My story...

April 30, 2008

[FONT=Arial]I've always wanted to share my story with anonymous people so I will do it on here. Many friends have asked me about meeting my birthfamilies. I'll try to type as much as possible, but I don't know the maximum number of characters this thing will take! Guess I find out, huh.

[/FONT][FONT=Arial]I knew from a very young age that I was adopted. Growing up, the thing I missed the most was having a sibling. I would see others with their siblings and pretend I had one. I think I created one when I was younger, just to have someone to talk to. As I got older, I found myself looking around at people's faces and ask myself if I looked like them. When you are adopted and young, some feel like they have no identity because they don't "look" like their parents. I guess I felt a little like that, although, both my parents are short :). I had a good childhood growing up, throwing myself in things at school that kept me happy; cheerleading, jazz choir, regular choir, music, volunteering at the hospital as a "candy striper."

When I was about 13 I decided to be a snoop. I found a letter in a safe that described my birthparents and what their situation was. The letter said that my birthparents were young, not married, and they thought it was the best decision to give me up to a family that could take care of me. It said my father was of Amish background, and my mother of Catholic. It said my mother liked to sing and stamp collect. It said my father liked water sports (I was petrified of water). It also said that my father's family wanted to keep me but couldn't because they weren't married. I started to create this visual image of what they were like. Guess that's why I started to wonder where my identity came from.

Things kind of proceeded as normal, or as normal as they could be. I didn't tell my parents, but I called my best friends, Sarah. I kind of freaked out but she was there to support me. That was something I needed in my life, because being a teenager and having no brothers and sisters was something that was difficult; you can't, or find it hard to, talk to your parents about these things.

I started hanging out with some older kids; ok, 1 or 2 years older, and started sneaking out, lying, staying out late, drinking Boone's (yeah, you remember.) I never did get drunk though, sleep around, cheat at school, or break the law. I guess this was my way of rebelling. I'm sure some of you think, "wow, that's so not a wild child." That was my way of doing it; I didn't want to hurt my parents by doing something illegal, but I thought that maybe if I did a few things wrong, they would listen to what I wanted.

On the night of my 15th birthday (I remember so well), I snuck out with 2 girls. They were the "older" girls. We went to an apartment nearby.. The guy I was dating (if you call snuggling on a couch dating) called and said "your parents are up." I had to lie and say I was with someone else. They didn't know who she was so it was easy enough. I couldn't have my friends parents find out; we would all be in deep crap.

The next morning was the Football Jamboree at my high school; I was a sophomore cheerleader on the JV Squad. :cheer: My mom told me not to have any plans that night because we were going to talk to my youth minister about my behavior. I thought "how dare she have him invade my life!" How dare he ask me about my thoughts, feelings, etc. He has no clue that these people don't know me; they aren't my parents! :hissy: Oops...there it came. Growing up, I had NEVER, ever said that my parents were not my parents; just because you do not give birth to a child does not mean you are not qualified to raise him or her. I was so upset with my mom; I didn't speak to her for quite a while. I was daddy's little girl, so I could talk to him. I had talked to him before about finding my birthparents, but who the hell thinks a 15 year old is ready for that? I sure thought I was. Mom--not so much. They found out that I had found this letter, and my father said "eventually." My mom just said "not now." I took that as "not in your life."

I grew older and my relationship with my parents became better. When I went away to college I always thought to myself I would search when I was 21. I still wasn't of age yet, but it crossed the back of my mind. A friend of mine saw something on tv saying "search for your family." She said she would help if she needed me to. I decided now was the time to talk to my mother about this need that I had. She finally said "if you want to find out, we will help you. We just don't want you to be disappointed."

At that point, I knew things were going to different. I knew I had the support of my family, but I had no idea what my biological families had thought about me wanting to find them. What if they didn't want to know me? What if they were married? Would that change things? The worst question of all, are they still alive.

I turned 21 the summer of 1998. I thought "now is my chance!" I became so caught up with going to school, working full time, being a cheerleading coach, and going out with my friends. Not that I didn't want to do it, but it was going to be consuming and maybe part of me figured they would find me first. That's exactly what happened.

