Disclaimer 1: This blog is about adoption through the eyes of an adoptee. The adoption narrative usually portrays adoption as all rainbows and unicorns with the adoptive parents hailed as saviors. I do not discount that there are good things that come from adoption stories but rarely is the adoptee voice heard in the narrative. I hope to show you the good, the bad, and the ugly. Please keep an open mind while reading.
Disclaimer 2: I truly appreciate my adoptive family. I love them. I mean no harm to either my adoptive or biological family with my story portrayed in this blog. I want to be as honest as I can with my feelings and my experiences. Therefore, you can get an accurate picture of an adoptee’s life and how we see the world. Some names have been changed.
“I am not a writer, but I have a lot to say.”
“Searching and building a relationship with my birth family doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It means that I love myself enough to find ME.” – I Am Adopted
My stories continued….
When we moved back to the United States, I had updated my information with the adoption agency. I had given permission to the agency, if my biological parents ever contacted them, to give them my information for a reunion. For years after receiving my non-identifying information, I had not received a call. The waiting continued…
The internet proved to be a helpful resource in the early 2000’s. I was able to add my name to several reunion sites. These are websites that adoptees and biological parents, who are searching for family, can add their names to be matched up. Several times I conducted a search but still no one was looking for me. It was crushing each time I would look but over time I began to get numb to it. I taught myself to not expect much, so I wouldn’t be disappointed.
I began to see advertising information on the new DNA company Ancestry. I was fascinated but reluctant to believe that this avenue could help me. Ancestry began accepting DNA in 2012. I finally got the courage to purchase my kit in 2014. A friend of mine had raved about using it and had found so many family connections she did not know she had. She wasn’t even adopted. She sold me after that conversation. Without hesitation, I bought a kit, spit in the tube, and mailed it off.
Another waiting game!!! I knew it could take about two months. Finally, what seemed like the longest wait of my life, I had my results, but again, not any closer to knowing the truth. Back in 2014, Ancestry was still in its infancy. People knew of the service, but I believe many were leery of using it for fear of others getting their DNA information or for insurance reasons. I had many 3rd to 8th cousins but nothing closer. I had absolutely no idea how to utilize any of these family trees that these cousins had built. I had no surnames that I was specifically looking for. Once again, I was in a holding pattern. I would check about once a month to see if anyone was added to my DNA matches.
Two years had gone by and I had a few 2nd to 3rd cousins but none with family trees. One of these cousins had messaged me but he also was looking for his fathers’ side of the family. I couldn’t help him. Up until this point, I had not given much thought into messaging other people on the site. I mean what do you say… “Hi – I’m adopted. How am I related to you?” First, without any idea of who I should be asking about, how do you send a message for help? Second, I was afraid I would scare these potential helpers away. I knew it was time to start being more proactive than passive in my search using DNA. I did my research and in September 2016, I started sending messages out.
By this point it had been about 25 years since I received my non-identifying information. I want people to realize how long this process took. I still was no closer to knowing any information on my biological family. I had no idea what surname I should be looking for. On Ancestry, people’s usernames aren’t always their real names, so that made the task more difficult.
It is quite the journey for an adoptee to search for their roots. Some days you can be on the right path, some days on the wrong one, and other days… you are just taking a break. I was not always actively searching. Adoption was always on my mind, but it did not consume me. As I got older, I began to really understand that there might not be much time left. Throughout my life (especially around my birthdays), I would always calculate how old my biological parents would be. I knew they were 18 years old when I was born. So, when I was younger, I knew I had time. However, as I got into my 40’s, I knew time was limited. As I aged, finding them became even more important.
I checked Ancestry every day to see if someone had answered any of my messages. No luck! It was disappointing. I just did not know enough about searching with DNA at the time. As well, I was busy with my family and career. I couldn’t force these people to view their messages and answer me back. Once again, I would just have to wait.
I still had not told my adoptive mother about any of this. She had asked on occasion if I had looked for them, but I always said no. I still believed that I had no reason to tell her because nothing had been found. I did not want to hurt her. There was nothing to report. I had not found anyone. I still felt like it was my search. Outside of my immediate family, I just didn’t want to talk about it. At one point, I did tell my adoptive brother about contacting the adoption agency and encouraged him to do a DNA kit. He did contact the adoption agency and told me he got non-identifying information. He did do his DNA but not through Ancestry. I had asked him to keep my search quiet. I explained my rationale for not telling our mother until the right time. You all see where this is leading, right?
