So this is kind of cool

On a completely non-adoption related note...

I have been wearing a ring for the last few days that I found among my grandma's stuff. It looks like a silver wedding band - so, of course, I assumed that it was hers or someone else's from the family. It just fits my pinkie.

I took it off yesterday and was looking inside the band and noticed some writing. Thinking, how cool, an inscription for the wedding, but I was a bit surprised and perplexed to read the words "Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite" and "Francaise Republique."

I mean I know that none of my a-family came from France, so this was a little puzzling.

Ah but good ol' google, I come to find that it is actually WWI trench art. Some soldier fighting in the war made this out of a French coin - a method in which the writing on the outer edge of the coin is retained inside the ring. Pretty cool piece of history.

A little recap

So, I met up with nmom a few days ago.

All I can say is...wow. It went SO well, we were both SO at ease, and we did a lot of talking. A LOT. I can feel myself being more and more able to open up to her, and vice versa. I don't think we have ever actually been truly just one on one before, so that probably plays a huge role, but...

I was a little newborn infant once. Did you know that? I didn't, well ok I did but I never really felt it or could identify with the newborn me, until after Wednesday night. She told me about the day I was born, how they had to interrupt a parade (yes I am a real show stopper!) and then they took her to the wrong hospital, so she made them take me to the one she wanted to deliver me at.

She told me she never forgot my first cry and how she breathed a huge sigh of relief. And I was such a small baby, and so beautiful, and my dad's father came down there the very next day to see me.

I was NOT unwanted. I WAS loved.

This alone is enough to really help me connect to my birth. I feel so much more real now, so much more, I don't know, valid? More than I ever have in my life.

Another thing that really struck me is the importance that she is putting on me getting my OBC. She had NO idea that it was sealed and unavailable to me, none whatsoever. I even alluded to the forum and the Adoptee Rights work that so many of my fellow adoptees are doing to unseal our records, and she seemed genuinely on board with that. So in a couple weeks I am going to meet her, she is going to accompany me to the courthouse and sign whatever document she needs to sign, and then she is going to let me take her to Ikea. :) She wants to spend the whole day together, just the two of us, doing the things that real moms and daughters do. I can't wait.

There is more, but I need to process a little further.

Seeing mom

I am excited, I will be seeing my mother in two days. Nothing spectacular, just meeting up for dinner, but it's something.

Usually our emails are sporadic...well, I will email her pretty consistently and jump to reply to anything she sends to me, but coming from her, it takes days and days to reply if I get one at all. So when I asked her if she was busy on this particular night, I was quite shocked to get an instant reply. And not one but many as we planned the evening.

I had been trying to get in touch with my brother too, and she gave me his phone number. I hope he can make it, I haven't seen him in so long.

I've been debating back and forth with myself if I should share my blog or even possibly the forum with him. A big part of me thinks that he would be very receptive to this, that he would in some way understand, and that it would help solidify our relationship and bring us closer. We don't talk directly all that often but, I don't know, maybe by just being able to read what I say at his convenience, it would help. But then again there's that small adopted side of me that says "Don't do it!! He'll reject you for sure!!" I hate that part of me.

So wish us luck, I hope the evening goes well. I doubt any serious, deep discussion will happen, but it's a tiny step forward in this all but stalled relationship.