Mountain Meetup

As I got to know John a little better, he mentioned that he was planning on coming to Colorado for a visit soon, and wondered if I'd like to meet.  I immediately agreed and we began trying to arrange it.  He added that one of the other siblings might be able to join us and we tried to plan a spot that would be a half way point for us.

As the day got closer and I began watching the weather reports, I started to feel a little nervous since this would be mountain driving and maneuvering in snow isn't exactly my strong suit. At some point, I think my husband decided that he would offer to go along---not just because of the weather, but because he felt it might be irresponsible of him to allow his wife to meet two total strangers in an unfamiliar town....as it turns out, I think he just ended up enjoying having more people to discuss cars with.  His wife isn't exactly impressed with horsepower.

We woke up early that morning and drove to Breckenridge---a small ski resort town.  We located the restaurant we had agreed to meet at for lunch, and I brought along my "father folder"---the folder of info I had compiled about my birthfather:  photos, newspaper articles, etc., and info about all the siblings as well.  I guess I wanted to show them that I really HAD done my research and that this wasn't just a shot in the dark. I suspect it just looked like I was obsessive and possibly a maniac.

When we walked into the restaurant, it was mostly empty---but I spotted John at a table, with not just one other person, but TWO.  Not only did he bring Jeff, but Jeff's twin brother John (yes, there are two brothers with the name John----which is their father's name.  I feel like he must have been oddly proud of it)
I was beyond thrilled that I was actually getting to meet THREE siblings at once, and probably overwhelmed them with my hugs and giggling like an idiot.

We spent a nice couple of hours eating, laughing and sharing stories.  I learned little things about my birthfather that I never would have known otherwise---he loved to eat at Chili's and was well known there; he once owned a drapery business; he had been a spy in the US army.  I was amazed at how relaxed I felt with them and how welcoming all three of them were towards me.

When it was time to go, little brother John suggested that we get shirts from the restaurant, his treat, and wear them in a photo together to send to the other siblings who couldn't be there.  He also bought shirts for them as well, and we made plans to have a family get together later in the summer where we could all wear the shirts together.  It was such a sweet gesture and honestly one of my favorite pictures I've even been in.

Scott and I headed for home and the whole way, all I could think about was how 4 years previously, I had almost completely given up on EVER knowing anything about anyone from my bloodlines.  It felt like road block after road block. Dead ends everywhere I looked.  Even the law wasn't on my side. 

Yet there I was--4 years later--I knew EVERYONE'S name.  I knew what they looked like, sounded like, life stories, things I could never previously have dreamed of.

Through all of this, I've wondered:  Why couldn't this have happened sooner?  Why couldn't I have learned all of this when I was 30 and first searching, when my birthfather was still alive, my grandparents would still be here to ask those clarifying questions.  I don't know I will ever know the answer to that.  But I do think that if I had received all of this when I was younger, its possible I wouldn't have been mature enough to appreciate it the way I do now, especially after having to work for it the way I did.  Maybe my siblings wouldn't have been at a place where they could have welcomed me so easily. Its hard to know for certain.  But I believe God's timing is perfect. I've seen it time and time again in my life, and the lives of those I love.  Its hard to see sometimes, especially when you're in the middle of it, and wondering why you can't just have what you want RIGHT NOW.

How blessed I feel to finally have what I searched for, as well as everything that was lovingly handed to me the day I was adopted. It's the best of both worlds.

It's good to be me.

Surprise!

In my search for my paternal siblings on social media, I noticed that the youngest brother--John--had his Facebook profile settings so that you could "follow" his posts without actually sending him a friend request.  I looked to see how many "followers" he had, and since there were almost 200, I felt it was safe to follow along as well.  He would never notice. And for about a year, he didn't.  He would post things, and occasionally I would "like" it, especially if it had to do with his dad (visiting his grave or posting old photos).  I never gave it much thought and felt I had the best of both worlds by being able to keep up with him without ever having to reveal any information.  Slightly "stalkerish" I suppose, but its not like I was camping outside his house with binoculars.

