16. Healed

It’s been longer than usual since my last entry. On May 6, 2020, I had a tonsillectomy. Yikes…all the things “they” say about having your tonsils out as an adult are true. It’s rough. Mine had been trouble much of my life though, and definitely in recent years, so getting them out was worth doing.

Around the time I was feeling up to writing again was when George Floyd was killed in Minneapolis. Since then, it just hasn’t felt like the time to be talking about me. Thanks to the readers who’ve been so sweet to reach out and ask me where I’ve been! I’m so humbled by and appreciative of the support. I do have more story to tell, so let’s get back to it today.

In my last entry, I talked about my embolization procedure. So it’s convenient timing that, last week, I had my follow up imaging to check in on the results of the procedure. It’s an echocardiogram/bubble study. Did I describe this earlier? I’ll run through it again. So, echocardiogram (echo) is an ultrasound image of your heart. The bubble study happens by having an IV placed, and then a Cardiology doc injects agitated saline (so that there are microbubbles) into the vein. On the echo screen, the bubbles can be seen traveling into the right side of the heart. Normally, you would not expect to see bubbles returning to the left side of the heart from the lungs. Last summer, I had a BUNCH of bubbles come back…I remember.

It’s kind of an awkward position you’re in. I was laying on my left side, but had my right arm extended back so that the doc could access my IV. I was also trying to position my head to see the screen, but obviously the tech needed to prioritize the positioning for herself and the MD. Still, I wanted to watch. The bubbles are injected with kind of a 1, 2, 3 count so that the two of them are coordinated…they want to be sure the images are captured. So he injected, and I saw them…and then I didn’t see them. Not in the left side. Not this time.

Here’s the thing about tests like that. No one in the room will typically discuss results of any kind. They really can’t. It needs to be read, and officially reported first. Imagine if either of them told me what they thought they saw and were wrong…not good. So I’d need to wait. When I was finished, I had let my buddy Dr Patel know, thinking he could get the results pretty quick as he typically does, but he was off work for a few days so I’d wait.

In the meantime, I’ve been paying close attention to how I feel. Now that I’m healed from the tonsillectomy, I’m sleeping better (my husband says I’m not snoring anymore!!) We did replace that old mattress I mentioned last entry, and both our backs and shoulders are feeling better. My tolerance for exercise is WAY up, and that’s just making me feel better all the way around.

Two days later, I got a phone call at work. I didn’t pick up…the phone didn’t identify the number. Went it went to voicemail, I checked it and realized I had missed a call about my test results. Ugh. I called right back and got voicemail. In her message, she told me that she would be sending me an electronic message to my chart, so I could look for that. Within five minutes, I had it. I could not believe what I read.

“The report states that your bubble echo is negative.”

Negative. Not improved, better than before, slightly better….NEGATIVE. As in, someone like my husband with no pulmonary AVMs would have a negative bubble echo and now I do too!!! I knew this was better than what was expected. Furthermore, my follow-up is in FIVE years. I remembered at my initial visit to the HHT center, Dr Hammill talking about “someday” if I’m stable, I “might” be able to space visits out by 5 years, and here I am already. WHAT?!

I sent a screenshot of the message to Dr Patel. He was impressed, too. He’s not one to get emotional or too wordy…but even he had a few thoughts about how this was better than expected.

I will NEVER be able to express my thanks to him and Dr Ristagno, but I’ll take every chance I get. I did ask Manish to forward the report and my thanks to Dr R. I’m so glad they are our team.

Speaking of “our” team…here’s the latest on that. I mentioned that all three kids tested positive genetically. Earlier this year they all had clinical testing. All of their brains are clear. But, all of them have pulmonary AVMs like me. All. Of. Them.

Can we just pause again for a quick second to remember how many miracles have lined up for me and my family? Can we think back and remember how we would never have known about ANY of this without Bridget pushing toward all of this? It’s overwhelming for me to think about how close I came to never knowing until it may have been too late.

OK. So, Maggie has AVMs, but they are all too small to treat. So, she gets observed for any changes. Actually, we will all be observed for the rest of our lives. Treatment is as necessary. Connor and Brady both have AVMs large enough to treat. They’ll both have procedures just like mine. They were scheduled March 19 of this year, which unfortunately was the same week our OR closed to all elective cases due to the COVID-19 outbreak. They’re back on the schedule for August 20, so any and all prayers for their safety and two successful procedures are welcomed. I have ALL the confidence in their care team, as it will be the same as mine was. I’m sure there will be anxiety that day, but truthfully, I’ll be so glad when they’re on the other side of this, and their AVMs are fixed too.

So, so thankful.

15. My life- Saved.

Before I get started with this entry, I’m very happy to say that I can freely share this piece of information. I am employed by, and have received all my care for myself and my children through Cincinnati Children’s Hospital Medical Center. We are patients of the HHT Center of Excellence, and I have now been a patient in Same Day Surgery, OR, PACU, and now even an overnight stay. We have been through Cardiology, MRI, and outpatient lab departments. As a patient, and a mother of patients…I could not be more pleased. As a nurse, I could not be more proud to be part of such a place.

I looked back at earlier posts and saw that I had alluded to CCHMC as part of my sister’s experiences as a patient years ago, and that’s definitely the beginning of my time there. Today, though, times are different, especially in regard to social media. Every business has its own regulations, and CCHMC is no different. So, in telling this story, I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t violating any of the rules on that. I felt confident that I wasn’t/wouldn’t be, but needed to run it past people who could put kind of an “approval” on it for me. That approval came just a few days ago by email. What I felt has been confirmed. I’m just telling my story. I’m not speaking on behalf of CCHMC, so it’s fine. I’m happy to have the support.

The procedure to embolize the large AVM (arteriovenous malformation) in my lower left lung was originally scheduled for late August. However, due to a scheduling conflict, was then moved to November 21. Dr Patel assured me that there was no concern about the delay, and I trusted him so I was ok with that. Actually, the timing was a little more convenient as far as our family life.

Between August and November, life went on as usual. School started back up, and we had three kids in middle school now, all in fall sports. Lots of practices and running around and the time passed quickly. Personally, during all the workup for my procedure, I knew that my weight and my blood pressure were up…which was new. Blood pressure had never been an issue for me and that made me nervous. I was also feeling more easily short of breath, but was crediting that to the extra weight. None of the usual diet and exercise changes that had always been effective were working like they used to…but I had just turned 46, and was enjoying some of the fun of being a mid-40’s woman, too.

