resurrection of a Flower

I.

In a previous post entitled, "his First Words," I referred to a poem that I wrote when I was ten years old.

I have never thought much of the poem until recently, when I read it again in the current context of processing my adoption experience, and in particular, in light of the hope of traveling to Korea to soon reunite with my birth parents.

Here again is the poem I wrote when I was ten:

Flowers make me think of peace because when the wind blows at them they don't try to fight back. When winter comes flowers wrinkle up and just disappear but they die happily because they know that another flower like it will come and take it's place and make everyone happy. When people come and take flowers away from their home they don't cry or try to do something bad. They just think of peace and say in their mind I'll make this person think of peace, love, and happiness.

What struck me quite poignantly this time are the seemingly benign words, "When people come and take flowers away from their home they don't cry or try to do something bad."

Although I was a mere child when I wrote these words, now as an adult reading them--in some ways again for the first time--my eyes welled up with tears and a building storm of emotion began to rumble.

II.

As I process the tension emerging between my American identity and my Korean identity these words written by my ten-year old self stirred within my 33-year old self something that felt deep and ineffable.

In the shadow of the adoption experience, I can not help but wonder what my ten-year old self was thinking as she wrote those words.

And considering all that I have been learning over the past several years--all the insight and understanding granted to me through reading, research, and correspondence, I can not help but wonder whether that ten-year old little girl was not expressing in metaphor what she could not express literally.

I can not help but think that perhaps my expression of the one flower dying and the other coming to take its place was not a projection of what I felt deep within--and yet had not the words or awareness to speak plainly.

I wonder what my ten-year old self was thinking when she wrote, "...when the wind blows at them they don't try to fight back...They just think of peace and say in their mind I'll make this person think of peace, love, and happiness."

It would appear that the little girl wanted so much to be a good girl, wanted so much to bring to her family and her surroundings good feelings and good things.

She did not want to fight even when fought against. She wanted to be compliant and thoughtful, peace-making and peace-bringing. She wanted to remain.

III.

As I have expressed time and time again, each adoptee experiences adoption in their own way with their own individual reactions. I understand those who grapple with the sentiments of rage and injustice, feeling as though they were ripped away and uprooted from their homeland and people.

In truth, that is what happens when a child who was born in one country is adopted out to a new and foreign nation of people.

However, in this case, I want it to be clear that I am not trying to stir up some socio-political debate here. I know that there are strong opinions and even stronger emotions coming from a million different sides regarding this whole issue. And solutions need to be considered and decided upon.

But that's not what I'm trying to do here. At least not now in this moment.

Ultimately, all I'm trying to do here is to share what has been stirred within my own experience. (I suppose I say all this as a disclaimer to those who would inadvertently take my words and try to read something between the lines that is not there.)

I am not making a socio-political stance here. I am taking a human stance--one that feels and longs to heal.

IV.

I am simply attempting to share my heart in hope that others will find some ounce of connection that will allay at least for a moment the sense of loneliness and alienation that can hang over all of us...

So that the ten-year girl who felt as though she had died to be replaced by another, so that the ten-year girl who felt as though she had not time to cry or weep over what she had lost can now live again, can now learn to cry the tears that she had buried so deeply within the hard and cold winter ground.

his First Words

This is just a post to let everyone know that I have received the first set of letters from my birth father! I have also discovered that he loves to write poetry--he sent a few poems along with the letters.

For those of you who know me well, I love to read and write poetry. The first poem I have record of, I wrote when I was ten...(I have some of my more "recent" poetry posted here on this blog in the section entitled "Poetry by Melissa").

Needless to say (but I feel the need to say it anyway), the discovery that my birth father loves to write poetry made my heart smile and jump. This journey never ceases to shock and amaze me.

I am waiting on the letters and poems to be translated...it could take weeks.

I am trying to embrace patience and gratitude in the mean time, although in all honesty the waiting makes me crazy. It is at times a sad reminder of what I have lost, and yet simultaneously a portal to new hope and healing.

I'll be posting excerpts from his letters and poems once I receive the translations...

But I look forward to learning their content. It is my understanding that he never had the chance to see me or meet me, but only knew that I had been born and relinquished before he could ever see my face or utter a word to me.

So when I set my eyes upon these written words, they are not only the first words I am receiving from him, but they are also the first words he is giving to me after a lifetime of never having had the chance to say a simple hello.

Here is the poem I wrote when I was ten:

Flowers make me think of peace because when the wind blows at them they don't try to fight back. When winter comes flowers wrinkle up and just disappear but they die happily because they know that another flower like it will come and take it's place and make everyone happy. When people come and take flowers away from their home they don't cry or try to do something bad. They just think of peace and say in their mind I'll make this person think of peace, love, and happiness.

