Posted on September 28, 2018
She Loved Me More – Part 2
So we last left off with the phone call from the woman saying that she thought she was my mother. If you missed reading that, you can find it here.
Now you have to understand, in this “Letter to the Editor”, I had listed my home phone number (this was before cell phones) and my home address. At this time, the newspaper was still delivered door-to-door to many, many homes and businesses. Anyone could have seen my number and called and it could have been a prank call instead of the real thing. So my response, which was probably barely audible, was “Are you sure?” to which she said, “Yes, I am quite sure.”
There I was, standing in my living room, next to the table where the phone was sitting, talking to the woman who had given me life. I am not sure what I said next. Some of it is a little foggy. I could still hear my girls in the tub giggling while my husband was trying to keep an eye on them and still hear what was going on with me. I walked into the kitchen and just stood by the kitchen table as I talked to her. While trying to give my husband a “It’s really her” hand signal, I learned that she only lived about an hour from me in an area close to the bigger city phone book that I had given up on trying to find matches for my uncles and grandfather’s names. Oddly enough, even though she lived in that area, her brothers and father all lived in different states so I would have never found them in it. I could have found her, but wouldn’t have known it because her last name was not her maiden name. Her maiden name was Grover. All that time, I had the first and last name of my grandparents and my uncles because their last names were all Grover and I had received their first names in my initial request for “non-identifying” information. So much for fictitious names. I also learned that my mother had only been married a short time, but that she had kept her married name instead of going back to her maiden name of “Grover” so in my searches, I would not have found her.
In the midst of our conversation, I remember my girls coming out of the bathroom with wet heads and towels wrapped around their little bodies. They ran to me, screaming “Mommy, you’re home” and hugging my legs as I stood there. I could hear my biological mother, Sandy, gasp at the sound of her grandchildren that she had never met. I had stated in the “Letter to the Editor” that I had two children, but didn’t say any more than that, so she didn’t know if they were girls, boys, or how old they were. I told her they were girls along with their names and their ages. I heard her say to someone else in the room that they were girls, so I knew then that she had others with her too. I asked her who was there with her and she said that it was her parents, my grandparents.
I don’t remember much more of our exact conversation over the next few minutes, but at one point, she asked me why I had searched for her. I explained the situation with the lump on my breast and then having the girls had left me wondering about my medical history. I asked her if she had anything I should know about concerning medical history and she said, “Well actually, I have stage 4 breast cancer.” I heard it echo in my head over and over “stage 4 breast cancer, stage 4 breast cancer, stage 4 breast cancer” like a broken record. She was explaining how she had undergone Chemo and radiation, which had been fruitless and was now looking at alternative natural treatments…again, it seemed I was only hearing “stage 4 breast cancer”.
We talked that evening for nearly two hours and of course, I didn’t go to the meeting I had come home to get the minutes for. We arranged to meet for the first time about 10 days later on a Sunday afternoon. I promised to bring baby pictures of myself and we would meet at her home.
I called my parents and told them the news and really the next 10 days, I don’t remember much about. I am sure I spoke to Sandy again in between because I remember getting directions to her home and having some conversations around that. I gathered the pictures from my childhood together and likely not near enough to really give my mother any idea of what all my life was like growing up. I am sure I left out some of those awkward pre-teen pictures and just brought the ones that were less unflattering.
The day came for us to make the drive to Sandy’s home. I was the most nervous I had ever been in my entire life. I am rarely nervous. I can easily talk in front of large groups of people, hundreds, even thousands, do not make me nervous, but the thought of meeting this one person, shook me so hard with nerves, I wasn’t sure I would be able to walk. Just my husband and girls went with me this first visit. As we pulled into her driveway and began to get the girls out of their car seats, I carried Mackenzie and my husband had Lakin by the hand. I took a couple of steps and was sure I was going to drop Mackenzie as I neared the front door. I handed her off to her dad and took Lakin’s hand. I opened the screen door and knocked on the inside door. I don’t think there was a window to see in to from the outside, but I remember thinking that at any moment, my mother was going to be standing on the other side of that door.
The door opened and there she was. She was so tiny, barely 100 lbs and looked like a shell of what she had probably once been. It was clear that the cost of Chemo had come at a higher price than just her hair. She moved slowly and appeared very weak. I am sure she was just as nervous as I was, if not, more so. I remember hugging her just inside that door and introducing my husband and our girls to her. She was not alone. Her parents were there along with both of her sisters and each of them had brought their daughters. I was meeting, not only my mother, but also my grandparents, two of my aunts and two of my cousins.
The day was full of pictures and lots of discussion. We talked for at least 6 hours that day and looked at so many pictures. They told me about their family, my new family. I tried to keep it all straight in my head. My family had suddenly multiplied and it was thrilling to learn of it all. Sandy didn’t talk as much as we did. She seemed to just take it all in.
After the first meeting, we planned a larger family gathering that would include my parents along with all of my biological family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and other extended family were to be there. That day came about 2 weeks after that first meeting. It was overwhelming and wonderful all at the same time. It didn’t go unnoticed, however, at that point that Sandy was really not well. She was so weak and looked very frail. She had been taking natural treatments for the cancer, but there hadn’t been improvements and it was discovered that the cancer had spread to her bones. I am sure she was in pain. However, she was there and talked as much as she could. Her time though, was running short.
Over the next few weeks, we corresponded by phone a few times a week and we would go visit once or twice more. Most of our conversations, after those first couple of family visits, were private. It was in those moments that she answered most of my questions. Prior to then, I had been giving her a “play-by-play” of the last 24 years of my life. In the quietness of the days after that first meeting, she shared her story and those details were hard to imagine. What it must have felt like to leave a hospital knowing your baby was inside waiting to go home with someone else.
I was in college still during this time, but spring break came and I went to visit her more during that time. Hospice had been called in and the days were coming when she would become unresponsive. One Sunday after church, my husband and the girls and I went to see her. Nearly all my uncles and aunts were there as well as cousins. It seemed during this time, we got to know each other even more. As the day went by, it was time for us to take our girls home. Sandy had been in a resting state for some time, unresponsive to the goings on in the room around her. I asked the family to keep me posted.
We set out for home, getting there about an hour later. As we walked in the door, I could hear the phone ringing. My aunt was calling to tell me that the time was closer than they thought and that I might want to consider coming back. I changed my skirt from what I had been wearing all day after church into pants and walked right back to the car. We sat all through the night with her. The living room where her hospice bed was set up was filled with her siblings, parents, and a few of my cousins. I sat on the “davenport” (as my both, my biological and adopted grandmothers referred to the sofa) along with a couple of my cousins, listening to the sound of her labored breaths until there were no more. It was about 5 am on a Monday morning. I spent years wondering about her and trying to find her. I knew her for 6 weeks and then she went Home.
This story seems to end here, but really, this was all just the beginning. The beginning of an extended family I never expected to have. I have remained in contact with all my aunts and uncles, cousins, and even friends of Sandy’s. I have been so blessed by all that came from this experience. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I was never one of those adopted kids that felt like my mother didn’t want me so she gave me away. I was never, ever bitter towards her. I never felt like I didn’t belong. Once I met Sandy and we talked, I saw that I was right to not feel those things. I am so glad I didn’t spend the first 24 years of my life resenting someone for something that wasn’t true. I know so many adopted children who do that. Yes, she gave me up, not for her benefit, but for mine. She loved me more than she loved herself. Sure, she felt shame in the consequence of her actions that led to me, but she didn’t do it for that purpose, she did it because she wanted more for me than what she could give me on her own. She loved me more. She put me first. She gave me life and then gave me a life that was better than she could provide. She wanted me to experience something she couldn’t give me.
I love her for loving me more.
Sandy knew the Lord and spent much of her time in the Word and worshiping Him. I know where she is and I know my mom is with her now. Both of my moms are together in Paradise with our Lord and my best years with each of them are still to come.
~Jennifer
Thanks Jennifer! I would hope and pray that your story could be shared with others who have wondered about the circumstances surrounding their birth and doption. What emotional freedom it could bring!