measi's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- An adoptee's ponderings on her birthday Twenty-seven years ago in Butte, Montana, a 17-year-old girl went into a hospital that has since closed down. At 6:28, she gave birth to a 6 lb, 10 oz., 20 inch-long little girl with a full head of black hair. For whatever multitude of reasons, she could not keep the child, and it was given up for adoption. Over 1,000 miles away, in Dublin, California, a 32-year-old OB/GYN and his 29-year-old wife had been trying to have a child for the better part of four years, and had been unsuccessful. They'd registered with adoption agencies, and waited. On January 11, 1975, the doctor received a call from one of his residency colleages who'd moved to Butte. The colleague asked him if he was still looking to adopt, because there was a new little girl who needed a home. The doctor and his wife immediately booked tickets to get to Butte. Two days later, they flew back to California with the baby in their arms. Before the baby had come into their lives, they'd already decided on a name based on a couple of conditions. The middle name was going to be Kathryn, regardless, after the doctor's great-grandmother. The first name would be Heather, if she had blonde hair, and Melissa, if she had brown. So the baby was named Melissa, and the new family began their lives together. She was baptized Episcopalian when she was 3 months old. Her black hair quickly turned to blond, and the family did not suspect what trouble waited for them. The hair color change was only the first clue. At six months, they moved to Montana to a big house outside the city limits of Billings. There Melissa grew up, and her father lives there still. In April 1978, the doctor and his wife again adopted a child-- a 2 month-old baby boy that they named Scott. Melissa was so proud that she announced to anyone she met that they'd just bought her a baby brother. (and in technical terms, they had). They were a family. Not by biological relation, but bonded together because of love. A family that was meant to be together, and although divorce has split the parents, they are still a family. The biological mothers faded into the background, but never completely out of view. The doctor and his wife told both Melissa and Scott that they were adopted before they were five. They had books for them to read that celebrated how special adoption is. They never made the children feel like they should be grateful for being brought in. How could they? Melissa and Scott were THEIR children. Scott has since begun the quest for his biological parents, to find out who they are and who he comes from. He feels that there is a hole in his heart that needs a piece to complete it. The doctor and and his ex-wife both understand, and support him. Melissa has never formally searched for her biological mother, although she's gotten hints and a random unsigned letter a few years back. She does wonder about the woman that gave birth to her so many years ago, wonders about the life that she would have had if that first decision had not been made. And Melissa wonders if the woman thinks about her as much as she thinks about the woman every January 11th. And if she can sense that Melissa is in awe and grateful for the decision that she made that cold winter day 27 years ago. Without it, she wouldn't be who she is. 9:18 a.m. - 11 January 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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