How funny is it, that when I think about Monday morning and my very first conversation with birth mom, what I find most interesting is that on multiple occasions we were doing the exact same thing at the exact same moment. I wonder how often that has happened over the years. Not just physical acts, but were similar thoughts going through our heads about each other at the same time? Who's to know. It's undeniable that there is a connection there.
On Monday morning as I was waiting for the appropriate half hour to chime, I was playing Solitaire the last few minutes before we spoke. Guess who else was playing? Yup, she was playing too. I've been writing quite a bit over the last couple of days. Luckily, my target audience has been found. It's a party of one, and the next chapters will be written by the two of us.
Please wish us luck!
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Monday, March 10, 2014
Keep breathing....
Another exciting day at the farm has come to a close, and a beautiful sunrise is on the horizon. We had a two day clinic and the barn was abuzz with excitement. All the while, I kept checking my email and cell phone for messages. Maybe it would come from Uncle, maybe from B-Mom. Delivery confirmed... There's an email - from HER!
I wasn't truly expecting to hear anything until this morning, luckily, Christmas came early and I didn't have to wait another minute. Every hour has felt like an eternity this past week. Today is a new day, and my fingers were tired after my obsessive checking. A dialog has begun and some old questions have already been answered. The puzzle pieces start falling into place.
Most importantly, I was able to email her back and tell her the one thing that I had always hoped to share... Thank you. Thank you for not aborting me. Thank you for making the difficult decision to carry me to term, suffer through child birth and watch me in silence as I was taken away. You were strong, you were brave and I am and will always be - Thankful. That's all I ever wanted to share. I hoped that one day I could relieve the burden of guilt I assume she must have felt. What woman wouldn't wonder, are they happy, are they crying, is someone holding them at night when the ghosts and goblins pop out from under the bed? Who's tending that scraped knee, or consoling her when her heart is broken for the first time? Rest assured, the job was not taken lightly, and to this day the couple that brought me home still worries about me, and cares about every bump and scrape (both the emotional as well as physical ones - I do live on a horse farm - the job does have its hazards).
I hope knowing that I was loved gives her peace. Starting this blog has truly helped me emotionally. Writing down my thoughts and feelings has most definitely helped the healing process begin. I wish my memory was better, but I'm glad I'll have my blog to remind me to always keep my chin up and have faith. Jokingly, I tell myself it feels like I've come to the end of Chapter one. I can't wait for Chapter two. After a couple of back and forth emails, and a phone call on the horizon this morning, more questions will be answered, openly and honestly. Without this blog, I wouldn't have the numerous private messages from others sharing their stories. I was touched by the outpouring of support and honesty that was shared with me. It is so important to have a support group when you're riding on an emotional roller coaster. I hope putting myself out there has inspired others. Please know, that I'm right there with you, and happy to help you in your search too. Whether it be spending hours on the internet searching, or just sharing kind words of support. I know how much they mean. When you're struggling to keep faith, and need to be reminded to keep breathing.
I wasn't truly expecting to hear anything until this morning, luckily, Christmas came early and I didn't have to wait another minute. Every hour has felt like an eternity this past week. Today is a new day, and my fingers were tired after my obsessive checking. A dialog has begun and some old questions have already been answered. The puzzle pieces start falling into place.
Most importantly, I was able to email her back and tell her the one thing that I had always hoped to share... Thank you. Thank you for not aborting me. Thank you for making the difficult decision to carry me to term, suffer through child birth and watch me in silence as I was taken away. You were strong, you were brave and I am and will always be - Thankful. That's all I ever wanted to share. I hoped that one day I could relieve the burden of guilt I assume she must have felt. What woman wouldn't wonder, are they happy, are they crying, is someone holding them at night when the ghosts and goblins pop out from under the bed? Who's tending that scraped knee, or consoling her when her heart is broken for the first time? Rest assured, the job was not taken lightly, and to this day the couple that brought me home still worries about me, and cares about every bump and scrape (both the emotional as well as physical ones - I do live on a horse farm - the job does have its hazards).