Note: I did not edit or correct for grammatical errors to maintain authenticity :) I'd also like to note that in the original document, I drew along the margins a picture of a flower "Dieing in peace" and a picture of a flower "Alive again in Peace." I do not remember very well writing this poem, but on the back of the paper is written "Melissa Chatham Rm. #9 Mr. Rodgers." Anyhow, I just thought it was a fun document to dig up and read again...

THE STATS: $5910 DONATED by 85 PEOPLE as of 2/28/09 $3090 still NEEDED

I.

I will be updating the stats as we receive donations to let everyone know how many people have donated, how much money has been raised, and how much remains. I will also share of any events or cool stories that take place through the fund raising efforts.

II. The Funds Raised

As of February 28, 2009, $5910 has been so generously donated by a total of 85 people! This leaves $3090 left to raise.

Now, we only need 309 more people willing to donate $10 to meet the final goal of $9000!

Here's the breakdown:

• 1st deadline: March 20th $3800
• 2nd deadline: May 9th $4200
• Final deadline: June 15th $1000

• So, basically, we have raised enough to meet the first payment deadline of $3800.
  

• But we need to raise $2090 to meet the $4200 May 9th deadline.
  

• If we don't raise the $2090, we will lose the first $3800, because the $3800 is used to purchase the airline tickets (as we know, airline tickets to Korea are not exactly refundable).

• And finally, the last payment deadline will be the $1000 by June 15th.
  

But I am confident that the money will come, and I'll boarding an airplane this coming June on my way to Korea to meet my birth parents face to face!

III. New News

We discovered from my husband's very generous and selfless parents that they've sent us a very kind donation! I want to thank them with all of my heart--they're basically donating 50 people's worth!

IV. An Important Clarification

I also feel compelled to let people know that my husband and I are also putting money toward the trip. I have been feeling insecure that people might be thinking that we're just sitting on our laurels. But, please know that we're both working hard to raise money and are also setting aside as much as we can toward the reunion expenses. The amount raised so far includes a considerable amount that my husband and I have ourselves contributed.

IV. Other Cool Fund-Raising News

As I mentioned previously, a very cool event was scheduled to take place February 19th through the 22nd called, "The Art of Giving."

It began with one beautiful painting titled, Change of Seasons, donated by Marisa herself.

But before we knew it, the auction began to take on a life of its own...and soon enough, the auction items came to include 3 gorgeous pieces of original art work, an all-inclusive 3-day vacation to Negril, Jamaica, and a gourmet "Personal Chef" dining experience for 8 people!

Absolutely amazing!

In the end, the Facebook Auction conducted by my lovely friend and artist Marisa Marinetto Creekmore raised $2040! Woo-hoo!

V. Please Keep Talking

So please keep spreading the word.

Remember the concept is 10X900--with many, a large task can become magically small!

It began with the idea that if we could find 900 people willing to spare $10 each, then voila!--I'd be boarding a plane to meet my birth parents face to face!

Now, we only need 314 more people willing to donate $10!

So, please help make this lifelong dream come true--whether you continue to spread the word, throw out a prayer, or make a donation, every bit of support is making a difference!

VI. Thanks

I must continue to express my heartfelt gratitude to all of those kind and sacrificial souls who have donated to and supported my efforts to reunite with my birth parents! It is so inspiring and refreshing to encounter firsthand the incredible kindness and generosity of the human spirit. Even in such challenging times, it is so heart-warming to experience such loving altruism and selflessness! Thank you everyone for your love and support! I will never be able to thank you enough!

I also want to continue to express my deepest and most ebullient thanks to Marisa & Scott Creekmore, Donna Casaro Hughes, Timothy Michael & his wife Donna MacDonald, and Jeanine Tribley who donated their precious talents & resources to make "The Art of Giving" auction so successful.

And of course my equally happy and ardent thanks to the very generous bidders who participated! You know who you are! Enjoy your gorgeous art, your vacation in Jamaica and that gourmet Personal Chef experience for 8!

If you are interested in viewing art work by the artists who donated their lovely pieces, please visit the link below:

http://www.timothymichaelgallery.com/

VII.

I continue to be incredibly inspired, hopeful and grateful!

the Dig

I.

All of my life, I have been taunted by the unknown.

II.

Now, the unknown is becoming known..

