2. 1994

Since the last blog entry, I’ve spent some time really trying to remember anything about when it became important to me to search for my birth history. Despite my efforts, I can’t recall anything specific. There’s no moment, occasion, conversation, or period of time that comes to mind. What I do remember, though, are a couple of points. I remember that, when it did become important, I discussed it with my mom. I know that it was important to me that she (and my dad) knew that I wasn’t trying to “find my family”. I felt, and still feel, very strongly that I know who my family is. Even more importantly, I know who my parents are.

Secondly, I remember that at some point I learned that I wouldn’t be able to pursue any of my birth information until I was 21. My adoption was closed. That means that all records were sealed. If I wanted to gain access to my records, I would need to petition the court to do so, and I’d need to be an adult.

I turned 21 in August of 1994. Although I wasn’t at the courthouse on my birthday, I know it wasn’t long after. I found my way to the appropriate office, and spoke to someone about what I was trying to do. There was a form to complete, and that was it. It was explained to me that, once my petition was received, there would be an attempt to contact one or both birth parents, depending on whether they were both named on the original birth certificate. At that time, if either of them were able to be reached, they would be the one(s) to decide whether or not I could access my records. No one could give me a time frame, but I was told I would be notified once contact had been made.

In early December, I would have been home from college on winter break. I remember being home alone, and getting the day’s mail. There was something from the Cabinet for Human Resources. I couldn’t wait to open it and read what was inside. I was very hopeful…in my mind, I was confident that my birth mom would be pleased that I was looking for her.

Before I continue, I feel like I should talk about the fact that, for me, it’s really always been about my birth mother. I have no explanation for this. When I would imagine my story, though, it was always her. Not the birth father. Obviously, he’s important. Without both of them, I don’t exist. But in the interest of telling the whole story as clearly as I can, I’m trying to describe what was in my mind. So, when I opened that piece of mail, I was looking for her…and that’s exactly what I got.

The first thing I saw was a form letter from the state. It acknowledged my petition, and then there were a series of options with check boxes. I don’t remember the specifics of the various options, but I know that the box that was checked said something about the birth parent had been contacted, and was not interested in contact or communication with the petitioner. Wait…WHAT?? As my mind started to race, I saw that there was an additional letter enclosed. It was in a separate envelope, and it was written to me.

The letter is typewritten, and dated 12/5/94. The greeting is “Dear Daughter:”. I read through it as fast as I could, and in that moment, it did nothing to help me. I was angry, and I was hurt. I felt rejected, and it didn’t seem fair at all. I needed my mom. Not my birth mother- my mom. So I picked up the phone, and I called her at work. Looking back, I think about how difficult that call must have been for her. She picked up the phone to hear me, crying and hysterical. I remember screaming, not at her, but to her. I felt that I deserved answers. The exact conversation is gone from memory, but as a mother now myself, I know that I probably broke my mom’s heart that day. At the time, all I could feel was my own hurt, but writing this now…I’m thinking of hers. I know that all she wanted to do was help me feel better, and she couldn’t. I was a mess, and as usual, she was amazing. I don’t know what she said to me, but she was kind, and loving, and nothing but support. How painful that must have been for her.

Over time, I read and re-read that letter until it didn’t hurt so much. My mom helped me recognize that it’s a letter my birth mom didn’t HAVE to write. In writing it, she gave me all that she was able to give. She assured me that the decision to not make contact had nothing to do with me. She also mentioned that the circumstances of my birth were not a heartwarming story, and she wouldn’t pretend otherwise. She went on to describe herself and her life in general terms, and mentioned just a few points of interest as far as medical history. She did, at more than one point, state clearly that she cared very much for me. She made the decision that was best for me, and trusted that my family has loved and cared for me and that I have had a happy life.

Aside from the fact that I didn’t get what I had hoped for, I was also upset that I never had the chance to explain myself, or to respond. I couldn’t tell her that I didn’t want anything from her, but that I was just looking for some answers. I wanted to really tell her how great my family was, and how happy my life had been, and I really, REALLY wanted to thank her! Even though I was upset, I knew what sacrifices she had made for me. I always hated the fact that there was no opportunity to write back to her. Just nothing. She only got a notification from a state worker that I was looking for her…I wanted to be able to speak for myself.

I kept that letter. It’s sitting here, right now, beside my laptop. It’s funny…I used to look at it and all I could see was what wasn’t there. Reading it today, what jumps at me is how very much she did care. She gave me all that she was able to give- at the time of my birth, and again in 1994. The letter ends with “You are always in my heart. Your birth mother”. I kept it, believing that I had gotten all the information I was ever going to get, and that I’d need to be satisfied with that. I could never have imagined how wrong I was.