My Big Little Miracle

At some point, I feel like I’m going to need to split the two parts of this story like a fork in the road. One will follow the path toward my birth record and birth family, and the other will follow what becomes my new medical journey. That will probably need to begin with the next entry, but for this one I think I can still talk about both without getting too lengthy.

After lunch with Roger and Susan, I had a quick appointment with an adoption attorney. This was planned before the lunch, and obviously before I knew about any new medical history. I just wanted to speak with someone who would have legal expertise as far as my rights. I believed that I knew who my birth mother was and that she had passed away, and I wanted to know if that changed anything for me. I mean… legally, if she wasn’t here to oppose, would I be granted access to my records? The short answer was no. Death of the birth parent alone does not do that, at least not in this state.

But what about if there’s a potential medical necessity, I asked her. I explained what Susan had discussed at lunch. “That may make a difference”, she said. She gave me instructions, and I was out of there. Her office is within blocks of the courthouse and I couldn’t get there fast enough. I parked my car and made my way to the County Clerk’s office where I waited my turn, and was eventually greeted by a sweet young deputy clerk, “Lindsey”. I told her that I needed to petition to open my birth record from 1973, and she provided the form. It was a fresh copy of the same form I filled out in 1994. This time, though, after filling in the blanks, I would add comments at the bottom per the instructions of the attorney.

Before I got started, though, I verified with Lindsey that I had the correct form. “Can I tell you what I’m trying to do?”, I asked her. She nodded, and I told her everything from 1994 to Ancestry.com to the obituary to lunch to that moment- and I told her that now, not only do I want answers, but also am now concerned about a hereditary disease. That sweet girl’s eyes teared up, and she said, “I want to help you.” She told me to get started on the form, while she went to the basement to see if my records were in the building or were old enough to have been sent elsewhere.

While she was gone, I worked on that petition. She was back within minutes, and was smiling. “I found your file”, she said. “And I also found your pre-adoption name. Infant Girl ___”

Oh my gosh. There it was. Lori’s last name. Lindsey and I stood there smiling and tearful, and I could NOT believe that after all these years of wondering, the moment of confirmation ( at least for me) came at the County Clerk’s office window! Ha! But it was confirmed nonetheless. I couldn’t prove it though…she didn’t show me one piece of documentation. She couldn’t. I would have to wait for that. My petition was headed to the state capitol, where a state worker would attempt to reach Lori, and when they couldn’t, a judge would decide whether or not I got the records…and there was no timeline on this. Since I had no proof, I didn’t share this (at least not immediately) with Lori’s siblings. I needed more than this.

That evening, I got online and looked up HHT. Hereditary Hemorrhagic Telangiectasia. It’s a genetic disorder that causes malformed blood vessels, and can affect multiple organs in the body. This is the first thing I read on the cureHHT.org home page. The next heading I clicked on was signs and symptoms, and the first symptom mentioned is recurring nosebleeds. Interesting- I’ve had them for as long as I can remember. Nothing major, I can always get them stopped pretty easily, but they are regular. So much so, that recently I was blown away talking to a coworker who told me that she had never had one. That is unreal to me…I thought everybody got them. Apparently not.

I continued to read, and found that another complication of HHT is migraine headaches- which I have battled for 30 years. This has really got my attention at this point. Then I saw a link for HHT Centers of Excellence. There are 22 in the United States. One of them is at one of the Nation’s top Pediatric hospitals…where I work. What are the odds? Additionally, some of the treatment for the abnormal vessels is done by Interventional Radiologists, and I work in perioperative services. I know some people who might have some answers for me. Sweet!

So, the next time I was at work (maybe the next day, but certainly within the week) I grabbed my favorite Interventional Radiologist, Dr. Manish Patel. We’ve had a friendly working relationship for a few years…everybody on our unit enjoys his relaxed and friendly personality. Anyway, I remember asking him “What do you know about HHT?” And he told me he’s part of the treatment team. Of course. “Why?”, he asked. So I said…”I think I might have it.” And he laughed at me. “Why in the world would you say that?” So, I explained how AncestryDNA linked me to a family that definitely does have it, and that I have nosebleeds. He said “Holy s*%t I could end up doing your angiogram.”

We both kind of laughed at the idea of that, but then I had questions, and was of course ready to put the cart WAY in front of the horse, as I’m often known to do. He explained that I should and would start with some clinical testing, and he would put me in touch with the appropriate people to get that ball rolling.

This is now the part of this story where I had to try to patiently wait. I wasn’t good at it. It would be weeks before I really had answers to any of this, but it wasn’t the last of the surprises.

I sent messages to two brothers and one sister of “Lori”‘s. I told them that I had been doing some work on Ancestry.com, which had linked me to one of their nephews. Then I explained that a further search led me to his father (their brother) and an obituary for their sister. After that, I asked if they knew whether she had given up a baby for adoption in 1973…because I felt that baby might be me. I also told them that although I wasn’t looking for anything from them, I did hope that they might be willing to meet with me. I was hopeful for the chance to share with her family that she had made a beautiful and selfless choice, and that I have had a happy life with wonderful parents. I was also hopeful to learn more about the person she was. I sent the messages, and then I prayed, and I waited.

