A first step...

"Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step."

~ Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

 

Once i got to the adoption registration site, I started questioning myself. What if my memory was not correct...what if I still had the wrong date. What if he wasn't looking for me...so many what ifs. There were so many different ways to search on the site...depending on how little or how much you knew. Seeing as I had so little information I decided to widen the search...I placed November 1969 and pressed search...1,569 matches came up for November 1969. (The one very important information I had was that I had seen names on the final adoption papers before the judge quickly covered them...Over the years I wasn't even sure if I really saw them or if I imagined I saw them. Any time I would search those names over the years I came up with nothing. So who knew what the mind makes up or truly saves.)

The matches came up with different categories that ran across the top of the page...

                         Adoptee Name...Birth date...Birthplace...Submitted by.
 
I decided that I would concentrate on the Birth place column, not letting my eyes go right or left to any of the other columns. I would start on November 1st...Looking for Rochester, New York. There were 32 pages of names...mothers looking for children...children looking for parents...siblings looking for each other.  On November 9...I saw Rochester, NY, but it was a female searching...November 12 was a male searching but there was very little information...November 14 there was another male listed but he was born at the wrong hospital. There on page 17 I found November 15...I saw Rochester, NY I looked across the categories to Adoptee name...And there I saw the last name that I remembered from so long ago (the spelling was a little different)...the last name that would make me scream right out loud...OH MY GOD! I was physically shaking...I was crying...I kept saying over and over...I HAVE FINALLY FOUND HIM. I got up from my chair and started walking around the room...I was shaking...I was in total shock...after all the years of searching there he was... I sat back down and clicked on to see the information that he had provided...He had very little information listed, all he knew was that he was born on November 15, 1969, and that he was adopted at birth through a private adoption. He did not know the lawyers name...or the hospital he was born in. He wrote that he was short...had brown hair and blue eyes. That he was a teacher with an MA. and that he was married. He also had 2 adopted siblings...a brother and a sister.

What do I do with this information? Should I sit here and take it all in? Should I press on the e mail address provided and tell him that I believed that I was his mother?  I sat staring at the computer crying, but knowing for the first time that my son was looking for ME...He was searching the internet and had been doing so since 2001...OK...so I believed it was him...my heart told me it was him...but I really needed more proof...so I set about "stalking" him on the internet. I googled him..I yahooed him...I even binged him. I would type in his name, press search  and came up with information about where he taught, the subject he taught...BIOLOGY, and what students thought of him. I would press again  and then that would lead me to another site that gave me his address and phone number and for a small fee I could purchase personal information about him (if he had a criminal record)...I wanted to see his parents full names somewhere...And finally there they were listed under his name on a paying site...May be related to: it listed his parents, his wife, and his brother and sister...I was staring at the names of his parents just like I remembered...the only difference was I had been spelling their last name wrong all these years...I was one letter off in a last name that I thought ended in "son"...when it was actually "sen". I would of never found him had I not talked to my facebook "friend" who helped my heart unlock the date of his birth.

As I continued to search I found a website that he started in 2001...Six Degrees of Separation was the heading..."Someone knows someone who knows someone who know my birth mother, please help me locate her by sending this off to everyone that you know." He had a letter there that said he has had a wonderful life...and that he did not know the reasons he was placed up for adoption , he knew that it was the hardest thing I  had ever done, and he knew that it was out of love for him that I did that. Up at the top of the site were categories...one of them was  "About Us". At first, I was hesitant to click it on...it was probably a plug for the site to get you to purchase something...But I finally did and there...there I found pictures of my son...pictures of his wife...pictures of his 3 children. A flood of emotions poured out of me.

Here I sat at 11:00 in the evening, on Thursday, May 8th looking at a picture of my son...a son who was no longer 3 days old...a son who was married now with a family of his own. My son was looking at me from the computer...he looked like my family...he had our high cheek bones...our blue eyes...that funny little grin...he had our hands...My 3 day old son grew up before my very eyes...he was no longer the baby that I kept safe in my heart...He was 42 years old now...and the powerful feelings of a new mother, who was seeing her child for the first time washed over me like a wave....a wave of love. I was alone in the house, my good husband was not here...but I raised my head toward the sky and thanked him for sending this man my way.

Where do I go from here? I went back to the adoption registry site and wrote an E mail to him by using a mail address that he had on that site...I also sent another e mail from his six degrees of separation site...I told him my name...I told him I was from Rochester, New York...I told him that I believed we had a connection and would he like to talk either by the net, I sent my personal e mail address or by phone, which I also sent along...

I could do nothing now but wait...

Dear Patricia,

You have waited a long time for this. Be patient. Be gentle with yourself. That site was made 11 years ago, today he may feel differently. He is no longer missing...he has been found. Be patient.

