Posts Tagged ‘search angel’

Secrets in Review, Issue 3

Saturday, April 19th, 2014

Since Secret Sons & Daughters launched two months ago, we have enjoyed connecting with adoptees through their powerful stories, comments and through our social media.

It’s exciting to watch the voices of the adoptee community grow more candid and outspoken.

We are honored to have shared adoptees’ tales about searching, reunion, and what it was like for those in their 40’s or 50’s to discover that they’d been adopted. We’d also love to hear stories about what it was like to reunite with your biological father. Have you experienced rejection from your families, and if so, how have you dealt with this hardship? Are you an adoption rights advocate? What event inspired you to work for open access in your state? Maybe you’re an adoptee who’d prefer no contact at all— we’d like to share those stories, too.

We’re happy to offer you writing ideas and editorial assistance. To learn more—read our submission guidelines.

At Secret Sons & Daughters, we are passionate about helping adoptees connect, and hopeful that through our stories, we will create a groundswell of people to support original birth certificate access across the United States. Today, only eleven states (see Discover Your Rights) allow adoptees to have that access.

As noted in a New Era for Ohio Adoptees Began Today, Ohio is soon to be the most recent state to join that short list to provide original birth certificate access to all adult adoptees.

The adoptive story collective holds power. We’re seeing that stories beget more stories, from a writer who shared his search angel information to help another writer, to these comments that speak to what it’s like to share an experience—

Amy, and adoptee, enthusiastically related to Scott Baker’s inspirational reunion story when she said, “I am in tears! I have looked for years on and off, but have recently started searching with all my heart. I have an emptiness inside that I can’t explain compounded by the recent death of my adopted father. Please continue to share your story with as many groups as you can as it gives such extreme hope! I am in NY, and it seems when search angels hear that they seem to shy away a bit. Thank you so much for the wonderful story, you are very blessed!”

Another reader and adoptee, Mary, summarized the potential healing effect of writing her story after reading Paige Strickland’s interview on self-publishing a memoir: “I like what Paige said about ‘writing got a lot of “garbage” out of my system.’ That’s what is happening with me now as I just started my search at age 65. I didn’t realize how much I had suppressed, and how it has affected my life…I didn’t realize how many adoptees are out there, as I have never personally known anyone who admitted to being adopted…I felt odd about wanting to know who my family was, especially after the things I was told—like there was something wrong with me for being inquisitive. Thank you Paige, and all the [adoptees] and search angels out there— for freeing me and giving me the opportunity to know the real me.”

Many others supportively connected with our contributing authors. Here are the highlights from the past month:

An Adoptee Comes Full Circle When He Finds His Birth MotherAdoptee, Scott Baker

An Irish Adoptee Talks Adoption over Tea with Philomena LeeAdoptee, and Journalist with The Irish Independent, Catriona Palmer

An Ohio Adoptee Finds Her Way Home to HerselfAdoptee, Molly Murphy

An Iowa Adoptee’s Thoughts the Night Before He Meets His Birth MotherAdoptee, Dan Koerselman

Paige Strickland, Author of “Akin to the Truth: A Memoir of Adoption and Identity,” Speaks About Self-Publishing Her BookCofounder of Secret Sons & Daughters, Heather Katz, interviewed adoptee, Paige Strickland.

New York’s Spence-Chapin’s New Modern Family Center Offers Support for Adult AdopteesCofounder of Secret Sons & Daughters, Christine Koubek, spoke with adoptee, Misha Conaway, Outreach Manager, and Dana Stallard, the center’s Adoptee Services Coordinator about the center’s opening.

New Era for Ohio Adoptees Began TodayChristine also spoke with Ms. Betsie Norris, the executive director of Adoption Network Cleveland, and an adoptee whose father was partially responsible not only for Ohio’s sealed records practice, but also for its reversal many years later.

Coming up next are new late-discovery adoptee tales, and stories of secret daughters finding their strength through difficult reunions. In addition, Christine will share the highlights of her recent trip to San Francisco where she met a few adoptee tale writers and many others who are making a difference in the lives of adoptees at the American Adoption Congress Conference.

We’ve also reorganized our “News” section, which is now “Secret Talk.” Within it, you’ll find posts grouped under: Words of Wisdom, Legislation News, Secrets in Review, and Blog posts (which are our thoughts on various adoption related topics).

Please be sure to subscribe (here on our sidebar) to receive the latest Adoptee Tales and updates. And like us on Facebook to connect with other adoptees— help us reach 600 “likes” this week.

Thank you for spreading the word about Secret Sons & Daughters. We hit over 20,000 views yesterday!

