I have been meaning to write this post for a few weeks and haven’t found the time. But September 12 is the anniversary of my adoption, so today feels like a good day.
In August of this year, Derek and I had the distinct honor to be invited to two weddings of two of my cousins from my birth family, and we were able to attend both of them. All I can say is wow…how absolutely beautiful they both were! Both brides were stunning, both grooms so handsome. The venues carefully and wonderfully chosen, not one detail missed. We certainly felt special as the guests of both couples, so I’m sure everyone else did, too. They were two wonderful celebrations.
The first of the two weddings involved some travel as it was out of state. Derek and I got to enjoy a weekend away in sunny southern California. It was such a great weekend for us. We rented a convertible and got to spend a little away time together before and after the wedding which is a rare thing.
The extra time in California also meant extra time meeting and getting to know the friends and family of the bride and groom, and spending some time with members of my new family that I don’t usually get to do. It was really, really great. Everyone, literally EVERYONE was so warm and welcoming. I worked really hard at remembering the names of all the friends which they all found funny at first…but it was important to me to try to learn them. We were going to be together all weekend.
The day of the wedding, while the family and wedding party were busy, a few of the friends and guests spent the morning and early afternoon at the pool. It was there that my connection to the family came up. Somehow it came into conversation that I’m the bride’s cousin, but also that I had only known her since 2019. Soooo….then I ended up telling my story again. š And their friends were so sweet, and expressing their amazement, etc. And I agreed completely.
We went on to the wedding, reception, and after party. All of which were perfect in our eyes. Just a great, great time with wonderful people. The next morning we met some friends and family for brunch, and those who stayed around went back to the pool. Luckily Derek and I extended the trip through Monday so we weren’t going anywhere.
It was another beautiful sunny day. I don’t think we saw a cloud all weekend. We sat with friends and family on the edge of the pool, Derek enjoying Lagunitas IPA’s, and I was sipping on Blueberry Dreams and Aperol Spritz’s (thanks Ruthie!), all talking and laughing, remembering the night before and how much fun we all had. Until somehow, at some point, the conversation circled back to me again.
I really don’t remember how that happened, but I do remember feeling a little hesitant about it, because this weekend wasn’t about me. But Jill (the bride) was totally gracious as always and encouraged me to talk when asked about it.
I remember just sort of briefly reviewing how I found my birth family, and kind of hitting the big points of what it has meant for me and my family. But what I really remember is what struck me that day sitting on the side of that pool that left me completely overwhelmed. I may not remember the words exactly, but this is generally what I said, and it is certainly how I feel.
As a kid, I would wonder about who the people were that I came from. You know, like my birth parents, and their families. And when you think of that as an adopted kid, you know that it can be anybody- an addict, or a millionaire or anyone in between – but what you know is that it wasn’t a happy ending or you’d still be with them. But, when I imagined them, I hoped that they were good people who just had an unfortunate story. And I wondered if I’d ever find out.
Then, I get to the age of 21. I petition the court for my records, and within a few short months, it looks like I’m not ever going to know anything about these people or my story. I’m not happy about it, but that’s what it is and life goes on.
20+ years later, Ancestry DNA exists and I have a hairdresser that won’t take no for an answer. And now, I’m sitting on the side of this pool, and I can’t believe that this is my life. (and at this point I’m getting emotional…as I do…and I’m getting weepy) I have said before that, in terms of finding a birth family, I have hit the absolute jackpot. This life is a fairy tale to me. Are they perfect? No. Neither am I. Is my life perfect? No! But could I have written it better? I don’t think so, and here’s what I mean.
I was born to a woman who wasn’t able to care for me. Still, she gave me life. What that took for her to do that I will never know. And what that took for her to keep that secret for the rest of her life must have been so difficult. She gave me literally everything. Then, I was placed with two parents who loved me and raised me well with two siblings and gave me a happy childhood, a strong faith, a safe home, an education..everything I needed. And then I lost them both, way too soon. They were both gone by the time I was 37.
But now, to be accepted and embraced by the family of Lori, my birth mother…it’s just so big. What I have said to my friends is this- I don’t understand how you get lucky enough to get one wonderful family in a lifetime, but I’ve got TWO. It’s just really a lot to wrap your mind around. It’s such a gift. This family is so big there are some that I’m still getting to know, but I’m so happy to be part of it.
I had every intention of writing a post on Father’s Day this year. I planned to talk about my dad. The man who raised me. It didn’t happen, though, because that day, my family lost my aunt Peggy. She was my godmother, and my mom’s middle sister who was just over a year younger than my mom. She was a very special and beloved member of our family and will be missed. I’ll save the post about my dad for another day.
Today I need to get some thoughts down, because something happened yesterday that I never thought I would do. I always say, be careful when saying “never”- it always seems to come back around to me. Yesterday, I had a phone conversation with the widow of my biological father.
His name is Brian. In previous posts, I had called him “Steven”. Additionally, in this blog I have called one of Lori’s brothers Brian as well, so I don’t mean to be confusing. But again, I am telling this story from my gut and my heart, and no one is asking me to keep his name anonymous. And my feelings about him have changed since the summer of 2019. He still may have made some poor choices, but without them I don’t exist. So, his name is Brian.
From the beginning, and up until very recently, I have said many times that I had no intention of trying to contact his family. Especially once my birth record had revealed that he had been married at the time I was conceived…I certainly didn’t want to be the one bringing that news to anyone. Besides, I knew that he had passed away in 2012, so what difference would it make? I don’t know, though…ever since last summer when I saw Moira ( 21. “an unexpected message”), I’ve felt drawn toward him. Kind of a gut feeling, it’s hard to explain. Again, I’m fully aware some people might think I’m nuts, or concocting things in my own mind. Maybe dreaming up something the way I’d like it to be? But once again, I’m just telling you all how I’m feeling, and I have had a sense for quite a while that maybe I need to find out more about him. Almost as if he wants me to.
