My Gotcha Day

Today is a really special day for me and my family. It is the day that my parents “got me.” On this day twenty-seven years ago, my Mom was my age when she was going to pick up her little girl.

On December 18th, 1981 I was exactly ten weeks old. I was born on October 6th, 1981. After my parents waited seven years to hear they could adopt a baby, they then had to wait those ten long weeks to hear when they could come and pick me up.

Every year on this day, I hear versions of the story about this special day in all of our lives.

I always get a phone call from my Dad. He always tells the same story:
“It was snowing like a bastard out. It was one of the worst blizzards. They told us we could come and get you. Mom didn’t want to go because she was so worried about the weather. There was no way that I wasn’t going to get my little girl. I got out the old beater Dodge Ram with four wheel drive. You were all bundled up in this pink snow suit. We had you so packed in that suit you couldn’t move or breathe. You were like a little snowman. We took you to see Nona first. She held you and wouldn’t let you go. It was such a beautiful day.”

My Mom tells it:
“I had this fit the week they called to tell me that you were finally mine. I had no idea what to do with myself. I remember running across a busy street to get a package of diapers. I was almost hit by a car. Your Uncle Mike (my Godfather) was there to take me out of the street. When people ask me how long I was in labor with you, because they don’t know you were adopted, I often say seven years. I was in labor with my daughter for seven years. It was the most painful wait of my life… but worth every minute. The best Christmas and birthday present I’ve ever gotten.”

This day feels different each year. The emotions I feel when I open my eyes on December 18th are so strong. It’s become a day of remembering for my parents. For me and my husband it’s become a day of gratitude. Gratitude for being here where I am, with the people I love so much.

I think my Gotcha Day is what has made my love of Christmas so strong. I always equate this time of the year with love and comfort and celebration. I think it reflects on the fact that I was finally home on my first Christmas.

I often think of the fact that if my birthmother didn’t give me up, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have the people in my life that I love so much. I am not related by blood to anyone in my family. This is something that makes me hang onto friends and family so much tighter. My relationships are so meaningful and so true, because it’s all I know how to do. To hold on and never let go.

The older I get, and the closer I am to having children of my own, I realize what the gift of life really is about. I am so thankful to have been given the family that I have. I am so lucky… and so loved. This day is everyone’s Gotcha Day, not just mine. I love to celebrate this part of me. I always will.