Adoption: Seekers and The Informed

At 39 years old, I was still searching for my Birth Mother.  As an adoptee, I have discovered that there are typically two different groups.  The first group is the Seekers – which I belong to – who want to get names, answers and family history.  If a relationship comes from it; so be it.  The second group is totally ok with the information they have and are NOT looking for more information, usually.  They know they are adopted, overall not looking for more information and are overall pretty content.  This group is the Informed.

I have always been a Seeker.  From as long as can recall, my Adoptive Family never shied away from advocating for me to find my biological roots.  They never hid the fact that I was adopted and they never withheld their support when I announced I was ready to start searching for my Birth Mother.

When I was a Senior in High School, I was a very active member of my Youth Group.  When it was time to deliver one of 3 Senior Sunday Sermon for our church, I couldn’t wait!.  The topic was to figure out what love meant on a personal level.  Of course, I had thought that I had “love” for my boyfriend and that I “loved” my favorite jeans. 

But, I had NO clue what love meant to me.

Then my world stopped.  As I was practically wracking my brain trying to figure out what love meant to me, my parents stepped in with some help.  They decided this was the perfect point in my life to share something that would rock me to the core.  They shared a typed letter from my Birth Mother.  It read as follows:

“September 1979

It might be years before you’ll ever see this letter or know of it, but a few things need to be explained.

The reason I relinquished my natural rights to you my child were:

I want you to have the very best possible life available.  Right now I do not have the means of bringing you up as I would like you to have.  It would not be fair to deprive you of this or anything else.  Monetarily speaking I am incapable of taking care of you.  This does not by any means say I do not love you.  If I could only express to you how much I do love and care for you.

It is very hard for me to be carrying you inside my body.

It’s hard to go by day after day, to feel you my flesh and blood, my baby, move and kick.  It is much harder for me to realize that in a short amount of time I must give you up, never to watch you take your first step, to smile your first little grin and all the other things that warm a parent’s heart to see.

It already hurts to think I’ll only see and hold you a few times before I have to say goodbye.

I’ll always cherish and love you.

If I ever have a real family and home, my children will always be special and dear to me but you, little one, will be the most special to my heart because you’re my first child, the one I lost because of my own stupidity.  I’m sorry about that, I don’t mean to hurt you.

I trust this family you’re being adopted by.  I know they’ve been selected very carefully and that they’re a fine family because if they weren’t they wouldn’t be getting someone as beautiful and precious as you to love, care and provide for.

Never hold any hatred towards me for what I’ve done.  I’m doing this for your own sake.  Doing it so you’ll always have the best.

Please remember I’ll always love you, I’ll always think of you.  Live your life and be happy.  Make your new parents proud of you.  No matter what you do I’ll always love and be proud of you.  Maybe one day these records won’t be sealed and unaccessible to you.  One day I think I’d enjoy very much meeting my little one.”

Her words oozed emotions and love.

My Birth Mother’s honesty and openness about her feelings showed even more love than I had ever known as capable – from just reading.  In my own case, not only did my Birth Mother love me enough to explain her situation; my parents were at a point where they were ready enough to share her letter with me at that point in my life!  It wasn’t easy for me to understand why I was adopted: I felt abandoned for many years.  Now I know better.  I recognize her sacrifice.  I’ve always wondered what she looks like or what kind of music she listens to. 

The little things are so important to me even though we’ve never met.

Fast forward to 2017.  I was diagnosed with Stage IIIC Ovarian Cancer.  After the storm settled, I received the DNA spit tube test as a gift.  I spit in it and sent it off.  The first “hit” I got was for a young lady who is, my younger Half-Sister on my Birth Mother’s side.  This became a dead-end lead, as she was also adopted. 
(Sadly, I found this was actually very common.  Adoption is an amazing gift, but my family tree wasn’t made up of many biological leaves!)  The Half-Sister didn’t have much to offer in the way of help.  We decided to keep going on our own and update the other.  In the meantime, I began to seek.  Along the way, I discovered I had an Aunt!  We hit it off right away.  She sent me a different spit test because she thought she had found my Birth Father.  Spit & Send, right?  Within a few weeks, I got my results.

SURPRISE!  My “Aunt” was actually my Half-Sister on my Birth Father’s side!  The guy she thought was my Birth Father was actually my Half-Brother!  As it turns out, I am the baby of 6 kids from our father.  I have 2 sisters!  I grew up with only brothers and never really gravitated to female friends.  My Half-Brothers are roughly 19 years older than me.

I turned 40 last November.  One of my sisters came with her husband and spent a week with me.  It was like we had grown up together our whole lives. 

We held each other as we cried, laughed and just talked.

It’s now in 2020.  In the midst of Murder Hornets, Tiger King and the Pandemic; I have been able to connect with my Birth Mother’s Brother (My Uncle).  It’s the closest I have gotten to actual biological family from her side.  He welcomed me with open arms and just wanted to let me know that he wanted to be part of my life if I was ok with it.

Through the help of family and friends (and yearbook databases), I now know what she looks like and some of her hobbies and interests.  I look just like her - as my own daughters look like me.  Our interests are similar, as well as our hobbies.  We even both have a passion for writing.  The one thing we don’t share is the ability to communicate with each other.  After two attempts to reach her, I have to accept to live without her.  I have to accept that I can still love myself through all of this.  Even though I finally found her; it’s time to give myself permission to stop seeking.  She knows I love her.  I know she loves me.  And, maybe, I am a little bit of a, Informed Seeker.