It was about 24 hours before I received a response, and it was from who I now know to be Lori’s youngest brother, “Roger”. He wanted to tell me that he received my message and was trying to coordinate a time for he and his sister “Susan” to meet with me. However, he wanted to let me know that my birth date was “inconsistent with a time when Lori may have had a baby”. I was a little disappointed, but I wasn’t discouraged. I knew there had to be a mistake somewhere, and that it was a matter of figuring it out. We messaged back and forth, because it was very important to me to clarify that I wasn’t intending to cause trouble of any kind, but that I was only looking for answers. He couldn’t have been more kind…he really didn’t see how it was possible, but still wanted to help me find answers. Looking back, I’m beyond thankful for this. He most certainly could have told me to get lost.

We made plans to meet for lunch the following week, but before we wrapped up the online conversation, I couldn’t help but to keep asking questions. On one hand, I felt like I was being pushy, and on the other I just couldn’t wait! He ended up creating a group chat, adding Susan to the conversation. (The other brother that I had messaged eventually did respond to say that he knew his siblings were helping me, and trusted that they would help as much as they could) While we were messaging, I had gotten out the letter from 1994, and was asking questions about details stated in the letter. I even sent them a picture of the letter. Susan did admit that the letter seemed “quite accurate” but couldn’t explain it due to the timing.

I was also re-reading Roger’s message about a “time when [Lori] may have had a baby”. May have? Was that in question? So, I asked him. “Do you know that she did have a baby? Do you know when?” He told me that she did, but that her baby was born in 1964. Honestly, my first thought was, is this date a mistake? I know just enough about unwed pregnancies back then to know that people did a LOT of unusual things to hide pregnancies, so I wondered if maybe the date had been misreported? Although, I also realized that nine years is a long time to fudge a birth date. Hmm. Susan went on to explain that she remembered it all quite accurately. She was only two years younger than Lori, and that it was certainly 1964. OK. I knew there HAD to be more to this story, but I needed to let it go until I could get more information.

But I still needed to tell them about Patrick!! For whatever reason, I sent THAT first message to Roger only. I apologized, as I knew I was coming at him with a TON of heavy stuff in a short time. But I asked if he knew if his late brother “Craig” fathered a child that was adopted as well. I explained how Patrick and I came to be in touch, and that although he had never pursued his birth family before, he was interested in whether anyone knew about him. Roger responded with a “WOW. That is a lot to take in.” But that he (and the family) did know about Craig’s baby, and he was happy to hear that he was happy and well. That evening, Patrick and Roger had each other’s phone numbers, and Patrick’s journey to his birth family started. In the meantime, I had a lunch date to look forward to!

It was a very sunny Tuesday afternoon, about a week later, when we all met for lunch at one of my favorite places. Roger had suggested it and I just got lucky. They were already there when I arrived, and both stood to greet me with big smiles and warm hugs. I was searching their faces for familial resemblances. I felt like my nose and Susan’s were similar, but couldn’t decide if they really were, or if I was just too hopeful. The conversation was easy and friendly, and eventually got to why we were there. Susan primarily talked about the baby that was born in 1964, or what she knew of it. I say that because, as it was in many cases at that time, Lori was kicked out of school and sent away to have the baby. She didn’t return until long after that. None of Lori’s siblings ever saw the baby, and didn’t even know an exact date of birth, but she did remember that it was 1964. She went on to talk about what it was like, in general, back then for unwed girls. She spoke of the shame that was brought on girls and their families, and how that translated to the reaction Lori got from their father. I’m pretty sure I remember her using the word “armageddon”. As she spoke, my heart started to break for Lori. I had heard things like this, but to hear it in detail, applied to a specific person, was difficult. How traumatic that must have been…ripped away from her life, from a boy she loved, from her school and friends, and then a baby taken from her. When she finally did come home, it was never to be spoken of again. Awful.

Roger offered to get a DNA test done between him and me. He felt that it was unlikely that I was Lori’s baby, so if he could help rule their family out, it might help point me in the direction of the correct birth family. It was very generous of him, but I hated to ask him to do it if it wasn’t necessary. Besides, I was hoping to get my hands on my original Birth Certificate. If I could do that, I’d have everything I needed. Susan casually asked if I was driven to any of this because I was concerned about my medical history. I really wasn’t. Then she said, “we have something in our family called HHT”. I had never heard of it. She described it as a vascular disease, and that she had it. She pointed out little pink spots on her lips and tongue that 1. I would never have noticed but 2. are apparently signs of the disease.

We wrapped up lunch with a plan for me to head directly to the court house to see about getting my Birth Certificate. They asked me to keep in touch, and let them know what I was able to find out, and I promised I would. More smiles and hugs were exchanged before I left.