I shared these thoughts with Bridget and she couldn’t have been more excited. I asked her if she could try to locate his widow, and confirm whether she was still alive. In the usual Bridget style, I had Cindy’s current address and phone number within an hour. I decided quickly that I would write to her. I was not prepared to pick up the phone blindly with this kind of introduction.
It took me a couple of weeks to gather my thoughts. I wrote a rough draft, then went out and bought a pretty blank card with a big, red poppy on the front. During the weeks while I was thinking it through, Bridget dug up and sent me some new pictures of my birth father from high school. His school has old yearbook photos uploaded to Ancestry.com that she was able to find easily. He was a handsome young man. What’s really crazy is how much of our son Brady I see in him. The smile is so similar, and I think it might be where he gets his curls?
I mailed that card on Wednesday, July 21. I tried to explain myself as clearly and as delicately as I knew how. I provided all my contact information, and I waited. Unbelievably, I only had to wait until Friday evening at 5pm. She contacted me via Facebook messenger. It was such a kind, enthusiastic message. I was so relieved. She said that she was so happy for me that I had found my birth family, and she was just so sure that Brian would have been thrilled to know about me. She gave me her phone number and we agreed to get in touch the next day.
Saturday afternoon, I called Cindy and missed her. I left a voicemail, and she called me back not long after. We talked for about 45 minutes. She was so sweet, and kind. She told me all about how she and Brian met and were married. She talked about him- he was very intelligent and spoke three languages (just like it says in my birth record!), he was so much fun, the life of the party and a great storyteller. She remembered sweet stories about him telling stories in Irish and English accents, entertaining friends that were listening.
Cindy talked a little about Brian’s son. He lives in Germany and would be my half brother. Before you ask- I don’t know if I’ll reach out to him- I just haven’t thought that far ahead yet. If he would reach out to me, I would have no problem with that, though. Brian and his mother split when he was young, and they stayed in Germany. According to Cindy, there was really no communication with Brian over the years. No writing, phone calls, etc, and this was always difficult for Brian, and a source of pain for him. After she and Brian married, Cindy was able to make contact with Brian’s son online, and eventually, she and Brian went to Germany, and they were able to spend time together, and she said that after that, Brian was happier.
Brian died in 2012 after a difficult battle with metastatic cancer. In the end, he had a spine laminectomy to relieve pain that left him paralyzed. Hearing that really stung for me- it brought back all the memories of my mom’s battle with lung cancer. Her tumor also went to her spine, and she was paralyzed for the last two weeks of her life.
We finished the conversation with a promise to stay in touch and to exchange some pictures. I’m hoping to get in touch with one of his brothers, we’ll see if that works out. She kept repeating how sorry she was that I missed him, and that he missed me…she was so certain that he would have been so happy to have me in his life.
My husband and daughter and I were heading out to get some dinner after the phone call. I was caught off guard by how sad I felt. It was very similar to how I had felt about Lori…I was feeling a loss of someone I had never met. A loss of a relationship that could have been, but never was. Also, I’m seeing Brian in a different way now. I’m reminded that people are not defined by one choice, one decision, one action or inaction. This may sound strange, but I have forgiven him for the hurtful results of his decisions in 1972. I know that they weren’t made alone, but Lori certainly had to carry the weight, and she carried it the rest of her life. But I forgive Brian now, and that feels good. I hope their souls are both at peace. Because I look up from my laptop, and my three awesome kids are talking in my kitchen, and that decision in late 1972 doesn’t seem like a mistake at all.
It’s time to introduce anyone who doesn’t know him, to my husband. He is the behind-the-scenes, absolute number one supporter for me through this whole thing. Really, since June 30, 2001…our first date.
We met at the Fort Thomas Pub, a local bar…I had just been to a play with a friend, he was there with his softball team after a game. That night he introduced himself and we talked a little before he left. Two weeks later I was there again with friends on softball night. Toward the end of the evening his friends “left him” and he needed a ride home, so I drove him home. And yes, I left him there and I went home too. But our first date was two nights later and the rest is history.
The truth is, I did have a little trouble adjusting to him. We were in our late 20’s and I had been having terrible luck in dating and in love. When he came along, everything was going so well that I almost threw it away. We got along so well, and things seemed to be moving fast and I was falling for him. I just *knew* things would eventually fall apart (as they always had before) and this time was really going to hurt…so I pulled back. I remember going to NYC for a weekend to visit my friend Deb and not really knowing what to do when I got home. This was 2001, so there was no texting, so he and I didn’t talk all weekend.
He called when I got home, and I went to see him. I told him how I was feeling. He was so patient and understanding, and told me that we could slow things down if that’s what I needed…he just wanted to be together. From that night I knew he was the one for me.
We had a very fun bunch of months together before we were engaged on May 22, 2002. He spoke to my father, and gave me his grandmother’s ring. Both of those things made me really happy. We were married on February 1, 2003, and that although the weather was not pretty, it was a happy, happy day…and what a party.
From that day, Derek has been the household handyman, fixing things, finishing basements, replacing a roof, building a clubhouse- the only thing I do better than he does is paint. He is the lawn care specialist- he used to work in landscaping and nobody stripes a lawn and mulches like this guy. He is a cook and grill master- these skills have only gotten better with time. He watches Food Network and tries new things, his chili and smoked pork shoulder are ridiculous, and his tailgates are legendary. He grilled a steak for our anniversary this year that rivaled any high end steakhouse.
When the kids came along, he has always been a hands on Daddy/Dad/Father. He never hesitated to get up in the middle of the night to help me with feedings or diapers or to crawl around in the dark looking for binkys that our twins had tossed on the floor. When those same twins were 8-9 months old, he sent me on a girls weekend to St Louis just to get a little break and held down the fort like a BOSS with three kids 2 and under. Off I went with my breast pump, and I slept until 10am on a Saturday that weekend and I will NEVER forget it. He is a coach to all of his kids. Whether officially on the team, or just coaching them at home with his advice and pep talks (and these days, dad jokes). They know he has their backs always.