Well, at Christmas that year, I spoke with my mother. She was quite stunned to find out from my brother and his wife that I had been searching. By accident, it had been revealed to her that my brother started his searching process due to what I had told him about my own search. Once again, I felt a lawyer or mediator would have been necessary to help me through this situation. I felt like a small child with my hand caught in the cookie jar. In this conversation, she mentioned that the laws had changed, and I could get my original birth certificate (OBC). Huh? I didn’t even know it was a thing. It never dawned on me that I would have another birth certificate.
Quickly, I went into action. She was right. At the time (December 2017), Maine was one of just a few states that allowed adoptees to request their original birth certificate. All I had to do was send in a notarized form, and of course some money, and wait for it to come in the mail.
At the time, only six states offered unrestricted access to birth certificates for adoptees. I was extremely lucky that Maine was one of them. At the end of this post, I have a list of resources for obtaining birth certificates for adoptees. But as of today, here is the list of states that have unrestricted access: (2021)
Here is a current list of states that allow for unrestricted access to OBC:
Alabama
Alaska
Colorado
Kansas
Maine
New Hampshire
New York
Oregon
Rhode Island
I had no idea how long it would take. I truly had not thought through the whole process. You would think that since I had years to come up with a plan , I would understand the ramifications of searching. Years of wanting this information had not really prepared me on what the best course of action would be in this situation. I only knew I had been looking for 47 years so of course I would request this information. Well I didn’t prepare myself for the emotions that would come with it. All these years I had been searching for myself and myself I found.
My husband and I had gone away for the weekend. This was about a month after I sent the notarized form to Maine. A friend of mine was coming over to feed the cat and to check for my letter to arrive in the mail. If it came, she was to call me right away. My husband and I were at a brewery with some other friends when she called to say the envelope had arrived. If you recall, I am not one to wait. For her to just lay that envelope back down on the counter until I got home would have been pure torture. I had her open immediately and read me what was on the birth certificate.
I was about to hear the names of my birth parents but when she started reading, she said “Your name is….”. It never, ever occurred to me that I had another name. When I tell you that from all the information that I learned that day, having another name was the hardest thing for me to digest. She continued with the information on the birth certificate. My mother’s name was available along with the address that she resided at with her parents in Massachusetts. I felt like I had won the lottery until she said, “Your father’s name is not on the birth certificate”. I later found out that not listing the father was quite common in adoption cases. My non-identifying information stated he had been made aware of my birth so I was no sure why he would have been left off.
Immediately, I started searching. I had a few friends looking for additional information about the family and where she lived presently. The searching and the adrenaline got me through a few days. When I returned home from my weekend away and went back to work, I felt like someone had popped my tire and I was deflating. One of my friends, who was helping with the search, asked me how I was doing. I took one look at her, burst into tears, and went home. Literally, when I say I curled up in a ball on my floor and cried for 24 hours, I am not exaggerating. I felt like I was having an identity crisis. How did it never occur to me that I had another name?
It took a few days to get myself together. I knew I wanted to locate her, but it was going to take some investigating. I began researching the best way to reach out to biological parents. I wanted to do the this the right way. Even though, I had been searching all my life for my biological mother, I did not know the best course of action in contacting her. After researching and reading on the topic, I found out there were many women who placed babies for adoption around the same time I had been put up for adoption. I learned they were usually filled with guilt and shame. They were told to forget about this baby because they would have others. The possibility of being rejected by her was real. Also, many of these mothers had moved on and never spoke about their adoptions. I was aware that if I contacted her, it was going to cause chaos in her life. Despite the risks, I still wanted to reach out.
I found her address. She was not present on any social media, but I did find her senior high school picture online. Finally, I had a picture of her. I stared at this picture all the time. I saw so much of my youngest daughter in her. It tore me apart thinking about this. After researching, I decided to write a short note explaining that I was conducting some genealogical research and believed we were related. I thought this to be the best approach. I gave her my birth date and location of birth. I mailed it off. The waiting game begins again.
Secretly, I was hoping she would get the letter and call right away. When a few weeks went by, I consoled myself by thinking she needed time to process. I started looking for other family members on social media. I needed another way to contact her because it was possible that I sent the note to the wrong address. I found her younger brother on Facebook. From my research, I learned that after a month, you can send a longer letter with more details and pictures. So, I wrote a second letter and mailed it. My husband persuaded me to contact the younger brother just in case I was not sending the letter to the right address. This was the end of February 2017.
