The Irony of The Search

“Be careful going in search of adventure – it’s ridiculously easy to find.” (William Least Heat-Moon)

It’s ironic that we ever met, my birth mother and I.

After we found each other via Facebook, she told me of her 10 year search. She had done everything she could think of to find me, but with no success. (We discovered she’d been given fake names for my parents, among other incorrect information when I was born.) And although she had listed her information on several registries that specialize in uniting birth parents and their children, I hadn’t heard of any of them. I wasn’t registered anywhere. I’d never planned to find her.

But for being thrust into my unexpected life and finally feeling the need for my medical history, we probably never would have found each other. And we certainly never would have met but for an impulsive act.

Years ago, she had the impression I knew who she was, where she was and that I had chosen not to contact her because I was happy and doing well. (That was true. I’d known her address since approximately 1997 and had never acted on the information.) She held to that belief, continued living her life, until early December 2009 when she fasted, prayed and meditated that she would find me.

When she got on Facebook weeks after that to check her inbox, she was stunned to see I had sent my impulsive message 2-3 days after her meditation!

“You know, I’ve often thought if I were much older, I might not have done that…As you get older, you get more conservative, but I was still young enough to be a little bit impulsive.” (Kirk Douglas)

And I’d been thinking I was old, too old, an “old bag!” Thank goodness I was still “young” enough to be impulsive about something. You’ll never guess what I think I have to thank for that: my unexpected life.

I’ve seen firsthand that you can do everything “right,” you can do everything in your power to achieve one specific outcome, you can be on course and living your dream but you still may end up with a completely different life– maybe even a life you didn’t necessarily want when it initially became yours. Starting over unexpectedly. Seeking to create a new life out of the ashes of the old. Finding new dreams.

And it’s ok.

I’ve learned it IS possible to start over even when you think you’re old. It IS possible to dig yourself out of the darkest disaster. It IS possible to have faith, hope and trust a lot more and to choose to worry a lot less. It IS possible to create a new life and to dream new and different dreams than you ever have before. And it IS possible to be equally happy in the new and unexpected life; maybe even happier.

I’m living proof of that.

Thanks to my unexpected life.

MAC Lipstick And One Water Ski

Date: August 16, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

Our relationship continues.

Every time we talk, text or see each other, she continues be so friendly, kind, patient and loving. She hugs me. She doesn’t miss a chance to express her love and gratitude for me. She shares her perspective and experience with me. She isn’t afraid to tell me, honestly, what she thinks. She is accepting of everyone. She is beautiful inside and out. She is a positive force for good in the world, in my life and for my children.

We’re getting to know each other. We even had our first “sleep over” last month, just she and I–going to dinner, soaking in a hot mineral tub at The Homestead and chatting about anything and everything until late at night.

My children are getting to know her and getting used to her. The first time they met her, they stared at her. A lot. I couldn’t figure out what their problem was, but every time I’d look at my two oldest children, they’d be raising their eyebrows at each other or laughing. On the way home, I asked them what was so funny.

My oldest son said, “Mom, it’s like you two are the SAME person! You do EVERYTHING alike. It’s uncanny!” And he listed the many similarities he had observed in the short time he’d spent with her–right down to the way we both speak, to the way we get side-tracked in a conversation, to the way we talk with our hands (even on the phone), to the way we both have to have lipstick on all of the time, to the way we apply our lipstick in the same way,multi-tasking, while we drive a car! (To the fact that both of us carry and use MAC lipstick without the lids–we lose them.)

“I drive with my knees. Otherwise, how can I put on my lipstick and talk on my phone?” (Sharon Stone)

Although we have our differences.

My birth mother took me out in her boat the other weekend. She is 66 years old now, still really trim and very fit and athletic. She easily got up on one ski (something I’ve never been able to do), skied all around the reservoir (I’ve never been able to do that–I crash before I make it that far!), and then took one foot out of the ski so she could do stunt poses while the boat towed her. (Something I’ve never thought to do and wouldn’t be able to even if I wanted to!)

