Well as some of you already know, I wasn't raised with my birth mother. It was just me and dad for 8 years till he remarried. I have seen her 4 times throughout my life and of course there have been the polite Christmas cards and the occasional birthday card. Since my Grammies death there hasn't been any contact with that side of the family except for those cards.
As usual I sent the Christmas card last Christmas and shortly after I received a short note from her wondering why I hadn't sent a picture like my brother did. Basically I was being chastised for being not as good and thoughtful as my brother. Which at the time stung a little but yet pissed me off too. Like SHE really didn't have the right to get on my case about anything! But yet there was that nagging little piece of me that said...Why don't you give her another chance? Surely she has calmed her ways and besides she is old now.
This produced a large argument with my conscience. If you only knew the words that were spoken up in my head. Phew, it was awful! I mean how many chances can you dish out in hopes of not getting hurt AGAIN? Deep in my heart I knew I must of been sending those cards every year in hopes of some kind of relationship. In the end my conscience won and I finally broke down and sent her some pics and a small note.
I wrote, she wrote (immediately) and had been going on for nearly six months now. Then I hit a wall. I knew she was waiting for my letters but for the life of me I couldn't seem to put anything to paper. I would try and throw away, over and over again. So I stopped and waited. Mulling actually.
A few weeks ago she gave me her phone number, I logged it in my book but couldn't muster up the courage to call. I hadn't talked to her, person to person since I was 11 with out somebody else being there as a buffer. It's kinda funny but I was actually afraid of her for the longest time, but that was mostly because I had expectations of who I wanted her to be. Thankfully I don't have those illusions anymore. I have come to think of her more as a long lost family member (like an aunt), than the grandeur of the word "Mother"
So today as I sat here with nothing to do but crochet, I picked up the phone and dug out my phone book. My finger hovered over the buttons for what seemed like forever then I dialed. I hesitated just long enough for me back out of it before I pressed the talk button. Suddenly my tummy was churning and I couldn't sit still. I was pacing the floor even before the phone was answered.
I believe it went well other than the fact that I was talking ninety to nothing and probably didn't even give her much chance to talk. My nerves had taken over and I dominated the convo. By time we finally hung up, I was exhausted! I had walked the length of the house probably fifty times in the span of an hour! My nerves were as if they had been hit by electricity, my hands were still shaking and if I was still a drinking girl, I would have seriously put a hurt on a bottle!LOL!
Soo...is my fear conquered? Demons demolished? Maybe not fully but hey...it's a start.