Then one day, I got a message request from him.  I stared at it in horror.  I opened the message and read "Hi Crista--not trying to be awkward but I've noticed you liking a lot of my posts and we aren't friends on FB, How do we know each other?"

In a panic, I texted my friend Sherri who had been so instrumental in my birthfamily search.  "WHAT DO I DO, WHAT DO I DOOOOOO???"  As we discussed it, she asked if I thought I'd be okay emotionally if he either didn't believe what I told him or didn't want anything to do with me.  I thought I would be, but there was really only one way to know for sure.  We agreed that if I could go into it with no expectations, that I should go ahead and tell him the truth. 

And I did.  Waiting for him to respond afterwards was pure torture.

Once again, I found myself shocked by how easily I was accepted.  Not just by him, but one by one, as they all learned about me, the remaining 5.  Within 2 weeks, I had received friend requests from all six siblings, spoken with 3 of them on the phone, and all but one in text or email.  One of my favorite parts of all of this was finding out John originally reached out to me because he thought I was "interested" in him....I like to tease him that he almost tried to ask his sister out on a date.

How amazing that even though my birthfather tried to keep me a secret (and most likely would not have been open to knowing me if he were still alive), life had other plans.  His children are kind, loving, and completely open to accepting me into their tribe. 

I think I was as surprised as they were.

Picture it......Sicily

One of the things Don and I have enjoyed discussing over the years has been genealogy, and I like to think that it was my appearance in his life that actually got him into searching.   As we both created our family trees on Ancestry, we would compare notes about what names we had found.  In one of our conversations, we talked about a common DNA match we had, that seemed to be a rather close relative, but that neither of us could place in the family tree.  I had reached out to the owner of the account with questions, but he explained that the DNA was actually his wife's, that she rarely looked at the account and that he couldn't be of much help.  I think Don and I tried for quite some time to decipher it on our own, until I finally decided to reach out to Priscilla Sharp again and ask for her assistance.  I don't think Don or I were the least bit prepared for what we would learn.

As it turns out, Priscilla's research led her to conclude that the people who Mary had grown up with and had known as her parents all her life, were NOT, in fact, her biological parents at all.  Mary had been adopted, and this "close mystery match" that we could not figure out-----it was Mary's half sister.  From what Priscilla had been able to deduct, a young woman named Thresa from a Croatian immigrant family, had been involved with a young Sicilian man named Tony.  When Thresa ended up pregnant, it was either the families disapproval of the union, or the reluctance of the two young people themselves to marry, and from what we can conclude, the baby---Mary--was "given" to the couple that Mary grew up with and knew as her parents.  In researching historical documents, Don pieced together that all the involved families lived only blocks from each other and were probably quite familiar. There seems to be no "documentation" of the adoption so we suspect that the baby was just handed over.  All the pieces fell into place even further when Don and I located pictures of Thresa and Mary's new 1/2 sister Rachel, and saw the obvious resemblances.  After I was finally able to make contact with Rachel and explain what we had discovered, she was initially surprised but admitted that her mother Thresa---who had passed away several years previously--must have had a life before her marriage to Rachel's father, and that she hadn't shared anything about it, except to say once that she had been in love with a "soldier boy" when she was young, but never heard from him again after the war.

Tony's records show that he enlisted in the army just months before Mary was born.

Sadly, none of the involved parties are still living, so we will never know exactly how it all played out.  But after years of me wondering why I tan so well for being British and Irish, it makes much more sense knowing that I am almost a quarter Sicilian.

Don

Over the past 4 years, I have continued to enjoy my relationship with my maternal siblings through emails, phone calls, and social media.  Because Ava and I live in the same state, meeting in person was simple enough to arrange, but with Ron and Don both living 3 states away from me in both directions, I didn't see any possibility of meeting them in person in the near future.  But during one email exchange, Don informed me that he had a weekend trip to Colorado planned down the road for a Spartan race he was planning on participating in.

