Mioara. (Part 3)

Many questions and feelings coursed through me when I awoke in the morning. Being with Mioara again was the first thing on my mind. All I wanted was to be with her, even if all we did was sit and smile at each other. I wanted to feel that connection I’d felt yesterday again and spend time with her, get to know her better. It all felt so surreal, like a dream. I never wanted to leave her. Could I take her back to Canada with me? My mind went down another trail of wondering how I could make that work. In a few short days I’d have to say goodbye. Goodbye. That word hit me hard. The idea of saying goodbye seemed so final. I had no idea when I would ever have this chance again. What if something were to happen, and she wouldn’t be here next time I wanted to be with her. I started to feel panicky, negative thoughts invaded my mind with all the things that could happen that wouldn’t allow me to see her again. I had to pause and tell myself to breathe, to stop those thoughts. These days would speed by way too fast. It made me sad to think about it how quickly the time was passing. Forcing myself to focus positiveIy, I got ready for the day. Today I was going to find answers to questions I have had all my life. I could hardly wait to be with my birth mom!

     Eventually noon rolled around, and we drove to a restaurant in Orastie that we had agreed to meet Mioara at. My parents were along this time. We walked up to the front of the building, but she was not there yet. It was sunny, so we sat outside and enjoyed the sun’s warmth while we waited. A short while passed, and then a dark green car pulled up to the front of the building. Mioara, Stelica and Aurelia got out, walking towards us. Mioara’s face lit up immediately when she saw my parents, giving them each a hug and saying things in Romanian that I wished I could understand. I could sense a strong familiarity between them as they conversed. Their instant connection was very amazing to me. I’m not sure what I expected. I stood there, watching their facial expressions and body language. It was unmistakably obvious that this was not their first encounter. I didn’t remember thinking before this moment, how I would react to my parents meeting Mioara. Now here they were, talking with this lady I now called “mom” as if they’d known her for years. I guess they kind of have. The tension inside me slowly melted away as I witnessed my parents excitement seeing her. Overwhelmed with bittersweet feelings, I watched my mom and my biological mom, trying to imagine what they were feeling. A sadness came over me. As a mom myself, I could only imagine the grief Mioara must have gone through giving up her baby. A mother’s love for her child is like no other love. To have the ability to put that feeling aside because you want the best for your child is the most selfless thing I can think of. I can only imagine what it would feel like to be in my mom's shoes. To be an adoptive parent would take so much bravery and courage. Adoption is such a miracle, a happy thing, and yet there's a deep mysterious side to it that seems to need attention and understanding.

     Inside the restaurant, we sat down and ordered some food. We tried to converse, finding the language barrier challenging. Was the setting too formal? It felt like everyone was nervous, probably trying to sort through their own feelings. Conversation picked up after we had our food. Our waitress happened to know English, and was very interested in us. We asked her if she would be willing to do some translating for us. She happily obliged, telling us about herself working two full time jobs to make enough money for rent, payments and food. She told us sad stories about Romanian communism, and about the revolution. At one point she made mention of how lucky I was to have been adopted, and that I should be so thankful, because I would have had such a sad life without that opportunity. I wanted to be upset and tell her that she didn't understand. But deep down I knew what she was saying was true. She told us she wanted to move to Germany, because she would have better job opportunity and better wages there. I was able to ask some questions that had been on my mind for years. Hesitant, I wasn’t sure if I really wanted answers. Would it just be better if I never knew? Asking questions about your unknown past or your biological relatives that you knew nothing about was terrifying. I wanted to imagine it was all happiness. Surely my story would feel complete after this. I was hoping I’d find closure and come to peace with my unknown past. Ready or not, it was about to happen.

     Mioara’s mother died when she was just a baby in diapers. (Her words.) She told us her mother had died of a broken heart after her boyfriend left her. It left a lot to the imagination. I hoped her mother’s life hadn’t ended the way I was thinking it had. She didn’t remember or know her mom, which was hard for me to hear. My biological mother grew up without a mom, and had to give up her own precious daughter after she was born. How unfair can life possibly be. Tears welled up in my eyes and rolled silently down my face. It also made me extra thankful for this opportunity I was given now. Mioara talked about her grandmother, who raised her. Her grandmother died when Mioara was 17 years old. She then went to live with her great grandmother. I was born about 5 months after she turned 18. Mioara’s great grandmother lived until she was 70. Mioara was 20 at that time. She lived her life on the streets, with no close family to support her. I was born in Orastie, in a tiny hospital. My mother took good care of me and was fiercely protective of me. I got very sick when I was about 7 months old and was admitted to a hospital. I am unsure where or which hospital. But when my adoptive parents found me, I was in a hospital in Hunedoara and had been there for a few months already, as my birth mom just didn’t have the means to take care of me. I asked Mioara if she had come to visit me there. She said she had, but admitted that my biological dad had visited me a lot more than she had. She told me he really loved me. But he didn’t love Mioara and treated her badly. Mioara has no siblings or any other close relatives alive. It wasn’t easy to hear her talk about her life. She has had a very hard life. One most of us will never begin to understand. I could hardly imagine sad and lonely it must have been for her. She married Stelica about 16 years ago. In 2008, she mailed me photos of their wedding. Stelica and her seem to have a good relationship, which was comforting to me. He treats her well, from what we can tell. Aurelia is Stelica’s daughter from a previous marriage. She calls Mioara mom, and has an obvious mother/daughter bond with her. It made me very happy to see their bond. Despite all the sadness surrounding her story, Mioara seemed happy. I wondered how one could possibly be happy in a situation like hers. Was it because she was with me now? Was it the hope of someday meeting me, that kept her going all these years?  Just another thing to leave to the imagination, I guess. The three of them seemed genuinely happy together, which also made me happy.

     I have always wondered how my biological mom’s birth experiences were compared to mine. During my pregnancies I would often hear that you could expect your delivery to be similar to your moms. It was something I asked her as we sat there in the restaurant. She lit up when I asked, as if it was a good memory for her. I wondered how much she would remember since it was 32 years ago. She had a hard labor with me and said that my sister and I were both born by cesarean. I was 6lb 3oz at birth. I found it all very interesting. I had a very complicated labor & delivery when my oldest was born. Because of that my youngest two children were born by cesarean. My birth stories are very comparable to hers. I can imagine some of those memories would be hard for her to relive, as she wasn’t able to take care of me the way she would have liked to. I found myself in a whirlwind of thoughts as we sat and visited. What kind of a bond would my birth mom and I have had before I was adopted? If survival was her utmost priority, how was she able to care for me and bond with me? It was such a strange feeling. I don’t remember her from back then, but I know she did her best. I know she loved me then and loves me now. I feel an inexplicable connection to her now. If she hadn’t loved me or cared about me back then, I doubt I’d feel the way I do. I asked her about my biological dad. I was told my biological father had passed away when I was 2 years old. A part of me was angry. I felt cheated out of the chance I could have had, to get to know him. Mioara told me several times how much he loved me. It also seemed like there was a lot of darkness surrounding who he was. Would he have wanted to know me? Did I resemble him at all? What kind of personality did he have? I have so many questions and feelings about him that I will never have answers to.

     I am very grateful to my biological mother for making what I can only imagine the hardest decision ever, to give me up so that I could have a better life. It is a very honourable and selfless thing to do. I am forever grateful to her.