If I tried to tell you all the ways this man has supported me, you, the reader, might get tired of it. It’s a lot. He has a great big heart that thinks of others first. But, when it comes to this blog and this story…I want to be sure to tell this piece.
I’ve tried to put myself in his shoes, and imagine what all of this looks like from his side. It’s hard to do. But, in the past two years, I have discovered my birth family. In doing so, I’ve found that not only I, but also all three of our children, have a hereditary disease. Three of us have needed surgical intervention. He was beside us all, praying for us and seeing us through.
Throughout the same two years, there also have now been many gatherings I’ve asked Derek (and some included our kids) to attend with the family, because I’m included now and I want to be there. Early on, I was trying to meet and get to know them. Now, I’ve grown to truly love and enjoy them.
Here’s what struck me, though, and let me know I needed to write this post and write it now. Last weekend we attended a graduation party for Roger’s middle son. It was a great time. But, I was watching Derek with Roger and Brian (my uncles), and they’re all having drinks and cigars, and talking and smiling like they’ve known each other forever. And I’m looking at Derek and wondering how many husbands would have jumped into this like he has and embraced it and this family he has. Maybe he’s not the only one, but I bet it’s not every one.
I have mentioned that I have been blessed with many miracles, and I have. But one of them came along in 2001. Thank you for being so wonderful to me, Derek, always. I love you.
Itās been months since Iāve written, and Iām not sure why. Thereās more to say about my life, but I guess I felt like the majority of the ārevelationā of my adoption story was complete and I wasnāt sure where to go next. Every now and then, I get asked when Iāll be writing again. Itās so kind of people and always catches me off guard. Iām still surprised at how many of you have been reading along, but thank you.
This morning I was reminded of all of this by scrolling past Facebook memories. On this day in 2019, Patrick posted a picture I sent him of the two of us-side by side images. We had just made contact. The rest of my story was yet to be discovered, but AncestryDNA had determined that he and I were cousins. I remember that day, and that conversation. I remember where I was sitting, his voice, how I felt…he was (and is) so full of life. And I thought, oh my gosh, if this is my birth family, this is amazing.
The picture I sent Patrick in April 2019
Of course there was a lot left to unfold between that day and this, but it turned out that it was by birth family, and they are amazing. Whatās crazy is that now it doesnāt seem new that theyāre part of my life. Iām in regular contact with many of them. There are a few that Iāve grown close to as Iāve been able to spend more time with them. They are a really great bunch of people, and Iām proud to call them my family.
Another update to report is that Connor and Brady, my two sons, had their follow up visits post- lung embolization in February. They both got great reports! We (Derek and I) werenāt surprised. Both boys play basketball, and we could see that they were visibly running the court more easily than the year before. Last year, Brady was needing to sub out frequently due to getting winded after a few trips up and down the court. And Connor would be seen bending over to catch his breath. Not this year. Brady played full games with no breaks. Connor ran hard with little effort.
On their physical exam, both had increased percentages of oxygen saturations. Bradyās bubble study echocardiogram was markedly improved. Connor doesnāt do that study due to an unrelated heart valve issue, so heāll have a chest CT in a few months, but we expect positive results there, too. Dr Hammill was really pleased with them both, and other than Connorās CT, they donāt need to come back for a couple of years. Yay!!! Once again, huge thanks doesnāt begin to cover what I feel for Drs Patel and Ristagno and the team at Cincinnati Childrenās. They truly changed our lives.
Iām writing this entry from Florida. Iām here with my family on what has been a very sunny Spring Break week so far. After a LONG year (for us all) in many ways, this break has been exactly what we needed. Theyāre all still asleep, but Iām so thankful for the Facebook memory today to trigger my mind back to April 2019, and remind me to get back to the blog. Thereās more to say. š
It’s been such a long time since I’ve written. I haven’t forgotten about it. Life gets in the way, as it does for us all. When I think about it, I’ve given much thought to what to say next. The story of the unfolding of the mysteries of my life have been told. At least, as much as I think I’m probably ever going to know. And I am so satisfied and happy with the story that is mine. So now, I’d like to share about the people who brought me up, made me who I am, and those who have supported me along the way. It only makes sense to start with my mom.
Ruth Anne Wilson was born December 13, 1939. Yep…today is her birthday. If she were still with us, she would be 81 today. She was the oldest of three girls, her sisters are my aunts, Peggy and Mary Jo. Her parents, Stanley and Ruth, my grandparents, were two of my favorite people ever. Memories at grandma and grandpa Wilson’s house are all happy ones. Lots of smiling and laughter, and grandma usually cooking in the kitchen- always including homemade mashed potatoes. I can imagine that growing up there was a very loving environment.
I have thought a lot about how to describe my mother. Many of you reading knew her, so you know how difficult this is. But she was…full of LIFE. Truly. While she was here, she really LIVED. At different stages of her life, she had varying degrees of resources and opportunities. But whatever her circumstances, she made the best of them and squeezed every drop out of every chance that came her way.
My mother was a beautiful woman, with sparkling eyes and a bright smile, which she shared easily and often. As a child, what I remember about her is that she was my source of comfort. I used to get sick just about every year as a kid- ear infections in the summer, and strep throat in the winter. And each time, she would set me up on the couch so I could watch cartoons. She would bring me medicine and a heating pad to soothe an earache, and when my stomach was upset from strep, she would open a can of Coke and leave it in the fridge until it went flat. The bubbles hurt my super sore throat, but the Coke was soothing to my stomach. Cinnamon toast and āflat Cokesā were the therapy in the first day or two of strep.
Cooking wasn’t her “thing”. She could, and would do it…but wasn’t into it at all. There were several dinners on regular rotation that we loved- I still make her meatloaf sometimes. She always baked our birthday cakes, and as a kid I remember those candy topping things- remember those? They were candy letters stuck to paper? I have a vivid memory of her fighting to get them off the paper in one piece, and then putting them on the cake like a puzzle in frustration when they broke. My mom’s talent and passion was not in the kitchen, but in the garden. Flowers, not veggies. She had an amazing green thumb, and her yard was always beautiful with blooms.
