My worst nightmare started six months ago, when I decided it was time to seek out my own history my finding my birthmother. I'd always known that I was adopted, something that I didn't quite grasp the full meaning of until I walked into a friend's house and saw how much she was an obvious result of her two parents. For some reason, that's always been the hardest part of being adopted, which in the grand scheme of things is a pretty small issue to have. After 24 years, my longing for a sense of my own story led me to begin the journey that would lead me to a woman who looks exactly like me, but 18 years older.

We'd been writing letters and sending emails for about a month when we started talking about how we would meet in person. Our parents live in the same town, so we began arranging a meeting there. She mentioned that her husband wanted to meet me, so I used that as a segue for the important person in my life who wants to meet her: Andrea. I explained in my usual witty fashion that she means a great deal to me, that without her I didn't have all the strength and tenacity required to carry out my search. I said that my parents think she's wonderful and I hoped she would, too.

I sent off my email and began the longest week of my life. While I tried to convince myself that she was just busy, my heart was having a hard time believing the logical arguments I was presenting. Twice a day, I ran to my computer, looking for a sign, any sign. There was none. The following Sunday, one week after I'd started this agonizing process, I resigned myself to the fact that I'd done it- I'd ruined any chance for meeting her. In some ways, I told myself that it was okay, since at least I knew how she felt before I became too involved. But it still hurt a great deal to think that I could be so easily disregarded.

I try to tell myself that it isn't important, that I've done all I set out to do, but I know that I'm just lying to myself. I sit here, nervous and anxious as a woman who I've barely met opens an email 3,000 miles away. This woman is my birthmother and the last time she saw me was in March of 1973. It's been a month since I found her, we've exchanged cards, letters and emails since then. She's eager to get to know me, and I her, yet I've been holding back.

Coming out to my adoptive parents was relatively easy. We are quite close, and I knew them well enough to predict that they would be shocked but still love me in the end. My birthmother's potential reaction is a different issue. I don't know her at all so I don't know what to expect. I wasn't going to tell her right away, I didn't want to scare her off. Yet the more I thought about it the more I knew that I had to tell her before too long, so if she was going to run away again then she could do it before I had invested too much emotionally in her.

And so it came to pass that the other night, I sent her the fateful email. I was going to be somewhat patient and send her a letter, but I couldn't stand the pressure. We had been discussing our first meeting, planned for Christmas when I'll be in Ohio to see my parents.

It's two days later, an email eternity, and I haven't heard a word. My head tells me that she just needs time to adjust, that I'll hear from her again soon, but I'm having a hard time convincing my heart of that. All the possible scenarios are running through my mind, no matter how hard I try I can't stop the traffic in my head. I'm trying to figure out why it's so important that she react well, when in all reality she's a stranger.