I hope knowing that I was loved gives her peace. Starting this blog has truly helped me emotionally. Writing down my thoughts and feelings has most definitely helped the healing process begin. I wish my memory was better, but I'm glad I'll have my blog to remind me to always keep my chin up and have faith. Jokingly, I tell myself it feels like I've come to the end of Chapter one. I can't wait for Chapter two. After a couple of back and forth emails, and a phone call on the horizon this morning, more questions will be answered, openly and honestly. Without this blog, I wouldn't have the numerous private messages from others sharing their stories. I was touched by the outpouring of support and honesty that was shared with me. It is so important to have a support group when you're riding on an emotional roller coaster. I hope putting myself out there has inspired others. Please know, that I'm right there with you, and happy to help you in your search too. Whether it be spending hours on the internet searching, or just sharing kind words of support. I know how much they mean. When you're struggling to keep faith, and need to be reminded to keep breathing.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Raw
One word sums up how I fee right now. Raw. I feel compelled to share yesterday's journey, as everyone has been so incredibly supportive. I'll give you a small snippet, and will quickly share more positive highlights. I kept the phone in my hand or pocket ALL day. I didn't shower until 7:00 pm with the fear that the phone would ring, and missing the all important call was not going to happen. Naturally, every time the phone rang, or text message came through, my breath caught in my throat and a quick prayer rattled through my brain. Would you put money on a call coming through as soon as I tipped my head under the scorching hot water? It did. Was it the call I was hoping for? It was not. For family members I promised to call yesterday, I wanted to wait to share more good news, and by the end of the day, it just hurt too much. I'm sorry and I love you.
Uncle did send me a few emails early last evening with a couple of photos of B-Mom as a youngster. Thank you Uncle Jack, I know you're trying, and it means so much to me. From the emails it was vague as to whether he had spoken to BMom or not. But in the email he assured me that he could fill me in on family history as well as B-Mom could. I'm sure he can. Unfortunately, there are many more questions that only one person can answer. Right now, I'm not sure if that will happen. After a few emails, as my husband and I were preparing dinner a call came it. By this point, I had thrown in the towel for the night, and didn't care anymore. I wasn't answering the phone. I had the impression that her life went on without me, and it sounded like I had been swept under the carpet and forgotten. That is how it felt, and it hurt. This was a completely unexpected scenario to me. Yes, I knew it was possible, that she could have married and started a new family and never shared my identity. I wouldn't want to call it a dirty little secret, but, you know. It WAS towards the end of an era, where young ladies were sent away to the nuns or special homes where they had their babies and came home from "their extended family vacation" with no one being the wiser.
I'm leaving my story for a while and moving on for now.
Let me tell you what happened with my sister yesterday.... You all know that the discovery that her birth mother was dead left her hollow. No closure there. An eternal mystery. Unfortunately, her mother was married a lot. Let me rephrase that. She was married & re-married a number of times. The exact number is not known. She was married a minimum of 6 and a maximum of 10 times, and not sure if she was faithful even in the beginning. Yes, my wonderful sister assured me that she was OK with me sharing her story too. That being said, with no mother to have a teary eyed reunion with, she decided to pursue Dad. At least the guy she was married to at the time. They were married a year before my sister's mother got pregnant and she left him 5 months into her pregnancy.
Yet again, our AMAZING little search angels on Facebook found him. Sis had a name to go on, and an hour later she had a number. Now, she's frozen with fear. Is it the right guy, is he going to reject me? All the crazy ideas that roll around your head, and she just couldn't make the call. She texted me, telling me her angel offered to make the call for her. I begged her, that if she couldn't do it, to please allow me to plead her case. Of course, she acquiesced, and I promised to make the call immediately. Oh shit, now what? What if I say the wrong thing and scare him off. Crap, it's all on me now. OK, ok, just take a deep breath yet again today and pick up the damn phone and do it. I guess I'd have to figure it out as I went along. Two phone numbers to choose from... let's see. First number, just when I'm about to hang up, a young lady answers and assures me that there is no one living there by that name. Okey dokey, let's dial again. Ring, ring, riiiing. GOT HIM! I first asked him to confirm his name,. I then asked if he had been married to "Mrs. XYZ". Oh, he sure was married to her, for almost two years. Flood gates opened, and he openly and honestly shared EVERYTHING. Wow. After a half an hour conversation with him, I couldn't wait to call my sister, who I knew was pacing a hole in the floor waiting to hear from me and tell her - I just hung up with her birth father and HE COULDN'T WAIT TO HEAR FROM HER!!!! How cool is that? Despite everything he went through with my sister's mother, he couldn't wait to hear from her. He's only seen her once since she was born, and she was one year old at the time. After that visit, her mother took her and disappeared into the sunset. Holy reunion. YAY Christi!!!! Love ya Sis!!!!! He sounds like such a kind soul.
As for me, I'm still ending this morning's blog....
Open, Honest and Eternally Hopeful
Friday, March 7, 2014
Twenty three hours and counting... Suns up and it's time to get to work.
