Margo Darretta’s Blog

I had a million questions for my birth parents, but it was very difficult to ask them. I didn’t know them at all and it felt wrong to be too personal. I wanted to know what my mother was feeling while she was pregnant with me. Did she hate me? Did she love me? Did she resent me because she had to leave her life and my father to give birth to me? None of those questions came out of my mouth. What did my father feel? All they could tell me was they were young and there was no way they could keep me. To this day, I really don’t know what my mother was feeling about me. Part of me doesn’t really want to know. My mother even asked me “is there anything that you want to know”? I know she was sincere and probably would have shared anything with me that I asked of her. But I was so happy to just be looking in their eyes and feeling their touch as we held hands, I didn’t really care that much. I’ve lived long enough at this point to know that what a girl feels at 16 isn’t the whole picture of a life-altering event. All these years I wanted to know a million things and suddenly, they just didn’t seem important anymore. I’m not even sure I really want to know. If she told me she hated being pregnant with me and couldn’t wait to get rid of me, I would be devistated. And if she told me she adored me and prayed she could keep me, I don’t even know if I would truly believe her because I was 16 once, too. I have a 16 year old daughter. I know what they think and feel. They live in the moment for the most part. At least most of us do. All of the questions disappeared and the “here and now” was all that really mattered to me. That is how I feel to this very day.

The next hurdle was my sisters. My parents showed me a picture of them and I almost fell over when I looked at them and saw exceptional resmblences… especially to my sister number 1. They didn’t know anything about me. How were they going to take this? It was even more complicated by the fact that my sister, number 2, could not have a family of her own. She adopted two children. And a few years later, when the pressure was off, she was able to conceive a child of her own. This was complicated. My sister would surely think of the whole “adopted child finds birth parents” on the opposite side of the coin. My mother was worried how my sisters would react to the news of me and my father was worried about what the kids might feel. I surrendered to the fact that I might never meet my sisters or know them at all. My parents said right out that they were willing to tell everyone and anyone that I was back in their lives. My father said “We’re old now. Nothing can hurt us at this point”. And I believed him. But I know the issue with my sisters was a touchy one. I told them not to even broach the subject if they thought it would in any way affect their relationship. I would not be able to live with the fact that I would cause disruption or unhappiness within their family in any way. We left it that they thought they would probably tell them, but it may take a while. I was fine with that. I really wanted to know them, but not at anybody’s expense. The mission was to find happiness and completion….. not to hurt anyone! There was hope I would know them and I was happy with that.

Finally, it came time for us to say goodbye. I was horrified at the thought of never seeing them again. I could tell my mother really didn’t want to part from me either. Maybe she had the same feeling. But the afternoon was fading into evening and part we must. We took a photo of me with my birth parents, which felt natural. Really not that uncomfortable. But I couldn’t help but think that this may very well be the only thing I may have to know them. This photo just became the most cherished thing I ever owned. But I was wrong.

I went home with my husband still in a stunned state and my mind was swimming with all kinds of thoughts. Now I had to face my family. To my children, well I could share whatever I felt was appropriate. Of course, especially Kate, wanted to know every detail. But I also had to face my father. I didn’t even tell him that I had this meeting. I didn’t want to lie about it to him…. I just didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want to feel like I had betrayed him. When I came into the house, he of course asked me, with no malice intended “Where ya been?” I felt like a deer in headlights. “Paul and I went out for lunch” was all I could say. I told the truth, but not the whole truth and I was feeling horrible. And I was a little angry because I just had the most joyous occasion of my life and I didn’t want anyone to rain on my parade. And I was feeling guilty. What the heck was I going to do with those feelings? So I went into my room and I balled like a baby. I didn’t even really know why I was crying. I was happy. I was sad. I was confused. And I knew my life was never going to be the same again. I have a man living with me that is my father…. who loved me and nurtured me and helped me through thick and thin all of my life. And I had my natural parents that I absolutely adored and couldn’t wait to see again. What was so easy an hour before was now one of the most difficult things in my life. An hour of a good cry and I was ready again to go back to my original life. OK. Do what ya gotta do.