I'm not sure if it was because meeting my birth father made me miss my adoptive father so much (he died 6 years ago), or what - but today was filled with many more emotions than yesterday. I felt like I couldn't spend another day with them, but at the same time I was so sad knowing it might be the only day in my life that I would. One day with your parents. How do you sum that up in a blog post?
After the reunion yesterday, I was actually content with what I had learned and felt like this trip had been a success. I was ready to go home. This wasn't a trip for touring, or enjoying good food. Even though I haven't even had time to explore Seoul, I've gone back to the place of my birth and gotten so many answers to my past. I miss my family. I'm tired. Exhausted, really. Physically, mentally and emotionally drained. This has been the toughest trip I have ever gone on.
I spent a few hours processing everything while I typed up my last post, in the lobby of the guest house since that's the only area that got decent wifi. My sister was napping in the room where I had left my purse, which had my Korean cell phone in it. She said she kept hearing Korean music (my ringtone) but didn't realize what it was til about the 3rd or 4th ring. When she brought it out to me, a staff member got on the phone- it was my birth mother. She was calling to tell me to pick up my phone (so bossy!) - my birth father had been trying to call.
Apparently she had followed through with calling him right away, and had gotten him when he was away on a business trip. He was about an hour or two outside of Seoul; three or four hours from Busan. When the staff member started talking to him, he said he was unprepared and he wasn't ready to see me, but he sounded very unsure. She said his indecisiveness prompted her to push a little further, telling him that I was leaving in a few days and I was pregnant. He said he would leave right then and come to Busan to meet me. I was in shock.
We made plans to meet- my birth mother, father, me and my translator- at 10am the next morning at the Chosun Beach Hotel. I tried to get some sleep but all of the ups and downs from the day made sleeping difficult. I still had doubts that he would even show up.
At 9:45 the next morning, before I even left the guest house, my birth mother called to say they were there. Hurriedly I grabbed a taxi with my sister and took it to the lobby of the hotel. I was nervous because my translator was meeting us there, and I didn't want to meet them before she arrived, so it was a relief to see her in the lobby before I saw them. Turns out, my father had driven down to Busan the night before so he had his car and he was somewhere in a park around the corner from the hotel.
We followed my birth mother on this long, dramatic walk through the park...I had no idea what my father would look like or which man he was so every time we approached a man I got nervous and wondered if that was him.
We turned a corner, and there he was. My first thoughts were: he is so tiny! So small. I have no excuse to be fat anymore. Man.
He was so sweet. He didn't cry, but I could see his emotions in his eyes. He wanted to hold my hand the whole time, or keep his hand on my leg.
As we sat down, the story unfolded. In truth, it's a rather bizarre story. They met when he was in Busan, working at the Chosun Beach Hotel- the very place we met today. That felt so surreal to me. If it wasn't my real life, it seemed like it would be in a love story.
He was 25, she was 31. He is only 6 years younger than she is, even though the paper work says differently - they both gave me their birth dates so now I know the truth. I guess they moved to Seoul, where they lived together, along with my b-mother's younger sister, when I was conceived. He said he was very young, and immature, and could not look into the future - but he loved her. And she nodded confidently when I asked if they had been in love. My b-mother knew that he was not ready to settle down so I guess they ended things and she moved to Busan where she had me.
I never really did ask why they gave me up, but I could assume that she was a single mother, who already had two grown children, and the stigmas in Korea at the time did not allow for her to raise me on her own. He said that he had wanted to raise me, but again he "didn't have plans for the future" and things just didn't work out, so I think he just wasn't ready for real life. He was 30 when I was born. I think it's ironic that I am 30 now and having my 3rd child and so much more ready for real life than he ever was at this age.
Anyway, turns out I guess it didn't take him too long to get ready for real life- because he got married and had two more children, my half-siblings, who would now be 27 and 26, only a few years later. Nothing like more kids to really make you grow up.
But all these years- they have kept in touch. His wife and children know nothing about me, or my birth mother. He was too scared to meet me in Seoul where they live so that is why he drove to Busan to meet me, even though he had to take time off work and go so far out of his way to make it happen. I felt like he was risking a lot to come down to see me; if his wife was at all doubting, she would definitely question his time down there today and the money he spent. But more on that later.
