I again want to thank you for the amazing comments you made to me over the last couple of days. I've been in a pretty dark hole since Tuesday night, and it's been hard to even try to think about climbing out. I am bitterly disappointed - even though I knew that so many things could go wrong, I guess I hoped in my heart of hearts that my birth mother would want to know me.
I thought I had considered just about every possibility, but this is one I hadn't covered - that she would be the one, and would deny it. I thought about her saying, "yes, it's me, but I don't want to have anything to do with you," but somehow, this is worse. I think it's worse because it leaves every one of my questions unanswered. She is the only one who knows the truth. She holds all my medical information. She is the only one who could tell me who my birth father was.
I thought I was a wee bit obsessed before (although I think we all established that I am NOT a stalker!) but now I'm positively crazed. I've devised about a dozen plans-for-action, and then discarded them. I think I will probably write her a letter, in a non-threatening way, and let her know what exactly I'm looking for. I want to reassure her that I am not planning to disrupt her life and that I only want some information. I don't need to have a relationship with her (although to be honest, it's what I've been dreaming about for such a long time).
Today I went down to the Portland library again to do some more research. It turns out the grumpy people I talked to last time I visited the library were not the whole story. I found a wonderful guy there (Hey, Abraham!) who helped me find yearbooks for Portland High School. I figured out approximately what year my birth mother would have graduated from high school, and I looked her up. It turned out to actually be just that simple. I found her photo in her senior yearbook. Abraham, who, as it happens, is a kick-ass Canon camera expert, helped me set up the yearbook on a stand, and got me a tripod for my new digital camera, and messed with the settings to get me the best possible shot of her photo.
I couldn't stop staring at it. I must have turned the camera on a hundred times just to look at the picture again. Do I look like her? I think I do, a little - especially the eyes. I am SO tempted to post the picture, but I don't think I can. This woman obviously wants to forget I ever happened, and although I doubt she'd ever find out, I think I shouldn't invade her privacy that way.
I guess I just have to wait. Wait for this horrible feeling I'm experiencing to pass. Wait for the courage to write the letter. Wait for her reply. God, I hate waiting. In the meantime, I'll try to be grateful for all I have - because I do have so much more information than I had such a short time ago. It's quite amazing, really. Two weeks ago, I didn't even know her name. Now I know her name, and that she named me. I know a little bit about her family. I think I know that she's alive and where she lives.
And I have her picture.
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