Blessed but Brokenhearted

          So how does one describe the emotions felt when after 45 years you have a conversation with the woman who gave birth to you? Surprisingly, I didn’t cry during that phone call, but I know I came pretty close because Ed brought me a box of Kleenex at one point. Both Pamela and I were both in awe that we had actually made contact. It was a surreal feeling, yet an instant connection, and I still don’t know how best to describe it, I don't think either Pam or I can adequately express what we were both feeling, we were both pretty much in shock. I think maybe I was on auto-pilot through that entire conversation. Excited yet calm, emotional yet composed. But that night I slept maybe two hours, and that’s being generous. The rest of the time I just cried. Tears of joy in having found my birth mother. Tears of resentment for not doing this earlier. Tears of sorrow for all those years she waited for me to reach out. Wait a minute, so she had been waiting all this time? I thought she hadn't wanted to meet me, I thought she had closed that chapter in her life...

            I think, without a doubt, the most difficult thing for me to process in all of this was learning through that initial phone call that she had been looking for and inquiring about me. Her first attempt was through Children’s Aid Society, when I was only three. I do believe I gasped and even clutched my chest when she told me that. And that’s when Ed went running for the Kleenex box. You know from my last post that when I was in my early 20’s I registered to connect with my birth mom. I figured I had nothing to lose, I could always change my mind if she registered as well, as they would let me know first so that I could call the shots. But no such connection. I just assumed there was no interest on her part since CAS never put the two of us together in their search registry. Well, I had assumed wrong. Back in 1972, she was told to wait for me to reach out, which she did. For 42 long years. The only thing I can figure out is that she contacted them before any such registry existed, and by the time I registered there was no proper record of her contact.

            I battled with feelings of regret, anger and extreme sadness. Here I am, right in the middle of one of the best possible adoption reunion stories, so why am I crying more tears of sadness than joy? I was so blessed but so brokenhearted. Why didn’t I search earlier? Why didn’t Children’s Aid do their job properly and connect us? Why would God allow my birth mom to actually scan every face she passed on the streets of Toronto looking for that familiar one? Even her son, my brother, did his best to find me every time he was in Toronto, but had no success without a name to search with. How broken and empty did Pamela feel all these years? How much regret was there in her life for giving me up? How could God have let me continue along my way essentially unaffected by the broken bonds while my birth mom was aching for reconnection? Her words “I thought of you every day”, “We’ve been waiting for this day for years”, and “How could I ever forget my New Year’s baby?” still bring tears to my eyes. While I thought she had closed that chapter of her life, I was actually written on every page of her life story. Why God? Why would You allow such suffering for a woman who did such an honourable thing in such a horrible circumstance? Could You not have rewarded her in some way for choosing life and not aborting me? Could You not have given her peace in her heart instead of unrest and longing all these years? As I processed all of these feelings I was definitely feeling a sense of incredible sadness for her, regret over not contacting sooner, and anger toward the Children’s Aid Society and ultimately toward God for allowing all of this.

          But God was not done with this story yet. He knew what I needed to hear to be encouraged and that message came a few days later...