Naturally, I hope I'll hear from birth mom too, but I can wait. It's worth the wait, 42 years, what's another day or two? Even when every second feels like an eternity. What I should be doing is shoveling poo. I know I told you already, but it's what centers me. Cleaning house, I hate (sorry honey), cleaning my barn I love. I know I am so very far from the perfect mother, or wife, but I try. Oh, do I try. I forget birthdays (I can't tell you how many times I've bought cards and forgotten to mail them - a bag full of good intentions - my follow through sometimes sucks). Unconditionally though, I love my family, and I thank God every day for the gifts he's bestowed upon me. Yeah, yeah, happy happy, lucky lucky. Believe me, there have been highs and lows, but I try to always stay optimistic. Here's another confession - I don't go to church often but I pray daily; despite my Catholic guilt frequently poking me in the ribs, I hope I'm doing right by my kids. I try to teach them to love others as they should love themselves, always think of how their actions will affect those around them. Be a good friend, always listen, be honest, and do your best at what ever it is you try. My mother and father, in my mind are still is as close to the ideal parents as one could hope. Never did they complain about the many, many hours spent behind the wheel chauffeuring me and little sis to dance class, art class, riding lessons, 4-H, gymnastics, soccer, softball, cheerleading (lil' sis, not me), sleepovers, CCD, girl scouts and endless play dates. Their lives revolved around us, and I will always be grateful for every thing they have done and continue to do to support us. I love you Mom, and Dad! XOXOXOXOXO
Alright, we've reached the 24 hour mark from first contact, and it's time. Time to go back out to the barn, and start shoveling away. I'll let you know what and when I hear something. Tick tock, tick tock. Keep those prayers coming. I'm sure each one has helped me along my journey.
Ahh, one more tidbit of information I almost forgot to share.... One of the casting directors from Long Lost Family called me yesterday afternoon and wanted to Skype an interview with me (today). I shared with her how much has transpired in the last 24 hours and how much I hope to hear from birth mom in the next few days. If birth mom decides she doesn't want to re-connect for what ever reason, I will respect her decision. Hopefully, a relationship with Uncle Jack will help fill in some of the holes. Photos old and new have been requested.
Hold on, let me hit refresh again... Nope, nothing yet.
As Always,
Open, Honest and Eternally Hopeful
Thursday, March 6, 2014
42 years and 24 hours - (give or take a few months)
How is it possible that only a day has passed since I posted my plea for help in finding my birth mother on Facebook? Really,just 24 hours? It is truly amazing how kind and generous people really are. I'm not talking just about those dear old friends that you know have your back no matter what. I'm also talking about friends you haven't heard from since high school. WOW, it's crazy how many of you sent me private messages or called with suggestions. I LOVE YOU :) Did I mention the good number of absolute strangers that spent half the night on the computer with me? I had little Instant Message blobs, beeping and bleeping all over my Facebook page. Wayyy after 2:00 am you were there with me, not just helping, but holding my virtual hand. I.Am.Truly.Humbled.
So here's a recap of how my night and early morning went (yes, yes, the ponies, kids, chickens, cats, dog and sweet sweet hubby all received the attention they deserved at the appropriate times). Let me see, I think it will be best to put the evenings events down in somewhat chronological order (if my fuzzy brain can keep them straight).
1. A random and complete stranger, aptly dubbed "a Search Angel" found BMom's name. Well, at least what I was praying was her name. First, Middle, and Last. Ok, so the spelling was different from what I thought it was, the year was off, by one, and the school was a regional school. So, really, didn't that sound like a close enough fit? Problem is, with the year off and another woman by the same name that fit the supposed year, neither of us were sure of location) passed away at age 30. Hell no. Not my birth mother. No doubt I'm writing her right off the list and sticking with the off birthday, off spelling, but right area. Shoot. I forgot to mention my Search Angel searched the same year book that I KNOW I perused through months before and couldn't find her. I guess I didn't look hard enough. She searched through every page of probably more than a couple of on-line yearbooks and found her. Ohhh yeah, it HAD to be her.
2. Armed with a name, a couple of quotation marks, and a Google search box the next part was much easier. First, middle and last came up with an obituary. Oh geez. Really, I plug in her name and get an Obit. Again, not acceptable. Shut the front door. She's mentioned in it, but the obit is for her father. Why you might ask is her father's obituary from 1997 a bread crumb worth pursing? I'll tell you why. That short obituary also mentioned her BROTHER's name!!!!!
3. So, a Google search of her name brought up the single obituary for her father which also mentioned her having a brother. Back to Google we go. Better still, how about that little angel that you know from the horse world who's REALLY good at finding people who don't want to be found? Just like that, another little angel sends me the phone number and address of her BROTHER!!! Who doesn't love a little horsey friend angel? I know I do - X0X0X0X0! There were many more incredible offers of help, but this was the small trail that led me to this morning's phone call. As I don't think it would have been well received after midnight.