Derek and I arrived to Same Day that morning and I was ready to go. I was extremely confident in my team and the plan. One of the HUGE perks of being treated where you work is getting to request your team. We have so many awesome staff members…but when you get to ask for people you’ve known for years, and you consider them not only excellent care providers, but also friends…it’s really a gift. One of my best friends was my nurse who admitted me and placed my IV. My anesthesia team was made up of an Attending and CRNA, both of whom I have worked with for 15 years. I’ve already talked about how I came into the care of Drs Patel and Ristagno. My OR nurse was Christin, who I didn’t know well at the time but took such great care of me. In PACU (Recovery) I woke up to Beth. I’ve known her for 15 years too. It was SO GOOD to be cared for and LOVED.

Obviously, I can’t speak to much of the procedure itself. I was asleep. I know that it was scheduled for 2-4 hours and they finished in closer to 2, and reported that all went very smoothly. I remember waking up relieved and happy, (maybe just a little bit anesthesia drunk) but again, feeling surrounded by love and support. Dr Patel came by while I was in PACU with images to show me exactly what they did…a before and after. Amazing.

During a procedure like that, you’re given large doses of Heparin to “thin the blood” and prevent clots which could result in all kinds of bad things happening, including death. Because of that, I had to lay flat for a few hours afterward for observation. Everything went just fine. I had really no pain, no signs of bleeding. I was able to go home and rest by late afternoon. My instructions were to take it easy for a few days. I had some restrictions on lifting (nothing over 10 lbs for maybe a week?) and that was it.

I came back to work the following week, and was just overcome with emotion. The feelings began before I returned, but I now had such a new appreciation for what we do, and especially for our surgeons and proceduralists. At CCHMC, we say “Changing the Outcome”…but until YOUR outcome has literally been changed, and you really feel it…it means something else entirely. I need to go back real quick to the fact that I didn’t have any idea that I had this thing. Nor is it likely that I ever would have known. All the symptoms I was having were easily explained and attributed to other things. None of them would ever have pointed me toward HHT.

I would start speaking of Drs Patel and Ristagno, (and then think of all the docs we know and work with) and would just really become overwhelmed. Think of it. This is their job. They get up in the morning, go to work, and do things to and for people that SAVE THEIR LIVES. I admit, working there, I have gotten to a place of taking it a bit for granted. We see so much really, really awesome stuff happening. I mean…we see plenty of sadness and tragedy, too. But the awesomeness is real. I made sure to let them both know that I’m very aware that they saved my life. Neither of them are comfortable with that kind of talk…they’re both pretty humble guys. But I asked Dr Patel, “This thing in my lung, could it have killed me?” And he said, “Absolutely.” So I said, “OK. Did you fix it? It’s gone now?” Patel…”Yes, it’s gone. We fixed it.”

Me- “OK then. You saved my life. That’s all.”

That was a phone conversation while I was still at home. I made it worse when I got back to work, and I made him let me hug him. I’m a hugger…he’s not. But if saving my life doesn’t at least deserve a hug then I don’t know what does. Luckily he’s a great sport and extremely tolerant. I do think (and he has said as much) that he’s genuinely happy for me, too. When I eventually saw Dr Ristagno I gave him an enthusiastic hug too, and introduced him to my coworkers who gave him and Dr Patel a round of applause. God bless him-Dr Patel is used to us-I don’t think Dr Ristagno knew what to make of it, but he was very sweet and gracious. I know he knew I was genuinely happy to see him.

I’ve gotten off track a bit, but coming back to work, I felt GREAT. It was only in hindsight that I began to realize how bad I was feeling. I noticed little things, like taking stairs and ramps to and from the garage before and after work were much easier. A walk that left me winded two weeks prior was now easy to do. Sleep was more restful. I didn’t need a nap after work! I always assumed it was because the day started so early and I just couldn’t handle a 0430 wakeup…but I do it now and get through the day with no problem.

My migraines are almost gone! Last spring, I didn’t make it more than 48 hours without a headache. Since my procedure, I didn’t have one at all until March! Since then only a couple, and even those are different. The ones I have had recently are muscle tension, not the visual aura ones I used to get. I’ve had none of those. I have suffered with them for 30 years. As for the muscles…I’m suspecting we need a new mattress more than anything! We are due for one. Oh yeah, my blood pressure is getting back to normal too, as my tolerance for exercise has gone WAY up. All good news!

I follow up later this year with imaging to see whether everything is stable. But, since November, I have felt really great, and so thankful. Love my team. Next up is the care of my kids…more on that in the next post.

AVM before…
AVM during procedure…
AVM after!
One of my BEST friends, Shannon…loving me through it!❤️
My Anesthesia Team…Nick and Paul!! 💪🏼💪🏼
Ready to head home…with OR nurse Christin and PACU nurse Beth
Back at work with my heroes. Dr Manish Patel and Dr Ross Ristagno. Love them. Thank you both for saving my life.

14. Testing and Diagnosis

Remember WAY back in post number 6- I talked about needed to split the stories of the birth family journey and the journey toward finding out more about HHT? Well…it’s time to come back to the HHT piece of the story.

At this point, it’s near the end of June 2019. Only a little more than two months had passed since I got the results back from AncestryDNA, and so much of my life had changed already. It was time now to begin testing to determine whether or not I had HHT (Hereditary Hemorrhagic Telangiectasia). The plan was to begin with clinical testing. It was explained to me that, because AncestryDNA had already linked me to a family who we knew were positive, DNA testing wasn’t immediately necessary. Clinical testing was indicated because I showed additional symptoms (nosebleeds).

The first test was referred to as a bubble echo, or bubble study. It’s just like a regular echocardiogram (ultrasound of your heart), except you also get an IV, and at the end of the study, a physician injects agitated saline into your IV. They watch the micro bubbles travel through the right side of your heart, and monitor whether any of them make it back to the left side- and if they do, how many, and how quickly they get there.

In a normal study, the lungs take care of the micro bubbles, so they aren’t expected to return to the left heart. I was watching that screen. I’m not a cardiologist, or a physician of any kind…but I know what I saw, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t good.