March came in like a lion. I was getting prepared to go on my annual girl’s weekend trip, so I stopped to get a pedicure after work. I was sitting in the pedicure chair when I decided to check my email. Oh my God! There was an email from my biological mother. Yup, you guessed it, I could not wait to open it (I really need to work on my impatience) and there was a short message saying “Times were different back then. It was a hard decision, but I can see it was the right decision.” She gave me some medical information and then asked me not to pursue it any further. I was shocked! I was in the middle of a pedicure! How the hell was I supposed to keep my shit together until I could walk out of there? I made it. No tears… yet! I walked out with the toe separators still between my toes and hobbled to my car.
When I got to my car, I had to call my adoptive mother for our nightly call. Since I was going on my girls weekend, I knew I was not going to talk to her for a few days and once the flood gates opened I would not be able to call her later. So, I called. I got through the call as best as I could. I walked into my house, held my phone up to my husband with email showing, and broke down.
Girls weekend was a good distraction, but I could not fully enjoy myself. At the end of the weekend, I divulged what had happened to my friends. I knew it was obvious something was wrong. I did not know how I would ever get over this. I did email my biological mother back asking her to, at least, give me my father’s name so I could receive medical information from him. I told her I would honor her wishes and not contact her after that. I never heard back from her.
So, the hunt was still on to find my biological father. I must admit, most of my life I was consumed with thoughts of my biological mother. It never really occurred to me to imagine what he was like. I called the adoption agency and told them I knew who my mother was, and I wanted to know who my father was. They told me that they could do a search for my records and then search for him and try to make contact. All this for the small price of $500. Here we go again…. I sent the money.
About a week after I got the email from my biological mother, I was having trouble sleeping due to all the stress. One night I was up late and scrolling through Facebook. Then, I realized I had a message from my bio mother’s younger brother. I panicked! She had asked me not to pursue this and I had sent the message before I had heard back from her. I was so afraid to message back. He had given me his phone number and had asked me to call him. Well, now I really wasn’t going to get any sleep.
The next morning, I texted him back and we arranged to talk later in the day. For the first time in 47 years, I was going to be able to talk to someone who was biologically related to me. I was so afraid. I thought he was going to tell me to leave his family alone. I took some time off that afternoon. I needed to prepare myself for this phone call. A friend of mine came over and we drank a bottle of wine before the phone call… I was a bundle of nerves.
Surprisingly, it was a wonderful call. He was very kind but in shock. He knew nothing of me, but it sounded like his older siblings did. He was much younger. He did not want to speak about his sister (my mother). He felt he had to obey her wishes. I learned some information about him and his children. He wanted to stay in contact, but he was limited on what he could discuss with me. He did give me some more medical information. He would not tell me who my father was because he was not sure himself.
Before contacting my bio family, but after getting my OBC, we had made a trip to Massachusetts for a funeral. Since I had an address for my bio mother at the time of my birth, we went to drive by the house. I just had to see where she lived. At this point, my adoptive mother knew I had received my original birth certificate. She told me that the town where my bio mother lived was the same town my adoptive father grew up. My adoptive aunt went to the same school as my bio mother and her siblings. I did drive from my bio mothers house to my adoptive father’s house and it was only a mile apart. Truly a small world.
A few months go by and I was hopeful that she would have a change of heart, but I received nothing from her. My $500 check to the adoption agency was not clearing and I had yet to hear from them. I called to check on the status of their search for my bio father. I was informed that there was a backlog and they had to send someone to an offsite location to get the records. The wait continues.
At the end of June, I was at our summer home in North Carolina. I was about to go on a run with my friend when I get an email from Ancestry. I had a message from one of my matches that I had sent an email to back in September and then one February with an update. Quickly, I looked at the message. This match asked me to contact his father and left me a phone number. Well, there goes the run for the morning. If I had this right, his father would be my first cousin. This could go one of two ways: I was about to be told to get lost OR they were going to give me information that I had been longing for…
I can't even begin to explain the emotions I felt through this whole process. There were many highs and lows. I began to follow many Facebook groups that catered to adoption and adoptees to find people in similar situations. My family and friends were great sounding boards and listened intently to my stories, but I really needed to hear from others who had been in my shoes. The second rejection from my mother tore me apart. I have read many books and articles to understand what she may have gone through, I feel like I have to defend her to people who don't understand why she won't contact me. That does not take the hurt away, though. The women who were a part of the Baby Scoop Era were told they were doing what was best for their babies and it was better to forget about them. For many of these women, that is what they have done. They built walls and kept secrets hidden for decades. They were told they would never see or hear from us. Yet, no one ever predicted that technology would allow that anonymity to be undone. DNA is helping adoptees find their roots. Now, we are finding our voices and we want to be heard.
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