Father's gene pool. On a sympathetic note, she has revealed to me how she had no choice in the matter and that she has missed me for the last 30 years. My heart aches over this fact as we cannot undo what has been done, and further more, I wouldn't want to.
My life here has been fraught with severe highs and lows. My family is big, complicated, loud, crazy and sometimes messy; but I wouldn't have it any other way.
I wouldn't have the family I have. My husband. My daughter. My extended family. My friends. My church.
I would be almost an entirely different person if I had not been given up.
How can you reconcile feelings for the woman who created you with the woman who taught you everything you know?
"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Shakespeare
Since finding my B-Ma I have had one fact that has irked me. Where do I place her?
My B-Ma and half-sister have been referring to her as "Your Mother" "Our Mum" and it has been uncomfortable to say the least. Also the fact that they have been calling my mother "Foster Mother" or "Adopted Mum" pees me off...
My mother has always been the one who has raised me. The one that has wiped away my tears, scolded me for being naughty and laughed with me through out the highs and lows of 28 (out of 30) years. She is the one that has tucked me into bed, introduced me to my Lord and Saviour, and has prayed with me over many of life's problems and joys.
Sometimes I put it down to bad translation, or even it's easier to write 'Mum' than 'Birth Mother over and over. I mean no disrespect to her, but it is hard. We are starting this relationship from scratch.
I feel that the name 'Mother' is earnt. It is not a given. I'm not trying to be harsh, but I am quite black and white when it comes to these things. A mother isn't someone who had a child. It is someone who cares for, nourishes, teaches, watches, encourages, nurtures a child, whether that child is biologically theirs or not.
For arguments sake, she is my "mother". She created and birthed me. Biologically I owe my 'Sama-ness' to her and my Birth Father's gene pool. On a sympathetic note, she has revealed to me how she had no choice in the matter and that she has missed me for the last 30 years. My heart aches over this fact as we cannot undo what has been done, and further more, I wouldn't want to.
My life here has been fraught with severe highs and lows. My family is big, complicated, loud, crazy and sometimes messy; but I wouldn't have it any other way.
I wouldn't have the family I have. My husband. My daughter. My extended family. My friends. My church.
I would be almost an entirely different person if I had not been given up.
How can you reconcile feelings for the woman who created you with the woman who taught you everything you know?
Friday, 5 September 2014
In Your Face…book
Last night I got the shock of my life. (Okay, make that the second shock of my life…)
I was checking The Facebook before bed (as you do) only to find a friend request from a random Asian chiquita from Hong Kong. The first thought was SPAM! You know what I'm talking about:
"Me have a million dollars, you inherit. Give me email address. Love you long time."
(It's not considered racist if that's your race… I'm pretty sure..?)
I stared at that face in that little profile box. My heart leapt into my throat.
Me:"Who is this random called, Ping Pong*?"
Hubband (taking a look): You know, Sama
Me: No…
Hubband: Come on, Sama. Come. On…[smirks]
I knew. It was my half-sister, Penelope*. But I guess I wanted to be sure? It's hard to pinpoint the exact feeling when I looked at that tiny profile picture of the Asian girl pulling a complete 'Sama' face. The possibility that someone else could have the exact same weird facials as me!? Absurd. (Well, actually I guess that's the norm for all bio whanau's. Haha!)
I have never had anyone who resembles me before.
To say I have done all the scenarios in my head is an understatement. I imagined finding out my B-Ma (birth mother) is dead, or is a drug addict, or maybe a princess! or God forbid, a horrible person; and more realistically, has gone on to have a family after having me.
I imagined if I had siblings would they have my black kinky-winky, curlyish hair? Or my wee button nose, that I swat anyone's hand who tries to touch it; or maybe my awesome sense of humour or quirky fashion sense? (And of course, my deep humility… jokes) But when confronted with The Reality was daunting to say the least…
The next moment of shock came when Ping Pong PM'ed me. Asking if I was available to talk.
I said, yes.
Over the next half hour or so we exchanged broken English messages. Some on her side, some on mine (- which sucks coz English is the only language I know. Haha!) We delved into some of the deep issues and some of the light. (I cracked up when she asked me if my daughter was naughty like her two kids!)
