On November 22, 1978, under the Child Welfare Act, by way of an adoption order, Jocelyn Dawn F., born six months prior, ceased to exist and Amy Lynn Ross was created, hereby adopted as the child of a United Church minister and his wife. As stipulated on the official record of adoption, the biological mother was 16, in Grade 11 at the time of abandonment; her specialty was accounting and worst subject was language, she had five siblings, four older, one younger. The biological father was 23 and did not like school, the pressure bothered him. He also had five siblings. Both had large families even by 1970’s standards. Both had living parents at the time of my birth; her mother 55 and father 56, his mother 61 and father 69. Both were said to be close families with good relationships. Everyone knew about me, I was not a dark secret. Choppy phrases describe each of my birth parents, but they can be summed up in two words: not ready.
It’s surreal to examine what facts are deemed important by an agency, what should constitute the history that you are permitted to carry with you. Height and longevity were prominent on his side. Good health and longevity on hers. Both sides were an Irish bloodline. All were actively involved in the church. However, there were no notes on where my weird big toes had come from.
Have you ever really looked at your hands? Studied the lines and indentations? The shape of the nails that grow there? The way the veins show, puffed and blue beneath the sheath of flesh? Mom and I talking over coffee. She is picking at a piece of jagged skin by a nail. She is transfixed, looking at her hands; holding one out, straightening the fingers before bending them to look closely again at the nails, then once more straightening them in a close examination.
97