This is what else I found out about him:
His name is Jung Jong-Oh, born on May 7, 1952. He was born in Chungcheongnam-do but grew up in Seoul. He works with boilers and electricity with large buildings (so if a "boiler technician" is the correct term, that is what he does) and he is the representative for his company so it sounds like he is higher up than just a worker bee. It sounded like he works a lot. He lives in Incheon with his wife, son (who is 27 and works in surgery at the hospital, unclear if he is a doctor or surgeon or what) and his daughter (26, a fencing teacher). Their names are Chong Hoon and Mimi. "Chong and Mimi." Cute. He gave me a picture of them when they were younger. I wished I could see them current day.
He owns a farm where he goes to on the weekends. We sat on the ground and had a little fruit picnic with apples he had gone out and picked last night, anticipating our meeting. It was all so surreal. Having a picnic with my birth parents in the middle of a park next to the hotel where they met some 35 years ago. He said that he enjoys traveling around Korea; his favorite spots are Jeju Island and the mountains.
He had three brothers, who have all died, and a sister. His parents had died as well. After serving in the military (which is required for all Korean men), he worked at the Chosun Beach Hotel and the rest of the story is history.
I think it is bizarre that they have kept in touch over the years and still seemed so familiar with each other. It was like they were an old, married couple- except they weren't. He teased her for being overbearing with me- she didn't seem at all nervous to see him. She kept saying how he used to be a handsome man, not so thin. She was upset that he was in "work clothes" and he apologized that he hadn't dressed formally to meet me since he had come straight from work. I thought he looked fine- neat and clean, but she kept saying he always dressed formally for her. They were just so comfortable together. It was so weird.
I asked when the last time they had seen each other had been and he said, "I have a family now...so it has been a few months." Well, a few months ago you had a family too! So I was thoroughly confused. It seemed as if they had this bond that prevented them from ever really saying goodbye. Perhaps that was me. If so, now they really won't be able to. He wants me to keep in touch with him through my b-mother. I felt lucky to have the chance to meet both of them, and together. Not many adoptees get that opportunity if their parents are no longer together.
I understood the importance of keeping this whole thing a secret for him; it would be devastating to his wife and children to know that he had a daughter before they came along, after all these years. I did not ask him if he was going to tell them, because I don't see the point in why he would. All it would be is disruptive. I couldn't believe his wife didn't even know my b-mother existed. All these years. Such a big secret. Korean drama!!!
Despite the need to be so careful, he still gave me his cell phone number and address. He has been texting me ever since our meeting. His texts make me sad. I'm surprised at how open he can be in writing. I'm surprised at how you can feel love for someone- and tell them that- after only meeting them once. My mother's description of him in my paperwork was definitely accurate; he was a kind and gentle man.
He said he had no medical problems I needed to be aware of. He willingly gave me his DNA (he was actually very interested in me sending the results to my mother). It was kind of funny because when I asked him he just grabbed a whole tuft of his hair so I didn't have to pluck individual hairs out or anything. The taking of DNA has been easier than I expected.
I had a chance to ask a few questions to my b-mother I had forgotten to ask yesterday. Like where I was born: at Sehyun Hospital, even though it "moved" last year so it is no longer in Busan. She gave me a picture of her mother. She said that my aunt in France has two daughters and two sons. That she visits her often in the winter. She emphasized again that my aunt would want to know me. I need to try to contact her once I get home, because she couldn't find her email address. Neither of my b-parents use email. That makes keeping in touch a bit harder.
Anyway, after the initial meeting in the park and our little picnic, it was decided that we were going to the mall. My mother still wanted to buy stuff for me. It felt so weird driving to the mall with my father behind the wheel.
When we got there, it was awkward; we went to the big Shinsegae department store again - and everything is pretty high end there. They kept asking me to pick out things. They weren't going to stop until I did, and I was completely overwhelmed and exhausted, so I just consented. They wanted to buy matching outfits for the boys. Two sweaters, and two pairs of pants later, my father spent about $500. It was sad for me. I couldn't tell if he had the money to afford to do something like that, let alone I would never spend that much money on kids' clothes myself. But it was something he wanted to do. They kept saying that after 30 years, this was nothing.