**Side note:  Whatever gene it is that causes people to want to run for enjoyment---I didn't get that.**

Don's race was scheduled to be held about 2 1/2 hours from me, and my original plan was to drive there and cheer him on, and possibly have dinner together afterwards.  But after discussing the logistics---no place for me to really "watch" the race except the starting or finish line, his exhaustion afterwards not lending itself to good dinner conversation, etc....he decided that he would drive to meet me the day before the race, and he and I would go out to dinner here and spend time visiting.

When the day finally arrived,  I was giddy.  My meeting with big sister Ava had been incredibly sweet, but I had been a little nervous since we had only been in communication a short time beforehand. In contrast, Don and I had been chatting for over 3 years, and had quite a foundation.  I wasn't nervous at all. I felt like one of my oldest friends was coming to visit.  He gave me a big bear hug and we spent the afternoon visiting at my home, running by my parents house so they could meet him as well, and then laughing over dinner.

When it was time for him to head out, my husband took a photo of us together, and I got a little teared up as we hugged goodbye.  Its hard to express how surreal it is to have a birthmother that literally wants no contact with you, yet her children accept you unconditionally as their sibling.  Its honestly more than I could have hoped for.

Two down, one to go!
Right?

Finding My Father

I'll admit I hadn't given him a lot of mind space.  Mary had called him "unkind" in the letters she had written me, and it was my understanding that he had learned she was pregnant with me, but chose to go back to his wife and children.  That only led me to believe that his desire to be "found" was zero and my chance of being welcomed with open arms was even less than that. Given the rejection I had received from her, and the amount of time it had taken for me to recover from the hurt, I had decided I wasn't up for further disappointment. I tried to make my peace with the fact that my paternal line would always be a mystery to me--a withheld name on a birth certificate and people who would undoubtedly reject me anyway.

But DNA is an interesting thing. It can call to you and sometimes overrule your common sense.  The need to know answers can be a powerful force for many adoptees.  It isn't a need to "replace" what we know and love, but to find the pieces that everyone around us already have and sometimes take for granted: "Where did I get my green eyes from?  How many children did my grand parents have?  Where did their families immigrate from?"  Until I knew my birthfather's information, I would never have the complete story, and unfinished business can keep you awake at night.

Of all my SAT scores, science was my lowest, by far.  I mention that because as I started to research my DNA results on Ancestry, I felt like I was reading Chinese.  My good friend Sherri, who had been instrumental in my searches and emotional support, would try repeatedly to help me understand it all but I could never quite grasp it.  My eyes would glaze over and I felt like someone was trying to teach me quantum physics.

Eventually I became aware of a woman named Priscilla Sharp who was considered a "search angel"--a person who has a desire to help adoptees find biological relatives, without any charges for their time.  Priscilla had a very firm grasp on DNA and when I contacted her to request her help, she and I spent several months going back and forth, discussing what matches I had, and piecing them together.  She did all of the work, and when she finally found a match that was close enough to send her in the right direction, I was astonished at how quickly she was able to "deduct" with almost 99% certainty, who my birthfather was.

I received the email from her on August 11th 2018.  My father's name was John.....and he passed away in 2006.

The next several months were spent scouring the internet for pictures and any information I could find.  I immediately located all 6 of his children on social media, and took enormous delight in finding similarities between them, me, and my own children.  I learned that my father's parents were from Ireland and Sweden, and that he had actually been married twice, having 2 children after me, as well as the four before me. (Ill admit I wasn't quite sure how I felt about no longer being the baby of the family---I had grown attached to the title.)

I spent many nights at the computer trying to find a "young" photo of him and when I finally found it---I saw my eyes, and a young man who looked full of hope for his future. I dont remember feeling sad that he was no longer living--I think I had long suspected he had already passed away--but I WAS disappointed to think I had 6 new half siblings that I would never know, because I had made the executive decision not to contact them. Their father was gone, and I would not be the one to reveal his "secret" to them.

But as it usually does, life had much bigger plans in store.