When we were kids, money was tight. My dad was out of work for a while during the recession of the early 80’s, and when he did get work, it was entry-level and low-paying. By then, my brother and sister were also in the picture. My sister had Cystic Fibrosis. That meant medical expense, and time and attention to her care. So, for a time, my mom stayed home with us. There were some things they never talked about, not ever. Some of the money troubles were just never spoken of. They just somehow made sure we had what we needed. I know that this was a difficult time for them financially, but also emotionally. I wouldn’t call them prideful people, necessarily. But they were both hard workers who had a hard time needing help. We were on government aid (food stamps) for a time. I do remember my mom talking about that in later years. She had to take us to the office a time or two to pick them up, and that really bothered her. They lived simply, saved money wherever they could, and when we were just a bit older my mom went back to work in the evenings, and worked almost the rest of her life.
My mom was so great at finding creative ways to do fun things with us that didn’t cost money. We made regular visits to the Krohn Conservatory. This worked well for all of us- as we got a trip out and about, and she got to surround herself with flowers. I remember walking Cincinnati parks, collecting leaves, acorns, rocks…once when I was older, she encouraged me to bring a notebook and write about the day, and what I saw, etc. I specifically remember we met someone in the park that day. Was he an artist or something? I don’t remember…but I do remember his name was Freedom, and I remember writing about it, and talking to my mom about it. That woman never met a stranger, and was always happy to speak to anyone, and was teaching it to me. I think that people who know me now, would say that’s a lesson I learned. I may not be as good at it as she was, but I’m trying.
As I got older, my mom and I started to butt heads some. I was a teenager who could sometimes have a smart mouth, and she had a hot temper. It wasn’t a great combination. It was the usual stuff of growing up…me pushing boundaries, her pushing back, trying to help me make good decisions. But many times things got loud. We would both get SO angry, and I was just so sure that she didn’t understand me or my life. She was 33 years older than I was, and although I knew she was once a teenager, that was the 1950’s. Literally a lifetime ago. How could she possibly understand me?? This is all coming full circle now, as I’m 32 years older than my daughter, who just turned 15. We aren’t as loud, but some of the struggles are the same. I can’t express how much parenting a teenage girl makes me miss her and wish she were here.
My mom had an unshakable faith. She taught it to us by example. We went to Catholic church every week, and only missed if we were sick. When we had to do difficult things- like getting vaccinations- she would always say, “offer it [your suffering] up for the poor souls in Purgatory”. If we couldn’t sleep, she would tell us to pray the Rosary. Pretty much anything we needed in life, she would give advice/direction, and follow it with “say a prayer”. We were taught that there is more than this life on Earth, and that God is loving and forgiving, and that we could- and should- talk to Him often.
I think that the gift of faith is probably the greatest gift that my mom gave me. She told me once, “Sometimes, life gets so hard that all you can do is get on your knees and beg for help”. I knew she meant it. Not only had she and my dad had hard times financially, but they had also (by the time I was a senior in college) lost not one, but two children. One as an infant to prematurity, and one to Cystic Fibrosis at age 17. I eventually watched her lose both her parents, and watched her beat colon cancer, and later fight lung cancer as long as she could.
Before I get to that part of the story, though, there’s more to tell about the mom I knew as I got into adulthood. Looking back, one of the things that stands out, and something else I know I learned from her, was how she prioritized spending time with her friends. She had a large circle of her “Regina girls” from high school that she was still in touch with. I remember many late night phone calls with long talks and big laughs. They would get together as much as they could, and when possible, took “girls trip” weekends. She made many newer friends through other moms at our schools. She also formed a strong bond with a small circle of friends at work. She was always very social and loved being among people, talking to them and asking about them. It was amazing how much detail she could remember about other people’s lives. Even in the times when her own life was unimaginably painful, she never lost that. She was always asking about others.
I haven’t really talked much about her and my dad. The best thing I can say about them, is that they were absolutely in it for better or for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. Their marriage wasn’t easy, but they didn’t quit. If they ever thought about or spoke of quitting, they never did it in front of me. Once we all got older, they had a bunch of years when they could “relax” a little and enjoy each other more. For a while, they went back to bowling together. They would take trips together with friends to beaches or cities they’d never been to, and go out to dinner on the weekends. They loved and cared for each other. I have my mom’s wedding rings now, and I love how her engagement ring sparkles and reminds me of them…I always remember it was especially sparkly in church. Must’ve been the lights, but it’s a memory that sticks.
My dad had a head injury and subsequent dementia before he died. My mom cared for him at home as long as she could. It scared me to death. He was 6’4″ and she was 5’5″ so she took some risks, but she was determined to keep him home as long as she could. It frustrates me at the time- I worried about the safety of both of them. But in hindsight, it was a loving choice on her part. He wasnāt able to communicate it but Iām so certain he felt it.
My parents were both alive when my children were born, and were so happy and proud to be grandparents. My mother was over the MOON. When Maggie was born, she couldnāt get enough. She said she was a āstarā almost every move she made, and was sure she would grown up to dance and play piano- both of which, she did. She was equally excited to learn that twin boys were coming. At both births, she made sure to get my dad to the hospital to see the new babies. It wasnāt an easy task but she wasnāt about to let him miss it. She spent time with them when she could and always called to ask what they were doing on any given day, or what new discovery they had made. Grandma Ruth loved being a grandma and loved my babies.
We lost my dad in May 2008. Not a year later, my mom had been complaining of back pain that was getting worse. Finally some imaging told us why. She had a lung tumor. I had feared this most of my life. Both of my parents were smokers for years. They had both quit a good 15 years before this tumor, but the damage was done. The tumor was in a location that was not operable, but she underwent radiation and chemo, and at her 70th birthday, she was looking great, feeling great, and we were hopeful that she could beat this thing.
I said earlier that she was full of life. She was also always on the move and in a hurry. People often told her she needed to slow down. She told us āIām going to reassess at 80!ā š She never felt she had time to slow down.