4. Let's fast forward to this morning. I was still concerned that I might not have the right person. I closely watched the clock and waited for the seconds to tick by until I felt sure I wouldn't be waking anyone up. Of course, that being said, I was also running the risk of said brother to have run off to work, left the house to run errands, or any other multitude of things that would put him out of hearing distance of his ringing landline phone. All right, deep breath, and dial the damn number. Ring one, ring two, ring... "Uhhh, hello? Ummm, yeah, this is... Aaaaa. Where do I begin?" So much for the well prepared speech that rolled around in my head, there was nothing but a road block in my mouth when I tried to explain who I was, or why I was calling. "So, you are John XYZ" "Ahh, did you happen to live in NJ?" "Great, do you have a sister named Janet?" "You do?", "OK, so let me tell you who I am and who I think I might be to you". Well, I said something along those lines. My brain and tongue were jello. Not very cooperative.... At all.
5. It was such a pleasure to speak to this man, with the deep throaty voice, and warm, slightly southern drawl. I still can't believe how open and honest he was with me. He shared everything he could think I'd want to hear. I told him that having children, was a huge part of my desperate search to find my birth mother. That paired with the horror story of my younger sister's birth mothers tragic ending. So, we ended our conversation with me giving him my contact information and asking him to share it with his sister. I did NOT ask where in NJ she lived, and held back from asking the 1001 questions that were rolling around in my head. I want this to be in her hands. I don't know if she ever told her family about me, or if I'm just ancient history in her mind. Honestly though. I can't imagine, or I choose not to imagine that she hasn't thought about me at least half as often as I've thought about her over the years. For me, yeah.. it's been pretty much every day.
6. So, now I wait. My, umm, uhhh, Uncle, has my phone number and both my email addresses. He called back later this morning to confirm my email address as the one he used bounced back. So, I sit and pray and hope. Again, I am eternally grateful to to everyone who's been there for me, sharing encouraging words of hope, saying a few extra prayers, and using their special powers to help me reunite with my birth family. I've got to say it - I am so glad, I decided to trust my instinct and lay it on the line. Let's see what tomorrow brings!
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Full bore - The search begins
Right now I should be mucking stalls, but I'm not. I'm wondering where to start, as I begin to chronicle my journey to find my birth mother. Usually, my best ideas come to me while I muck stalls (there's a title for you - Horse Manure Manager Extraordinaire). It's the cathartic journey I take every day as I let my mind wander whilst blanketing myself in Eau De Poo. Of course, as I toil away, with pitchfork in hand, all of my awe inspiring ideas (or so I'd like to think) dissipate into the recesses of my brain before I get the chance to transfer ideas into written words. This morning will be different, I'm cheating. Although I've already fed horses, cats, chickens, and children before 8:00 am, I resist the urge to go out and primp my barn in order to start my journey on paper (OK, blog). I would really appreciate it, if you could keep this between us an not tell my boarders that I'm shirking my responsibilities for an hour or two. The blessed joy of flinging poo can wait.
Today. Today I spit in a vial, then spit again in order to fill it with my saliva. After sealing my DNA in a box, I hopped in the car, dropped my daughter off at school and went straight to the post office. With MY DNA sample. I was worried, and still am. The temperature outside this morning was 7 degrees. Kinda cold, yeah, really cold. Is it too cold for vial of spit? Will it survive the journey to NC without issue? I don't know. I'll have to wait with baited breath for up to 10 weeks to find out. Find out what you ask? I'm hoping that little vial of saliva will give me a clue about my heritage. Will this sample give me a glimpse into who I'm related to? Most importantly, will it give me a clue into my search to find my birthmother, and I'm grasping at straws.
At some time of the day or night on June 26, 1971 I was born in St. Barnabus Hospital in Livingston, NJ. What was my given name at birth? Good question. I'd like to know too. For 42 years I've wanted the answer to that question and many, many, many more about my heritage. Do you, think 42 years is a long enough time to wait? I do. That being said. The search begins. Anyone out there want to join me? Have fun using Google, or what ever search engine you prefer. I'm not super tech savvy, so go ahead, spend a few minutes (or hours - trust me, it's never just a few minutes when you think you're making headway in your search) perusing the internet. You might even feel compelled to visit the Essex County library and search old microfiche files for me (haven't done that yet). What I'm searching for today is an old tax map of Roseland, of Laurel Ave to be specific. So, the search needs to be from about 1970. One would think with in the today's era it would be relatively simple to find someone, anyone for that matter, in a nanosecond https://maps.google.com/maps?q=Laurel+Ave,+Roseland,+NJ&hl=en&ll=40.808543,-74.284497&spn=0.002291,0.003484&sll=40.585856,-74.785419&sspn=0.416126,0.891953&oq=laurel+ave+roseland&t=h&hnear=Laurel+Ave,+Roseland,+New+Jersey&z=19
What's now Lasalle Court used to be a beautiful old Colonial farm house.... The house I BELIEVE I would have grown up in. Perhaps it was the house next door?
