Margo Darretta’s Blog

Eventually, I did get over being so pissed at my dad, but that was when I really began to actively search for my birth parents. My father had married a woman fifteen years his junior. She was extremely jealous of my relationship with my father. I don’t really understand that, but she was. She completely alienated me from my father, and I did not visit his house for six years because of her. I talked to my dad, but only limitedly and I only saw him once or twice a year at my home in all those years. I wanted him to be happy and that was all that really mattered to me. He had a lot of depression since my mother died to the point that he had to has electro-shock therapy. That was pretty big deal, especially in those days. He was ashamed of it to the point that he would leave the state to receive the treatment and never wanted any of his colleagues to ever know he suffered from depression. I felt it was pretty understandable. I mean, my poor father lost his wife that he adored after more than 25 years of marriage and had two young children he was left to raise on his own while he had a busy medical practice. My sister was only 13 at the time and he was left to figure out what to do with a teenage girl, not to mention that I was barely out of high school myself. He had a rough go of it. I think he married to combat the loneliness, but I’m pretty sure that if he had it to do over again, he would have contemplated it a lot longer. He was sad. He drank way too much. He was a broken man. But he was a man that couldn’t remain broken for long. He was not brought up that way. He was a survivor. He is still a survivor. They divorced after about 13 years of marriage, which may have saved his life! He is now eighty-seven years old, has lived through several strokes, a major heart attack and triple bypass surgery. He is amazing and I adore him. I could not be more proud of any individual I have ever encountered in my life. He is my father and he and my mother made me everything that I am.

But the more alienated I became from my adoptive family, just made me want to find my birth family all the more.

So why did I feel such an urgency to find my birth mother? Simple. It is a basic. simple yearning that burns in the heart of every adopted person. You can’t help it. You can’t fight it. It is a connection that can’t be quelled. I loved the parents that raised me. But I also loved those elusive parents that gave birth to me. I wanted to know their story. I wanted to know who they were, if only for a minute. I didn’t want anything from them, just to know them. I wanted to kiss my birth mother on the cheek. I can’t tell you why, I just wanted to. I HAD to. That moment was still years away.