Before the end of that day, I was about to get one big confirmation…and start a whole second journey.

On the afternoon that I had given my Ancestry login ID to Bridget, I headed off to the grocery. It was a gray Sunday. As I was pulling into my driveway, my phone rang through my car. It was Bridget. “Don’t kill me”, she said, “but I found two cousins, and sent messages to both of them as if I were you.” My first reaction was laughter. Like, what the heck?! The next feeling was disbelief. It had only been 2-3 hours and she had already located cousins? What I know now, is that Ancestry makes it easy for you, pointing out which relatives are closely related. Bridget, being familiar with the site, could easily see this. She had found two 2nd-3rd cousins. What was more crazy is that one had already responded.

“So, one of them is listed by initials only, and the other by name. The named one hasn’t responded, but I have a response from the other.” Turns out the initials were those of a child, so I won’t use them here. It doesn’t change the story. That child’s mother responded. She explained that she had submitted her child’s DNA because the father had been adopted, and they were just curious about heritage…they hadn’t really been looking for people. She went on to say, though, that it sounded like I was related on his side, and not hers. (When Bridget had contacted her, she had mentioned a couple of other relatives that appeared in my Ancestry report) She said that she’d be happy to ask him if he’d like to get in touch with me if I was interested.

It was at this point that Bridget handed communications back to me. Of course, I was interested, and within another couple of hours, cell phone numbers had been exchanged, and my phone was ringing. On the other end was Patrick.

I literally don’t know how or where to begin to describe this, but for me, the connection with Patrick was instant. He is FULL of life, and that came right through the phone, even though he’s hundreds of miles away. Something along the lines of “HEY! So, it sounds like we’re cousins?!” was how the conversation got started.

Patrick told me all he knew about his birth and adoption. He was born in the same area that I was. But, when he was very young, his family moved away, so he wasn’t raised here, and has always lived hundreds of miles from here. The only information he had of his birth parents was a photocopy of a newspaper article reporting the death of his birth father in 1978. All identifying information had been blacked out. His first name was there, and there was a picture of him. He was a handsome young man, and was described as a good athlete, a good student, and someone who was well loved by all he knew. He died of a ruptured vessel in his brain while jogging. Patrick didn’t have any information about his birth mother.

Meanwhile, Bridget was hard at work, trying to find whatever information she could with what she had from my Ancestry report. Remember that other cousin? Well, he never did respond to her message, but Bridget was able to search and find his father’s name. Then, she quickly did a Google search of that name. At 6:25pm (about 5.5 hours after she logged in to my account), she said “I think I found your birth mom’s and Patrick’s birth dad’s side. Patrick’s dad and your birth mom are brother and sister. I think. And I think unfortunately your birth mom has passed away.” This was sent by text message, and the next message was an image of an obituary for “Lori”…my birth mom. It would be weeks before I could prove that to be the case, but I knew it was her as soon as I saw her.

It wasn’t necessarily because I feel that I’m her spitting image, although I do see similarities between us. I also didn’t immediately read the obituary and piece a few things together. I just looked at her, and I knew it, and I was so, so sad. I remember where I was sitting. We were still having work done in our kitchen, so the whole family was in the basement family room, and I was on our old couch. I looked up from my phone, and through tears, said to my husband- “I think I’ve finally found my birth mother, and she’s gone.” It’s hard to describe, even today, feeling a loss like that. I never knew, or will know her. But I did, and still do feel that loss. More about that later, though…I don’t want to get off track.

I went on to read the obituary, and was texting back and forth like crazy with Bridget. There was mention of parents and siblings, nieces, and nephews, but no mention of spouse or children. That would line up with what she told me in her letter in 1994. Then, there was also mention of a brother who had preceded her in death…and his first name was the same as Patrick’s father’s in the newspaper article! I felt like the story was coming together, even though there was sad news. I had now been linked by DNA to two of her nephews, and the obituary of this woman (at least in my mind) matched the description of the woman who wrote the letter signed “Your birth mother”. Bridget and Patrick agreed.

Looking back, I don’t know what, if any, my next step would have been if Bridget had found my birth mother alive and well. I don’t know that I could or would have contacted someone who had so clearly told me they didn’t want that. I try not to dwell on this too much, because that wasn’t the case. Now that I knew she had passed, the next decision was whether to reach out to her family. I made that decision quickly. Bridget and I found a few siblings on Facebook, (we had the names from the obituary) and I sent messages that evening. I wrote and re-wrote them. I tried to word them as carefully as I could, but really, there was no getting around the amount of shock the messages would potentially bring. I truly did not intend to upset anyone’s family, but I just wanted answers so badly. At this point, I felt like those answers were so close, I wasn’t able to resist asking for them. So I sent the messages, and sent up a TON of prayers. Of all the scenarios I imagined, I never could have imagined the one that was about to unfold.