One of the perks of working in the facility where you’re receiving your care is that your care team is made up of your friends. So, shortly after I arrived home from my study, I got a phone call from my friend, Dr Patel. He had already had the chance to review the report…as I suspected, it wasn’t good. He confirmed that I failed the study, and would now need a chest CT (cat scan) which would identify where, how many, and how large the AVM(s) were in my lungs. The bubble study wasn’t as specific, but based on the “grade”, he was confident that “we’re going to find something big in your lungs”, and he was pretty certain I’d need intervention for that. He told me “AncestryDNA may have literally saved your life, and the lives of your kids”. That was heavy, heavy, stuff…considering I almost never did it.

Wow. OK. Another deep breath. Another bunch of mixed feelings. On one hand, I was (and still am) so thankful to him for the personal care. I was relieved for the knowledge…I still can’t believe how close we came to never knowing any of this. I had a few questions for him that he answered that day. We were about to leave for vacation- can I still go? Yes. Can I get on a plane? Yes. You’re sure this can wait a few weeks? Yes. Anything I can’t do, any restrictions at all? “Scuba diving. You can’t do that.” No problem…it’s never been on my list!

Once he said things could wait, I intentionally scheduled the CT, and HHT clinic follow up for after vacation. We were going to visit National Parks we had never seen, and I wanted to fully enjoy that trip. I didn’t WANT to know the details about what was in my lungs, because I didn’t want to worry. So, on his advice, I put it out of my mind temporarily and our family had a wonderful vacation.

When we got home, I had the chest CT, which confirmed four pAVMs (pulmonary arteriovenous malformations) aka abnormal blood vessels in my lungs. One in my lower left lung was large enough that it needed treatment. One in my lower right lung was questionable for treatment, and two in my upper right lung were too small to treat. I followed that appointment with a visit to the HHT clinic, where I met the physician who is the director of the HHT Center of Excellence at the facility, as well as a genetic counselor and a few other care team members who had a LOT of information for me that day. Also, since I had now tested clinically positive, blood was drawn for genetic testing. If I were to test positive (which was expected), each of my children had a 50/50 chance of also testing positive, so they would all need to be tested as well…and this is where I started to really worry. It’s one thing to find out something for yourself and manage it. It’s something else entirely to realize you may have passed something to your children that you didn’t even know you had.

I have a daughter, and twin boys (fraternal). My daughter and the oldest of my boys, Maggie and Connor, in my mind, were most likely to test positive. They both have nosebleeds like I do, and they’re genetically more like each other. The youngest of the boys, Brady, seems less like them genetically. He has had occasional nosebleeds, but far less. He’s just “built” differently- Maggie and Connor look more like each other, etc. Generally, I just felt like that was the likelihood.

Of course my DNA came back positive, so all three kids sent back “spit tests” for their DNA. Maggie’s specimen was insufficient, so she had to go back for a blood draw, and her results were then delayed by a week or two behind the boys.

I was at work when the call came. It was lunchtime and I was in the cafeteria with a few friends. Maybe I should’ve let it go to voicemail but I couldn’t…I had been waiting. It was Katie from genetics. She was calling to tell me that BOTH my boys were positive. I just felt the air go out of me. Unprepared doesn’t begin to cover it. Somehow I had really convinced myself that Brady would be negative. And honestly, what did it matter? It broke my heart that ANY of my kids were going to have to deal with this…but ALL of them? And, I realize that I didn’t have Maggie’s result yet, but I was sure she would test positive. Her nosebleeds were just too similar to mine.

We went back to work after lunch, and thankfully, it was a slow day. I was having a hard time getting it together emotionally, so my boss sent me home. There wasn’t much time left in my shift anyway, and she (and our team) is AMAZING. I walked out to the garage and got in the car and called Derek and told him. I could barely get the words out…I’m not sure when is the last time I cried that hard. I just felt so BAD about it. I KNOW it could be worse. I AM thankful for the knowledge, and that we have access to healthcare, and for many, many things, believe me. But in that moment, I was really, really sad.

A week or two later, Maggie’s test confirmed that all three kids have HHT just like their momma.

Around the end of July, I had a consultation with Drs Patel and Ristagno. Dr Ristagno (Ris-tah-nee-o) is also an Interventional Radiologist- he and Dr Patel partner to treat patients like me. It was the first time I had met Dr Ristagno, and I really liked him. He was calm and gentle, but obviously knowledgable and confident. It was clear that he and Dr Patel were comfortable together, which also made me happy. They explained the procedure to me, answered all my questions, and we signed consents. Before we left, we got to talking about how my diagnosis came about. As anyone reading this blog knows, it is not a short story, but I tried!

When I finished, he just looked at me, and said, “Well…I think you’ve got a pretty amazing hairdresser.”

He was absolutely right.

13.More Emotions, and the Unexpected Gift

Over the couple of weeks that followed the receipt of my file, my mind wasn’t on much else. I went over and over the words in that report in my mind, trying to imagine what scenario had actually taken place between Lori and Steven. The reality is that it doesn’t really matter, but I couldn’t stop…and the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me.

Sharing the information I had found with Susan was the easy part, even though it wasn’t easy. (I really can’t remember what I shared with Roger, but at that time I had been communicating with both. I can’t find any texts though.) I was concerned it would be upsetting for her, and although it may have been, she didn’t put any of that on me. She had a few questions that I answered to the best of my ability based on what was on those papers, and that was it. I didn’t have as much direct contact with Lori’s other sibs as I do now, so I left it to her to share the information. I probably should have done that myself in hindsight, but I just didn’t. I certainly wasn’t intentionally keeping anyone out of the loop.

Keep in mind…this next part is me telling you my thoughts. It’s what was running through my mind at the time. I have no facts to support any of this other than bits and pieces of a story, and my own gut feelings- which is of course very different than fact. What I was feeling, though, was that it was difficult to accept/wrap yourself around the idea that you were not conceived in love. Prior to this time, I really had never let my mind go to the place where I thought of myself as a “mistake”. But now, it’s hard to deny that, at least for two people…I was. As I sit here right now, I’m having to stop and really search for words. It is extremely difficult to communicate this, but I was extremely conflicted emotionally.

