Biology 101

Today’s blog is about my birth mother. I still have no reason why in particular that I’d like to meet her. Usually my assumptions of who people are or what they look like are very inaccurate.
When I imagine what it will be like, I see it going something like this…We agree to meet in a coffee shop near where I grew up and where my friends and I often spent our afternoons following classes. Her back is turned. I’m running late and see her before she sees me. I stare at the back of her head, admiring the brown-black hair that is slightly streaked with white. I’ve got the same hair and don’t need to see it in the sun to know that it has red highlights. She pauses, sensing someone looking at her and turns to me. She is medium in build, five eleven woman with my nose. Her lovely almond shaped eyes widen behind designer glasses and when she smiles I can see that we have the same thin lips. Her cheekbones are different and when I look closely I realize that my hairline is not hers either. I recognize with a jolt that those must come from my biological father. She draws me into her arms and tears begin to fall. We are totally oblivious to anyone else in the room. She pulls back and sizes me up. We sit and begin to converse. We talk about everything, she takes out pictures, I produce the carefully constructed scrapbook I have created for our meeting. She tells me things and I ask question after question. Her voice is soft and lilting and I just know that she is a singer too. Our meeting lasts much longer than I intended and before we know it, the shop is closing and it’s time to go. I request to see her again and she complies, hugging me again for a long time. I am surprised but pleased when I feel warm tears wet my hair.
Okay so that’s not what will probably happen. But I’d really like to meet her. Even just a few times. Get to know her, talk to her, thank her. My parents tell me that they’re okay with it and that they’d support me, but I’m not too sure how much I believe that. I’m not sure how I’d feel if my someday adopted children wanted to meet their biological parents. Would I support them outwardly and cry alone in my room after they have left? Or will I be as eager to meet her as they are, excited to thank her and embrace her, two mothers, one child?
I want a nap now. Thinking about this always gives me a headache.