In the summer of 2010, the back pain returned. I blamed it on other things (denial can be powerful) but I believe she knew exactly what was happening. I remember exactly where I was standing when she called. I was about to leave work. āThe cancer is back, and itās on my spine.ā Just typing the words brings back the punch-to-the-gut feeling. I knew. I prayed and I begged but I knew.
The nurse in me jumped into action. Phone calls, appointments, getting control of bank accounts so I could manage her life while she focused on her health, second opinions, images…none of it would matter. That damn tumor was fast, and in six weeks, it would grow to invade her spinal cord. After several days of intense pain, she would be paralyzed from the chest down. The only blessing was that when it took her motor neurons it also took the sensory neurons so with paralysis came pain relief.
She went to inpatient hospice. She had been staying with my aunt Peg, her sister, and now none of us were able to care for her- and there would be no more treatment. She was there for two weeks. That tumor MADE her stop moving. But for two weeks, she still had her beautiful smile, sparkling eyes, but laugh, quick wit, gentle and selfless soul, and unshakable faith. Her room was called the āparty roomā because of the constant stream of visitors. I was there almost all the time and it was the coolest thing to see. Her mind was 100% intact and she was THRILLED to see āher peopleā and so humbled they would take time to see her. The facility was kind enough to provide a daily cart of coffee and snacks for the visitors. It was October, and on two beautiful sunny afternoons, they put her in a chair and wheeled her to the patio to enjoy the sun. She was so grateful.
During one of the quiet moments with only family around, she said to me through tears- āI just pray that I have the strength to do Godās will.ā I was stunned. This woman had literally done nothing but exactly that her entire life. I do not remember her complaining about any of the hard times. There was always someone somewhere who had it worse- pray for them. I felt in that moment she was handing that faith over to me to carry on. We didnāt say it, but I felt it as strongly as I do today.
Just before midnight on October 8, 2010, my mother died. I still really canāt believe it sometimes. I know she gave me everything o need to live this life without her, but I just really wish I didnāt have to do that. She and my kids are missing out on each other and thatās what hurts the most. I show them pictures and tell them as many stories as I can. I am well aware that sheās living through me in many ways. I can hear her in the things I say.
There is just no way to tell the story of this woman in one blog post. I sure wanted to give it my best shot. I hope I did some justice to the woman and mother she was. I am so, so, glad she was mine. ā¤ļø Happy Birthday, Mom. Miss you more than I can say.
My mom and meā¤ļøSo proud of Maggie, dancing like she said she wouldOne of my favorite pictures, helping my dad hold their first grandchild, Maggie ā¤ļøGrandma Ruth with Connor, Brady, and Maggie
It’s been a month since our boys’ procedures. I didn’t think it would be this long before I’d write again. It’s not that I don’t have more to say, but honestly, life in general has gotten slightly more normal than it’s been since March and the arrival of Coronavirus- which means we’ve been busier. We are all staying safe and healthy. We get outside as much as we can and stay in small groups when we see our friends and families. But, man! We sure are happy to be back to school and sports…even if things are still limited. It feels great.
The boys are back to full activities now with no restrictions. They just started their 7th grade year and Maggie is a Freshman. The boys will have follow-up imaging in about 5 months. They had no complications and complained of absolutely no pain post-procedure. We are thankful every day.
In early August, my cousin Jen celebrated her 50th birthday. This was of course before the procedures, but I wasn’t ready to write about this right away. And then it was important to talk about my boys first- so the order of events is mixed up but the story is the same.
Normally, we (Jen and a couple of friends and I) would have planned a weekend away for this. We talked about it, but COVID restrictions made us change our minds. Ultimately, we made a plan to come to Jen’s house and have a “slumber party” that weekend. Just the four of us. It was great. The weather was perfect and we spent two long sunny days sitting on her deck, talking and laughing and enjoying time with each other. We brought in everything we needed to eat and drink so we never had to leave once. It was super relaxing and perfect.
Before the weekend came, I had the idea to invite my friend and Intuitive Healer, Moira, to come for a birthday session. The girls agreed. We all thought it would for sure be something different, and something we could do easily since she could come to us. I contacted Moira and she thought it was a great idea.
The plan was that she would arrive Saturday afternoon. Each of us would meet with her individually, and her session would vary depending on the needs/wants of each person. When she got there, she set up a little spot on Jen’s front porch. It was shaded and breezy, with two chairs facing each other and a small table between.
I think Jen may have gone first, and then me. I don’t remember- but I’m not here to tell her story or the others. But I’ll tell you what happened to me. First, I want to say that when I scheduled Moira, she asked me if there was anyone I was hoping to “hear from” during my session. As in channeling. I told her no, and that was true. This was really about Jen’s birthday. For me, I just thought any kind of mind/thought/emotional cleansing/meditation would be good. Certainly couldn’t be bad, right?
As soon as I finished that conversation with Moira and the appointment was scheduled, my birth father came to my mind. It was sudden and very clear- like out of nowhere. It was odd, because I don’t think of him often. And I literally thought to myself, “Well, if you’ve got something to say…maybe this is your chance”. And I went about folding my laundry.
So now it’s a week or two later and I’m on Jen’s front porch with Moira. When I sat down, she asked again: “Is there anyone you’re hoping to hear from?”. Again, I told her there wasn’t. I wasn’t lying. And the three people who were on my mind that day (not sure why) were my mom, my dad, and my sister- all of whom have passed away. They were right in the front of my mind and no one else. Not even Lori.
Moira closed her eyes and “settled in” as she says. Several seconds later, she told me that she felt a strong nudge on her right shoulder, and that she had chills, and her arms were heavy. “Did you tell me that your birth father had passed?”, she said. I told her that he had. “It’s him. He’s here.”
Wow. So I just sat there, stunned. She started talking and I listened. And as I’m typing this I am well aware that what I’m saying is not for everyone and that’s ok…but I’m telling my story and what I heard and felt and although it was Moira talking I felt a sense of connection that day.
