My 32nd birthday, the day they forgot.

My husband and I were talking last night about several things pertaining to adoption. I had him come look at some posts pertaining to law and adoption. I read it out loud as he stood behind me. He knows the look when I turn around and does his best to explain the word or phrase in "Wendy style" so that I can continue on reading.

I don't digest words unless the can put put in a common sense situation. I'm ok with that. I like having common sense. It may not help the world of adoptees in our fight for access to our OBC's (Original Birth Certificate) but it works for me. And judging on the few replies that I have received from government people, it works for them. Maybe they like dumbing themselves down every now and then. Conversation via email in my simple mind, is better then no conversation at all.

Common sense. It's been a wonderful thing for me when added to gut instinct.

It was my 32 birthday and per usual, my husband did his best to see me smile, hugged me when I cried, and showed patience as I sat on the computer and went back through my files "just one more time". There had to be something that I was missing.....there would be one more birthday before I found Dottye.

He went to work that evening, he worked the second shift. I spent the evening waiting for my parents to call. The only birthdays I did not hear from them on were my 15th, because I was a run away. My 16th, because I was in rehab. As well as my 30th because I was in New Orleans and they didn't have our phone number.

I sat and I waited. I had spoken to everyone else. I said my thank yous and with some discussed my frustration and sadness. I knew who I could be open with on that, and who might prefer not to hear it.

I finally went to bed at midnight. That would be 1:00 am in Ohio. I went to bed feeling guilty. At first I was angry as I waited for my parents to call, but then the guilt set in as I imagined that maybe they got into a horrible accident and had died.

My fear of death in a car spread to everyone that I cared about. I hated being on the freeway, I had always known that someday, I would die in a car.I feared that they went out and maybe hit a deer on the way home, and here I was only selfishly thinking of myself. Why was I always such a horrible person, why didn't I think of others?
I had spoken to so many who helped me to feel better about my birthday, even if just for a moment, that ending the day with these feelings always seemed to outweigh the good ones.

The following day my mom and dad called. They wished me a happy birthday and dad didn't say a whole lot after that. My mom informed me that they tried calling several times the day before, but we never answered and they never got the machine. 

I knew this smell right away, and decided to go ahead and play. Bull shit is warm and stinks, normally it just makes me angry to have to deal with it.I knew my mother well enough though to know if I used my words properly, I would beat her with my common sense.

"Mom, you didn't get the machine??"

"No, and we tried several times." she answered.

"And you're sure you were dialing the right number each time? Shannon and I spent most of the day home, or you should have gotten the machine."

"Oh I'm sure. I'm glad we got a hold of you today!" mom said.

"Hmmmmm. Ok well I guess I'll have to call the phone company because there must be something wrong with the lines then..." I set my bait.

"Will that cost you money?" she asked.

My reply " Oh well yes, see because it wouldn't be the outside line that is the issue, it would be the inner house line. Hopefully it won't cost too much though. But we'll need to have it fixed."

"Oh well you know there is a chance that I dialed wrong. Don't spend money on that, I probably just dialed wrong." was her final answer.

Dad usually sits by as mom weaves her web and then crashes through it. This was one of those times.

I was kind, cheery and never had a harsh tone. I knew the fact was, they never called.

It was a mistake I know. It was not done out of meanness on their part. I don't like being lied to though, not even in the smallest way. I was angry over the guilt and fear I felt as I fell asleep. I was angry that they couldn't just say "Oh crap! We totally forgot to call you and by the time we got home it seemed too late. We hope you had a happy birthday."

Actually, what I wish they wold have said is "You know what? Time to end the bull shit. We spent the day talking about your needs and we want to tell you everything we know, and apologize for not holding onto any of the legal documents."

Who knows. It could still happen...............