This changes everything. I am realizing that I must adjust to this new shift in how I define my experience of life and being. This quantum leap in my identity. The electrons have jumped orbits, and now the elements of the equation have metamorphosed. The equilibrium has been upset. To restore balance is going to require some fancy chemistry and a little mad-scientist experimentation.

III.

I am no longer the adoptee who never knew her birth parents. I am no longer the adoptee haunted by the uncertainty of an unknown past. I am no longer the one who does not know.

Now, I know.

And now, the scary thought that creeps into my mind is...now...
I have no excuse.

IV.

But the science of it all does not produce concrete results. Science likes to think it can fix everything. It has all the answers. Just get this and that just right and the cure is infinitely around the corner, waiting to be found. Add a little of this answer in this tube, a splash of that answer, a milliliter of this answer, and the experiment is done. Perfected.

Or

You get an explosion.


V.

I am an explosion.

And for the majority of my life, I have been trying to piece together the shards and rubble.
Unsuccessfully. Of course.

But now, it's as though someone showed up at my door, arms full with more of the pieces than I ever imagined existed. And it is both wonderful and terrifying, inspiring and awful.

VI.

It is as though a resurrection of sorts is taking place.

I dug up the bodies. And when they sprang to life, I realized that I had only been digging at the surface.

This is a somewhat twisted and morbid way to process things. I can't help it. This is just the way my mind and heart come together at times. And then, that thought whispers over and over again...You have no excuse...I have no excuse.

Excuse for what?

VI.

I apologize. I need to excuse myself at this point. I need to find my shovel. I have some place I need to be. Excuse me. I apologize. Pardon me. I need to find my shovel. I have some place I need to be.

out of our Bones

I am feeling something like deflation or implosion creeping into me A sadness An emptiness A shutting down A fear that someone told me--I should not be feeling But I think perhaps this fear is natural in a situation like this Fear of a magnitude that dismantles me slowly. Cell by cell Atom by atom To take down this bomb Fear that clings to me and makes me sob within but not without--because this kind of fear keeps me locked. inside. I know the things to tell myself I know the thoughts that I should think But I am underwater all is muffled all is drowning all is sinking I do not understand. it. fear of being wrong fear of losing fear of the world crashing down he said it will always be something With you there is a lesson to learn here. my life is only lessons. I feel mocked And not. taken seriously. so, she said, tell me, then, how one learns not to fear. tell me, then. your secret. share with me then your genius. and then. there was. only silence. until someone said. there is always something. to learn. so that there is always. something. to grow. to force the stagnancy out of these bones. it is not that you should learn never to fear. it is that we can learn. to unfold. to that rarity. to the peculiar. that anomaly. these days.

to get out of our bones.

I.

I will be updating the stats as we receive donations to let everyone know how many people have donated, how much money has been raised, and how much remains. I will also share of any events or cool stories that take place through the fund raising efforts.

II.

As of February 22, 2009, $4320 has been so generously donated by a total of 80 people! This leaves $4680 left to raise.

Now, we only need 468 more people willing to donate $10!

If we can raise $3680 by May 9th, I'll be boarding an airplane this coming June on my way to Korea to meet my birth parents face to face!

III.

As I mentioned previously, a very cool event was scheduled to take place February 19th through the 22nd called, "The Art of Giving."

It began with one beautiful painting titled, Change of Seasons, donated by Marisa herself.

But before we knew it, the auction began to take on a life of its own...and soon enough, the auction items came to include 3 gorgeous pieces of original art work, an all-inclusive 3-day vacation to Negril, Jamaica, and a gourmet "Personal Chef" dining experience for 8 people!

Absolutely amazing!

IV.

In the end, the Facebook Auction conducted by my lovely friend and artist Marisa Marinetto Creekmore raised $2040! Woo-hoo!

With the money raised by the auction, that puts the total amount raised at $4320! That's practically half-way to the goal of $9000!

That means $4680 left to raise!

So please keep spreading the word. And even if you were not able to participate in the auction, every little bit will help.

Remember the concept is 10X900--with many, a large task can become magically small!

It began with the idea that if we could find 900 people willing to spare $10 each, then voila!--I'd be boarding a plane to meet my birth parents face to face!

Now, we only need 468 more people willing to donate $10!

So, please help make this lifelong dream come true--whether you continue to spread the word, throw out a prayer, or make a donation, every bit of support is making a difference!

V.

I want to express my deepest and most ebullient thanks to Marisa & Scott Creekmore, Donna Casaro Hughes, Timothy Michael & his wife Donna MacDonald, and Jeanine Tribley who donated their precious talents & resources to make the auction possible.