Adoption on the Big Screen

A few years ago, I had the opportunity to work for a local radio station as a movie critic/part time radio personality. Every week, I would attend a particular movie, discuss it on air with my co-worker, and write up a small op-ed piece to publish on the station's web page. (You can see an example of it, just for fun, here:  http://mix1043fm.com/rock-of-ages-movie-review-good-bad-ugly/)


That fun little part time gig is now in the past, and it's been quite awhile since I've written a movie review, although that isn't really the purpose of this post. Recently, I had the opportunity to see the film "Lion", about a young boy named Saroo, who becomes lost and separated from his family in India, and is eventually adopted by an Australian couple. In the past, movies about adoption were crossed off my list immediately, because I found them too upsetting....especially if there was a "happy reunion" at the end, reminding me of my own inability to find my missing pieces.  But due to the developments of the past year, I finally felt emotionally prepared to see this film that was garnering a lot of critical acclaim. Truth be told, I'm not sure anyone could actually be prepared for the feelings this movie stirs up, and as an adoptee, I found myself staring at the screen in wonder, shocked that someone had been able to so accurately portray the emotions I have felt for most of my adult life.


To clarify, my life has certainly not been anything close to what this child endured. The differences in our stories are profound: He had a close loving relationship with his mother and siblings for the first few years of his life, and then was, in effect, ripped from them as a small child. He was homeless, hungry and scared. He was subjected to people who had no sense of humanity, and it was only through his eventual adoption that he was able to feel safe again. Being adopted at birth, I obviously had no previous memory of my birth family, no "strings of attachment", and I certainly never experienced any of the horrific things that Saroo did---at the age of 5, when he was sleeping on a piece of cardboard in the streets, I was living in the warm, safe and loving home of my adoptive family.


But the similarities in our stories are also numerous, and that is what prompted me to write this particular post. As much as the sadness of his earlier life broke my heart, it was watching him in his search for his identity that spoke to my soul.  Certain things would 'trigger' him to think about his family, starting with an Indian dessert that is served at a party he is attending. The feelings are so strong that it almost debilitates him. I thought of the times when I would experience that same moment of helplessness, as someone would point out that my sister looked so much like my mother, and that I didn't seem to resemble either of my parents....and I would get lost in the thoughts of "Yes, I look like someone, but I don't know who they are".


When Saroo began his search, there was a feeling of overwhelming impossibility. He really has no idea where to start, no solid leads or names to help him, and ----let's face it----India is not a small place. As he starts plotting the possibilities up on his wall, it took me back to the countless hours I spent entering my name and information into literally hundreds of "adoption reunion" databases.  I had no names to work with, and no idea of where exactly they might be, so I had no way to look for anyone in particular.....all I could do was enter my information, and pray that someone was looking for ME. I followed every single lead I could think of over the years, no matter how far fetched it was, because the pull to know was just too great to stop.  Saroo portrayed that as well, basically becoming so fixated on finding information that his family and girlfriend were almost completely alienated from his life.


At one point, he expresses that he just wants to be able to find his mother and comfort her....let her know that he is alright.  He knows that she has grieved his loss and it torments him. When I became a mother for the first time, I started to grasp the possibility that my own birthmother was carrying a burden of missing me as well, and it became so important to me to be able to reassure her that I was fine. Even though I eventually learned that she was not particularly worried about me, it was a blessing to ME to be able to let her know.


Eventually Saroo reaches a point where there seems to be no more leads and his girlfriend says "well, what if you NEVER find them? Then what??" This is a common response from many who are NOT adoptees and have a difficult time understanding the pull that many of us feel to get answers.  Saroo's parents loved him and he had enjoyed a significantly "better" life with them, than he could have ever experienced in India. Why couldn't he just be grateful for that and let it go?
For some adoptees, there seems to be no real "need" to search for their birth families, and they are content with the information they have. For others, it's as if they have a piece of their identity missing, and they feel utterly lost until they find it. I've likened it before to a "Non adoptee" being told they could never know the names of their grandparents or history of their ancestors, simply because a law wouldn't allow it. All of a sudden it makes no sense that this law actually exists for anyone.  And what many people fail to understand, is that searching for your roots does NOT mean that you love or appreciate your adoptive family any less. I have personally found in my searching that locating my birth family has just strengthened the love I have for my parents and sister, while enlarging my family circle and allowing me to love even MORE people. One of my favorite quotes from the movie is when Saroo tells his adoptive mother, after he finds his family in India, "Finding her doesn't change who you are to me".