I'll try to keep this part short. I had a really WONDERFUL childhood. I was (and still am) surrounded by the kindest, most generous, loving family anyone could ever dream of, immediate as well as extended. I am blessed, and believe I always have been. The BIG man above has always (almost always) smiled down on me and guided me on a fairly straight and narrow love filled path. I knew I was special, a very much wanted, and deeply loved child. I believed it. I knew I had a support system that many would envy. What was it like growing up in a real life "Leave it to Beaver" kinda family - Blissful. That being said, I also always felt that there was a huge part of me missing. Forever and a day I've wondered about my birth mom. Yeah, birth dad should have played a larger role in the fantasy, but really, it was all about birth mom - Let's call her BMom. Was she smart? Was she pretty? Did she think of me as often as I thought of her? Would the chance to thank her for making the hardest decision (I'm assuming it was the toughest choice she's had to make thus far in what I hope is a long) of her life?
As a child I would stare at people where ever we went. Is that her? Does that lady look like me? Is she still here in NJ? So many questions. There's only one way to find out...
Let's fast forward and I'll try to explain why I'm shirking my responsibilities (did I mention I have to muck stalls... or that getting my taxes ready should really take precedence right now) and typing, typing, typing (I'm sure I'll come back and edit, edit, edit too).
I'll have to start with a HUGE THANKS to my sister for posting on a Facebook page for adoptees asking for help in HER birth mother search. Twenty four hours after posting, she had her answer. Years ago, my sister did something very sneaky, she broke into my parents filing cabinet in a desperate attempt to find answers herself. Answers she found. She had a name, a few details, and was happy to leave it at that until a few months ago, when she posted that fateful request for help. On November 16, 2013 she posted on a Facebook page for adoptees and within 24 hours had her answer... My baby sister learned her mother died several years ago. Her birthmother's decomposing body was found in a swamp in Florida. Really? Dead? No chance to meet her, look in her eyes and thank her. You've got to be kidding!!! That's not how her story was supposed to end. There should be a tearful reunion with lots of hugs and most importantly, much needed closure.
There is a silver lining though. My sister recently moved back to Florida (not far from where she was born), and she was able to meet her Aunt and one of her brothers and learned a lot about her birthmother and family from them. I know it wasn't the fairy tale ending she'd hoped for, but she's a strong woman, who has faced and tackled many challenges in her short life. She's happy with who she is, where she's from and grateful to have connected with some birth relatives. This young woman is in line for Sainthood, I just know it. Love ya Sis!
So, back to me, and why I'm still typing. I am holding out hope for that happy reunion. I could go on and on about how important it is for me to know learn about my medical history AT THE VERY LEAST! Of course it's important. I have children. For their sake, I want to know. Is there a history of heart disease, alcoholism, breast cancer? What, what, what, should I be looking out for. How can I help protect them, if I don't have answers to these basic questions? I just filled out a new insurance app at the eye doctor's office two days ago. As usual - I can fill those puppies out in record time. It's easy when there's a large section where you can quickly scribble a whole bunch of question marks. Who the hell knows if there's a history of glaucoma... I'm obviously not important enough to have that information. Right now, I'm praying that our dear Governor makes the right decision and grants me access to MY birth records. As an FYI - last week the bill for opening adoption records went before the House and Senate - AGAIN. NJ adoption open records bill up for final legislative votes today My search will become so much easier if it passes.
Why didn't I search in my youth? I did. But had very little to go on, and absolutely no bread crumbs to follow. You have no idea how disheartening it is when every search ends up a dead-end. Every few years, I would get up the courage to sit and ask my parents for details about my adoption. Their united response has always been the same. I can't tell you more, and I really wish you wouldn't ask. I beg you to leave it alone. Shut down. Just.Like.That. I knew it was hard for them, but not knowing, was also hard on me.
Unfortunately, for them, my desire to learn about my past was stronger than my ability to keep quiet. Although it took 41 years before my mother opened up, she finally did. Last November after randomly asking the agonizing question during a dinner party AT MY HOUSE... I know, it was in poor taste, but, in the heat of the moment, I had high hopes that asking her off the cuff would catch her off guard and she'd answer me. My plan backfired, and my loving parents got up and walked out. Just.Like.That. Shut out, shut down and feeling horrible. I was devastated and I know they were too. I hated hurting them by asking; sometimes I just couldn't help myself.