And of course my equally happy and ardent thanks to the very generous bidders who participated! Enjoy your gorgeous art, your vacation in Jamaica and that gourmet Personal Chef experience for 8!

If you are interested in viewing art work by the artists who donated their lovely pieces, please visit the link below:

http://www.timothymichaelgallery.com/

VI.

I am incredibly inspired, hopeful and grateful!

never in Vain

"It may be unfair, but what happens in a few days, sometimes even a single day, can change the course of a whole lifetime..."
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

"I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain."

Emily Dickinson

I.

As I ponder and await reunion with my birth parents, the natural barrage of questions and what-if's unload in my mind...

II.

What will happen to life after all of this…? How is this already changing our lives? And how will this continue to change our lives?

Once I have met them and contact has been established, the agency steps away, and it is just my birth parents and me left to communicate and maintain contact in the years to come, what is going to evolve?

Perhaps, it will metamorphose from the anomalous to the normal. The novelty of it will diminish, and it will begin to feel like every day life…

Yet, I don’t ever want this to become something resigned to the mundane and unremarkable…something that I take for granted and allow to linger on a shelf like a forgotten book.

Not after all the pain and crying out, all the tears and longing. (Although, I sense that such will always remain for as long as breath and blood flow through me).

I want to persevere to remain grateful and to hold to the wonderment of this event.

III.

I stare at the photos of my birth parents and wonder how we will be in the years to come…what kind of relationship we will have. What kind of dynamic we will foster. I cannot help but speculate. Of course, I hope for the best. But I also know that perfection is not something that we can attain.

I am afraid, of course. Afraid of the worst-case scenarios. I have never been one to live in a fantasy world where princesses find their prince charming and the evil ones come to their doom.

And yet somehow, I find myself in the odd and unexpected place of being able to say that perhaps, a fairy tale has stumbled upon me…over the years, much to my surprise, my life seems to continue to unfold in ways that I only dreamed and imagined as fantasy.

Despite tremendous fear and multiple attempts at sabotage, my prince charming did not only appear, but did not waver, and remains ever stronger and ever more loving.

Although I have encountered the trials and tribulations characteristic of this life, the evil that has so often strangled me within its grip eventually weakens, and even comes to its doom when faced with the love and hope that is so freely poured out to me when I least expect it.

IV.

Certainly, I have never had difficulty anticipating the worst possible outcome...One cannot lay claim to the status of melodrama queen without the ability to cultivate inner turmoil and fear with the intent to foresee absolute disaster and cataclysm, even when the sun is shining and peace has reigned for eons. The presence of the sun and peace is all the more reason to believe that the sky is about to fall at any moment, right?

And yet, I think, perhaps conversely, because I can be so, let's say, catastrophe-minded, I have developed the propensity to respond just as equally with the hope and determination to match.

V.

Hope and determination never disappoint.

That's a bold and broad generalization that I am certain many would contest. Even I despise such a statement at times.

But over and over again, throughout my experience of life--and not just my life, but the life of others--hope always delivers.

Now, a caveat--I'm not saying that hope inevitably leads to the event that we always get what we want or what we wish. I'm also not saying that bad things never happen and that hurt and suffering elude those who hold to hope...that's quite impossible.

And I'm not saying that the key is to stick one's head in the sand or the clouds, and thereby falsely and deceptively convince oneself that everything in this world is wonderful and lovely.

What I am saying is that there seems to be an intrinsic quality to hope that transforms the heart and mind, the pain and suffering to give birth to meaning that comforts and consoles even in the darkest and bleakest of moments.

Hope does not necessarily fix that which is broken, but rather can give what is broken new purpose and renewed life. Hope draws out strength from that which is weak.

VI.

I have hoped for many things in life...some have been realized and some have not or have yet to reveal their conclusion...

But more often than not when those things for which I hope seem to be crushed or devastated, delayed or destroyed...I have come to experience again and again that such happens only to save me for something even more beautiful, even more magnificent than I could have ever imagined before...

VII.

Perfection cannot be attained.

But I venture to say that it can be experienced, even if only when we allow ourselves to be broken and still cling to hope nonetheless...

Knowing, believing that we do not live this one wild and precious life in vain.

the Outside

I.

I am feeling extremely anxious these days.

I also am realizing that being an adoptee will always carry with it a degree of isolation and alienation. I don't mean this in a fatalistic, dark-cloud, the-glass-is-always-half-empty kind of way.

I simply mean that there are certain circumstances that one experiences to which it is difficult for those on the "outside" to relate--and I'm not referring simply to adoption. Whether someone has lost a spouse in war or someone has faced near death to be brought back to life...unless you have experienced such an event yourself, it is hard to relate to what that person is experiencing.