Here’s the thing. If you know me, you know that I’m quite confident that my life has purpose. I am content, happy, faithful, and loved. I know these things. I am NOT a mistake. But also, yes I am. To Steven and Lori. I’m both. It’s hard to be both. To reconcile that. Beyond that, I couldn’t stop imagining painful images of her telling him she was pregnant, and various scenes of what transpired after that…none of which ended happily, of course. Then I would dwell on her, and how totally isolated she must have been, probably just wishing it would all go away. I know that she never went for prenatal care (but clearly took care of herself as I was born healthy at 7lbs 15 oz) which makes me think even more that part of her just wanted it all to go away.

I mentioned in the previous post that I feel like Steven was gone as soon as he knew Lori was pregnant. Not long after I had read my complete file, I remembered the letter from 1994. She had told me “It was an error in judgment at a time when I was very lonely. I never saw the other party in this equation again.” So, whether she knew he was married or not, she was on her own to clean up the mess they made together. So, part of me was angry on her behalf. This feeling was reinforced after a visit with Moira. Remember, the Intuitive Healer?

I went to see her for a Reiki Session. I was definitely interested in getting some help in calming my emotions. I didn’t want to seek out meds for this…I felt like it was temporary, and I just needed help working through all this new “stuff” coming at me. I trusted her as an old friend, and when she described Reiki to me I was ready to try it. Before she started that, though, she also channeled my parents, Lori, and Steven. I don’t know how that works. What I can say, is that she said things (about my parents) she couldn’t possibly have known otherwise. What I can also say is how I felt. I felt warm, and surrounded by love, and I remember a steady stream of tears. When she spoke of Lori, she spoke of a yellow glow around her, and told me that although she was unable to have contact with me while alive, she is glad that I know the truth. She moved on to the healing portion of the session. I can only say that I highly recommend her if you’re dealing with stress, emotions, etc. I’m not sure at all that I can accurately describe it, as I’m not sure anyone could have for me. But I felt a calm different than any other. A settled feeling. Contentment. Oh…during the session she hadn’t really mentioned Steven, so I asked about him. What did she see/what was her sense of things? She told me “I feel like he was today as he was back then. He was here for just a minute, and then he was gone. But he knew what was happening.” ***She didn’t know ANY of his, or Lori’s story before my visit***

Thankfully, I did also have the adoptive family section of my file. This was, and still is, the Unexpected Gift in all of this. As I’ve said, my parents always spoke openly of adoption, and spoke openly (and often) of their love for me, and I knew they were proud of me, etc. What we hadn’t really talked about in detail was their lives before me. Some of that was in that file.

As with any family seeking to adopt, the agency takes a good look at them. Who are they, what’s their story (individually and together)? Why do they want a baby, what brought them to this point? The report that I have is a precious account of my parents, who, after 7 years of marriage, were told they would likely never have children together. There are descriptions of both their families and upbringings, a description of them as a couple- how they interact with each other, what they do for fun, what their home is like, what type of parents they’re likely to be. There’s even an essay written by my dad (apparently my mom’s is missing) about his upbringing, how he met my mom- their first date was St Patrick’s Day! And he’s very sweet talking about his feelings about their infertility, and his hopes for adoption. Finally, as my adoption date gets closer, there are home visits describing my nursery- it was ready for me 4 months before they knew I was coming, just in anticipation of a baby. It was decorated in Raggedy Ann & Andy (I still have the blanket). On the day that they were notified that they’d be getting me, the news was delivered in person at the CCSB office. “Mrs. Costigan cried when we told her”.

What a gift. In all the searching, I NEVER once considered that there would be information that would teach me anything about my parents. So, during these weeks when I was wrestling with the emotions about being someone’s “mistake”, I would always use this to bring myself back and set my mind straight. I still do it today if I ever catch my thoughts drifting toward anything negative.

I know that I am exactly where I need to be. I also know that, had Lori and Steven had a happy ending, my life could not and would not be what it is…and I wouldn’t want that. So, although there was some negativity around me at the start, it wasn’t about ME. That’s why Lori did what she did, to give me the best chance that she could. Her choice literally created a new family for my parents and me. Have I mentioned lately that she’s amazing?

❤️

12. The Envelope

It’s a manila envelope. Inside, it has two packets of paper, each held together with a red paperclip. Additionally, each packet is labeled with a yellow post-it note. One says “from birth parents file”, and one says “from adoptive file”.

After lunch, I called my husband and told him I was on my way home, and he said he would meet me there. I didn’t want to be alone when I opened it. I got home first, though, and I couldn’t wait. My kids were all playing outside and I had the house to myself. I picked a spot on the couch next to a sunny window, took a deep breath, and pulled out those two packets. I set aside the adoptive file.

The first sheet from the birth parents file was a copy of the only paper I had ever been given. It was a type written (as in typewriter-remember all the documents were completed in 1973) summary of “stats”. My birth gender, weight, length. Descriptions of mother and father including only heritage, level of education, religious background, hair and eye color.

The next page was what I needed. It was my original birth certificate. Until that moment I had never seen it- but there it was, and there was Lori’s name listed as the mother. As I had been told, there was no father listed. OK. I had the proof that her family had been asking for! Awesome. I’d get it to them soon…but there was more reading to do. I flew through the first few paragraphs, and right away, one of my questions was answered…someone besides Lori knew about the pregnancy, and had helped her. CCSB was initially contacted by her friend, Bonnie. By the time that contact was made, Lori was already in labor. Bonnie expressed concern because there apparently had been some amount of denial of the pregnancy on Lori’s part, but because she was already in labor, they were advised to go straight to the hospital. I was born about 40 minutes after they arrived…

Four paragraphs into that first page, I ran into what Molly had been preparing me for. “The father of the baby is a married man, and supposedly is hoping to go overseas.”

Well. There it was. No wonder she couldn’t tell anyone. It went on to say that his wife was from Germany, and that they had a 26 month old son. He was “hoping to find employment overseas, as his wife is from Germany, and has recently returned there”. It’s unclear at which point he told her about his marital status. Obviously, the fact that it’s in my record means that he did, eventually. No one who knows for sure is alive to tell me. Oh…his name was there, too. I’m changing it for anonymity, but for reference we’ll call him “Steven”. As soon as I saw his name, I texted Bridget and sent her on a search for him. I didn’t really want to contact him, but was curious if she could find him, and wondered what he looked like.

