Suckerpunched by Birth Mother

Okay. She really didn't mean it. Honestly, she's just not that kind of person. Still, the words sent me reeling. Went about in a kind of daze for hours. Undone by a simple little story.

My now elderly birth mother sent me a lovely gift. I called to thank her for it and took the opportunity to ask what part of Mexico her family (my family) came from. So, as usual, we hopped from that topic to others as is our mutual style and eventually alighted on the subject of domesticity which, it seems, is a hit or miss affair for the both of us. However, she did enjoy a brief flirtation with sewing (as did I) and, with my half-sister chirping her two cents in the background, recalled the pretty dress she'd made for this daughter when she was teenager and how proud my half-sister had been and how she'd danced around like a princess. A peek into the life of birth mother and half-sister. Except, of course, I didn't get a handmade dress. I got relinquished. Now, this isn't to be confused with whining. My mother was desperate and poor at the time and made a brave and heartwrenching decision. Still, after a life of NOT being in touch with my feelings and denying them for the sake of my adoptive family, I'm finally BEING EMOTIONALLY HONEST and what I'm feeling is...SUCKERPUNCHED. Conversations with mothers are often dangerous affairs, even when the mother is welcoming and thrilled to be found. It's the nature of reunion, I guess. Sometimes bitter. Sometimes sweet. But much better than the oblivion of self-denial and biological bewilderment. Even feeling suckerpunched is a reminder that we're alive and....finally feeling.