Not to say that we cannot try...I think we should try.

Yet no matter how much we try or come to think we understand, perhaps there are certain aspects of experience that remain unique to each human being...

Perhaps it is finding a careful balance of that which keeps us all connected as one humanity and that which keeps us separated as individual human beings.

But what do I know? I'm just blathering and thinking out loud here.

II.

I feel like such a weakling.

More and more I am sensing that some wounds may never heal fully...the smallest tampering or even just a slight rub can break it open all over again.

III.

I hate it when people leave.

I feel my heart split even before the leaving takes place.

And I discover that all the blood and tears that I thought had found their way out were simply the opening act. The director nudges me and whispers in my ear, the play has only just begun.

If only this were a play with a defined number of acts, with a designed beginning and a clear end. If only this were entertainment. (Well, sometimes, it feels like entertainment.) But then the curtain goes up, and what I see with my eyes and feel with my heart is so much more than a show.

It is my life.

IV.

I have always felt like I was the one waving good-bye.

Whether I was the one leaving or they were the ones leaving.

No one seems to remain forever these days. Whether it be career or restlessness, people seem to constantly be on the move. Just when I get comfortable somewhere, someone leaves, or I leave. And it feels pretty miserable, at least it does to me nowadays.

I always hear, "Well, that's just life."

And maybe it is.

But I don't have to like that part of "that's just life." Frankly, I don't like it all. And I feel like stomping my foot like a two year old throwing a temper tantrum.

Stomp. Stomp, stomp.

I hate it when people leave, and more specifically when it feels like they're leaving me. And I know all the right things to tell myself--all the so-called mature and responsible thoughts that I should pound into my head. But the force of the emotion that the act of leaving stirs in me always knocks those thoughts loose and onto the floor, where I end up pulverizing them inadvertently or not so inadvertently beneath my feet.

I want to shout and plead with my fists quivering at my sides, "No! No! Please, don't leave! Please. Please, don't leave me!"

And then, some very melodramatic lyrics from that Alanis Morissette song ring through my mind, "Would I be clinging if I said I needed a hug? Would you feel slighted if I said your love is not good enough?" I know--talk about melodramatic. I always have been, and I think I always will be...and then another quote comes to mind from the "Joy Luck Club" when Rose responds to her mother by saying, "Because I like being tragic, Ma..." and rolls her eyes...

I think I feel my eyes rolling...

V.

When we acknowledge those parts of our character, those weaknesses that make us who we are--those qualities of our being that are annoying and frustrating not only to others but even more so to ourselves...there is something equally liberating and debilitating in doing so...

Although lately, I'm feeling debilitated more than liberated...I have a tendency to feel trapped by who I am. Although there are certainly elements of who I am that I have the ability to tweak and overcome, to grow in and change, the absolute, relentless fact that I am an incredibly emotional being will never change.

(And yet, I am constantly trying to hide that fact from the people around me; albeit, probably not very successfully. Still, though, I most often feel as though I am showing only the shadow of who I really am, only the more pleasant and acceptable facades of the one who lives within me. But now I'm sounding a little too introspective and psycho-babblish...moving on...)

I'm hot or cold--nothing in between. I've consciously worked over the years to become more steady, more self-controlled, and yet there is a part of me that despises that I feel as though I must even do so.

My emotions feel like the enemy. I told my husband that I wish that my emotions were not a bad thing, that I wish that they could be a good thing. He took my hand and kissed it, and said that to him, they are a good thing.

But they're eating me alive from the inside out.

To allow myself to feel every emotion that burns and weeps within me is to choose to feel weak. But to feel so weak for so long wears on me at times.

My emotions feel like my kryptonite (although I unfortunately and obviously do not possess any super powers, and so the analogy kind of breaks down...but you know what I'm getting at...). Yet, I cannot escape them. I've tried. And such attempts have resulted in me becoming somewhat wall-like and robotronic, if you know what I mean.

And I certainly do not want to be a robot woman. You laugh (don't worry, so do I), but there are days that, had you bumped into me, you would have thought that the scientists had finally perfected "artificial life."

VI.

But I want to be real. I do not want to live an artificial life.

Much easier said than done for me.

Because the authentic is vulnerable.

And vulnerable can be painful.

Yet, somehow I would like to believe that it is actually from our greatest weakness that we discover emerges our greatest strength. And hence, the weak can become strong.

One can only hope.

her First Words

I.

A friend of mine snapped this candid photo on the evening of February 3, 2009. I received the first ever photos and letters from my birth mother on February 2nd.

