The Amish Midwife - By Mindy Starns Clark Page 0,94
was adopted, he said that was another story and went on to tell me I could hire a lawyer and submit a petition for non-identifying information. I told him I’d already done that, without a lawyer, but that I wanted a copy of my birth certificate. “It will be quite simple,” I said. “I have my birth date, original name, and birth mother’s name.”
He shook his head. “Simple, maybe, but it’s against the law.”
“But it’s my information!” I was surprised at my frustration, even though I’d known all along the chances of me getting what I wanted were slim.
“Look,” he said, “I’m sympathetic. I get quite a few adoptees through here. But you’re going to have to wait and see if your birth family responds to your petition and hope it’s for more than non-identifying information. Or maybe, because you have your birth mother’s name, she’ll release the birth certificate. That’s your best bet.” He pushed up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, which were already rolled.
“Just because I have her name doesn’t mean I can find her.”
“Your chances are a lot better with the name,” he said.
The door to the office swung open, and a middle-aged couple stepped into the office.
I thanked the man, and as I left the woman said they needed a copy of their son’s death certificate. I stopped a minute in the hall and took a deep breath, wondering what that couple’s story was, aware of the precariousness of life. Children and parents could be lost in more ways than one.
It was two o’clock by the time I left the courthouse, and three o’clock by the time I’d driven around downtown Norristown a little more and then stopped for a sandwich at a deli. By the time I got back on the Turnpike, the Friday afternoon traffic was bumper to bumper. Because I was so close to Philadelphia, I contemplated turning around and exploring. But the traffic was at a near stop going into the city too, and surprisingly I had no desire to turn around. I felt like a homing pigeon, eager to fly home. I decided to continue west, back to Lancaster. For the first time I contemplated not taking the traveling nurse job at all.
The slow traffic gave me lots of time to think about why Giselle would have given birth to me in Norristown rather than Lancaster, but I couldn’t come up with one good, solid reason. To keep my birth a secret? To be closer to the Philadelphia airport, where I would be surrendered to my parents soon after?
Whatever the reason, Mammi would know why. And probably Klara too. Both would also know, I felt sure, where Giselle was now. That was what I needed to focus on—finding my mother. Not chasing around Pennsylvania after paperwork I didn’t have permission to access. I would visit Ada next Wednesday while Klara was at her quilting group. Maybe Mammi would remember more about the past than she reportedly knew about the present.
The next afternoon I had prenatal appointments in Marta’s office, and by the time I ventured back to the cottage, Marta had a roast in the oven, which had been dropped off the day before by a family from her church. A cake was cooling on racks on the counter, and Marta was stirring frosting in a metal mixing bowl. “We’ll eat at six sharp,” she said.
“Who else is coming?”
She didn’t look up from the bowl. “Just us.”
I’d bought Ella a blank book and a fancy pen for her birthday, not knowing what else to get her. Clothes, jewelry, cosmetics, lotions, music—anything you would buy a normal teenage girl—would all be unacceptable, I was sure.
Dinner was quiet with just the four of us. Ella glanced at her cell phone several times. After Marta had placed the all-vanilla cake on the table with absolutely no decoration, she looked at Ella and said how thankful she was to have her as her daughter. Then Zed cleared his throat and said, “And I’m thankful to have you as my sister…” His voice trailed off.
Marta looked at me.
I clasped my hands together on the tabletop. “Well, I’m thrilled to have gotten to know you. And I am blessed to have you as my cousin.”
Ella nodded at me, her capped head bobbing a little.
Marta cut and served the cake, and we ate in silence, except for me saying how delicious it was. As Ella finished the last bite of hers, she glanced at her phone