This file reads like a social worker’s report. It’s a narrative of what was happening. It’s the story. Or, at least, much if it. As I was reading it, I kept thinking how lucky I am in so many ways, not the least of which is that a file like this exists. It’s not just a collection of forms. The story is being told for me when the people aren’t there to tell it. In the midst of all the reading, Derek arrived home and sat with me. I updated him on what I had found. We talked about how I actually felt a bit of relief…I mean, I was really glad that it wasn’t a story of violence. After talking to Molly, I had really been worried about that.

The rest of the pages included more general information about Lori, her background, a description of her family, education, interests, etc. There was a section about her parents and their heritage, education, and faith. Her father had passed away three years before I was born, but her mother was alive and healthy. There was never another entry mentioning Steven, and there was no information available about his family.

From there, much of the report shifted focus to me, and Lori’ s plans to give up her parental rights. It’s very clear that she had no plan at any time to try to keep me or parent me, as she did not feel that she was able to do that. There are notes about consent for adoption, and plans for placement in foster care. The case was closed six months later after it was noted that Lori had declined any offers of counseling services, and that “the baby was doing well in her adoptive placement”.

Wow. OK. That’s it. He was married. Jerk. (I’m typing this now and trying to get out the thoughts as they were coming to me at that moment…not as they are today. I’ll get to those later) I found myself becoming increasingly angry with him. It was easy for me to picture him presenting himself as a single guy, and starting a physical relationship with Lori. Then, she ends up in trouble, and he’s like “Oh, sorry…I’m married” and he’s outta there.

Here’s the thing- (and this IS something I came around to later)…my life and Lori’s ended up with some similarities. I had a boyfriend when I was 16, too, and I loved him- as much as you’re able to when you’re just a kid. And like Lori, I was still single when I was 26- and at that time, EVERY ONE of my best friends was married, and most were starting families. I was lonely, and wondering if I’d ever find someone. Looking back, it was a difficult time in my life, emotionally- although I tried really hard to keep that to myself. I dated some nice guys, but also came across my fair share of jerks, and was lied to a few times, and it hurt. My point is…two decisions, mistakes, whatever you want to call them, make Lori’s life very different from mine. There but for the grace of God, right? This woman who, in my mind, had hurt my feelings so badly in 1994, was now becoming someone I could really empathize with. And whether it was absolute conjecture or not, I felt that Steven had likely hurt her deeply, and I was angry. He helped create a situation, and it didn’t seem that he did one thing to help her with it.

I still had the adoptive file packet to read. I also still needed to share what information I had found with Lori’s family. I knew that. What I didn’t know, was how much mental processing I still needed to do. There was so much emotional work in front of me. Luckily, I was going to have some help.

11. A Big Week

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.

My parents’ signatures

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.

10. Nothin’ But a Good Time

That Saturday, we got lucky as far as the weather. The forecast called for rain on and off. We did get some rain in the early evening, but most of it had moved on before the party, and we were left with a very pretty sky and mild temperatures. My family and I arrived to Roger’s house within 30 minutes after the official start time. I wanted to be sure that Patrick arrived ahead of me (we had agreed we’d feel most comfortable together…or maybe that was just me?). I also hoped that it meant that I/we wouldn’t be some of the first few to arrive. I wasn’t prepared for that.

Derek parked the car in front of Roger’s house. I gave my kids one more pep talk and reminder about manners and social conversations, and we walked around to the back. As we walked, a feeling was building in me that I wasn’t familiar with, nor was I prepared for. Not having experience with it, I can only guess it was heightened anxiety? My heart was racing, and I felt like my breathing pattern wasn’t quite normal. I wasn’t really shaking exactly…but I felt “quiver-y” if that makes sense? Like head to toe. So much so that I felt a little bit weak, as if my knees might buckle so I just kept walking. This feeling came on really quickly, as the walk was only around the corner of a house.

We got to the back patio, and I saw a big white tent over several tables and chairs. There were a few people under the tent that I didn’t recognize. Beyond the tent was a smaller patio area with an umbrella table and chairs, and more people seated and standing around it where I started to recognize some faces as I headed over. Patrick was at the far end of that area, and I was absolutely headed his way. Just as I came up the couple of steps to that small patio, though, I was greeted by Roger’s wife. She came right up to me, rested her hand on both my arms, and looked me right in the eye and gave me a big smile. “I’m Roger’s wife, Tricia. What can I get you to DRINK?!”

I’ve told her this since then, but I will NEVER forget that moment. I can’t speak for her thoughts or intentions. But, at that moment, it felt like she was saying “I see you. This whole thing has to be crazy and emotional and difficult, but I see that and I see you, and let me help.” I loved her for it. I took a much needed deep breath, and thanked her. Just water for now, please. I knew I needed to speak to people and wanted to keep a very clear head.

I’m sure I won’t get the rest of the evening in time order, but it doesn’t matter. The memories are the same. I met ALL Lori’s surviving siblings that night. Roger, Susan, and Jack were there. But I also met their sister Carol, and brothers Brian and Dan. Carol and Dan were both very warm and kind, and I had brief conversations with each of them. Nothing too deep or significant, but they expressed that they were glad to meet me and they were happy that I was there. I got to speak briefly with Carol’s husband Ron, too. He was so sweet-but when we met, he was holding one of the new babies in the family so we didn’t talk for long. I do remember more detail about when Brian arrived. I recognized him and his wife, Linda, from photos. Bridget and I may have done a little Facebook snooping 🙂

Brian came right up to me and we had one of those awkward handshake vs hug, nobody-knows-what-to-do moments and sort of laughed it off. He had some things to bring in, so I let him take care of that. Once he was settled, though, he came back to me. He said, “I know that was awkward over there, but we can hug, right?” Of course we could. Ok…so you need to know that I’m taking an actual pause right now remembering this moment. It was so sweet and kind and tender, and I felt very loved and cared for. Brian is a big, tall guy, and has a big hug. And I felt love for this man I had just met, but who is my uncle (very similar to how I was feeling the day I met Jack). We talked for a while. Brian told me that he saw Lori in me, and when he spoke of her, tears welled in his eyes. It was clear to me, again, how much she was and is missed. We moved on to other topics and he asked what I do for a living. When I told him I’m a nurse, he said that Linda was too. Not long after that, we discovered that she and I almost worked together! We did work in the same department. She was there in the early 90’s and left when her babies were born. I was there 1996-2001, and she came back after I had left. We know so many mutual friends/coworkers. So crazy that our paths almost crossed.