Best wishes,

Heather & Christine
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An Iowa Adoptee’s Thoughts the Night Before He Meets His Birth Mother

Thursday, April 17th, 2014

I was adopted as an infant in Webster City, Iowa in 1959, and told from a young age that I’d been adopted. It wasn’t a big deal for me. I had great parents that loved me very much and gave me a great life.

When I was two, we moved to Carmel, Indiana, where I grew up with my sister, who was also adopted. Neither of us ever thought much of looking for our birth parents. The few times we did, we agreed not to search until our parents passed, out of respect for them. Our father passed in 1984, our mother in 2010.

A few months ago, I submitted paperwork and a check to the Iowa Department of Human Services to request background and medical information on my birth parents. According to the state’s law, adoptees and their birth parents can find each other through their “Mutual Consent Voluntary Adoption Registry.” Information is only revealed if both parties have registered and there’s a match.

A package arrived in the mail a couple weeks later. It included basic information, my birth parents’ ages, nationality, height, weight, eye color, education level and religion— and my given first and middle name:  Jeffrey Todd.

The medical history portion on my birth father stated that he had died at age 40, and in parenthesis said: “birth father’s brother wrote us of his passing.” The paperwork did not provide either of their names, only that he was 21-years-old at the time of my birth, 5’10”, brown hair, blue eyes, and 160 lbs.—the same as me at that age. Those words made me weep for the man I never knew, and for the brother’s act of kindness.

And I wondered if my birth mother was still alive, and worried—more like panicked—that I’d waited too long.

My wife, Robyn, helped me immensely through the roller coaster of emotions. Knowing that the state of Iowa could help me no further, I reached out to a good friend of ours, Aly, who knows many people in the adoption industry. She put me in touch with a search angel. Search angels, I learned, are often adopted people and have a network that works together to help people like me. I was very lucky in that I had three “angels” help me in my quest— Cheryl, Denise, and Julie. There are no words to express how grateful I am for these three ladies.

On my youngest son’s birthday, Cheryl called and said, “I’m sure we found your mother. We have a phone number too. . . and guess what? She lives in Florida.”

My birth mother was living in Naples, FL, just 50 miles south of me. I was astonished. I moved to Sanibel, Florida two years ago. They discovered that my birth parents were from Kokomo, Indiana, just 30 miles north of my childhood hometown. There was an uncle and cousins in Kokomo and Michigan, too.

After a pep talk from Robyn, I called the number and hoped for the best, or at least not to be hung up on. Her husband, Jim, answered the phone. I explained that I was doing genealogy research on her first married name and asked if I could speak with Nancy to ask her a few questions.

When she came to the phone I introduced myself, and asked her to verify her maiden name so that I’d know that I was speaking to the right person. Once I was sure that she was Nancy, I asked if she recognized my father’s name. She did. Then I told her where and when I had been born.

I think she knew who I was from the first moment. She seemed so calm while I was an emotional mess. She asked, “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“My mother”

“Yes, yes— you are,” she said.

She had thought that I was still living in Iowa and that she’d probably never hear from me. We exchanged basic information and decided to let things sink in and talk again in a couple weeks. Before we hung up, she asked me to forgive her.

Forgive her?

My throat tightened. I held back my emotions, and said, “Nancy, I have had a great life and great adoptive parents and family. I understand the circumstances you must have faced back then, being unwed and from a religious family background. You don’t need me to forgive you. I understand.”

And I did. I knew she did what was best for me. Nancy told me that I have never been a secret from any of her family, including her two children. She has a 49-year-old daughter and 45-year-old son.

I told her I have three sons, two beautiful step-daughters, nieces, and a precious 1-year-old granddaughter.

Beyond the normal exchange of who, what, where, when, I learned that Nancy had been divorced prior to marrying Jim 24 years ago. It turns out that Jim was from Indianapolis and was my adopted mother’s boss for 12 years. What a small world.

We’ve talked a few times over the last few weeks. I’m going to meet her—my mother Nancy—for the first time this week. Fifty-four years is a long time, to say the least. I’m very nervous. I’m still thinking of questions I might ask, but then again, those questions will probably come naturally when we start to talk. I’m excited to see her, hug her, and let her know how happy I am to finally meet her— to fill this empty part of me.

I’m bringing my childhood pictures on through my college years to show her. Wish me luck!

Editor’s Note: For more information on Iowa’s access laws visit the Iowa Department of Human Services.

Image of Dan as a child: provided by author. 

Thanks for visiting our online community. In addition to stories like this one, you can find valuable resources, discover your rights to your original birth certificate, meet other adoptees, and join the discussion by commenting (below) or on our Facebook page.

Subscribe to our blog to receive more adoptee tales, and consider adding your voice to our Secret Sons & