Writing Letters {Extended verison}

I never knew I would find myself writing about this today. I thought this would make an interesting blog. I spent my whole life if you believe it or not wondering about my birth mother and father. Always asking my mom the same question over and over again: "Why did she put me up for adoption?" "Do you think she knows about my birth father?" Sometimes it seems stupid to people. You know what now a days I could care less what people have to say to people like me who wonder and search for their birth families. You would think why would the mother care about me now?

It is strange though. I have searched long and hard on the internet for phone numbers and addresses. So many people with the same name in a few states, apparently she traveled a lot. Some of them always led back to the same person. My Birth mother's name and list of family members as well. This included a name that was familiar sounding, which had been my half sister. At the time I did not know. I began this search more thoroughly a couple years back when I saw a....therapist. That was one of the things that inspired me to not give up. {That and my half sister found a post I made online and gave me information so my search was much easier.}

Amazing thing happened in the ending of my senior year. My first letter from my birth mother arrived. (It was in response to my letter I had sent out hoping this time it was to the right person). When I read it, it brought me to tears. (Yeah, yeah cheesy sounding.) It was one of those heart felt, tear jerking moments. The words, I could almost feel certain she had been a shocked as I had been when receiving the letter. I mean I spent so much time looking for her and I finally made contact. It was overwhelming. That was how our exchange of letters began, hand written, emails, you name it. It's amazing how important communication is. Even without spoken words I enjoyed reading what she wrote or typed to me. I thought at first it was awkward and stressed me out. Over time now i have gotten used to talking to her. It has been a few months, a little more then five.

An interesting thing I learned as I wrote to her was the fact she had not known my birth father had died from diabetes. What a fact...That seemed like something important to know. And yet my birth grandma called my house when I was a little girl to tell my family he had passed away...Why did she not know? It still bothers me now, but I re frame from asking her why she hadn't told her own daughter. Over time our letter exchange went to email which was not any less important. It was easier and more convenient for us.