After the first hour or so, dinner was served. There was smoked BBQ brisket and wings, and several delicious sides. After dinner, Derek dropped the kids off at home and came back. By then, I was feeling much more relaxed. Roger and I were able to talk a while. Turns out, he and I share a similar love and taste for music. I couldn’t stop complimenting him on his playlist! I always love it when I go somewhere and hear songs that I love, but rarely get to hear…and he had tons of those. It was nice to just get to talk to him about “stuff”.

When Derek got back, we joined Patrick and Heather under the tent. This is where most of the cousins were hanging out. It was surreal, and it was awesome. Cousins…LOTS of them. And I knew that there were many more who weren’t able to be there. I grew up in a very small family. I have four cousins. Total. Two on my mom’s side, and two on my dad’s. So, this was crazy. Additionally, I’m now the oldest cousin in Lori’s family, with Patrick just behind me by a couple of years. Derek and I spent a little time hanging with Patrick and Heather first. I’ll never, ever, be able to express how funny this guy is, and how much fun…so I’ll just keep telling you. Heather is so great, too. She is such a happy, bright light. They’re just amazing and we really enjoyed spending time with them. Eventually we moved on and took seats with the other cousins. We had all made introductions earlier, but I needed to re-introduce myself. Not so much for them, but to review their names for my own memory. I knew it would take a while to remember each one, and which one belonged to which aunt/uncle. At one point, I remember looking behind me and seeing the aunts and uncles who were still there (it was getting later by then) sitting together. Then, I looked back at the group we were sitting in, and I kind of laughed and said something about it feeling like we were at the Thanksgiving “kids’ table”. 🙂

I don’t remember what time it was when we left. I know it was late, and I know that I hated that it was over. More than one person assured us that it wouldn’t be the last time we got together. But some nights are just so good that you hate for them to end, and this night…as uncertain as it started…turned out to be one of the great ones. Thanks, Roger and Tricia, for hosting. And thanks to the rest of the family for the really good time.

The next day, Heather and Patrick headed back home. I dropped them at the airport, and went home to get ready for the work week. It was going to be a big week, I just didn’t know it yet.

Patrick and me at the party ☺️…what a great night! (Pic used with his permission)

9. DNA and Mixed Emotions

On Wednesday of the following week, I reached out to Roger. Patrick would be arriving the next day, and his party was going to be that weekend. It had been a few days since I had been given verbal confirmation of Lori’s name on my birth certificate, and I wasn’t thinking about much else. My mind had focused heavily on Lori, and I was really thinking about who she was, what she looked like (I had seen only a few photos of her), and I just hoped to get to “know” her from the people who did know her. In retrospect, I realize that I needed to hold off on this. It’s hard to explain, though. I was right in front of most of all the answers I’ve ever wanted about who and where I came from…and I just wasn’t able to resist asking.

“Hey Roger, (it doesn’t have to be this weekend), but Susan mentioned that most old family pictures might be with you? If that’s true, I’d love to see whatever you have. If there are any family videos, that would be amazing. If not, no big deal.” He responded a bit later, and said that he would share what he has, but doubted that he would have time before the weekend. But then, he went on. “I don’t want to come across as insensitive to your feelings and emotions, but getting some sort of definitive closure around Lori being your birth mother would help all of my siblings. If Lori managed to keep this all secret from us, she went to extraordinary lengths to do so, and I know some of us are battling our own emotions of respecting our sister, and embracing a new member to the family, who is clearly very excited. I hope that makes sense and know that we are all happy to help you do so from our end.”

Intellectually, I knew exactly where he was coming from. But emotionally this felt like a punch in the gut. I had to make a major effort to put myself in his shoes, and in the shoes of his siblings. Honestly, we had the same goals. I wanted all the proof too! I was also impatiently waiting on DNA results. I was also waiting for the state and the court to release records to me. I was trying and I didn’t intend to quit. When I responded to Roger, I told him all of that. But what I was FEELING was hurt and disappointed. It had been only a few days since I was assured that “we are all excited to welcome you to the family”. And now, it seemed like, although that may be true…it wouldn’t be until there was proof?

I remember letting my mind and emotions get away from me a little that day. It really was a roller coaster. And I’ll say again…I know that the fact that Patrick’s story was unfolding right beside mine, but differently than mine, was hard to watch. Here’s the thing. While I was needing to provide “definitive closure” (even though, in my mind, there was more than enough evidence already- just nothing on paper) Patrick had been texting me with some of his itinerary for the weekend. On the morning after his arrival, Roger and his wife were taking Patrick and his girlfriend Heather to brunch. And I’m now ashamed to say that I was jealous and hurt by that. But if I’m writing a true story, I can’t pretend that’s not how I felt at that time.

Thursday, June 6. The roller coaster continues…great news!! The DNA is back, I got the results by email and texted Jack right away. He responded, “Oh yeah! That’s great, we both knew it!! Uncle Jack!” (ALL the heart emojis) After the exchange the day before, I was hesitant to reach back to Roger. Brenda (Jack’s daughter) did that for me. She told me that he was glad to hear the news, but I didn’t hear back from anyone.

Patrick and Heather arrived to town Thursday afternoon. Some of his birth mother’s family were also in town for the weekend, and they all met for dinner that night. Derek and I met them for a quick drink after dinner. On Friday evening, I went out with Patrick and Heather, and a couple of Patrick’s sibs on his birth mom’s side. That evening, Heather and I talked for a while about the whole “thing”, and how truly awesome it all has been. (I don’t want to lose that. This is sounding a little like a “poor me” story right now, and it isn’t. This was just a tough period.) Anyway, we did get into what was going on with my personal progress. She was so compassionate and loving, I became tearful. I started to open up to her and tell her things I’d been keeping mostly to myself. Even though this had been a roller coaster, I had been so optimistic that I had kept a smile on my face and kept pushing forward. I had really tried to keep the difficult parts of this to myself. I can’t tell you how helpful she was. She was empathetic, but also was able to redirect me gently. She was so confident that this was all going to be fine. She acknowledged that it’s difficult having loose ends during this weekend, the party, etc. However, she helped me (again) try to see things from Lori’s family’s point of view. How absolutely impossible all this must seem to them! It’s not that they don’t believe ME. Maybe it’s just more that they need a little more to help them believe it at all.