When she held on to the tow rope with her toes to free her hands so she could do even bigger stunt poses, I had to shake my head in awe. I thought everyone had been joking when they told me she’d water ski with her toes given the chance! Nope.

Clearly, I got ripped off in the genetics of water skiing department!

But that’s ok. She has two skis in her boat. And apparently, I’ll be the only one using two skis as I maintain a death grip on the tow rope…with BOTH hands.

“How about that? That squirrel can water ski.” (Ron Burgundy aka. Will Ferrell, “Anchorman“)

Things You Never Even Knew

Date: August 15, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

““A good friend is a connection to life- a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world.” (Lois Wyse)

There was a lot we didn’t know about each other, but it wasn’t like being with a total stranger. There is some type of connection there. She said, “It’s just so strange having a daughter I have no mother-daughter history with!” That probably said it all.

At one point I noticed I was sitting on her couch with my feet tucked under me and to the side, like I always do. It dawned on me: I was putting my feet on her couch! How rude! I quickly moved to put my feet on the floor, hoping she hadn’t noticed my bad manners. And then I noticed the way she was sitting. With her feet tucked under her to the side. She had her feet on the furniture too.

Meeting a birth mother is like that. You see why you do things you never even knew you did.

A Phone Call

Date: August 14, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

She thought it would be a fun joke for us to call our mutual friend together.

In some ways it would have been, but due to the Ponzi scheme perpetrated by my former spouse, I was scared to call. Although he hadn’t been a victim, my friend’s husband was one person my ex-husband had specifically mentioned to me as being unfriendly toward him after his crimes were revealed. I wasn’t sure how a phone call from Andrea Merriman would be received. But I didn’t want to get into all of that my first meeting with my birth mother!

So I made the call. I figured if the husband hung up on me, THEN would be the time to explain. And wouldn’t you know it? Just my luck. The husband answered the phone when I called.

He isn’t a mean man, just gruff, and I am sure a phone call from me was the last thing he imagined for himself that night. He asked me my name a couple of times. When he finally realized it was Andrea Merriman, he said simply, “What do you want?” I asked if I could speak to his wife.

She got on the phone and asked me if everything was all right. We hadn’t communicated for awhile. I told her I didn’t need anything, I was just calling to let her know I’d met an old friend of hers and gave the phone to my birth mother.

They had QUITE a chat. Old friends catching up on their lives in the most unexpected of ways!

The rest of the evening consisted of things you’d expect when reuniting with the mother who gave you life. I showed her pictures of my childhood and life, she showed me pictures of her children. I met one of her five children (and I really liked him.) She told me everything she could remember about my birth father, I told her about my children and divorce and new life; we enjoyed a very comfortable visit.

But at the top of my list of interesting things about our first meeting was the fact that my Colorado friend, a friend of mine since approximately 1994, had not only known my birth mother but had been her best friend and college roommate!

Have I ever said it’s a SMALL world? Because I really believe it is!

A Seriously Small World

Date: August 13, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

“Aw, man, it’s a small world!” (“Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back,” 2001)

We talked. We laughed. We shared experiences from our lives. It was uncanny how much we had in common. Seriously, a LOT in common. Even some of the same friends!

As an adult I’d made an older friend in Colorado. She had adopted her children and once we got on the subject of adoption; I told her I had been adopted too. She asked me what I knew of my birth mother and I told her everything except my birth mother’s name. Turns out, my friend had gone to the same university in Utah as my birth mother and had been on the same dance team! She wanted to know the name, she was just sure she’d know her.

I was afraid of that, too. Which is why I didn’t feel I could tell anyone the name. (I learned to be a lot more circumspect after that. I was learning how seriously small the world is.) So instead, my friend told me her maiden name and told me to go home and look at the pictures I was in possession of and see if she was in them.

She was.