When we reach the stage where we decide to search, or we have been found you revert back to that 17 year old (or whatever age you were). Emotions that were buried surface and are very hard to contain. How did or would you feel if you found that missing piece of your life on the web? What would you do? How quickly would you do it or would you sit on it for awhile? Would you send an email, a letter, a phone call? What would you say?

 

Red Thread...

"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place or circumstances. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break."
...Ancient Chinese belief

I am not sure how many people believe in fate...believe in miracles...believe in the fact that there are signs that we should pay attention to. But, I do!  Finding my son was a series of things that just added up after 43 years. I believe it was just suppose to happen for me. I was led down a path that I would not have ordinarily take. I was suppose to "friend" someone on facebook that I had not had any contact with since I was 15 years old. This person was suppose to open up locked doors for me. And at the time I had no idea that "friending" them would make that happen.

He told me his story about finding his daughter just a month before. How he had been searching for her for so long and final found her via an adoption registry site. He had contacted a friend of hers in order to get her to talk with him, she had been searching for a long time also. But like all of us who search she was hesitant to believe that this could finally really be happening. He had to contact his daughter's Mother (someone he had not seen in many years) after he found out her married name. Yes, searching is a series of obstacles, some painful, some dead ends, and it is not for the faint at heart. In order to get confirmation that all of these people were a match only the Mother could register with the state, as most Fathers are not listen on personal adoption information. I believe that the adoption system did that to a  lot of us back then. That a lot of Fathers were dismissed without any consideration. I had no knowledge that this state registry even existed. I was always under the impression that the state wanted us to know NOTHING about our children. However, if both child and parent are registered than the state will provide names and addresses for both parties.

It was May 8, 2012 and his story filled me with hope. I felt safe talking to him and told my similar story, minus the reuniting. Once again I had to admit that I did not remember the exact date of his birth...SURE YOU DO he said, its there locked inside of you. I felt as if I needed to defend myself to let him know that I was not a bad mother for not remembering....and then as I told him the date that I always said it was....November 17...I felt my heart explode and I stated sobbing uncontrollably. He apologized for making me sad...he was sorry that I could not remember the date of his birth, but that he knew it was just locked away deep inside. No....that is not it I said...I remember the date....It was November 15, 1969...November 17 was the last day that I saw him.  The day I placed him in the arms of a stranger. I quickly asked him what site he went on where he found his daughter. There are hundreds of sites...some free but most want money from you to search....some are legit...some are fly by night. He gave me the name of the registry that was free and on line. I told him if I found anything I would let him know. I thanked him with all my heart for sharing his story with me....for helping me to unlock a key piece of my "secret".

My heart was racing....I was scared...I was crying...but now, I was armed with what I felt was the right information....now I had what my heart finally knew was his actual birth date...this was a HUGE new discovery....

I turned on the computer, nervously typed in the site and held my breath. I had never been on this site before....I was taking the first step down this new path.

Dear Patricia,

This is going to take a lot of courage. I know that you have the strength to do this....
May all your heart desires me within your reach today.

This is my wish for you:
Comfort on difficult days,
Smiles when sadness intrudes,
Rainbows to follow the clouds,
Laughter to kiss our lips,
Sunsets to warm your heart,
Hugs when spirits sag,
Beauty for your eyes to see,
Friendships to brighten your being,
Faith so that you can believe,
Confidence for when you doubt,
Courage to know yourself,
Patience to accept the truth,
Love to complete your life.
~Anonymous

Where are you on your path? Are you searching? Reunited?  How do you comfort yourself? Do you know how strong you really are? Can you find a way to believe in your strength and courage?

Depression...

I feel locked up...and locked in....

I have suffered from depression and anxiety for years. I have been on and off medication for it since the birth of my son in 1969. There were times that I would be in such a dark place that I did not even know how I got there. What triggered it or how to get out of it. Medication helped during those times. There were times that I would spin into a depression and realize that it was March...the month I discovered I was pregnant. Or maybe it was November the month of his birth and the month that I place him for adoption. Perhaps it was September when I signed the final adoption papers in 1970. I hated Thanksgiving and could not wait till it passed, this was the first holiday that was about a week after the birth of my son. And we won't even talk about Mother's Day when here I was a Mother who was never acknowledged till 3 years later when I had my daughter.

Depression and anxiety go hand in hand with adoption. I don't care which side of the triad you are on. The adoptive couple who have to deal with not being able to have children. The adoptee who wonders about the "why" was I given up. Or the birth mother who carries around the secret. We each have our own set of problems that come with adoption. Some of us face them, others do not. I am choosing to face mine. To deal with them and heal my heart.

In 2001 I wrote this poem in November around my sons' birthday.


Dear Patricia,


                                                          1969 Revisited


                                                                 1969
                                                      it plays in my mind
                                                       like a silent film
                                                           frame
                                                                      by
                                                                            frame
                                                        with all its black
                                                        and grey shadows.