And finally, in the scene where he embraces his family again (spoiler alert---he DOES find them), the emotions are so overwhelming that even my big tough guy husband sitting next to me was tearing up. I found this scene so beautiful for many reasons but mostly because of the fact that he no longer speaks the same language as his mother and siblings, but they are still able to express their love for each other.  Although I can't specifically relate to embracing my birthmother---she remains somewhat elusive to ALL her children it seems----I HAVE had the amazing opportunity of hugging my half sister and speaking by phone with both half brothers.  And although our lives have been significantly different----in effect, we sort of "speak a different language"-- it's been an amazing thing to me that you can be apart from people for decades, and if you are family, there is no distance.


If you are a person who can't quite understand the importance of allowing adoptees access to their birth records (even though that was not the exact issue that Saroo faced), this can help you more fully grasp the struggles that many of us face in needing all the information we can get to help us in our search.
I don't very often recommend a movie based on adoption merits, but because this film is based on a true story AND truly nails the emotions that many adoptees experience, I can't say enough about it.
Thank you Hollywood, for making a film that puts adoption in the spotlight and allows people to see the good that comes from adoptees getting answers.

Birthday Blues

I was born at 2:05 a.m. on Christmas morning.

I've often wondered what sort of problem that created for Mary, being a single mother of 3 little ones.  Who did she leave them with when she went to the hospital?  Did anyone go with her, or did she make the trip by herself?  Was she angry that I arrived on Christmas Day, effectively keeping her from celebrating it with her children? Was THEIR Christmas an unpleasant one that year because of me?

Because Ava is the oldest---she was 7 when I was born--she seems to remember the most about my arrival, but she tells me she doesn't recall anything specific about Christmas that year. In fact, my appearance was so secretive, she was told she was "imagining" having a baby sister, that it was all in her head.  She never believed it, which I guess explains why she seemed so willing to embrace me when I showed up 47 years later. 

For the first part of my life, Christmas was magical.  In addition to the fun of Christmas presents, I got the added bonus of birthday gifts as well.  Without fail, I always get people who say to me "Oh you were born on Christmas, that must be awful......your birthday probably always got forgotten or combined." But in fact, the opposite is true.  My parents not only gave me birthday presents at Christmas, but to make sure I never felt like my day just got rolled into the holiday commotion, they chose to celebrate my "half birthday" on June 25th each year.  This was when I would have my birthday parties, and I would get presents from them THEN as well. Frankly, it was good to be me.

But Christmas time is complicated for me, especially now, as an adult.  I still love the twinkly lights and magical feeling of the season, but I admit that a certain sadness sets in every year in December. There is a loss there.  For many years, the "loss" was that I wasn't able to find my birthmother, and I felt sad that she probably spent her holidays worrying about me.  Then there were the years AFTER finding her, when I knew she WASN'T thinking of me, and that was a new sort of loss.  The last few years, the loss has been about all the things I would never know, because of her decision to terminate our letters.  I would (most likely) never know my father's name, or my family history.  I would never be certain of my ancestry, or where I got my curly hair and green eyes from.  And more pressing than anything else.....I knew I had siblings---a sister, and two brothers---and I would miss the chance to know them.  So although I tried to keep my holiday spirit alive and well, there was always a little piece of me that couldn't shake the sadness that came along with each passing birthday. Every year my husband would see it and say sympathetically "what can I do?" and then hug me tightly as I would shrug and cry.

This year, as I finish wrapping presents, making candy, and sending cards, it occurs to me that this is the first time in over 20 years that my birthday is NOT bringing sadness with it. Well......that's not entirely true.  I'm not particularly happy about turning 48.  But I am frankly amazed at what this last year has brought.  If you had told me last Christmas that within WEEKS, I would not only know my birthmother's name, but I would also know the names of my siblings AND end up getting to know them, I would never have believed it.  So many questions have finally been answered ---so many holes in my heart filled.  It's going to be a great birthday.

Christmas is magical again.