I didn’t get back with her, hoping my friend would forget all about it, but she followed up with me. I admitted she was in the pictures with my birth mother and told her she probably had known my birth mother. She racked her brain trying to figure out who my birth mother could be. For years. But she never mentioned any names and I never volunteered any information.

In the meantime, we continued to visit together about once a month, and even went out to lunch for my birthday for several years.

The first time I met my birth mother in person, at some point in the evening I said, “Oh! I think I might know someone you know!” I mentioned my friend and our association over several years, revealed the woman’s first name but was struggling to remember her maiden name, when my birth mother named it for me.

She said, “Not only do I know her, she was my best friend all through college. We were roommates. I was the matron of honor at her wedding!”

How is THAT for a small world? A seriously small world!

“It’s a small world. No kidding.” (“Just Friends,” 2005)

Full Circle

Date: August 12, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

“I don’t have to look up my family tree, because I know that I’m the sap.” (Fred Allen)

I could have died. Did I really say that out loud?

Thankfully, she laughed, opened the door and invited me into her home. And then, like a total mother, she said, “Let me look at you!” and had me turn all the way around in a circle for inspection.

She was friendly, kind, loving, accepting and interesting to talk to. She was also very open with her thoughts and feelings. I quickly learned she was not about judging others or making judgements. She had counseled me not to judge her, and the sign at her door was a good reminder: “Please leave your judgments, and your shoes, at the door.”

I think it was an exciting moment for both of us.

I apologized for my tacky first words, but maintained that they were true. She laughed and said at her age, it was a huge compliment. She didn’t mind them one bit!

There were no tears, just smiles, until she expressed her gratitude for my parents and the way they had raised me. She told me she felt that although they weren’t here any more, they were still very aware of me, that they were supportive of our meeting and that she could be here for me now. THAT is what made me cry.

It was a tender moment.

I remembered every single birthday of my entire life, when my mom would look at me funny and start to cry. (It was almost a ritual.) I’d ask her why she was crying. And she’d say, “I’m just thinking of your biological mother. I wonder what she is thinking today? And I am just so grateful to her for bringing you into this world!” And there stood the woman who had brought me into the world expressing gratitude for my parents. It was as if some part of the adoption process had come full circle.

She hugged me.

And then we sat down to begin to get acquainted.

“Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family.” (Anthony Brandt)

Shut Me Up!

Date: August 11, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

“I feel very adventurous. There are so many doors to be opened, and I’m not afraid to look behind them.” (Elizabeth Taylor)

The door opened and a woman stood there. I wasn’t quite sure who she could be. First, she was stunningly attractive; radiant and glowing. The type of woman that everyone notices when she walks into a room.

Second, she looked too young to be a mother of a woman my age. I wondered if I’d gone to the wrong house.

I didn’t know what to say. The woman and I stood looking at each other, not saying a word, for several seconds. All we could do was stare!

At about the same moment, we both spoke–almost the same thing: “Is it really you?”

We both laughed and said, “It’s really me!”

Her next question caught me off-guard. She asked, “Well, what do you think?”

Big mistake. I am a person who says what I think. I’ll tell you, honestly, what I’m thinking–especially if you ask me. And unfortunately, my thoughts are expressed pretty much without censorship.

Think about it. What would any sane, normal, sensible, classy, dignified (all of the things I someday hope to be) woman say in a moment like that? What should you say, for the first time, to the woman who gave you life? What should be the first words out of your mouth?

I’m sure everything you’re thinking is more appropriate than what I came up with, unexpectedly, on the spur of the moment! Here is what popped out of my mouth:

“What do I think? I am thinking you are one HOT woman!”

Did I really say that? Yes, I really did. No, “Thank you for giving me life,” or any other expression of thanks or love; apparently “HOT” is the best I can do in a moment like that. Somebody, please shut me up!

Although, “The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live,” (Flora Whittemore) I believe our words have an impact too.

I need to work on that.

On The Brink of a New Frontier

Date: August 10, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

Looking back, it was a huge event. Kind of a momentous, life-changing moment. What were my thoughts?