That night we were at a friend's house, and I knew that my friend Haeyoung would be there.

In this photo, she is giving me a preliminary verbal translation of the letters that my birth mother and her sister wrote to me.

My husband is standing there with me, holding my hand.

I am somehow there but not there, trembling in the light, listening, yearning--my heart breaking wide open.

II.

"I feel like I'm dreaming. I have been living my entire life with the guilt that I gave you up. I was always crying inside, even when smiling outside...I don't know when I will be able to see you, but I am so happy that I go to bed every night holding your picture in my arm tightly...

I have too much to say, but can't put everything into words. I just want to say, I am sorry, please forgive me, and thank you...I hope happiness for you until I see you..."

"I feel like flying with bursting joy as I read your letter. I am so grateful for your parents, your loving husband, family, and everyone. I want to express my gratefulness with a deep bow...

I have always believed that dreams come true, but it really feels like I am dreaming as I write to you. Again, send my gratefulness to your parents, family, husband, and all. Daughter of my life, I miss you and want to hug you. I am happy to know that you are happy, and that we will meet some day..."

III.

"I don't know where to start; for so many days and years I have been missing you and carrying you in my heart...I was thrilled to hear the news that you are well and living a happy life...

My heart has been hurting thinking about you. Words cannot describe all those years...Please know that your mom never forgot about you for a second and shed countless tears for all those years. I know that I don't deserve to say these things to you...I don't know how to express my heart to you. I have so much to say. Let's embrace each other and laugh hard when we reunite, leaving the past behind, pursuing only happiness..."

IV.

Truly, could I ask for anything more?

The first excerpts are quoted from the first two letters that my birth mother wrote to me. The second set of excerpts are quoted from the letter that her sister wrote to me.

I read their words again and again in continuing believing disbelief.

Their words are everything that I dreamed they would be and more.

I love what my Korean aunt wrote, "Let's embrace each other and laugh hard when we reunite, leaving the past behind pursuing only happiness."

I love how poetic are their words...how expressive...how emotional...how beautiful...

Truly their words penetrate my being as air that I have never before breathed...as water that I have never before imbued...as a sunrise upon which I have never gazed...

V.

Whatever challenges are to come, whatever imperfections are to be revealed, this moment now is perfect and without flaw.

I am not choosing to be naive or to deny ensuing realities.

I am simply choosing to travel this path...a single step at a time.

This existing step on the path that I am taking, in this moment, has led me to the fragrant scents of honeysuckle and lilies, magnolias and wisteria. This step on the path has revealed brilliant sunlight and blooming verdure.

I would be a moron to reject the perfection of this moment, to cast aside all of its pleasure and fulfillment to the senses--these senses that have longed and pined to be drenched in such glory and wonder, such marvel and awe.

VI.

At least for now, I will continue to revel.

And in the words of my birth mother, I will gladly share in her sentiment, so succinctly yet poignantly stated,

"I feel like I own the world."

her First Words

I.

A friend of mine snapped this candid photo on the evening of February 3, 2009. I received the first ever photos and letters from my birth mother on February 2nd.

That night we were at a friend's house, and I knew that my friend Haeyoung would be there.

In this photo, she is giving me a preliminary verbal translation of the letters that my birth mother and her sister wrote to me.

My husband is standing there with me, holding my hand.

I am somehow there but not there, trembling in the light, listening, yearning--my heart breaking wide open.

II.

"I feel like I'm dreaming. I have been living my entire life with the guilt that I gave you up. I was always crying inside, even when smiling outside...I don't know when I will be able to see you, but I am so happy that I go to bed every night holding your picture in my arm tightly...

I have too much to say, but can't put everything into words. I just want to say, I am sorry, please forgive me, and thank you...I hope happiness for you until I see you..."

"I feel like flying with bursting joy as I read your letter. I am so grateful for your parents, your loving husband, family, and everyone. I want to express my gratefulness with a deep bow...

I have always believed that dreams come true, but it really feels like I am dreaming as I write to you. Again, send my gratefulness to your parents, family, husband, and all. Daughter of my life, I miss you and want to hug you. I am happy to know that you are happy, and that we will meet some day..."

III.

"I don't know where to start; for so many days and years I have been missing you and carrying you in my heart...I was thrilled to hear the news that you are well and living a happy life...

My heart has been hurting thinking about you. Words cannot describe all those years...Please know that your mom never forgot about you for a second and shed countless tears for all those years. I know that I don't deserve to say these things to you...I don't know how to express my heart to you. I have so much to say. Let's embrace each other and laugh hard when we reunite, leaving the past behind, pursuing only happiness..."

