Up to this point in my adoption
journey much of what I've revealed has centered around the discovery
and reconnection with my biological roots, in particular, my birth
mother Rosemary's family. Along the way I've also included essays
about my adopted parents and family, as to leave no doubt of my
absolute love and appreciation for all of them. Personally, it's been
a life changing and worthwhile endeavor and I hope people are getting
something out of it. However, I'm feeling the crux of my story may
very well lie beyond what I've written thus far. I've begun to
realize my story transcends the human interest and fascination of
familial reunion and is reaching deeply into the realm of self-discovery, awareness, honesty, and accountability.
Before I began this journey my
family medical history was unknown. Any issues I have or may have had
in my life, including the physical, emotional, or mental, belong to
me and me alone. In many families certain medical conditions
experienced by previous generations are well-known and documented and watched for as
family members grow and age. In the case of most adopted children any
health traits or problems are a complete mystery. Other than being told I had
a paternal grandfather who was an alcoholic, no further pertinent
information was provided by the adoption agency. And that tidbit of
information about my grandfather is somewhat in dispute, which I will discuss later.
Let me establish that many of the
conclusions I've drawn about my biological mother Rosemary and her health have been
based on facts and anecdotes shared by her loved ones. Others are
logical assumptions, supported by certain observations I've made
throughout the process. I've been blessed to receive stories,
personal tokens, photos, videos, and a number of her written works,
all of which has provided greater insight into who my mother was as a
person. Through this, I've gained a clearer perspective of my own
being, as well. In her, I see myself. We share many wonderful traits
and talents but also some of the same personal struggles and
challenges.
Throughout my life doctors have
hinted some of my weight challenges were probably partially caused by
genetics. Looking at early family movies and class pictures of my
mother it seems her weight gain began after she became an adult. And
more directly, after she gave me up for adoption. This is an import
point to consider. As a child, I was husky (as my mom called it) and
got my share of teasing because of it. However, I refuse to accept
the notion I was a “roller wheel” as some bullies alleged. The
most I weighed in high school was a 165 lbs. and I played soccer
nearly everyday. I gained the majority of my weight during my first
marriage. It was ugly, painful and I fed my emotions with food. From
what I know about Rosie, I think following my birth and subsequent
adoption she did the same thing. Even her own brother, my Uncle
Jerry, intimated this when we first met. Perhaps how we deal with emotions or stress is also genetic.
Even after Rosemary married and
began her life as a wife and step-mom, she struggled with her weight.
I had the great pleasure of having dinner with one of her step-sons
this past week and he remembers a time when she dropped 150 lbs. only
to gain it back. I've been down that road before. In fact, I'm still
on that road, having gained back the weight I lost after my gastric
bypass surgery. It's embarrassing to admit but I have to be honest in
what I write. And to myself. I can't eat the portions I used to
before my surgery but I my wife tells me I'm a grazer. My love hate relationship with Miller Lite doesn't help, either. I get bored easily and once I begin drinking it becomes a bit of an obsessive compulsive ritual until it's gone. Rosie never drank, thankfully. Which brings me back to whether my
paternal grandfather was an alcoholic or not.
In conversations with by birth
father, Darrel, he assures me his father was not an alcoholic. I
don't know why Rosie told her social worker he was but its listed on
the questionnaire I received from the adoption agency. For years my
mom has always been concerned about me drinking because of this fact.
Perhaps he wasn't an alcoholic but I do know he died at the age of
45. I turned 46 a month ago. Darrel has also had heart problems for a
several years and was actually hospitalized a few weeks ago with an
arterial blockage. He's home now and recovering. Given heart disease
can fun in some families it scared the hell out of me.
So here's what I know: my mother
was very obese and died at the age of 58; my father has had heart
problems for a number of years; my paternal grandfather who died at
45 may or not have had a drinking problem; I'm 46, obese, and drink
too much too often. The truth is often painful and scary and I assure you I'm feeling both of those emotions at this very moment.
I think this is the real reason I found my biological roots and why my mom was adamant about me doing so. Who's needs an hug?
