On April 24, I picked up the phone and dialed the phone number of a young lady I believed was my birth daughter, and for the first time I heard her voice! Oh yes, it was awkward the first few seconds, but by the end of the conversation we both felt like I had reached the right person. We proceeded carefully. We went through the state registry for confirmation. What a wonderful young lady she is! She has love in her life and has been surrounded by a wonderful, loving family. What more could a birth mother hope for? She is married and has a son. She referred to them as, “The two loves of her life.” It helps me with looking forward.
We emailed, sent pictures, and spoke on the phone, and we have planned to meet sometime in the near future. My husband (her birth father) and my two children (her siblings) look forward to sharing our lives with her to whatever extent she chooses. We want her and her family to be assured that we will always care about them. Maybe it will become a close relationship, maybe not. But I know one thing for certain, my life is so much happier just sharing what we have so far.
I do believe there was a reason we found each other at that time in our lives. On August 28, we spoke by phone to confirm that we would each be evacuating ahead of Hurricane Katrina. We laughed at what a chore it was to pack up your belongings and fight the traffic, only to return home two days later and have to unpack everything. But that time was very different than past evacuations. My birth daughter lived near the coast in St Bernard, LA, and I lived in metro New Orleans. The area where she had grown up and built her own home was devastated, but our home was spared.
We continue to speak often, and I am amazed at her courage, strength, and determination. Her parents, who are deceased, would be so proud of how their daughter responded to that tragedy. I feel so blessed that she was raised by such wonderful people. She amazes me, and I pray that I will be able to help her rebuild her life and somehow be a part of her life.
