In 1965, my adopted Dad was at a random university meeting. It was 30 below, so he gave a woman who had bused there a ride home. She turned out to be my blood mother.
It turns out she had given my brother and I up for adoption two months previous. The secret lasted for 20 years.
I'm puzzled by this notion that giving birth has more value than 24 years of cooking, cleaning, caring, worrying - and mothering.
I cannot get over the image of Joni Mitchell and her long-lost daughte…
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