Moira told me that at first he just stood there. Almost nervous. But eventually, through Moira, he “said” that he did know about me. He knew Lori was pregnant and did nothing to help her, and he was sorry about it. He knew that he acted as a “wimp” and wanted me to know that although he left…the fact that he made that choice never left him. It bothered him for the rest of his life. He also wanted me to know that he can “see” me now, and can see how I’ve grown up and he thinks I’m “just awesome”, and he “couldn’t believe that he could make something so awesome” and that “I must get it from my mother”. Moira said that all this time, he was behind her right shoulder, and that my parents were directly behind her, aware of and happy about all of this. He then gestured to them in a respectful way, sort of paying homage to them for taking care of me and raising me so well.
This was all a lot to take in, as it happened over maybe 2-3 minutes? When she finished talking, I took a deep breath and said something very similar to this. “I don’t know how any of this works. But I’m going to say some things in case he can hear me. I really appreciate all of this. Knowing this. I’ve had a lot of negative feelings toward him. Not so much because of me- I’m very happy with my life. If he had acted differently, my life may not be what it is now. But I was very angry for how it appeared that he treated Lori. She was left to handle all of this alone and that wasn’t fair. I want him to know that I forgive him. I’m not going to hold onto this anger anymore. And I just wanted to say that.”
Moira was smiling bigger and bigger the whole time I was talking. When I finished, she told me that my forgiveness had lifted a great burden off his soul. I hope that’s true. The session ended after that, and Moira and I just looked at each other like…woah. Did that just happen?! I sure didn’t see that coming.
Since then, I have a complete sense of peace and forgiveness when I think of him. It’s completely different now than before. Of course I wish things had been different- I would wish that Lori wouldn’t have had to suffer so much alone. But it gives me peace knowing that although he may have been a “wimp”, it wasn’t that he didn’t care. He just couldn’t handle it and ran.
Like I said, I realize that there are some who won’t be on board with what I’m talking about here for one reason or the other and that’s ok. I found great comfort and peace, and that’s good enough for me.
Yesterday, our two boys had their procedures to embolize the AVMs in their lungs- just as I did last November. Connor had one in his lower left lung. Brady had two- one in his upper right, and one in his lower right lung.
They were scheduled to have this done last March, the week that the OR closed for emergencies only, due to COVID-19. Itās been a long few months, waiting and praying that we all stayed healthy coming up to yesterday.
We arrived at Cincinnati Childrenās at 6am, and we (Derek and I, plus the boys) all said in the car that we felt good and were ready for the day. I had prepared them as much as I could for what to expect.
Checking in is a busy time, which was good, and distracting. My bestie, Shannon, took care of us in Same Day Surgery.
Shan and ConnorShan and Brady
Of course it was good to have her, and in addition we were surrounded by all the faces of my sweet and caring co-workers. Dr. Patel came to speak to us, too. He explained the procedures in simple terms to the boys, and answered a couple of their questions. Then I signed consents. Shannon got their IVs started, anesthesia came to see them, and before long it was time for Connor to go.
My buddy Nick was Connorās Nurse Anesthetist (same guy who took care of me, along with attending Anesthesiologist Paul), and he gave Connor a little sedation in Same Day before they transported to OR. That medicine works quick. I was ready for Connor to be a little silly and giggly- but he wasnāt. He just got drowsy and said he was dizzy. And got kind of quiet. And then it all just got a little too real for me.
I just kissed his cheeks and forehead, and told him how much we loved him, and how these people were going to take SUCH good care of him. He nodded, with a very heavy head, and tried hard to give me a smile but he was so sleepy already. It was time to go. Iām telling you right now- if Brady wasnāt sitting right behind me Iād have fallen apart. It took all I had to hold it together for him.
I do that job every week. Shannon and I work together and are in the same role. I watch kids go to the OR all the time. My own kids have had tonsils out. This was different. It felt like a much bigger deal, and the potential dangers just felt…crushing.
So we waited. Not long after he went to OR, Shannon was back to finish getting Brady ready. More distraction, and that helped. Then Christin (the same OR nurse who took care of me) called to say Connorās case was underway and all was well. Good.
Once Brady was ready to go, we did have maybe 1.5 hours of downtime. Derek and I took turns getting coffee, Brady watched part of a movie, and I did some more praying. Christin called again while I was out for coffee to say that the team had located Connorās AVM and they were embolizing. More prayers.
It didnāt seem like much longer, and I had walked out in the hall to talk to my coworkers, and looked up to see Drs Patel and Ristagno coming toward me, eyes smiling behind masks. āWeāre done.ā, he said. We walked back to our room to talk about it and I couldnāt hold my emotions any longer. These two had just saved my baby. Thereās no way to describe how that feels.
Within about 30 minutes the team arrived to get Brady. He was very giggly after his sedation which was so cute! It was also very helpful to my heart to send him off that way. Luckily by then Connor was ready for us in PACU (recovery). We went right to him and Iāll never forget seeing his sweet sleeping angel face. Ok. One safe. One to go.
After a while, Connor was transported to his inpatient room as we would be spending the night. He was still sleepy but doing well, and starting to sip on water and Gatorade. I also had gotten the calls that Bradyās case had started and that they were embolizing.
We all ordered up some lunch. I didnāt feel like eating but knew I needed to. I updated friends and family by text and we waited. Bradyās case took a little longer, because he had two AVMs. Going in, Dr Patel told me they werenāt sure if theyād be able to locate and treat the smaller one, but that the larger one was the priority.
At 1:26pm, my phone rang. It was Dr Patel. They were finished. He and Dr Ristagno would come to Connorās room to speak to us. On his way over, he texted me images of Bradyās lung. I couldnāt believe it. It looked like they got them both?! Could we be this lucky?
They walked in, and again, he said, very casually (as he always does) āWeāre done.ā I asked, āDid you get them both?!ā
Him: āYep.ā
And the tears flowed again. I just canāt with these two guys. They just stand there like itās the most regular thing…but they just SAVED MY BABIES. These things we didnāt even know we had most certainly could have taken their lives one day and they just fixed them.