Saturday came and it was time for Patrick’s party at Roger’s house. I don’t know if I can adequately describe how I felt that day. Patrick and Heather and I grabbed lunch together, which was a) helpful and b) really fun. I can’t speak for how he feels, but I feel a bond with him like no other. Beyond the fact that he is absolutely hilarious, he is the only other person on this earth who understands my story, because his is almost identical. The details vary, but we were both adopted out of the same family, and found that family together. Anyway, after lunch they went back to their hotel to catch a nap, and we agreed that we would see each other in a few hours.

My whole little family came to the party. My kids only stayed for the first hour, but I wanted Lori’s family to meet them…they’re her biological grandchildren. Not only that, but we’re also super proud of them and wanted to introduce them to her family. On our way there, I began to feel anxious. As I think I said before, I’m not an anxious person by nature. So, I feel like I was getting anxious ABOUT feeling anxious. I was a mess. I remember speaking to my kids about not really knowing what to expect. My kids had been part of all that was happening over the past weeks, and who we were going to see, and all of that. I told them that I knew that people would be friendly to us, but that I was nervous because I just really didn’t know how the various members of the family viewed me. I felt like there was still a definite difference between Patrick’s place and mine (whether actual or perceived by me) and it made me uncomfortable. Still, I wanted to be there. I wanted to be there for Patrick, and I wanted to be there because deep in my heart, I believed that I belonged there.

I’m so glad I went. It was one of the most memorable nights of my life.

8. It’s a girl!

This journey has been unbelievably full of every emotion. There’s one particular day/piece that was just really happy and funny and I’ll enjoy telling and remembering it. When we get there, that will explain this post’s heading. (I’d insert a smiley face here but this is a no emoji kind of site)

On the morning of May 30, I got an email from the state Capitol. My contact, Lisa, said that she had ordered my original birth certificate and would be picking it up that day. She had received the order from my county of residence to conduct the search for my birth parents. She also believed that she had identified my birth mother from records, but needed to compare that name to the birth certificate. I was welcome to call her to discuss this.

Of course I called right away, and left a voicemail. Then the texts flew between Bridget and me. I was excited, and something else…anxious? I don’t know. It wasn’t nervous, but I was definitely on edge waiting for her call. That day I was headed to a golf outing for our parish, and I told Bridget I was afraid to shower and miss the call! Before I left the house for the golf course, I had told Bridget AGAIN that I just knew it was Lori. I knew it. She said, “I just keep thinking about how Lori was the vessel to make your parents’ dreams come true. That is so awesome”. She was right. I told her, “She was. And if they don’t have me, I never meet Derek, and my three kids are never born. She was an angel.”

By the time I did get the call from the Capitol, the golf outing was under way and I was one of four members of the annual “Tee Party” foursome. It’s one of the most fun days every year. When the phone rang, we MAY have already been a few beers into the day. (Insert emoji of choice here) I stepped away for a minute, and spoke to Lisa. She was able to confirm that Lori’s name was listed as my birth mother, and that there was no birth father on the birth certificate. She did mention that his name was on “other documents” which would be released to me if the judge signed off on the order. Wow. OK. I thanked her and went back to the ladies who were waiting for me.

“It’s a GIRL!!!”, I yelled…and we all just fell apart laughing. It was funny for the rest of the afternoon, including birth stats like 5’6″, one hundred and xx pounds (I didn’t say it that day and I’m certainly not broadcasting it here) We even enjoyed a round of pink jell-o shots. It was a happy, happy time. I really felt that things were falling into place. I was right about Lori, now I just had to wait to get my hands on what I needed to prove it.

The next morning Bridget and I were back in touch. I had, of course, told her what Lisa had confirmed from the Capitol. She wanted to know more. What were we to expect? I explained that Lisa told me that she would be sending my petition back to my county of residence, along an affidavit. It would include all of the information I had provided about the vascular disease in Lori’s family, and the need for testing for me and my kids. It would go to a family court judge, and he/she would decide from there.

I’m not an anxious person by nature, but this did make me a little nervous. I really believed I had justification for release of my records. But now, the whole thing rested on the decision of one person. Who was it? What were their personal feelings/experiences, and how would it affect their decision in this case?

Out of nowhere, Bridget said, “My friend is seeing the judge tomorrow. He’ll speak to him on your behalf.” WHAT?? This is the first mention that she has any connection within the courthouse. What the HECK. She was very casual about it. “Yeah, he said it may take a while, family court is slow, but he works with this judge daily. He says you’ve done everything right and doesn’t see why you’d be denied. It’s my friend Michael, the undercover narc cop. He’ll call me after he talks to the judge.”

“Wait. BETH’S husband???” He was. Is. Beth is Bridget’s friend. I knew exactly who she was because together they’re investigating a local child’s cold case murder from 1971 and I’ve been reading HER blog. She’s also a teacher at my kids’ school. Crazy. OK. So he’s going to bat for me with the judge. I told Bridget that I’d put a call in to Lindsey at the clerk’s office to watch for that affidavit, and ask her to please hustle it to the judge as soon as it arrives. (She did do this for me, and hand delivered it to him when it came)

While I was back and forth with Bridget, I had also sent a text out to Susan. I was a little afraid to move forward without “hard” evidence, but after that call from Lisa, I wanted so much to tell her about the birth certificate. I didn’t know whether I’d ever get a copy, so I wanted to share what was on it. She texted right back and said she could take the call.

Making that call was more difficult than I anticipated at first. I was a nervous wreck. I remembered that, a few weeks back, she had told me that if my journey brought me back to them, they would welcome it. I held onto that, but you just never know how anyone will react in any situation, and this was big. I was literally shaking when she picked up the phone. Anyway, I got to the point pretty quickly. I told her about the “Infant Girl ___” on the pre- adoption papers, and the verbal confirmation of Lori’s name on my birth certificate. There was a very brief pause, and honestly I don’t remember her exact words. What I do remember is that she was so very kind. Also, while she did continue to express her confusion at how her sister managed to pull this off with no one knowing, she did say that she was very happy to know that this was the result. There were a few questions, most of which I couldn’t answer (like, about the birth father). We both agreed that we were anxious to hear what the judge would have to say, and hoping for a full release of records. In the meantime, she would communicate this update to Roger and the rest of the siblings.

