Going Back to Dallas

On Wednesday, we left for Florida to meet my birthmother (I say Wednesday because I’m not certain of the Internet access I will have once I get there, and I will likely have to do all my blogging offline and post later). I brought my husband with me. So far, it’s been a little emotional – back and forth between the anxiety I have about meeting her and all of the issues going on between my husband and I. I don’t regret bringing him, though – if we can manage to set our own issues aside, I can really use his support right now. This may even bring us closer together. As a safety net, he also told me if I feel uncomfortable at any time, he will be on the next plane back home. I have a feeling this will work out.

The plane ride was nothing short of remarkable for me – this is probably going to be difficult to understand, especially if you are not adopted, but I’m going to give it a try: I was born in Dallas and adopted by birth. I currently live in California and grew up in Florida, where my adoptive family lives. (I know – it’s a huge coincidence that my birthmother lives there now). I’ve never really been to Dallas, other than to change planes when flying to and from California. I have more souvenirs from the Dallas/Ft. Worth Airport – little things to remind me of “where I came from.” I would always wander around the airport, looking for someone who bore some familial resemblance. It struck me today, again wandering around the airport, that this was the first out of I don’t know how many times where I didn’t have that weird feeling. The irony was that I was on my way to go see her. It gave me goosebumps.

I couldn’t stop thinking about this on the plane the whole second leg of the trip. It was kind of overwhelming. I made some mental risotto (which, I’ve recently discovered, is a very effective meditation tool – kind of like counting sheep). I guess this journey has officially begun…