                                                       it sneaks up on me
                                                            every fall
                                                      and I am forced to relive
                                                      every minute of that year.

                                                         it is slow moving
                                                               clicking
                                                            out of focus
                                                               cracked
                                                    and then suddenly clear.

                                                it reminds me of a decision
                                                          that was made
                                                a decision that affected many
                                                        the right decision?
                                                         it still haunts me
                                                              every fall. 

This reunion has brought back a great many "what ifs" or "woulda...coulda...shoulda". I so needed to get past all of those. I cannot go backward and change anything. It is difficult meeting your child as a fully grown adult with a family of their own. Trying to integrate everyone into each others lives was somewhat like a juggling act. How to act and what to say became a challenge at times. My family here know me, they know my ups and downs and my reactions. They accept me as my perfectly imperfect self. And yet, I wanted to be perfect for my son...I did not want to have any flaws and yet I knew I had so many of them. There were times that I felt as if I was walking on egg shells, other times I would be silent and even if I wanted to pick up the phone and call him I did not. I usually waited for him to call me because there was a part of me that did not want to intrude or push myself into his life. One ball up in the air while another fell to the ground. I was often fearful, my greatest one being that he would not like me and would not want me to be a part of his life. So I was almost always on my best behavior. I was feeling depressed more often than not and very anxious. The medication helped but I knew at that point that it was necessary for me to really deal with the problems that were causing that depression. I knew that I had to change my negative views about adoption for myself in order to heal.

Do you feel depressed or anxious over the act of adoption? Where do you put that negative emotion when a special day comes? What can you say to yourself in order to change a negative view about adoption for yourself?

Empty...

Ever since I can remember I have written...kept journals...written stories...and I created with crayons and paint and paper...For many years after the birth of my son a painting hung in my bedroom...a painting of a fetus...with the words..."hold me gently because I need". When I look back on that now I wonder if that painting was for my son...or was it for me?

The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence.
~  Dorothy Dix

I had been home from the hospital...from the birth of my son...for a couple of days when some friends came to visit. I know that these friends knew exactly what was going on...but everyone acted as if I had just had an operation or was recovering from an illness. No one uttered the word "baby" or "labor and delivery"...the "secret" was not spoken of by anyone. They came with gifts for me, and get well cards (get well?)...perhaps they were to ease my tattered heart...there were flowers...best of all there was a set of mohair bears...a mother and a baby. I could hug these bears, cry with these bears, and no one could ever take them from me. They represented the baby and myself to me.

What was I suppose to do with the range of emotions I was feeling?  I wanted to have this baby, I never entertained the idea of an abortion, I wanted the baby to be a part of me. I wanted my baby to have what I couldn't give him...a family that consisted of a mother and a father. I was doing what was best for the baby, for my son, because that is all that really mattered. I believed that he would be loved and cared for way beyond what I believed I was capable of. I thought that adoption was the best possible solution, but with all my heart I wanted to keep my baby too. There were things that I wanted to remember...I wanted to remember the sweetness of his face...how tiny I thought he was, but also how perfect I thought he was. But, once he left my arms I didn't want to remember anything. I couldn't make sense of my conflicting emotions. And of course no one talked to me about postpartum depression, no one talked to me at all about how I was feeling.

I kept pushing my emotions down...down as deep as I could. I needed to survive. I smiled....I laughed and I spent time with friends. Everything appeared to be normal...but I still had no idea what normal was nor did I know if I would ever feel that way. I called my sweetheart at school within a few days of giving birth. I told him that I had the baby and it was a boy. He never asked any questions, he just said that he was glad that it was over and now I could get on with my life. On with my life...I had no idea what that meant either. Where was I? What was I suppose to do? My breasts were full of milk and I had no baby to suckle them...my body had changed over night. I was no longer a young girl...I now felt more like a woman. What was I suppose to do with all the emotions I had...the loneliness...the sadness...the loss...the feeling of not being good enough to care for my own child...the shame...the distance I felt toward everyone and everything and worst of all the guilt I felt for placing my son up for adoption.

Dear Patricia,

BECAUSE I WAS 17

empty
empty belly
empty arms
empty
swirling uncontrollably with emotions
blank space
my heart forever
connected
to yours.

What would you allow yourself to say about your feelings when you were a mother who just entrusted their child to adoption? How honest can you be about your feelings? Can you write a poem, letter, or paint a picture that would reflect how you felt then?

I stand beside you...

While being extremely happy about being in reunion I was also dealing with so much pain. I thank goodness that I had a very good Doctor to help me sort out and deal with what he termed was post traumatic stress syndrome. How can you be this happy and yet this sad at the same time.

