The Mother I'll Never Meet

I’ll never be able to thank the woman who showed me the greatest kindness I’ve ever known.

In 1968, she was 21 and working as a receptionist at a country club in Connecticut when she found herself pregnant. Not knowing what to do, she shared her news with her Italian parents, who were good Catholics - they had sent their daughters to Catholic schools, never expecting their girls would do anything that would disgrace their faith or their family. So when she told her father that she was pregnant out of wedlock, he promptly informed her that she was no longer allowed to live under his roof. Although her mother and sister wanted her to keep the baby, just as she did, it was decided that she would go to New York City to live at the Catholic Home Bureau. Once there, she would remain there until she had the baby.

Although abortion wasn’t legal, she could’ve found a way to have one done and be rid of her “problem”. However, she chose to carry out her pregnancy, giving birth to a baby girl who had a head full of brown hair. She named the baby Vivian, following in the family tradition of naming every first born girl Vivian, which had gone back for generations. Then, she signed away her rights from ever knowing her daughter, giving Vivian up for adoption, and walked away.

She went on to live her own life, meeting the man she would marry and telling him that she gave up a daughter for adoption so that there would be no secrets between them. While she had other children with her husband, her baby girl never left her emotional radar. She would spend years looking for her daughter, telling her best friend that while she was glad to have her sons, she wished she could have her daughter with her too. She spent years looking for her daughter, even going back to the Bureau, but was told that all records pertaining to the adoption were private.

In 1983, she and her husband went away for a weekend on Martha’s Vineyard, and while riding on a moped, with her husband following behind her on his own moped, she was hit by a truck and dragged several feet. She sustained massive injuries, including a brain injury that would cause her to have occasional seizures throughout the rest of her life. Though for a long time the seizures were controlled by medication, eventually, as she got older, the medicine’s control weakened. While being plagued by the seizures, she also began having memory issues, and found the combination too much to bear. Covered in a cloud of depression, she planned her suicide, and, at 58, took her own life.

I was born in 1969 and 49 years later, in 2019, decided to use 23andme to help me figure out my own genetic makeup, including any markers for potential health conditions. When I received the results, I noticed that I had a second cousin at the top of my list of DNA relatives and decided to reach out to him, telling him I was an adoptee and was hoping for any information about my biological family. Within 15 minutes, he responded to my query, saying he’d be happy to help in any way he could. I shared with him information given to my adopted mother about my biological mother, who had provided the Bureau with some background about herself and her family while maintaining her anonymity. He said he would ask his own mother about the information and get back to me.

Within the week, he told me that his mother had a first cousin who fit the information I had shared, and while this first cousin was no longer alive, I could attempt to reach out to her son and his wife. I could find them both on Facebook and, after much deliberation, decided to send a message to them both. Over a year later, in 2020, my brother responded to my message, a bit shocked to learn that he had a half-sister, yet happy to have a relationship with me.

I’ve seen pictures of my biological mother, and the family resemblance is striking. I’ve talked to my brother, our mother’s best friend, and our aunt, and I’ve been able to put the pieces of my mother’s story together. Hearing about her interests, habits, and idiosyncrasies have explained so much of why I do what I do and think how I think. While I feel like the cracks in my foundation have been filled in, especially with the reassurance that she always thought of me and was looking for me, I mourn the fact that I’ll never be able to meet her.

My biological mother was courageous, selfless, and altogether generous. The kindness she showed me in giving me life is one I’ll never be able to repay, so I will work to carry on her legacy of other-centered compassion, doing as many good deeds as I can before I leave this Earth.