When I was about eighteen years old my a-mom took me to the bank and handed me some papers she kept in her safety deposit box. These papers contained information about my birth and adoption, including my amended birth certificate with my true identity stripped away. There was also a type written page, prepared by the adoption agency, with a little information about my biological mother and father. This was the first time I had something tangible to remind me of the fact that I was different.
When I was about thirty years old I discovered there were organizations that could help reunite loved ones who have been separated by adoption. In addition, there were numerous web sites where you could enter your search criteria such as birth dates, city, state; I entered my information on a few registries and eventually started searching online. I spent many hours online looking through these registries and posting my own information hoping there would be a match. However, for these registries to make a match both parties must be looking.
I became intrigued by all I was learning, which made me think about contacting the adoption agency that handled my adoption. I wanted to know if any members of my birth family had inquired about me; they said no one had inquired into my file. So, I signed a release form allowing the agency to share my information should someone come looking for me. Plus, for a small fee, they sent me my updated Non-Identifying ID information. Non-Identifying ID is information they are legally allow to release about your biological mother and/or father, however it doesn't contain any information that could identify who they are or where they live. This time I learned something new; I found out that my biological grandmother died when she was thirty-nine years old. The cause of death was listed as, unknown; I later found out she committed suicide. I also found out she left home when she was sixteen years old and was estranged from her family plus it listed information about her siblings and step-siblings. I'm amazed by all I've learned and for the first time it began to sink in....there were real people out there, somewhere, who were related to me. Around the same time I saw a girl who bore a striking resemblance to me, I felt compelled to stop her but of course I didn't and the opportunity passed. I found myself searching crowds for women with red hair (we both have red hair), who looked to be about the same age as my b-mom; whenever I saw someone I'd start to wonder if it could be her. I knew the odds of actually finding her that way were next to impossible but the thought still crossed my mind.
My online research led me to a Yahoo group dedicated to those in the adoption triad who were searching in Minnesota. I learned a lot from them about how to conduct a search; one thing I learned was I didn't have enough information to work with, plus the agency told me that my birth parents weren't from MN, so now I didn't know where to begin and my search lost it's momentum.
Then, a few years ago I decided to call the agency again, this time I wanted to find out how much it would cost for them to do a search & outreach for me; I was told it would be about $500, with no guarantees. Also, they warned me that if they found her she may refuse contact. I had to give all of this some heavy consideration; that was quite a bit of money to plunk down with no guarantee I'd have any more information than I already had.
I began to explore my reasons for wanting to search. One thing I knew was my birth mother wanted the pregnancy to be a secret. Was mere curiosity enough to disrupt her life? What if she rejected me? What if she was some looney-toon that would turn around and disrupt my life? How would my adoptive parents feel? Needless to say, I chose to put searching on the back burner.
I continued to be involved in the Reuniting MN group, which was also affiliated with a group that was trying to get MN legislation changed allowing adult adoptee's access to their original birth certificates. I decided to wait, to see if the legislation passed, if it did I'd begin to search again. However it didn't pass because of strong opposition from the adoption agencies. I attended several legislative hearings on the subject to lend my support and for the first time I found myself surrounded by other adoptee's and birth mothers. Finally, I felt like I fit in somewhere. Proposing the bill into legislation was further delayed, the next proposal was scheduled for 2007. If it passed it wouldn't go into effect until 2008, however, there was no way of knowing if it would pass and I didn't want to wait that long. Now, I'm immersed in this process and I found myself thinking about my adoption more frequently. I started to read books on the subject from the perspectives of all members of the triad, as well as psychologists who had done extensive research on the effects of adoption. I was most interested in reading about how other adoptee's felt and was happy to see my feelings being discribed on the pages before me; I realized I wasn't alone.
I learned that I have many things in common with other adoptee's, for example, I'm introverted, a loner, a people-pleaser, I have trouble with intimacy and relationships. I feel anonymous, disconnected from the world. I felt like I was "dropped from outer space," opposed to being born. I feel incomplete and live with a vague sense of longing. I'm ill at ease with others, driven to excel and I'm a perfectionist; all characteristics that seem to have a common thread among adoptee's.
I tend to observe rather than interact. Sometimes when I'm out in public I feel invisible or just partially materialized, so it surprises me if the focus suddenly turns to me, I realize I can be seen and heard by others. I take comfort in being alone and over the years I've built an invisible wall around myself. Therefore, I don't have many close friends; I need to get over my fears of rejection and reach out to people more but I think my inability to make friends is probably more of a personality flaw than something caused by being adopted.
Dwelling on my adoption was making me depressed. I started to think I was in the midst of a real identity crisis so, I contacted the agency again. They sent me the forms that would give them permission to attempt contact on my behalf but again I hesitated. I wasn't ready. At this point I told myself to stop dwelling on being adopted, but still, I continued to have unsettling feelings. I began to think that none of us were getting any younger. I knew if I waited too long it might be too late. Suddenly, one day in November 2006 I knew the time had arrived, I had to take a leap of faith. So, I signed the papers and put them in the mail before I could change my mind; I have not had a single regret since.
On Nov. 16, 2006 my social worker called to tell me she had some bad news, at first I thought she was going to tell me my b-mom had refused contact. Instead, she told me that my b-mom had passed away in 1990 of lung cancer, she was only forty-three years old. This was something I hadn't dared to contemplate but it didn't come as a complete surprise either...in my heart I knew she was already gone.
My social worker asked if I'd like to continue looking for other blood relatives; I told her I absolutely would. This meant she'd have to call my b-mom's husband back, however, she still couldn't tell him why she was calling, so, I feared he might react unfavorably and not give out any more information. Fortunately, he did share the name of my biological aunt; the agency called her next. As it turns out my b-mom didn't tell anyone about my birth, still, my aunt was open to having contact with me. I suppose I was a connection for her, maybe I was a way to bring her sister back to life.
I've subsequently had a face-to-face meeting with my aunt, my b-mom's husband, and my only sibling, a half-brother. This experience has finally put me on the road to becoming a whole person and it has facilitated some healing for my biological family as well.
Pam is a member of Found and Lost Support