After Mom had a few days to cool off (I don't blame them in the least for their reaction), I mailed my parents a letter (it's rare that even ONE day passes where my mother and I don't talk multiple times, but it had been almost a week) explaining, yet again WHY I wanted to know. Fortuitously, this time, her answer was different. My mother resigned herself to share with me the little she knew about my birthmother. A couple days later, we met at my favorite restaurant and sat and talked, and cried and talked some more. I thought my prayers were answered. I couldn't wait to dash out of the restaurant and find BMom. Here's what Mom shared during our conversation: #1 - She told me her name. #2 - Birth mom actually fought to keep me. #3 - It was a private adoption, both birth and adopted mothers went to the same OB/GYN. #4 - A private lawyer had been hired to expedite a last minute adoption. #5 - The reason that my adopted family won custody, was due to birth mom not showing up at the last hearing, thereby forfeiting her biological rights. #6 - It took my parents a year in court to finally be able call me their daughter - legally. This information stunned me, and more than explained WHY she couldn't or wouldn't re-live what she went through all those years ago. #7 - Birth mom lived in town, and we drove past her house all the time! Wow.
Every day my mother lived in fear that BMom would step in and take away their little blonde bundle joy. I finally understood and could be more empathetic about their struggle to keep me safe and not wanting to share all the angst and fear they must have felt after the adoption was finalized . It floored me, that at any point in time, the faces that I would stare at as a child in the mall, in church, in the grocery store, could have been her. A horse farm, or right next door to one. There's no doubt in my mind that horses were destined to be a large part of my life. Everyone who knows me, will find the irony in this tidbit of information. Even more fascinating, is that every time we turned off the highway and pulled onto THAT street, I would beg and plead for my parents to stop so I could pet the little ponies. Imagine, the painful reminder they had every time we were on our way to my Aunt's house, who lived just a short distance from that horse farm.
Back to the #1 revelation - I had a name! Did you hear me? Yes, I said BIRTH MOTHER'S NAME!!!! Oh My Goodness - a name. I was sure my search would be over in a matter of hours! I thought wrong. Type her name in on Facebook and the great mystery should be solved. Not so much. I messaged a ton of people with similar names, with a very non-obtrusive message stating I was looking for an old family friend, and unfortunately, not one of the few replies came back with any usable information. I mean, who ISN'T on Facebook. Apparently, SHE isn't, or at least not with the spelling I was given. As I type, I realize, that I think it best to leave her name off my blog. She probably has another family that knows nothing about me! I am not looking to disrupt anyone's life. So, for the time being, I will keep her name to myself, as I can't imagine your search would produce better results than mine have.
Just last week, my mother brought me over the few records she could find from my adoption. There are a number of receipts from the lawyer they hired. His name was (is?) Edward Terner, and he practiced in West Orange. Feel free to do your own search on him, as mine did not come up with a current contact number, but I did learn something else about him. Not sharing it here, but hey, if you find it yourself.... I think you'll be fascinated too. Wish I knew how that case ended, but no records to be found. There was also, a page from the Children's Aid Society, but that was regarding a home inspection for my younger sister. Yup, they have records on her adoption - NOT mine though (insert - dead end). The State of NJ - Yeah, at a loss there too. No records. Hmm. The mystery continues.
Here's what else I've done in the past week in addition to filling a vial with saliva.
1. I've contacted both the State, and Children's Aid Society (I must tell you how thrilled I was to get responses back from both agencies in rapid fashion and multiple replies as we spit-balled different spellings for BMom's name).
2. I called and requested a copy of my original birth certificate...I'm still waiting on paperwork, and if I don't get it soon, I'm making another call.
3. I filled out the ISRR registration application and dropped that in the mail yesterday.
4. Here's what a desperate lady will do... I filled out an application for a new show they hope to bring to the United States. Currently it's running in the UK and I saw a post on one of the adoption sites for a casting call. They're looking to help unite Long Lost Family Did I mention that I'm desperate?
Now that I've put off my primary duty (pun intended) for a good hour and a half, I better get back to it. The pitchfork calls and it's time to go shovel some POO!!