I also got to see a couple of pictures of my B-Ma (past and present) for the first time in my entire life.
At first I didn't think she looked like me at all. But upon further inspection in the light of a new day I realised, holy cowbells! This is MY Birth Mother… My. Birth. Mother. My connection. My DNA.
The puzzle pieces were well and truly smashed together and I couldn't deny that I got a chunk of my looks from her. It's very surreal to be looking into a (sort of) future mirror. Very surreal...
There were a few moments during the chat session where I admitted I was overwhelmed and didn't know what to say. (Seriously, what do you say to your newly found half-sister and your B-Ma you haven't met after 30 years?!) I'm not sure if Ping Pong understood that or whether she chose to ignore it and railroad ahead with the Q+A anyway? It was disconcerting and disjointed, and really flippen late at night, so I said my goodnights and went off to mull over the sitch.
Every time I think about it it's like looking through a foggy window. Each new piece of information spins me out and I go into a glazed trance. It's not real. It's an excellent story to tell to others but it didn't happen to me. This blog is, unfortunately and thankfully, proof that it's not just a dream.
*names changed to respect their privacy.
I was checking The Facebook before bed (as you do) only to find a friend request from a random Asian chiquita from Hong Kong. The first thought was SPAM! You know what I'm talking about:
"Me have a million dollars, you inherit. Give me email address. Love you long time."
(It's not considered racist if that's your race… I'm pretty sure..?)
I stared at that face in that little profile box. My heart leapt into my throat.
Me:"Who is this random called, Ping Pong*?"
Hubband (taking a look): You know, Sama
Me: No…
Hubband: Come on, Sama. Come. On…[smirks]
I knew. It was my half-sister, Penelope*. But I guess I wanted to be sure? It's hard to pinpoint the exact feeling when I looked at that tiny profile picture of the Asian girl pulling a complete 'Sama' face. The possibility that someone else could have the exact same weird facials as me!? Absurd. (Well, actually I guess that's the norm for all bio whanau's. Haha!)
I have never had anyone who resembles me before.
To say I have done all the scenarios in my head is an understatement. I imagined finding out my B-Ma (birth mother) is dead, or is a drug addict, or maybe a princess! or God forbid, a horrible person; and more realistically, has gone on to have a family after having me.
I imagined if I had siblings would they have my black kinky-winky, curlyish hair? Or my wee button nose, that I swat anyone's hand who tries to touch it; or maybe my awesome sense of humour or quirky fashion sense? (And of course, my deep humility… jokes) But when confronted with The Reality was daunting to say the least…
The next moment of shock came when Ping Pong PM'ed me. Asking if I was available to talk.
I said, yes.
Over the next half hour or so we exchanged broken English messages. Some on her side, some on mine (- which sucks coz English is the only language I know. Haha!) We delved into some of the deep issues and some of the light. (I cracked up when she asked me if my daughter was naughty like her two kids!)
I also got to see a couple of pictures of my B-Ma (past and present) for the first time in my entire life.
At first I didn't think she looked like me at all. But upon further inspection in the light of a new day I realised, holy cowbells! This is MY Birth Mother… My. Birth. Mother. My connection. My DNA.
The puzzle pieces were well and truly smashed together and I couldn't deny that I got a chunk of my looks from her. It's very surreal to be looking into a (sort of) future mirror. Very surreal...
There were a few moments during the chat session where I admitted I was overwhelmed and didn't know what to say. (Seriously, what do you say to your newly found half-sister and your B-Ma you haven't met after 30 years?!) I'm not sure if Ping Pong understood that or whether she chose to ignore it and railroad ahead with the Q+A anyway? It was disconcerting and disjointed, and really flippen late at night, so I said my goodnights and went off to mull over the sitch.
Every time I think about it it's like looking through a foggy window. Each new piece of information spins me out and I go into a glazed trance. It's not real. It's an excellent story to tell to others but it didn't happen to me. This blog is, unfortunately and thankfully, proof that it's not just a dream.
*names changed to respect their privacy.
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