Saturday, November 15, 2008

Muppets from Space

[Note: Dear Creme de la Creme readers, welcome! Please, please note that since this post, our little seedlings were born too early (21 wks), with us only a short while, and in that while changed our lives and our perspectives on a lot of things. Some things have ended, others started. Please stay tuned for an update.]

Contacted through my breakfast cereal and then confirmed to me by the cosmic fish...I am from outer space.


Sometimes I feel like Gonzo.

Not always. But every once in a while I get that nudge, that reminder. That feeling like in a sea of genes, in a long line of dominant traits and bloodlines, I am a little blip. Seemingly dropped at the doorstep. Origins unknown. With no ability to pass those pieces of myself along either.

Sometimes that's humbling. Sometimes these thoughts feel like the worst kind of hubris. Hey, I'm a one in a million! I could exclaim.

But aren't we all.

Sometimes I wish for a grand reunion. An easy search. Puzzle pieces falling into place, all leading me to one or both of my birth parents. It's not as if I landed in a bad place. My parents love me. H*ll, they adore me. And the support they have shown us ever since we shared our journey to bear children has been amazing. Eager grandparents-to-be is a grand understatement.

But every once in a while there is that desire to look into my cereal bowl or up to the heavens for some answers.

I think about beginning a process. Recently, my brother asked if I was at least going to go in search of my medical records in case we would need then for the seedlings, forgetting that their origins are also a bit unknown. To be honest, I did too for a moment.

What can I do to ease this longing? Will the seedlings have these same feelings? If they do, I will need to remember that this particular kind of curiosity and longing does not go hand in hand with rejecting the life, or family, or love that you have. It really does coexist.

And I have to remember that in the end, Gonzo doesn't run into the spaceship, into the open arms of people who share his nose, his personality, his love of cannons, people just like him. He opts to stay right where he is.
My life is here. This is my home.

9 comments:

nancy said...

What a really cool sentiment you have given. Very cool.

Amy said...

I can't imagine struggling with all of those pieces at once, but whether or not you find satisfying answers, I'm glad you know where home is.

Drowned Girl said...

Re your comment on my blog... yes, the naming ceremony was a humanist ceremony in place of a christening.

We had an officiant from the British Humanist Society and various readings inc the kahlil gibran one about children.

"Nongodparents" made promises about lving and supporting the twins and our family.

Useful book: http://www.humanism.org.uk/site/shop/shopproduct.asp?id=159&parent=403&root=403&cat=403&level=1&pageNo=&prod=519&from=prodlist

xx

Lori said...

Thank you for writing this. I always appreciate reading an adoptee's perspective.

And I'm also glad you know where home is.

Kami said...

What a thoughtful post. You have such a unique perspective.

Ryan's Mommy said...

Your comment about a search for answers co-existing with your feelings about your family really hits the nail on the head. Beautifully said.

april said...

How lucky your little ones will be to have a mother who knows what it is like to ponder one's roots while still knowing and appreciating home.

midlife mommy said...

I often wonder how my daughter will process her origins from DE, and whether she will reject me (I know, silly fear, but it's still there). Thank you for writing about this.

Cassandra said...

As you requested for ICLW, I have gone back and read an earlier post. I chose well! This was a lovely exploration of feelings with a delightful dose of Muppet thrown in.

I hope that each day you feel a little better.

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