Today. Today I spit in a vial, then spit again in order to fill it with my saliva. After sealing my DNA in a box, I hopped in the car, dropped my daughter off at school and went straight to the post office. With MY DNA sample. I was worried, and still am. The temperature outside this morning was 7 degrees. Kinda cold, yeah, really cold. Is it too cold for vial of spit? Will it survive the journey to NC without issue? I don't know. I'll have to wait with baited breath for up to 10 weeks to find out. Find out what you ask? I'm hoping that little vial of saliva will give me a clue about my heritage. Will this sample give me a glimpse into who I'm related to? Most importantly, will it give me a clue into my search to find my birthmother, and I'm grasping at straws.At some time of the day or night on June 26, 1971 I was born in St. Barnabus Hospital in Livingston, NJ. What was my given name at birth? Good question. I'd like to know too. For 42 years I've wanted the answer to that question and many, many, many more about my heritage. Do you, think 42 years is a long enough time to wait? I do. That being said. The search begins. Anyone out there want to join me? Have fun using Google, or what ever search engine you prefer. I'm not super tech savvy, so go ahead, spend a few minutes (or hours - trust me, it's never just a few minutes when you think you're making headway in your search) perusing the internet. You might even feel compelled to visit the Essex County library and search old microfiche files for me (haven't done that yet). What I'm searching for today is an old tax map of Roseland, of Laurel Ave to be specific. So, the search needs to be from about 1970. One would think with in the today's era it would be relatively simple to find someone, anyone for that matter, in a nanosecond https://maps.google.com/maps?q=Laurel+Ave,+Roseland,+NJ&hl=en&ll=40.808543,-74.284497&spn=0.002291,0.003484&sll=40.585856,-74.785419&sspn=0.416126,0.891953&oq=laurel+ave+roseland&t=h&hnear=Laurel+Ave,+Roseland,+New+Jersey&z=19
What's now Lasalle Court used to be a beautiful old Colonial farm house.... The house I BELIEVE I would have grown up in. Perhaps it was the house next door?
I'll try to keep this part short. I had a really WONDERFUL childhood. I was (and still am) surrounded by the kindest, most generous, loving family anyone could ever dream of, immediate as well as extended. I am blessed, and believe I always have been. The BIG man above has always (almost always) smiled down on me and guided me on a fairly straight and narrow love filled path. I knew I was special, a very much wanted, and deeply loved child. I believed it. I knew I had a support system that many would envy. What was it like growing up in a real life "Leave it to Beaver" kinda family - Blissful. That being said, I also always felt that there was a huge part of me missing. Forever and a day I've wondered about my birth mom. Yeah, birth dad should have played a larger role in the fantasy, but really, it was all about birth mom - Let's call her BMom. Was she smart? Was she pretty? Did she think of me as often as I thought of her? Would the chance to thank her for making the hardest decision (I'm assuming it was the toughest choice she's had to make thus far in what I hope is a long) of her life?
As a child I would stare at people where ever we went. Is that her? Does that lady look like me? Is she still here in NJ? So many questions. There's only one way to find out...
Let's fast forward and I'll try to explain why I'm shirking my responsibilities (did I mention I have to muck stalls... or that getting my taxes ready should really take precedence right now) and typing, typing, typing (I'm sure I'll come back and edit, edit, edit too).
I'll have to start with a HUGE THANKS to my sister for posting on a Facebook page for adoptees asking for help in HER birth mother search. Twenty four hours after posting, she had her answer. Years ago, my sister did something very sneaky, she broke into my parents filing cabinet in a desperate attempt to find answers herself. Answers she found. She had a name, a few details, and was happy to leave it at that until a few months ago, when she posted that fateful request for help. On November 16, 2013 she posted on a Facebook page for adoptees and within 24 hours had her answer... My baby sister learned her mother died several years ago. Her birthmother's decomposing body was found in a swamp in Florida. Really? Dead? No chance to meet her, look in her eyes and thank her. You've got to be kidding!!! That's not how her story was supposed to end. There should be a tearful reunion with lots of hugs and most importantly, much needed closure.
There is a silver lining though. My sister recently moved back to Florida (not far from where she was born), and she was able to meet her Aunt and one of her brothers and learned a lot about her birthmother and family from them. I know it wasn't the fairy tale ending she'd hoped for, but she's a strong woman, who has faced and tackled many challenges in her short life. She's happy with who she is, where she's from and grateful to have connected with some birth relatives. This young woman is in line for Sainthood, I just know it. Love ya Sis!
So, back to me, and why I'm still typing. I am holding out hope for that happy reunion. I could go on and on about how important it is for me to know learn about my medical history AT THE VERY LEAST! Of course it's important. I have children. For their sake, I want to know. Is there a history of heart disease, alcoholism, breast cancer? What, what, what, should I be looking out for. How can I help protect them, if I don't have answers to these basic questions? I just filled out a new insurance app at the eye doctor's office two days ago. As usual - I can fill those puppies out in record time. It's easy when there's a large section where you can quickly scribble a whole bunch of question marks. Who the hell knows if there's a history of glaucoma... I'm obviously not important enough to have that information. Right now, I'm praying that our dear Governor makes the right decision and grants me access to MY birth records. As an FYI - last week the bill for opening adoption records went before the House and Senate - AGAIN. NJ adoption open records bill up for final legislative votes today My search will become so much easier if it passes.
