The Search Begins

     “Do you think you’ll ever look for your birth mom?” Whenever anyone heard my adoption story they would inevitably ask me that question. My answer has always been no, not really. I always felt that I just couldn’t interrupt her life by showing up on her doorstep, revealing to her family a long hidden secretive pregnancy and bringing shame or turmoil to a probably normal life. Besides that, I didn’t need it for self-fulfillment and I was totally okay with the fact that I was given up for adoption as a baby. It would have been neat to be a fly on the wall, perhaps see a picture or two to check out resemblance, or maybe even to discover some medical history (although the unknown makes filling out any medical history form a breeze!). But really, I never had a deep inner desire to seek her out or to re-establish that relationship. So I never pictured myself searching or making contact. That was, until recently.

            Having this very discussion with friends in March of this year, I spoke about some birth family details that I did know, thanks to the tidbits my adoptive parents knew and later told me and the information I had received from a Children’s Aid adoption report years ago. Piecing a couple of things together, Ed hops on Calvin and Jennifer’s computer and proceeds to search a few key items including my birth last name, and up pops an article and picture of a gentleman who could very well be the half brother I've been told I have.

            Over the next few days, I searched a little more, and discovered that he just might fit the bill. After all, he graduated a few years ahead of me, so he might be slightly older than myself. He’s had a lifelong career in the hotel and hospitality business, something my parents mentioned ran in the family. He even has those familiar cheeks when he smiles as well. But how could I approach him? Would he have even known about me? Would my birth mother resent me for exposing her secret and showing up all these years later?

            I sat on this for a couple of weeks, undecided as to what to do, but leaning more towards not doing anything. Then one day, after having a discussion with my daughter Jessica, her question: “Mom, what do you have to lose?” was all I needed to hear in order to make my decision. What did I have to lose? I had already “lost” my birth mother, so it wasn’t as if losing her again would be a great void in my life. I didn’t know any different, so anything at this point would be gain. And what if my contact would provide some relief or peace for her? Wouldn’t it be worth it to at least attempt to reach out, even for her sake if not for my own? I could at the very least thank her and let her know I was okay.

            So in April, I carefully crafted an email. If this was indeed a brother, I had to be gentle with my words. I was sure to express my appreciation for my birth mother, yet give enough details of the birth family that if this was actually a family connection there would be no doubt in his mind. So I proceeded to describe the approximate ages of my birth mom and her siblings (my non-identifying information in the Children's Aid report was actually quite comprehensive, I'll have to thank my birth mom for doing that!). I thought that even if no-one knew of this shameful, hidden pregnancy, certainly they could piece together the details to come up with the right person and the right branch of the family tree.

            Five days went by. No word. Did he toss the email aside as junk mail? Is he reeling in shock from the information I provided and the secret I revealed? But then I finally I receive a brief email, indicating he had asked some family members about this, but they came up short. Sorry, no one knows anything about this but best wishes with my search. I fire off a pleasant response, thanking him for his time and to keep me in mind should anything surface.

            So what goes through your mind when you think you’ve figured it out but you’ve hit a dead end like this one? I wasn’t crushed, after all, remember, I really had nothing to lose. I have never really felt unfulfilled by not knowing my birth mother, and in fact, because I've always been totally at peace with how I came to be and where I ended up, that actually gave me much more fulfillment. Knowing that God had worked all the details together to place me in a loving, Christian home was great satisfaction to me all these years. My life has been a testimony to God’s amazing grace and I marvel at the second chance I received through adoption. Essentially, my earthly adoption has been a tangible, earthly parallel to God's spiritual adoption of me. Quite frankly, I get it. And I'm extremely thankful for being adopted into both my temporary home here on earth and my eternal home in heaven.