The nurse motioned the young woman to one of the empty cribs, in the large and dimly lit hospital room. The young woman, arms cradling her baby, walked slowly to the crib, still feeling the pain from labour. As she walked through the room, holding her baby tightly against her frail body, her physical pain was not on her mind. She could only think of what she was about to do and wished she didn't have to do it.
In front of the crib, the young woman leaned over the edge and carefully laid her new-born daughter, wrapped in a red blanket, onto the mattress inside the crib. Eyes filled with the silent tears of a heart-broken mother, she took a long look at her baby. She hoped the moment would never end. She wanted to pick the child back up and run as far as she could away from the hospital and away from the city, but she knew very well that would ruin both her and her daughter's lives, rather than saving both. An unmarried mother of a daughter who looks neither Chinese nor Vietnamese would not fair too well in a war-torn Vietnam. Both would be chastised.
The young woman turned and began to walk back to the direction of the nurse to finish off the paper work. As she did she was almost certain she heard her baby cry out for her. Little did she know, that baby would cry out for her her entire life.
I can only imagine that was what transpired when my wife was given up for adoption. The mystery of her biological roots has plagued her entire existence. Being given up by one's own mother, I imagine is very, very difficult. I find myself consoling my wife on many occasions when self-doubt, then anger at her selfish mother creeps into her system.
My wife's mystery is a fact of her life that has become a fact of my and son's lives.
If only there was a GoogleGenetics - that would redefine the phrase, "let me google myself"...
For more mysteries: Sunday Scribblings