Until the end of my life, I donāt know if Iāll ever understand why Iāve been granted miracles on miracles, but I have. And Iām so thankful.
After I had updated all the texts, I turned to Derek and just hugged him and cried some more. Connor just watched and smiled āŗļø Then I went to meet Brady in PACU until he came to his room, right across the hall from Connorās.
My buddies. Could not love them more.
They spent the evening eating dinner and watching NBA basketball. Derek stayed with Brady and I stayed with Connor. Connor and I watched a movie and we were asleep by 9 pm, totally exhausted but so happy.
I got up before 6 this morning to get myself cleaned up, knowing the docs usually make rounds early. Iāve been sitting here writing this entry, and there was some noise in the hallway that woke Connor but I didnāt realize it. From across the room, I heard a small voice say…āHappy Birthday, mom.ā
And Iām crying again. I am so lucky to be the momma to these boys. To their big sister, too. Heās right. Today is my birthday and what I got yesterday is the BEST gift. The best.
Iāll never, ever have the words for Drs Patel and Ristagno. They just donāt exist. ā¤ļø
So, when I wrote the most recent update about how my relationship with Lori’s family has progressed, I ended by saying that Roger and Trish get their own entry…here it is.
In April of 2019, when I sent messages to Lori’s sibs wondering if I could be her baby, Roger was the first to respond. While I was disappointed that, at that time, he didn’t see how it could be possible, I was struck by a few things.
First, he didn’t have to respond at all. He was pretty certain I was wrong, and he had good reason to believe that. Additionally, he went on to include his siblings- to be sure that he was remembering things accurately. He didn’t really have to do that either. I feel like he had to know that bringing up something like that would be upsetting on some level to all of them, and I can imagine as the one bringing the news, that was a difficult place to be.
Second, I also remember his careful choice of words, and his kindness. I did genuinely feel that he wanted to help me find the truth. Specifically, I remember the day I met him and Susan for lunch. He offered all kinds of help. I really did appreciate that- I just believed the answers were sitting right next to me, and I wasn’t yet able to prove it.
I will say that when Patrick came into the picture, there was a period when I felt hurt by the difference in how Patrick and I were treated at the time. Let me say real quick two things- first, I’m pretty sure I mentioned this briefly when I posted about Patrick. Second, I completely understood- then and now- what was happening and why. But the part of my story that was difficult emotionally is real so I can’t leave it out.
To be clear, though, at no time has anyone in Lori’s family ever been anything but kind to me, especially Roger. It’s hard to look back and pinpoint specific things, but generally, I was communicating regularly with Patrick. He was telling me about regular text conversations, and just general excitement about his being “found”. But everyone KNEW that he had been born, so his story is different than mine. At that time, I wanted the same welcome, but just felt I was kind of kept at arm’s length. It was tough.
Since I did finally get all my records and prove who I am, though, no one has been more part of my life now than Roger. Again…EVERYONE has been awesome. But he’s just been the one who has communicated with me the most, and we’ve spent more time together than I’ve had the chance to do with others. He was the first to be supportive of me writing this blog and telling my story, and he has said clearly to me that he is proud to say that I’m his niece. ā¤ļø I know now that, last year, any of the “arm’s length” feeling I was getting is because he was trying to protect me. The idea of me being Lori’s daughter seemed so impossible at one time, and he knew how strongly I felt that it was possible, and that I was pretty excited about it. He knew that, if it was proved not to be true, I was going to be getting hurt. He was doing what he could to try to avoid that if possible.
I met Trish, Roger’s wife, at the party for Patrick. Last winter, though, I was invited to an engagement party for one of my “new” cousins, and we had a chance to visit a little bit. She asked if I’d like to go to lunch sometime and get to know each other. Of course I would- I was so touched that she offered.
We ended up meeting for brunch, and early on she wanted to hear the whole story from my point of view. Wow. Up to then, no one had really asked me what it all had been like for me. So, I just started from the beginning. Much like this blog, I told her how I was turned away in 1994, but had a letter from my birth mother. I told her about Bridget, and how she pushed me toward all of this. The whole story just came right out as it has in this blog.
Trish was the one who told me about the Roger “behind the scenes” who was trying to protect me. All the while, he was the point person for communications with five other siblings all of whom I’m sure had various views and emotions about it all. It was a LOT to take in. Not to mention, he had to have his own feelings about it. She was his sister, too. He was very young when I was born, but it’s not only hard to believe, but also difficult to realize that she was never able to talk about it. To him, or any of them.
We went on to have a great visit. For the record, she is REALLY funny. I enjoyed my time with her so much. More recently, she and I made a little road trip to visit Susan and her two kids who live near her, Katie and Pete, and their families. We had a great time. Trish and I had lots of time to talk on the drive, and we had a really nice visit with everyone.
A few months ago, Trish and Roger came for dinner. They brought me some of Lori’s things. After she passed, and they cleaned out her apartment, there were some things they kept and wanted to share with me. They brought me her cookbook- that’s my favorite. Apparently she was a good cook, and some of the recipes are in her handwriting. She also was a collector of little Swarovski crystal figurines, and I have a few of those. I’m not really a collector, but they’re small and cute- and one of them is an angel, which I love. Besides, I like when conversation comes around to Lori. I like hearing about her.
There were brief moments, earlier in the blog, when I feel like Roger could have been seen in a negative light. I wanted to be sure to take time to be sure that he’s presented accurately. He’s kind, loving, supportive, generous…all the good things. I should add that he’s pretty funny, too- but he’s reading this blog and I don’t want him getting too confident. Just kidding, Roger!š
Not much to say today, but more than once Iāve had requests for a family tree. I get it. Itās a big family and a lot of names are flying around in this story. It can be easy to get confused. Iām living it, and it took me a while! Below is a VERY rough family tree. Those who know me, know Iām not super skilled enough to whip this up on my computer, so please tolerate my paper and Sharpieš
Anyway, as usual, most names are changed for anonymity. Spouses are in parentheses and children are listed below. Itās possible that childrenās birth orders may not be 100% correct, but I do have them all with the correct parents. Additionally, there are names here that havenāt been mentioned in the blog. It didnāt seem right to leave anyone off the family tree just because they hadnāt been mentioned in the story. Theyāre all part of the family. Hope this is helpful.