I received a letter right before Christmas of 1998. It was Catholic Social Services. It was address to my parents, but, ha, of course I was going to be the one to open it. I read it and it said they had information regarding my adoption and needed them to contact the office. Yeah, right. I was going to be doing the calling. So I did.

I don't remember making the call, all I remember is someone telling me they would call me back.:phone: I had plans on getting my haircut so I went to the mall to kill time. Mind you, this is Christmas shopping traffic at the Mall and it was awful. I got in my car and started driving to my appointment. The woman called me back and she said "I have a letter and a picture of your birthmother and she would like to meet you. Can you come to the office?" Oh my god, is all I could think. A flurry of feelings rushed over me. I think I was numb from head to toe. I drove as fast as I could to downtown. I called everyone on my cell phone to tell them, but I didn't call my parents. Why? I didn't know what to say, didn't want to hurt them, a lot of didn't's.

When I got there, I went in this room with a round table and a box of Kleenex on the table. The woman sat down and pushed a letter across the table along with a picture. I turned the picture around and realized I had a brother. A brother! I looked at her and said to myself, she doesn't look like me. Almost as if I started questioning everything all over again.

I read the letter and she said how hard it was for her to write this. She said she was 16 when she got pregnant, 17 when she had me. She had a very difficult time with it. She said I have a brother who will be 16 (I think). I could probably type the whole letter because it's pretty much memorized. After I read the letter, the lady then told me "your dad died when you were 2." Having heard that, I started to sob. The one person I knew about (from the first letter I found) wanted to keep me, but now he is not around. I left the office full of emotions and I can't even tell you what they were. I can tell you, however, that the hole in my heart had been filled. You honestly don't know it was even there until it's gone.

I went to see my friends and told them. All of them women in the store I was at (which I knew none of them) heard me reading the letter out loud. There wasn't a dry eye in the room. I decided I needed to go home and absorb all of this.

I got home and went to my room. My parents were in the other, b[/FONT][FONT=Arial]ut I couldn't talk to them yet. I was still a mess trying to decide what I wanted to do.

I went to work the next day (contacts don't work in bloodshot eyes). I told everyone what happened. Their first question was "what did your parents say?" I couldn't answer them because they didn't know. I decided that afternoon, they had to know.

I got home, standing there in my Marriott uniform, and told them they needed to sit down. I had to tell them something. No I wasn't pregnant! I told them I had a letter from my birthmom and my brother and they wanted to meet me. I read the letter and they were both crying. My mom then said we should make a book of my life growing up. My mom, the person who was scared, wanted to have the person who missed my life growing up feel as if she was a part of it from the start.

I wrote a letter to Teresa (my birthmom). I think I tried to write it about 20 times but didn't like my handwriting, didn't like the wording, something looked dumb, you know. I sent the letter with a picture. I contacted the agency to let them know I sent it, and told them I would like to arrange a time to meet her. Talk about a Christmas present. Since the weather was awful, mail was delayed. Teresa thought I didn't want to meet her, when it was the total opposite. I couldn't wait.

[/FONT][FONT=Arial]She called the agency and said she hadn't gotten my letter and was worried she didn't want to meet me. They said not to worry; they knew I wanted to meet her. I had moved the meeting UP by a week because I was so ancy. That afternoon, she got my letter and picture. She scanned the picture and emailed it to everyone in her address book, including my Aunt Tammy; she is my birthfathers sister. They still kept in touch after my father died, saying this day would happen.

The day we met, January 14, 1999 was a day I will never forget. I tried to figure out how to do my hair, what to wear, etc. We drove to the agency. Apparently, Teresa saw me before she got the agency; she had looked over while she was driving and we were in the car next to her. She said I looked petrified which I think I was. Nathan, my brother, was in the car with her, and said "hey mom, isn't that her?" I never even noticed.

