Margo Darretta’s Blog

So, I made dinner. I felt normal except I couldn’t turn my brain off. I called everyone to eat. The girls chowed and went off to homework or television or girltalk. Whatever. My dad lingered at the table and wanted to talk. He chatted about a few things, and then asked “So, how are things going in the search for your birth mother?” And there it was. It was out there and that was it. No matter how much I wanted to cherish this moment as my own a while longer, I couldn’t. So out it came “Well, I met them today.” My dad just looked at me for a moment without a single trace of emotion on his face. A few heartbeats passed before he spoke again. Then his eyes went wide and he asked “What happened?” So I told him much of the story and as I spoke I watched his eyes well up with tears. My first thought was that he was feeling sad. But as I bore on through the story, I realized that the tears were also because it was an amazing story. He was as touched by the emotion of it all as I was. He kept nodding and saying “isn’t that amazing” and “isn’t that wonderful”. I actually felt horrible relating our story. Except for my mother’s funeral, this was the only time I had ever seen my father weep. At first, I knew he was weeping because he was truly touched by the story and circumstances. But quickly I realized he wept for other reasons. I said “Don’t cry Dad, you are still my dad and nothing will ever change that.” All he could say was “I knew there would be repercussions from this…. but I didn’t realize how big. As long as you didn’t know who they were, I felt like you were all mine.” That was actually very touching for me. He really wanted me. And he wanted me all to himself. I was his daughter and he didn’t want to share me with anyone. I felt loved.

So here I am. My father loves me. I always knew that. Except now, his love isn’t just paternal love. It’s a desperate love. We talked through the night and I was beginning to truly understand what he felt. I felt terribly guilty and I didn’t know what to do with that. There was no way I was going to give up the chance to have a relationship with my birthparents. And there was no way I was going to give up my dad. How in the heck was I going to strike a balance in this triangle? As I went to bed I was bone-weary. Heart weary. I wrote my parents a letter. I wanted them to know how much it meant to me to meet them and I feared that I might never see or speak to them again, so I wanted to make sure they knew what it meant to me. As I laid my head down and prayed for sleep, the one thought that ran through my head was “You have enough love for everyone”. I actually chanted that into sleep.

When I awoke in the morning and stared at the new picture of me with my parents on my night stand, I told Paul I wanted to call them. He told me “Don’t push it. Just try to be patient, you don’t want to scare them.” I thought to myself, Yikes I sure don’t want to scare anyone. At 10:00 AM, my phone rang and it was my mother. OH HAPPY DAY! All I could think was that I didn’t want to scare this poor woman and she was actually thinking of me. I’ll never forget her voice. She was a little nervous, but she said “I hope this isn’t too soon, but I just wanted to hear your voice one more time”. All I could think was “this woman loves me just like I love her.” A new relationship was born. I adored my mother. I absolutely, positively every moment of my life now, love my mother.

So now, what about my mother that raised me and died. Guess what. I absolutely, positively every moment of my life love her. I would give anything at all to have just a moment with her again. So what to make of this? What is the difference between these two women. Well, nothing and everything. One gave me life. The other gave me a life. When this dawned on me, I never felt so blessed in all my life. I have had two amazing women in my life. And I can’t help but feel that had they known each other, they would have been terrific friends. My birth mother gave my mother that raised me a tremendous gift. I have not always been a religious woman. But in passed years, I have been. God works in mysterious ways. I can’t help but feel that this whole ordeal has been orchestrated from above.

So what now? My father is deserate to know everything about my birth parents. I’m scared to call them because I’m not really sure where I stand. My sisters don’t know anything about me and I know it is going to cause my birth parents pain to tell them about me. I’m madly in love with them, and I don’t want to cause them any pain, but I can’t bear the thought of never again being part of their lives. My sister is happy for me, but now more than ever wants to find her birth parents, and there is not information to help her. I was a wreck. I wanted to be happy, and I felt like I would cause everyone I love pain if I persued my own happiness. Did I deserve to be happy? I sort felt like I didn’t.