I couldn’t imagine that we had found each other and were actually going to meet. I was going to meet “The Mystery Woman.”

I wondered what she looked like in person. My entire life I’d envisioned a beautiful heroine, my birth mother, who had loved me enough to carry me and then place me for adoption. Every time I’d watched “The Miss America Pageant” growing up, I’d wondered if one of the beauties on-stage was her. (Or at least if she looked like one of the beautiful women participating.)

I wondered if she was as nice and loving in person as she seemed on the phone. It seemed almost too good to be true. Not upset I’d shown up in her life unexpectedly AND she was loving, caring and kind, to boot?

I thought about how wished I’d been given more notice about meeting her so I could have lost a few pounds! (It always comes down to that for women, doesn’t it? Lol.)

Despite the fact it had been 42 years in coming, I “suddenly” found myself standing in front of her door, hand reaching toward the doorbell. The moment had come much sooner than I’d expected. I couldn’t imagine what was in store for me. What would it be like to meet a “stranger,” yet a mother, for the first time?

I’d know soon enough. Seconds away, I’d know everything.

“If you think there are no new frontiers, watch a boy ring the front doorbell on his first date.” (Olin Miller) Or, watch a 42-year-old woman ring the doorbell of her birth mother for the very first time!

I pushed the doorbell button, heard the chime, and tried to prepare myself for the opening of the door.

But really, how do you prepare for a moment like that?

Another Drive

Date: August 9, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

She asked me if I was willing and available to meet in person.

I told her I was open to anything she was, so she invited me to her home that weekend. I felt bad that it was so “last minute,” I didn’t want to disrupt any plans she may have had, and offered to meet any time in the coming month or even later than that if that was better for her. She said no, that was too long. She didn’t want to wait that long.

And with counsel from her to refrain from forming any judgements about her prior to meeting in person, we set the time, and the next day I found myself driving to her home.

It was a very unique experience, that drive. My entire life I’d lived one existence, then it had radically changed in 2009, and it was about to change AGAIN in some way, to some degree. I tried to process it all as I drove. I could not picture or imagine what was in store for me.

“How weird it was to drive streets I knew so well. What a different perspective.” (Suzanne Vega)

I had 40 minutes to think. To wonder. I put music on to try to quell my thoughts but it didn’t change the fact that I was thinking about everything. A lot. Now, I just had background music!

“The real trouble with reality is that there’s no background music.” (“Witty Quotes Haven,” Clever Quotes #2)

As I drove, accompanied by background music, trying not to think yet thoughts racing, scenes from my life replayed over and over in my mind. I tried to picture the next scene. But somehow, I just couldn’t.

All I could do was keep driving.

The Next Step

Date: August 8, 2010 Author: Andrea Merriman

“Do nothing in haste, look well to each step, and from the beginning think what may be the end.” (Edward Whymper)

It’s about time I stop to think about the above, huh?

I had acted in haste, I hadn’t considered any step beyond sending a message, and I certainly hadn’t thought what the end may be! I couldn’t quite take the next step and call, so I emailed back, shared a little bit more about me and my life, and gave her my phone number.

She called me the very next morning.

Her voice was kind, gentle and friendly. She apologized for not getting back to me earlier; she said she was never on Facebook, that her friend had put her on it, and she’d had QUITE a welcome surprise when she finally did get on it!

One of the first sentences she uttered was, “I want you to know, I didn’t have a choice regarding placing you for adoption.”

I assured her I was grateful she had and I appreciated what she had done for me. I told her I had been blessed with wonderful parents and a very full and amazing life with every opportunity, and more, that anyone could have ever wanted.

She told me the circumstances of my birth. She told me about my biological father. She told me some of my medical history. She told me she loved me.

The whole thing could not have been more unexpected or more positive or a better experience for me. I’m so glad she called!

It was an unexpected phone call that changed my completely unexpected life.

“If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?” (Stephen Levine)

The wait was over.

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Living Happily Ever After