Background Information

I moved in with Justine at the start of the winter quarter in Davis, but I enrolled in classes at Sacramento City College.  During one of my first weekends in my new (first!) apartment, Mike drove up from Berkeley and we spent the evening secluded in my room.  I had missed him more than I anticipated, and it was thrilling to be with him again.  However, he explained that school had been challenging for him and that he was really struggling in his classes at Cal.  He told me that even though I was now closer than ever, an hour commute to maintain our fledgeling relationship would be too much of a strain on his already stressful existence.  I was devastated.  That morning, when he drove away from D Street in his little green VW bug, I felt so alone and so self destructive.

I began a lifestyle of staying up too late, sneaking into bars, playing loud music at all hours of the night and had casual encounters with men.  Through a crush I had at school, I met my Irish friends:  Theresa and Ronan.  Ronan seemed smitten by me, and as he lived in San Francisco, I began spending more time in the City.  I would often think of Mike when I drove past Berkeley on my way into SF, but I knew that my path had diverged from his.  Ronan explained to me how he had attended culinary school in Dublin and then, through an acquaintance he had met in Ireland, he made his way to Davis.  He worked for a time there at an Italian restaurant, but felt the pull of the City and ended up moving to San Francisco.  His story got me thinking about the world, and the possibilities it held for me, and how one day I'd like to travel.  I started thinking about where I would like to go, and how I could possibly make this fantasy a reality.  

I knew the first thing I would need to obtain was my passport.  One day when I was visiting Mom, I decided to go in search of my birth certificate.  Of course this was a loaded endeavor; I knew that my birth certificate might possibly hold information and a key to my real mother's identity, so I chose not to disclose my intentions to Mom.  I knew that she kept her important papers in a beige metal box under her bed.  So that afternoon, while she was at work, I snuck into her room and found the box.  It wasn't locked, and as I sorted through the accordion folders I located my birth certificate.  All of the information was accurate; my name, birth date, and time of birth.  No clues as to my origins.  

But something compelled me to continue to rifle through the papers in the metal box.  And there I stumbled across a piece of typewritten carbon paper and a document titled:  Background Information.  It read:

SJS was born on 2/25/70 in Daly City, California.  At birth, which took place at 6:50 A.M., the baby weighted 7 lbs 6 ozs, and was 19 inches long.

The birth mother, who is of Irish-French-Scottish descent, was 20 years old at the time of the baby's birth.  She is a very pretty girl, 5'5" tall, 145 pounds, with curly, dark brown hair, medium brown eyes, and medium fair complexion.  The birth mother has completed one year of college and is employed as a telephone operator.  In personality, she is an alert, sensitive, cultivated person who cooperated well in planning for her child.  She is gentle and soft spoken and was able to talk about her situation.  This girl has a sense of humor and her warm personality makes her very appealing.  She comes from a musically inclined family, and several of her brothers play musical instruments and have good singing voices.  The birth mother enjoys music, singing and dancing.  She also likes swimming, basketball, cooking and sewing.  In school, she did well in math and history.

The birth father who is of English-Italian descent was 26 years old at the time of the baby's birth  He is a nice appearing young man, 6' tall, with a large build, curly, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes and light olive complexion.  The birth father has completed one year of college and is employed as a telephone company switchman.  An extrovert, he has an out-going personality and enjoys being with people.  The birth father likes music and sports, particularly baseball, and he plays on a baseball team.

The birth parents met at work in 1968, and they dated steadily until the birth mother became aware of her pregnancy.  The birth mother indicated that they enjoyed each other's company and shared many interests, but did not have a deep and lasting relationship.  The young woman did not divulge her pregnancy to the birth father, because she knew she did not want to marry him and felt he might insist on that plan.

Adoption was the only plan that she considered for her expected child.  She very much wanted the baby to grow up knowing the security of a united home and two loving parents.  She felt unready to assume the responsibility of rearing a child alone and was certain that the adoptive parents could provide a more suitable home than she could.  She saw the baby in the hospital, was very pleased with her, and while it was hard for her to separate from the baby, she continued to plan towards adoption.

I was stunned.  I had to reread it and then read it again, as it felt like I was reading about someone else.  But I was the baby.  

Just then, Mom opened the door and surveyed the scene before her:  I was seated on the living room floor next to the open beige metal box, with papers strewn about.  She was livid.  "How dare you go through my things?!" she screamed.  I immediately began cleaning up, while the tears began to build up in my eyes.  

"Why?"  I cried.  "Why didn't you ever share this with me?  I've had so many questions, and yet you never once offered to show me this."

in fact, the only information that Mom ever shared with me about my birth mother was that she loved me very much but she just couldn't keep me -- she was too young.  In fact, my birth mother would have been about the same age I was now.  I didn't blame her for relinquishing me; I knew that I was too young to try to raise a baby.  But I also understood the consequences of relinquishing a baby to people that you don't even know, people who may or may not be suited to the task of raising your child.

Once she had a moment to overcome her anger, Mom actually told me that I could keep the document.  She opened up that the only other piece of knowledge she could share with me about my real mother's identity was that she supposedly came from 'back East.'  Back East?  Like New York?  Or Boston?  That could certainly make sense as far as I understood the culture of Irish and Italians, but 'back East' could really mean anywhere.  And 'back East' sounded about as far away as Ireland, since the furthest East I'd gone was Utah.  The 'Background Information' didn't really provide me much information to go on either...but it certainly got me thinking.

My birth mother was an actual person, and not some legend that Mom doled out to try and explain the difficulties in our relationship.  My real mom could be alive, she could be living anywhere, she could be married by now, and she could have other kids -- my brothers or sisters.  And what about my birth father?  There was even less information on him.

That day, I knew for sure in every fiber of my being that I wanted, no needed, to find my real mother.  But I had so many obstacles in order to do so, not the least of which would be going head to head with Mom's insecurity about my doing just that, which in her mind would be a rejection of everything she had tried to provide to me.  And yet, there could be no turning back.