I feel like I need to go back several months, and talk about how my relationship(s) have changed with the members of my birth family. Things are very different now, and are really, really good.
A few weeks after Patrick’s party, Brenda was in town visiting her family, so Derek and I were asked over one evening. She hadn’t been able to come to town for the party, so we still hadn’t met. This was last July, 2019. We went to Jack and Annie’s house – Brenda’s parents. This was also the first time I met Annie. She had been out of town visiting Brenda when we had Patrick’s party.
I felt much more comfortable than I did a few weeks back, but was still a little nervous. This visit would be a much smaller group and Derek and I were the only “new people”. I found out very quickly that I had nothing to worry about. We were greeted at the door by the whole smiling family, and an immediate warm hug from Annie. They all put us right at ease.
We had a really nice, casual evening with pizza and a couple of drinks. Everyone just took time talking (we were just back from vacation to California and National Parks so we had plenty to talk about). We all shared the details of our own families, who had how many kids, what ages, etc. And of course, we talked about Lori, and me, and this whole crazy story that had just unraveled in front of us the past few months. Jack talked a little more about her- Lori. It was so good to hear from his perspective, her brother. It’s clear what she meant to him and how much she’s missed. He showed me some of her watercolor art that is hanging in his house, and I remembered her talking about painting in the letter she wrote me in 1994. Before the evening was over, he also made a few comments about us finding each other. He acknowledged what I knew- it’s been shocking, emotional, difficult at times…but also that he’s very happy about it, that we know and have each other in our lives now. Everyone in his family echoed the same. I remember getting a little teary, and having a really strange feeling…a comfort…as if I’d known them all before.
I don’t think I saw anyone for a few months after that, but several of Lori’s sibs and I were in touch by text as my HHT results came in and preparations were being made for my surgery. Additionally, this created a little wave of genetic testing in their family. Up to last summer, one of my uncles had been cleared with clinical tests years ago, but never had genetic testing- so he wouldn’t know whether or not his kids needed testing. Another uncle had been tested along with his kids, but hadn’t followed up for a while, and to my knowledge, the rest had not been tested. Without saying who’s who…there’s lots of great news. One uncle was negative, therefore in his family, everyone else will be negative. Awesome. Another uncle was positive but his clinical tests negative (no need for procedures) AND all three of his kids are negative so it ends with him! Amazing. And the one that had been tested and lacked follow up has since followed up and no one needs intervention at this point. So far, so good!
In November, I was traveling to Texas to visit a friend, and was able to meet up with Brenda who also lives in the same area. She was kind enough to get me from the airport and we went to breakfast. It was so, so nice to have time with her. She helped me “virtually” get to know members of the family I either hadn’t met, or met and didn’t know well (which was basically everyone). But, you know…when you’re in the family you know who’s who, can describe personalities, who has close bonds, etc. I was so happy that day. It was just so, so good talking with her, and it was clear that this great big family (although I’m sure has its issues as all families do) is really as warm and wonderful as it seemed to me. When my friend, Cheryl, came to pick me up after breakfast, Brenda introduced herself- “I’m Carrie’s cousin”. Love.
In late November, we were invited to Susan’s surprise birthday party. It was there that I got to meet one of her daughters, and her son, Katie and Pete, and their families. Katie is just the sweetest. She has had one of the most outwardly emotional reactions to me, and it just makes me so happy. Before meeting, she had told me that although she was also surprised as everyone was, she was thrilled as she was very close with Lori. Now, she feels like she has a “piece of her” in me, and she sees her in me. She and I continue to establish a relationship today. Trish and I visited Katie and Susan recently (they live a couple hours away) and her brother and family, who also live nearby. It was so good to again spend time in a small group, getting to know them better.
At the birthday party, we were also invited to Brian and Linda’s house for Christmas Day, and we were also told to expect an invitation to Jack’s daughter’s wedding next October 2020. I can’t speak for how they felt, but I just felt like this whole family was just opening up to me and for me. I just felt totally overwhelmed and embraced, and it was just the best.
As it turns out, my own little family doesn’t really have a big plan on Christmas Day. We have breakfast after all the gifts are opened, and hang out all day. So the invitation worked out. My kids weren’t too sure how to feel, but they’re super supportive and came along. Roger’s kids were great with them, and included them in card games. I will say, this was again a little overwhelming. It’s a LOT of people, and this time there were a couple of cousins I hadn’t met. Add that to the fact that, at that point, I was still learning/remembering names, AND that, in my mind at least, I still wasn’t exactly sure how everyone in the family felt about me. But all that aside, we had a great visit.
Two days later, we went to an engagement party for Jack’s daughter. Again, another fun night getting to talk with people. Not long after we arrived, I was touched on the shoulder by someone who introduced herself as a friend of Jack and Annie’s, but that she also knew Lori. She had just been talking Roger, and had pointed me out across the room. “Who’s that?”, she had asked him. And he told her.
I spent the next 2-3 hours with this woman. When we first met, and she asked if we could talk, we grabbed a table. She was just overwhelmed and so joyful at the idea of me. She couldn’t stop touching my face, and remarking about my eyes and how she could see Lori in me. It was really, really unexpected and really wonderful. Our personalities clicked and we had such a great night talking and laughing, and later talking with more members of the family, and looking forward to seeing each other again as the wedding approached.
At the end of the night, Linda approached me with a gift. She had one of Lori’s paintings that she had never framed/hung and wanted me to have it. It’s a magnolia flower- my favorite tree. I just love it, and love that she thought to give it to me. I just had it framed and hung it in our hall bathroom. I’d been looking and looking for something for that wall, and just couldn’t find anything I liked. This is perfect.
The people I’ve spent the most time with are Trish and Roger. I’m going to need to talk about them in a separate post…
My Big Little Miracle 