“Sometimes the story that is written
is done so by no one other than you.”
Almost
everyone one you know can retell a story about their birth, or a moment that
occurred shortly thereafter. Of course
these individuals have no true recollection of that memory, but it has been
etched into their mind as a result of hearing the story time and time
again.
At the age
of twelve, eighteen, twenty-five and twenty-seven, I asked about the details of
my story. But the answers never
came. Of course I have a birth story,
but I have never heard it. I don’t know
what it was like for my birth mother to carry not one, but two 7lb babies to
term. I don’t know how the day of our
birth began or who was there by her side.
All I know is that I was born first of a set of twins, with Michelle
arriving shortly after my entrance into the world.The story I really wanted to hear was what led me into a life of foster-care and crown-wardship. Each time I asked all I ever heard was silence. The closest I ever came to an answer was at the age of twenty-seven. This time I was in pursuit of answers and I wasn’t going to let anything stand in my way. I was very specific this time around. I asked to see the documents related to the court proceedings that led the decision of my becoming a crown-ward at four years old.
At that time I had been in contact with a half-brother (whom I have never met) via Facebook. That Facebook connection led me in the direction of my birth father. I attempted to get information about my beginning from him, but again those attempts failed. Despite my insistence and determination I stood again in the moment of not-knowing. Access into my own story, was once again denied.
So, amidst my numerous attempts at becoming informed of my circumstances early in life, I took on the responsibility of creating my own story. That story does not begin at the moment of my birth, nor the nine months previous, or the years earlier when my birth parents met and their life together began.
I realise that I may never get the answers that I want, nor will I get the answers that I deserve. But, I am still deeply rooted in my foundation of self because despite what isn’t there, what will never be there I am still someone. I was never a daughter. But I am a sister. I will be a wife and one day I will be a mother.