IV.

Truly, could I ask for anything more?

The first excerpts are quoted from the first two letters that my birth mother wrote to me. The second set of excerpts are quoted from the letter that her sister wrote to me.

I read their words again and again in continuing believing disbelief.

Their words are everything that I dreamed they would be and more.

I love what my Korean aunt wrote, "Let's embrace each other and laugh hard when we reunite, leaving the past behind pursuing only happiness."

I love how poetic are their words...how expressive...how emotional...how beautiful...

Truly their words penetrate my being as air that I have never before breathed...as water that I have never before imbued...as a sunrise upon which I have never gazed...

V.

Whatever challenges are to come, whatever imperfections are to be revealed, this moment now is perfect and without flaw.

I am not choosing to be naive or to deny ensuing realities.

I am simply choosing to travel this path...a single step at a time.

This existing step on the path that I am taking, in this moment, has led me to the fragrant scents of honeysuckle and lilies, magnolias and wisteria. This step on the path has revealed brilliant sunlight and blooming verdure.

I would be a moron to reject the perfection of this moment, to cast aside all of its pleasure and fulfillment to the senses--these senses that have longed and pined to be drenched in such glory and wonder, such marvel and awe.

VI.

At least for now, I will continue to revel.

And in the words of my birth mother, I will gladly share in her sentiment, so succinctly yet poignantly stated,

"I feel like I own the world."

a Test

I.

I had not mentioned this, for various personal reasons...but when I was first contacted that my birth parents had been found, we decided to go ahead and conduct a DNA test as a precaution...Modern medical technology is available to us today, so I thought, heck, why not use it?

Dukkyung had emphasized to me that Mrs. Kim is very experienced in birth family reunions and that really there was no reason to doubt that the man and woman found were indeed my birth parents.

But she stated that her top priority was and is to protect me. Therefore, she thought that it would be a good idea to conduct a DNA test--if not simply for the fact that then there would be no doubt whatsoever that this man and woman were the real deal.

Naturally, I agreed.

II.

So, I found myself standing in the mirror over the sink trying to collect twenty strands of hair to stuff into a Ziploc bag and send to the other side of the world, where some person in a lab in Korea would remove them from the plastic bag one by one with gloved hands and maybe a set of tweezers.

I ran the ends of each hair through my index finger and thumb to make sure that the root of the hair was in tact...the lab had emphasized that each hair must have the root attached.

Fortunately, I was able to retrieve some strands from my brush...you don't realize how much twenty strands of hair is until you're actually having to pluck that many out!

Once all twenty strands of hair (plus a few extra strands for backup...) were successfully harvested, I sealed the bag and stuck a Post-It note on the outside that said, "There are some white hairs in here...they're hard to see..."

I felt like a goof writing such a note--I thought to myself, "These lab folks are not idiots, Melissa. You're being a little obsessive." But I just shrugged my shoulders, laughed at myself, and proceeded to justify my paranoia by telling myself: it's not every day you're plucking out hair to send across the seas for a DNA test to confirm that two strangers actually happen to be your biological progenitors.

So, off to Korea the strands of hair flew...

III.

Well, I am happy to report that I just received confirmation today that the DNA test has verified that I am indeed the biological daughter of this man and woman who have emerged from the past, and are now becoming ever more a part of the present.

Hence, for any loving skeptics who have had their concerns or doubts, there no longer remains any question that they are with the utmost certainty the man and woman who gave me life almost 34 years ago...

IV.

All I can do is laugh and weep, all in the same moment.

more Photos & the chance to Choose..

(I have removed the photos for sake of privacy)

I.

Here are two more photos of my birth parents! This photo of my birth mother appears as though it may have been taken at a shrine somewhere in Korea; it also appears to be more recent than the first one I posted--so it may be more representative of what she looks like currently.

And boy, you gotta love this photo of my birth father on his Harley wearing the full getup to match! The first time I saw this photo I smiled and laughed out loud. I love it!

I posted the photo of myself (with my lovely friend) to show the similarities in my birth father's and my facial structure...although the poor resolution makes it less obvious. I most definitely have my birth father's cheekbones and jaw line, even a little of his smile...A friend of mine commented that I seem to have my birth father's "lower face" and my birth mother's "upper face." I think that's a fair assessment...

II.

I have one more photo of my birth mother and three more photos of my birth father...although, I don't know whether I will be posting all of them...There is a part of me that hesitates. I think perhaps it is the part of me that wants to keep them to myself. The part of me that wants to continue to revel in this time as long as it may last...

