I sent a text to Bridget right away. “The judge signed off. I get it all. I’m a mess.”
It was Monday morning, June 10, around 0905. I was at work, but on a quick break, when my phone rang. It was Lindsey. She told me that she had to call me first thing, and was very excited to tell me that the judge had signed off on the order to release my complete record to me. She would make a copy, and I could pick it up anytime. I told her I’d be there as soon as I got out of work, and then I sent the text to Bridget. She called right away.
We were beside ourselves. It was hard to believe that this was all really, finally happening. A plan was made to meet at the courthouse that afternoon to pick up the records. I wanted someone to be with me, and it made all the sense in the world that it should be Bridget.
We were at the courthouse by 3pm, and made our way to the clerk’s office. Lindsey met us at the window. In her hand was a large envelope, labeled “1107-A”, in large black ink. She put it in front of me, and I had to take a deep breath before opening it. She had copies for me, but what was really cool was seeing and touching the original documents from 1973. It was compiled of that old “onion paper”, and it just felt…historic? Anyway, I got to skimming for information. On the first page, I saw my parents’ names, and my pre-adoption name, Infant Girl ___. Beyond that, no new information. At the bottom of page three, though, were two very familiar signatures…my dad’s, and my mom’s. I remember stopping a minute, and running my hand over them, and it made me cry. I was imagining them signing those papers, and I knew enough to know that those were happy days. They were finally becoming parents after having been married for several years. I knew they were with me that day, too.
Still, none of these documents held any of the information I expected. First, where was the original birth certificate? Second, I was told that there was an additional document that held information about the birth father. Where was that? Lindsey explained that what she had for me was only what was stored at the courthouse in the county where I was adopted. I rushed down there so fast, I didn’t realize that the rest of the file from the Capitol wasn’t there yet. That’s where the rest of it was.
But wait a second…Catholic Charities told me weeks ago that they had their own records. However, they were also held to court rulings, so they could only release them with an order. But now I had one! We knew we needed to wait on records from the state, but the Catholic Charities office is only 15 minutes from my home. Lindsey gave me copies of the judge’s order, and I gave her a big hug and a heartfelt thank you, and we left. As soon as I got to my car, I left a voicemail for Catholic Charities. Then, I checked my email. Apparently, the Capitol was waiting on a copy of the judge’s order to arrive there, and then would be mailing a copy of whatever they had to me directly. Ok. Waiting.
Tuesday through Thursday passed with plenty of communication between Bridget and me. I had also brought Patrick up to speed, so we were all anxiously awaiting more information. Side note- I feel like I should say that my husband, family, friends and coworkers were all involved during these weeks too. They were all encouraging me and cheering me on, and comforting me when I was emotional. I can’t name everyone all the time…but they were all there.
On Friday I had the day off, and plans for lunch with my friend “B”, who I hadn’t seen in far too long. That morning, I decided to try Catholic Charities again. I left another voicemail, letting them know that I had a court order and would like to access my records. Within 15 minutes, I had a call back, and a plan to pick up my records before lunch!
It was the most beautiful early summer day. Clear, sunny skies, mild temperatures, and I remember driving to Catholic Charities with the sunroof open. I ended up taking a phone call while driving from an old friend, Moira. She’s an intuitive healer, and Master Reiki Practitioner. I knew her from 20+ years ago when we worked a summer job together. Unbelievably, I saw her name pop up recently as she had been working with Bridget, and her friend Beth. Remember a few posts ago? I mentioned that they were working on a cold case murder? Moira is working with them on that case, and I saw her name in their blog. I couldn’t believe it was her, and that this is what she does now…and I wanted to talk to her.
I spent a good part of that beautiful drive catching up with her quickly, then briefly bringing her up to speed with what had been going on in my life. I really wasn’t sure what she did exactly, but I do believe in spiritual and emotional health and healing. At this particular point in my life, I felt like an emotional disaster…for lack of a more accurate term. I was fragile, to say the least. Throughout these weeks, I was doing plenty of praying, and I always lean on my faith. That gave me comfort, but I remained in and out of a state of stress. There was this underlying pressure (internal, really- but intense) to get to the bottom of all this, and I was feeling it physically. I have a long history of neck and shoulder tension, and migraines, and this time period was no different. When I read that Reiki was a technique for stress reduction and relaxation, I was interested in that for sure. We ended the call when I arrived to the CCSB (Catholic Charities Services Bureau) office, and I agreed to call her soon for an appointment.
I walked inside, and told the receptionist who I was, and I provided a copy of the court order. A minute later, Molly arrived with another large envelope. “Carrie Carnohan Adoption” is in red marker on the front. She was kind and sweet, and handed me the envelope, and offered me the chance to stay and go through it with her. This was surprising, and she read that on my face. “Well”, she said, “it’s a lot. It can be a lot to process. It’s the story. It’s all in there.” She smiled gently as if trying to comfort/prepare me for something really difficult. Wow. I didn’t expect that. I thanked her, and told her that I had planned to just take the file home. She thought that was fine, but reiterated that she was available for me if I needed her, even after I had seen it. I thanked her and I left.
I drove to lunch, and called my husband. I told him what Molly had just said. That envelope was laying on the seat beside me…I couldn’t open it. Everything I had ever wanted to know was literally right there, and now I was afraid of it. I started running through horrible scenarios. Was she raped? Was it some kind of power play at work…like her boss forcing her? The way Molly had prepared me, my mind was racing. I just needed to get to lunch and meet my friend.
I met B at a relatively new, but popular lunch spot near where we live. I left that envelope in the car. We talked about it at lunch, and she couldn’t believe I was able to wait to get into it…and I didn’t know now how I was going to bring myself to open it.
My Big Little Miracle 