Why didn't I search in my youth? I did. But had very little to go on, and absolutely no bread crumbs to follow. You have no idea how disheartening it is when every search ends up a dead-end. Every few years, I would get up the courage to sit and ask my parents for details about my adoption. Their united response has always been the same. I can't tell you more, and I really wish you wouldn't ask. I beg you to leave it alone. Shut down. Just.Like.That. I knew it was hard for them, but not knowing, was also hard on me.
Unfortunately, for them, my desire to learn about my past was stronger than my ability to keep quiet. Although it took 41 years before my mother opened up, she finally did. Last November after randomly asking the agonizing question during a dinner party AT MY HOUSE... I know, it was in poor taste, but, in the heat of the moment, I had high hopes that asking her off the cuff would catch her off guard and she'd answer me. My plan backfired, and my loving parents got up and walked out. Just.Like.That. Shut out, shut down and feeling horrible. I was devastated and I know they were too. I hated hurting them by asking; sometimes I just couldn't help myself.
After Mom had a few days to cool off (I don't blame them in the least for their reaction), I mailed my parents a letter (it's rare that even ONE day passes where my mother and I don't talk multiple times, but it had been almost a week) explaining, yet again WHY I wanted to know. Fortuitously, this time, her answer was different. My mother resigned herself to share with me the little she knew about my birthmother. A couple days later, we met at my favorite restaurant and sat and talked, and cried and talked some more. I thought my prayers were answered. I couldn't wait to dash out of the restaurant and find BMom. Here's what Mom shared during our conversation: #1 - She told me her name. #2 - Birth mom actually fought to keep me. #3 - It was a private adoption, both birth and adopted mothers went to the same OB/GYN. #4 - A private lawyer had been hired to expedite a last minute adoption. #5 - The reason that my adopted family won custody, was due to birth mom not showing up at the last hearing, thereby forfeiting her biological rights. #6 - It took my parents a year in court to finally be able call me their daughter - legally. This information stunned me, and more than explained WHY she couldn't or wouldn't re-live what she went through all those years ago. #7 - Birth mom lived in town, and we drove past her house all the time! Wow.
Every day my mother lived in fear that BMom would step in and take away their little blonde bundle joy. I finally understood and could be more empathetic about their struggle to keep me safe and not wanting to share all the angst and fear they must have felt after the adoption was finalized . It floored me, that at any point in time, the faces that I would stare at as a child in the mall, in church, in the grocery store, could have been her. A horse farm, or right next door to one. There's no doubt in my mind that horses were destined to be a large part of my life. Everyone who knows me, will find the irony in this tidbit of information. Even more fascinating, is that every time we turned off the highway and pulled onto THAT street, I would beg and plead for my parents to stop so I could pet the little ponies. Imagine, the painful reminder they had every time we were on our way to my Aunt's house, who lived just a short distance from that horse farm.
Back to the #1 revelation - I had a name! Did you hear me? Yes, I said BIRTH MOTHER'S NAME!!!! Oh My Goodness - a name. I was sure my search would be over in a matter of hours! I thought wrong. Type her name in on Facebook and the great mystery should be solved. Not so much. I messaged a ton of people with similar names, with a very non-obtrusive message stating I was looking for an old family friend, and unfortunately, not one of the few replies came back with any usable information. I mean, who ISN'T on Facebook. Apparently, SHE isn't, or at least not with the spelling I was given. As I type, I realize, that I think it best to leave her name off my blog. She probably has another family that knows nothing about me! I am not looking to disrupt anyone's life. So, for the time being, I will keep her name to myself, as I can't imagine your search would produce better results than mine have.
Just last week, my mother brought me over the few records she could find from my adoption. There are a number of receipts from the lawyer they hired. His name was (is?) Edward Terner, and he practiced in West Orange. Feel free to do your own search on him, as mine did not come up with a current contact number, but I did learn something else about him. Not sharing it here, but hey, if you find it yourself.... I think you'll be fascinated too. Wish I knew how that case ended, but no records to be found. There was also, a page from the Children's Aid Society, but that was regarding a home inspection for my younger sister. Yup, they have records on her adoption - NOT mine though (insert - dead end). The State of NJ - Yeah, at a loss there too. No records. Hmm. The mystery continues.
Here's what else I've done in the past week in addition to filling a vial with saliva.
2. I called and requested a copy of my original birth certificate...I'm still waiting on paperwork, and if I don't get it soon, I'm making another call.
3. I filled out the ISRR registration application and dropped that in the mail yesterday.
4. Here's what a desperate lady will do... I filled out an application for a new show they hope to bring to the United States. Currently it's running in the UK and I saw a post on one of the adoption sites for a casting call. They're looking to help unite Long Lost Family Did I mention that I'm desperate?
Now that I've put off my primary duty (pun intended) for a good hour and a half, I better get back to it. The pitchfork calls and it's time to go shovel some POO!!
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