I got in a room with a round table (again) and had my parents across from me. The lady then said "she's here, do you want to meet her." Um, duh? Teresa and Nathan walked in, and I lost it. I grabbed her and we hugged and cried for about 10 minutes. We sat down across from each other and just stared at each other. Go back to the identity thing; we look identical.

We spent the whole afternoon and evening together, including my parents. I took her to the hotel where I worked and introduced her to everyone I knew. They told me I was floating. I think they were right. I don't remember my feet touching the ground.

We had lunch and then managed to sneak off for a few minutes to be by ourselves. We giggled. We have the same laugh. The same eyebrows and the same bent finger. The same hips (childbearing that is.) Same haircolor if I would quit coloring mine.

We made arrangements for the next weekend for me to come spend time with her. We decided to meet my birthfather's parents and my aunts, uncles and cousins. Remember I told you she scanned my picture and sent it to everyone? That included them. When I made the trip to Elkhart, the first person I met was Tammy; my birthfather's sister. She and Teresa had kept in touch for 20 something years knowing this day would happen. We spent time with them and decided they wanted to surprise my grandparents. We were to meet the next day but Tammy was too excited and didn't want to wait. It's dark and they hid in the bushes and made me knock on the door. Grandma Ida answered and she looked thru the door, backed up, looked again and then grabbed me. I remember crying (did a lot of that huh). I met my grandpa who reminded me of Santa; white beard, great laugh and round belly. He looked at me and said "that's Tony's daughter." I have the same eyes as my father and grandfather. I am thankful for that.

Teresa decided she wanted to go meet her parents; this was unexpected and we all didn't quite know how to react. It wasn't a hugging crying moment, but a little more awkward; mainly because they didn't know I was coming and in all fairness, they didn't have time to prepare. We had dinner with them and then went back to Teresa's house. I was exhausted at this point.

The next afternoon, I met my cousins, aunts and uncles. I discovered that Grandma was the best cook I had ever met. I come from an Amish background, which explains my love to build things and tear things apart. I looked at picture after picture of my birthfather growing up. The one I remember the most is his senior picture; it was one of those blue sueded looking suites that were so popular. I have it embedded in my brain. They told me that when he found out about me, it killed him that I wouldn't be around, so he left and joined the military. He wasn't killed in action, but rather a car accident. They were late getting back to the baracks in Germany and went around a corner too fast. When I kept looking at the pictures, I kept expecting him to get older but the pictures stopped. They stopped around the age of 21. The same age I was. It was so unfair. I felt sick; they had known for 20 years that he was gone, I hadn't even known for a few months. It was heartwrenching. I had a lot of anger towards him; I was upset that he left, but he had to do what he had to do. I am very close to my birthfather's parents, mainly because I am all they have that's left of their son. Vice versa.

After leaving from this emotional weekend (yes weekend) I came back home. That night I went to sleep, I had one of the most memorable dreams I will ever have, and I know there is a reason to not have it again. Teresa and I were up in the night sky, stars all around. We were singing, not sure what, probably just humming. I looked over and there was a huge white fluffy daybed. Brass railings and all. Tony looked at me from the bed, in the blue suit. He was under the covers. He looked at me, grinned, then rolled over and went to sleep. It's as if he had closure. I fully believe in the power of dreams. He is able to sleep well in heaven now.

Years went by and Teresa and I stayed close. She met a man named Michael and decided to move to Vermont to be with him. After being angry for a while I accepted that it was what she wanted. I didn't want her to leave me again and didn't think it was fair. I couldn't be selfish. She has been married to Michael for a few years and he is wonderful to her. I just saw her this past August. My brother Nathan, is Nathan. We don't talk that much, but I love him. I am close with all of my family and believe it or not, the relationship with my mom has gotten even stronger. I consider her one of my best friends, and I as hers.

I believe that I am lucky to have as many families as I do. I have my Dad's side, Mom's side, my husband's side, my birthfather's side and my birthmother's side. Sometimes I wish we were all in the same place so we can see each other all at the same time, but that's only in my perfect world. As someone brilliant once said, everything happens for a reason, and I fully believe that. [/FONT]