I'd be a liar if I said this whole birth mother thing wasn't on my mind a lot. For cripes sake, I spent two hours today putting together a little scrap book of my baby pictures in chronological order. I think I've covered the first four years of my life. Just about every photo I can find that my parents took with their camera. And I have to admit I feel slimy that I put this thing together but can't send it home with her. As if Ishould. I was thinking I'll scan the pages and reprint them, but I don't know if that would be an insult to her.
There's so much to share, so much to tell. So much to learn and figure out. Am I looking to fill some gap or missing link in my life? No. I just want to satisfy my curiosity. I'd like to know where I came from. See the faces of the people whose blood I share. It's not of crisis level importance. But still, it's important to me.
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