Next, my mother wanted to shop for me at a maternity store. It was tiny- literally three walls of things- and she picked out this formal looking blue dress with gold zippers. My father liked this grey and ivory silk top. I tried them both on and chose the cheaper option. My mother bought the dress; it was about $155. I was glad that she was satisfied after that. In the park she literally cupped my boob and looked down my shirt and said I needed a new bra. So I was a little nervous she was going to want to buy me a bra. But she had forgotten.
Then they wanted to shop for Tom. I was very hesitant to let them spend any money on Tom, especially on clothes, because I doubt he would fit into the clothes there. They were picking out cashmere sweaters and dress shirts- but I didn't remember his size and knew that all the arms would be too short. I told them a t-shirt would be fine. My b-mother scolded me for "not wanting to buy anything for my husband." We moved on. Sorry T, didn't end up getting you anything. She wanted to buy me new shoes (again with the shoes!) and something for my mom back home. I told her that perhaps we could look after lunch; I was getting hungry.
We headed up to the 9th floor where the restaurants were. They were concerned again if I liked Korean food and asked what I wanted. I said Korean food was fine- I liked Korean food- so we went to a bibimbap restaurant. My b-father ordered before we even sat down, while we waited for a table, so everything was ready when we got the table. He watched me use my chopsticks and said I had good form; that I was a true Korean. He said that the next time I am in Korea, he hopes that we can speak together. That they are "old and learn slow" so maybe I can try to learn Korean. I think I may try to take a class or at least buy Rosetta Stone. The language barrier is just so huge and both him and my b-mother said many times how they wished they could just talk to me alone, but they couldn't.
After lunch, I was relieved when they seemed to be tired and done with the mall. They asked if I wanted coffee, which I really didn't, so when I learned that they didn't drink it either it was a good excuse to skip another stop. We went down to the parking garage to find the car; that took a few minutes because none of us remembered where he had parked. Eventually we found the car, after my b-father ran around the parking garage for awhile.
The whole time we had been together, my mother kept talking about this white blanket she wanted to give me. Apparently she has a matching one, and she likes it very much, and has had it for awhile and just really wanted me to have it. My b-father teased her and said, "What is so special about this blanket?" He relented and drove us to her place for her to get the blanket. Turns out it is like a big down comforter that is going to be tough to get back home- but whatever makes her happy..
We got to her place and she invited me up. He did not want me going up there. I don't know if it was because he didn't want me seeing it or because he needed to get going, but he told her to just go and get it; I figured I might as well see the place so I jumped out and followed her up. It was a second story walkup. She talked to me in Korean and pointed out some plants outside her door, but I didn't know what she was saying. It was the first time we had been alone together.
When we walked in, I wanted to cry..it was so tiny. It was smaller than a New York apartment. Her kitchen and bathroom were the size of my kitchen table, if that. There was no shower or toilet in the bathroom that I could see; just a bowl of water on the ground. There was a small room off to the side that literally held only a laundry drying rack. She opened the door to her room and although it was larger, it certainly was not large. There was no bed - Koreans prefer to sleep on the floor (in this sense I am certainly NOT a true Korean), just a wardrobe and a small shelf with pictures and a mirror. The shelf was covered with pictures of her and her family, and front and center was the picture we had taken of us at the Aquarium and the one I gave her framed. Next to the shelf was the photo album I gave her of my family. She had shown the album and explained everything to my father the night before. He could not take any pictures with him because of his situation, but when I offered him the small gift I had made him earlier (a photo of me and my family on a dog chain) and my mommy card with contact info, he took them both willingly. She told him he shouldn't take them, but he said he would take care of it and he wanted them.
The apartment felt so small and lonely. I couldn't imagine where my father had slept the night before; they must have shared the bedroom somehow. Their relationship was so confusing. On our way out, she kept pointing to her shoes; she wanted me to try them on. She hates my shoes. She says I need to be more comfortable. Earlier in the day she gave me a bag filled with things; including three pairs of her own shoes that I gave back to her. They were about a half size too small, and I knew I would never wear them. I think she was disappointed because she kept saying that she wanted to buy me new shoes, but her friend said that would be an awful gift. But she wanted to anyway. She never got the chance.
