Zine teaser
What follows in an excerpt from an essay in my next issue of mama, #4. It's the last one describing my meeting with my birth mom's family.
Mama #4 will be out as soon as we scrape up the $$ for a black ink jet printer cartridge (anyone have a spare black for a 15?) and some copying fees...
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From: Seeking My Birth Family, Part 3
In locating my birth aunt, I understood now that I had a place to figure out. A new role to add to my already complicated sense of identity. How would it all shake out with my family? How would I get along with my birth relatives? What did I expect to get from all of this? These hard questions were not so complicated after all; I approached it all with an open mind and, at times, a vulnerable heart. I cried a lot after I learned that Judy died. I cried, too, in the car on the way to our first hotel stay in Illinois. To my partner I explained that I wasn’t sure what I would need throughout all of this, but that I would let him know as I went. He supported me the whole time, with his whole person. And together we drove on down to meet my kin.
To prepare for the trip I packed some family photos: me growing up, as a baby, as a girl scout, with my parents, Lola as a baby. I didn’t have a lot to share, but I brought what I could and what I thought someone who wondered about me but missed my entire childhood might be interested in. The first family-related stop was my parents’ house. There we washed some diapers, filled up our bellies, got a good night’s sleep, played at a park. Talked a little. I was surprised to discover my own parents’ mild anxiety about the trip, which they let only a little show. As I shared with them the pictures of the DeBord family P. had sent to me they had so many questions. They never said what their hearts shouted: can we meet her? Their sadness for my loss (of Judy) was deep and wide. They grilled me about our itinerary, which I shared: next day to P’s to meet at a park; then, off to set up camp nearby; spend the day together after that, doing whatever catching up is possible in such a short time; meet my other birth aunt and then off to Missouri to visit the graves of my dead relatives; then to meet my extended adopted family to celebrate my grandma’s 90th birthday; then, the loooong drive back home to Wisconsin. Lots of driving, lots of car time, lots of overnights with an almost-three year old. A busy schedule for someone in need of thinking time, of the still quiet time to process all those pesky questions about loving and family and loss.
continued...
Mama #4 will be out as soon as we scrape up the $$ for a black ink jet printer cartridge (anyone have a spare black for a 15?) and some copying fees...
********************
From: Seeking My Birth Family, Part 3
In locating my birth aunt, I understood now that I had a place to figure out. A new role to add to my already complicated sense of identity. How would it all shake out with my family? How would I get along with my birth relatives? What did I expect to get from all of this? These hard questions were not so complicated after all; I approached it all with an open mind and, at times, a vulnerable heart. I cried a lot after I learned that Judy died. I cried, too, in the car on the way to our first hotel stay in Illinois. To my partner I explained that I wasn’t sure what I would need throughout all of this, but that I would let him know as I went. He supported me the whole time, with his whole person. And together we drove on down to meet my kin.
To prepare for the trip I packed some family photos: me growing up, as a baby, as a girl scout, with my parents, Lola as a baby. I didn’t have a lot to share, but I brought what I could and what I thought someone who wondered about me but missed my entire childhood might be interested in. The first family-related stop was my parents’ house. There we washed some diapers, filled up our bellies, got a good night’s sleep, played at a park. Talked a little. I was surprised to discover my own parents’ mild anxiety about the trip, which they let only a little show. As I shared with them the pictures of the DeBord family P. had sent to me they had so many questions. They never said what their hearts shouted: can we meet her? Their sadness for my loss (of Judy) was deep and wide. They grilled me about our itinerary, which I shared: next day to P’s to meet at a park; then, off to set up camp nearby; spend the day together after that, doing whatever catching up is possible in such a short time; meet my other birth aunt and then off to Missouri to visit the graves of my dead relatives; then to meet my extended adopted family to celebrate my grandma’s 90th birthday; then, the loooong drive back home to Wisconsin. Lots of driving, lots of car time, lots of overnights with an almost-three year old. A busy schedule for someone in need of thinking time, of the still quiet time to process all those pesky questions about loving and family and loss.
continued...
posted by Skim @ 7:51 PM
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