I do not mean to be selfish...but there is something about putting it all out there that makes me feel as though I am in some way diminishing from its significance and preciousness. And I also think a part of me feels protective, defensive, sensitive? Does this make sense?

III.

And yet there is still a part of me that wants to share this incredible happening with the world...because regardless of the difficulties and turmoil that await, regardless of the long-term outcome, it is truly inspirational and rousing , at least it is to me...

This whole event, this indescribable journey feels very similar to the time that my husband proposed to me.

We both knew that marriage is no light matter. We knew that entering into marriage with one another would change our lives forever. We knew that difficulty and hardship would come and that marriage is so much more than mush-gushy feelings and romantic escapades.

But of course, when he proposed, there was no way that I could keep the news to myself!

And even though we both were in touch with the harsher realities of marriage, those realities did not obscure the absolute joy and thrill of getting married, of devoting our lives to one another as long as we both shall live.

Even knowing that hard times would come, even knowing that we would drive one another insane, we still chose wholeheartedly to take the leap! And we are both so thrilled and happy that we did.

Of course, our marriage is not perfect. But it is completely worth it--worth the hard work and the sacrifices. The benefits far outweigh any inconveniences or turmoil that we encounter as we go through life together.

IV.

In the same way, now that my birth parents have surfaced and are alive and well, I cannot keep it to myself! My heart and mind feel as though they are bursting...

Even though I know the road to reunion will be full of obstacles and hardship, difficulty and misunderstandings, unanticipated twists and roadblocks, I cannot proceed in any other way than with all my heart and all the hope and love that I have to offer...

Perhaps I am a fool in this way. But I am not a naive fool. I suppose I am an educated fool...despite the logic and knowledge I know, despite the naysayers and doubters within my own mind and without, I can only run into the storm bracing myself as I hope to emerge on the other side better for having taken such a risk...

In some ways I have always been drawn to peril and danger, whether physical or emotional...

I think in part I am compelled to do this, because I know that ultimately, this is my choice. I am choosing this path. And with the capacity to make such a choice also comes a sense of inexplicable freedom and power in having the ability to choose.

Whatever may come, whatever consequences or difficulty may follow, I will know that I got myself into this predicament. I will have no one else to blame but myself. And in that, I am more than willing to take responsibility and face whatever fate awaits.

V.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude and hope as my eyes fill with tears to finally have such an option. To finally have such a journey to face...and certainly, I can be confident that no residue of regret will remain once I have come to the end of this journey, to the other side of this tempest...

I feel as though my life is being given back to me...that I am receiving a second chance...the very opportunity to choose--the opportunity, that before I could even speak, eluded my existence...

Finding my birth parents certainly is not and will never be the answer to all my problems. It is not the cure.

But certainly, it is a significant and gargantuan missing piece that has been retrieved, recovered--excavated from the deep.

And when such a piece is uncovered, the power and meaning of all the history and knowledge, all the answers to the unknowns that it allows itself to offer cannot be denied. At least, I will not be one to deny it and all that is has to give. I will seize it with all my being!

To quote the words of my birth mother written to me in her first letter to me..."I feel like I own the world!"

I know that I will not always feel this way...but to live in the moment is what I choose today.

First two photos of my birth mother & birth father

(I have deleted the photos for sake of privacy)

So, here are the first photos of my birth father and birth mother! This is absolutely unbelievable. I cannot even begin to communicate the depth of emotion and the intensity of this time in my life...the gravity of this event is most difficult from which to emerge...

The photo of my birth father was probably taken at least 10 to 15 years ago. He is in his fifties now. The photo of me next to his photo was taken probably about 6 or 7 years ago. But I thought it was a good photo for comparison.

The photo of me placed next to the photo of my birth mother is also a good one for comparison. Obviously, this photo of me was taken years and years ago (go bangs!)...actually about two decades ago, when I was fourteen. But it's one of two photos of me that I managed to dig up in which I have at least a slight resemblance to my birth mother.

Overall, in my opinion, I look much more like my birth father... especially now as an adult. But at least in the photo of me as a teenager, my eyes and nose somewhat resemble my birth mother's. But I definitely have my birth father's facial structure--jawline, chin, cheekbones...and wait until you see one of the other photos I have of him...our resemblance to one another is very apparent in that photo...

I will be posting more photos in the days to come...Be on the lookout...especially for the one with my birth father on his Harley and in the getup to match!

These days, I often feel like I am watching a movie unfold...only to remind myself that, no, actually, this is my life unfolding...no fiction involved...just pure, unadulterated reality...reality never tasted so, well, let's just say, rich and complex...