After we finished our conversation, I felt like I wanted to reach out to Roger. The family party was now one week away. On my end, I really felt like I was getting enough answers to demonstrate that I was Lori’s baby. It was just a matter of time before there were papers. But the state confirmed it, right?? So, I just sent a little note to say that I felt like I should check in, in light of the latest update. I wanted to let him know that I was really happy about it all.

At 5:29pm on May 31, he responded. (It may seem unnecessary to time stamp- but there was SO MUCH going on in really small periods of time. Just trying to demonstrate that) Anyway, he said “I am [happy] too Carrie. I hope you understand my pushback earlier. It had nothing to do with you personally. I’m still stunned that Lori managed to keep a pregnancy secret from all of us. It just blows my mind. But I can assure you, we are all excited to welcome you into the family”.

Insert red heart emoji right here.

7. Brenda

While the days passed after I had submitted my petition, I was in almost daily contact with Bridget and Patrick, neither of whom had much more patience than I did. Bridget was busy digging around online, trying to find more random information on her own. Patrick and I were, by text, getting to know each other a little bit and were also keeping each other up to date with what was happening with each of our stories.

It turns out that Roger is friends with Patrick’s birth mom’s brother. Actually…the two families have known each other for many years. So once all this came up, eventually Patrick was able to make contact with his birth mom, “Annie”. That story belongs to them, though, so the details won’t be shared in this blog. Just know that it’s a happy one, and Patrick was sharing it with me as it slowly unfolded.

I had also reached out to Catholic Social Services (now known as Catholic Charities) to see if I would have any luck there. That was the agency that my adoption was through. I left several messages and waited. No response at first. When I did reach someone, I was told that I was doing everything I could through the court already and would need to wait. That agency is held to court orders as far as records access as well. So the days and the texts passed, and we waited, and we wondered…

On a Wednesday afternoon, about four weeks after the lunch with Roger and Susan, I got a text from Patrick. “I just got a Facebook friend request from Brenda, a cousin…and she is asking about you.” I remember having to sit down on my bed. Right after, he sent another message which was a forward of the one she sent to him. She explained her connection to the family and how happy she was to have learned about Patrick. She finished with, “On a side note, are you still in touch with Carrie?” He told me she would like to chat, and I couldn’t wait. He sent me to check my Facebook messages, where I found one from her. She had sent her phone number. So I messaged her right back and asked if she was free. “Call me”. So I did.

On the other end of the phone was the sweetest voice. She was so pleasant and just really wonderful, and I was a nervous wreck. Thank goodness, she got right to the point. She told me that she is the oldest daughter of Jack (the oldest brother in Lori’s family). What she said next will never, ever leave my memory. “You need to know that there are members of this family who believe that you are exactly who you think that you are.” What I remember after that was that I wasn’t able to not cry. I don’t know how to explain that kind of…I’m not even sure of the word…acceptance? The thing is, at this point, I really didn’t even know how many family members existed. I certainly didn’t know how many were aware that I had “appeared”. Beyond that, I had no way of knowing what anyone’s opinion of that could possibly be. But this. This was amazing.

We talked for at least an hour, I guess. She told me how she and her sisters had no idea that Lori had ever had a baby, but that the picture of the letter from 1994 had been shared around the family and that she and her sisters believed that Lori had written it. I couldn’t tell her how happy this made me. I told her that previously, Roger had made an effort to explain away various pieces of the letter. He admitted there were similarities, but thought there were “a lot of differences” as well. I mentioned that he had offered a DNA test to help rule the family out, but that I was hesitant. “Funny you mention that”, she said. Brenda had been researching labs in the area that would be able to do that type of test, and “Would you be willing to meet my dad this Saturday?” She thought it was time to stop waiting for court records.

I wasn’t sure what to say. I was so excited but also overwhelmed and a little intimidated. I got the sense that, within this family, there may be members who felt very differently about me and this situation. Obviously I had no way of knowing whether or not that was true, but that’s how I was feeling. But I did agree to the test. More on that in a minute.

If I’m really going to honestly cover my feelings at that time, I can’t leave out what was created by the constant comparison (within me) between my own experience and Patrick’s. This became part of the conversation with Brenda that day, too. I’m telling you…she is AWESOME. But anyway, here’s kind of what was going on. There was no mystery about Patrick. Everybody knew about him. At least Craig’s siblings did. So when he “popped up”, Craig’s family was very happy to have found him. By the time Brenda called me, Patrick was already in touch with his birth mom, and there was now a plan in place for a really nice family party for him, given by Roger and the rest of Craig’s family. I was an invited guest, and I was very happy to be included, and I really WAS so happy for Patrick. But it would not be truthful to say that I also wasn’t really hurting at that time. I mean, I just KNEW I was Lori’s baby. I wanted so much for everyone else to know it, too.

I would go over and over it in my mind. AncestryDNA had linked me to two of her nephews. The letter from 1994 matched an awful lot of details of her life. My pre-adoption name was her last name. I needed to remind myself that I was the only one who knew that piece, though. Brenda and I talked about all the rest, including Patrick’s party. She lives out of town, and wouldn’t be there, but told me that it’s a big reason why she called. It bothered her that there was a party being held for Patrick, and in her words, “what about Carrie?!” Now, to be clear, this is not about needing a party. I was needing acceptance. What I said then, and have said since, is that I never dreamed of a scenario in which I would have to prove my very existence, and it was not easy. I was determined to do it, though. So yes, I would take that DNA test.

I met Jack that Saturday morning. He greeted me with a smile and a warm hug, and we made small talk while we got our cheeks swabbed. I don’t know how he felt, but I just kept thinking that I couldn’t believe any of this. When we were finished, he treated me to a donut at the bakery next door, and we chatted a while. Some talk about each other’s families, my kids, his kids and grandkids. He told me he was pretty sure the test would be positive. He felt that the letter was Lori’s, and he said, “You look like her, and you sound like her”. I don’t remember what I said, but I will never forget that moment either. And as I’m writing this right now…it’s another moment when I stop and think about how that must have felt for him. How surreal, maybe? Maybe difficult? I’m standing there, out of the blue, reminding him of his sister who he lost years ago…and I might be a baby he never knew she had. I’m so thankful to him for coming to meet me that day. We had another week to wait for results.