My son shared pictures of himself at different ages. I smiled as I looked at each one and yet at the same time my heart was breaking. How could I have not been there for those moments? Those first steps...first words...first day at school. He had boxes of memories that he shared that included report cards and drawings...high school pictures and college memories...I smiled and I laughed and waited till I was alone in bed at night to cry. He called me Mom, but I would question what kind of Mom was I? It was if I was walking in someone else's skin...was I the 17 year old Patricia or the 62 year old Patricia? There were times that I had no idea, and yet I knew I had to integrate the two.

Dear Patricia,

I am here standing beside you...you are not alone anymore. I no longer wish to keep you locked deep inside of me. Please believe me when I tell you that you are loved by me...that I am committed to transforming your fears to love...to opening our hearts and mind to love...

I am ready....I am willing and able to smother our fears with the light of love. Come walk with me, hand in hand...heart to heart in order to heal.

I know now that I did not fight for you...I did not stand up to all those who were not on our side...I am so sorry. I wish I had been stronger for you...more loving toward you. I wish that I could go back and change things, but that is impossible. I will tell you, that you have every right to be sad and angry, but that only keeps you in the shadow of your life. That if you allow me to love you we can walk through this together now.

I can tell you that with age we are learning to travel down our own path...our true path....but it has taken over 40 years to do so....could we have done that at 17 or 18 years old? My mind tells me we could not...my mind tells me we were not strong enough or wise enough or good enough...BUT as I sit here with you silently my heart tells me differently...but it also whispers that "for everything there is a season" and our season is NOW. 

The walls that have been built to protect our broken heart is coming down...if we do not work together....we cannot allow the complete flow of love in and we will continue to poison our inner space. Forgiveness is a fundamental part of living a happy life...and I know now that resentment contaminates the soul...and it will distance us from others but more importantly...from our self. We have the opportunity to offer our self grace...and with that we are offering our self emotional freedom that will help us stop the downward spiral of negativity that all the resentment brings.

Our blessing finally comes our way...YES, you do meet him again. And YES...the bond between you and him is strong and sure and full of love. And this blessing will allow us to heal and forgive our self.

We CAN choose forgiveness...we CAN choose love...we CAN choose happiness...we CAN choose grace...If we choose to let go of the resentment...we allow miracles to happen.

Trust me NOW when I tell you that your life will change. Trust me NOW when I tell you that you love and you are loved...Trust me NOW when I tell you that miracles do happen...Trust me NOW when I tell you that if you release the pain and the resentment of the past that you can build a family...one day...one memory at a time.

I am standing here beside you...you are not alone...let us merge together NOW as a 62 year old woman and begin our life again as one.

You are SO LOVE.

If you wrote a letter to your younger self because you wanted to heal that part of you that held so much pain what would you say? Could you integrate the two to help them to become one? Can you find a way to forgive that part of you that you feel failed in some way?

Forgiveness Journal

Within each of us, as birth Mother's who entrusted our children to adoption lies that lifetime of wondering, worrying, and missing. A hole in our hearts that we cannot mend.

We tend to lock it away, deep within our cores so that we do not have to feel the pain of that loss on a daily basis. There are times when we sink into a depression, especially around birthdays and holidays. There are times when we cannot even pinpoint why we are depressed because we have buried that hurt so deeply. There are times when it is right there on the surface and our world seems to crash down around us.

Time does not take that hurt away. Time does not make us forget. Time does not change the unchangeable. Time goes on, but the buried hurt stays with us. Our lives continue to change and unfold over the years, but it does not take that pain away. We get married and often there are other children, but none of that can replace what happened to us. We are happy, we laugh, we sing and dance, but it is always there locked inside the box that is buried within us.

I remember someone telling me that this was the best thing that I could do for my child, to place him in the arms of another family. I will never know. I cannot go backwards and see what might of been had I kept him. I will never know if he cried out for me because someone else did not have my heart beat or my smell. I will never know and I had to learn how to be okay with that. It has taken me 45 years to learn the lesson of forgiveness. To allow my adult self and my pregnant teenage self to merge together and become one. They are not separate people although I have kept them that way in order to move forward.

So I started a journal of forgiveness for myself. A journal that I wish to share with you so that you might find a way to also begin a healing. A journal of love for myself.

If you would like to journey with me you might want to purchase a special journal that you can write in. And a willingness to be open and honest with your adult self and your teenage self. To have the dialogue that you could not have then and that no one else was having with you. This is a sacred place that you do not have to share with anyone. This can be the space where you can be honest and scream and yell and cry over your loss. This can be the space where you begin to heal.

I want you to remember that you are ENOUGH...you are GOOD ENOUGH...You are BRAVE and STRONG...and you can take back your POWER by sharing your side of the story. Because dear heart it is your story, and by telling it you can release some of the pain, the mystery, the secret, and the lies.

You are SO LOVED!