It took me THREE DAYS to call my birth mother once I had her number, and permission, to call her. I was thirty years old, had wanted to find her since I was in the 4th grade, finally had the key to my being, and it took my three days to make that call. I got a call on a weekday from the agency I had hired to find her and I was actually at Wal-Mart picking up a few things for dinner. I can pinpoint the exact spot in Wal-Mart where I was standing when I answered my cell phone, I know exactly what I was wearing, and I remember exactly how my stomach began doing flip flops as they described finding her. That phone call was to tell me that they had found her and she had requested a few days to tell her husband and son. Only her sisters, mother, and a couple of her closest friends had ever known about the adoption. A few days later, I get another call that she had told her family and gave her permission to give me her number and adress. They told me her name and a little bit about her, where she lived and abut her family…. well, my family. And then I sat on the information for three days. Having a name makes that person real and no longer a myth. Adoptees have had their whole lives to deal emotionally with the myth but a whole new set of emotions present themselves when the person is real. Knowing my birth mother was a real person was surreal to me. Funny that I felt more familiar with the person I had made up in my mind all those years. Now, all of a sudden, she was a stranger and I was terrified of that stranger. I was now wondering what I was doing?? I asked myself, what are you doing calling a complete stranger just because she supposedly gave birth to you thirty years ago? I questioned myself and everything I had thought and believed since that day my mom told me about my adoption. It just couldn’t be real, but it certainly was and when I finally could face that act then fear set in. I wondered if contacting her would open a can of worms that I didn’t want to open. I didn’t know her. I didn’t know if she was a nice person, or mean person. I didn’t know if we would get along. The what-if’s plagued my mind and I went back and forth on whether or not I should pass the point of no return… and call her. What was that phone call going to bring? I found myself pushing it out of my head when it creeped into my thoughts and I realized, I just needed time, which is crazy since I had already waited thirty years. On that third day, I made up my mind and picked up the phone. My  heart was POUNDING as I dialed her number. I silently prayed that she wouldn’t answer and God was listening because the answering machine picked up the call. When I heard her sweet southern drawl on the answering machine, I knew it was all going to be ok. I struggled to quickly find the appropriate words for my message but I did get it out and she called me later that day. It was AMAZING to hear her voice on the other end of the line and all the doubt and fear flew out of me. It was going to be ok, which is what I’m sure she told me in the short time we were together before they took me away to meet my family and she was right.