She gave me a bag full of things - apparently she had gone shopping after our meeting yesterday and gotten more things for me. Inside the bag was a baby blanket - she wanted me to wrap the baby in it in the winter. More facial creams and cleansers. A little green jacket for one of my sons that her sister's children had worn, and some kids' flip flops that were apparently "very fashionable" here. A little utensil set for the boys. A zip up that she had bought for herself but that was "a little too small" and would be "good for the weather today." A blousy shirt that she thought I could wear when pregnant. Three handkerchiefs - one with a map of Korea on it that I am supposed to bring back the next time I visit. The rest of the fruit from the picnic. Green tea for my mother back home. And tissues. Lots of tissues.
After retrieving the white blanket, they drove me back to the guest house. I had told them I needed to get back to pack and catch a bus at 4. Truthfully, I could have stayed longer. But I was feeling like I needed to go. I didn't want to take the train back by myself, even though it would have been much faster, and much more pleasant. A direct, 3 hour ride vs. a 7.5 hour bus ride. But I wanted to leave with the group. I just felt like I had to go.
My father parked the van and everyone got out and said goodbye. I did not want to look back at them. I could feel their sadness. My birth mother said earlier that she thought I was staying in Busan until Saturday, so she was pretty upset that I was leaving for Seoul today. She was upset that my sister could stay for the rest of the month but I had to get home, and she asked me why I couldn't stay. They understood that I had to get back to my family. But I could feel how sad they were that we had only had a day together - the three of us. I felt bad for coming into their lives for such a brief moment in time. It was heartbreaking.
Before parting, my father said that when we come back for the Olympics he wants to see me. I was surprised that he would want to see me again despite the situation. But he did seem like he wanted to keep in touch. He told me not to cry; that it was not good for me. He gave some words of wisdom: to be good to my parents back home who raised me. To be brave and be strong. To take care of myself and the baby. To be happy.
My birth mother said she was going back to the foot spa later that afternoon. I think she goes there regularly. I felt like if I ever returned to Busan, if I waited long enough, I would find her there. One day I will bring my children there and explain to them about my past.
When we were waiting for our bus at a small coffee shop, my translator got a phone call. It was my mother; she had tried calling Holt too. She was at a department store trying to buy me another piece of luggage so I could check all the things she had given to me. I told my translator to tell her that I was okay; that I didn't need the bag. I knew it would cost a lot. I didn't want her spending any more money. The translator said she wanted her to come get it and bring it to me, but we finally talked her out of it. I'm sure she was disappointed. She scolded me outside the mall for not picking out a bag, if that was what I needed. The thing is, I probably do need a bag but the last thing I want to do is have her buy it for me. Not after seeing her apartment. Not after knowing her life.
My translator, Minyeon, was amazing. It felt so great having her on this journey with me. She went above and beyond for me these past two days. It wasn't uncomfortable at all having her there during some very uncomfortable moments and emotional times. When we had said goodbye to my parents, she gave me and my mother a parting gift- matching phone plugs (for the earphone jack). My mother thought they were earrings. Hah...She also gave me a very sweet note. I was happy to get her email address so we could keep in touch. Her English was impeccable. She translated all of the pictures that I was given, the letter my mother wrote, and anything else I asked her. She was so patient and attentive. She said she enjoyed the experience too; it was different than she thought it was going to be. I was glad she was there for it. She helped me to the bus and carried my bags.
Me & MinyeonOn the bus ride away from Busan, I passed my mother's building. Just leaving the city, I was filled with inexplicable sadness. Sadness because who knows if I will ever come back. Who knows if I will ever see them again, or if they will die before then. Who knows if I will even keep in touch. As hard as it was for me, I could imagine how much harder it was for them. My mother had followed me to the door where I was going up to the guest house and waved through the glass. She was crying. I hope they will be able to get through this. I hope they remain friends, or whatever their relationship might be. I hope they can ultimately be happier from all of this. But for now I just felt sadness. For all of us. It has been an emotionally overwhelming 48 hours. I am happy to return to Seoul. But tomorrow starts a new journey- the one of my sister's. We will meet her birth mother tomorrow at 11am. The journey continues...
I loved this story, Lauren! What a beautiful, wonderful life you've experienced. ~ Cyndie Shriver
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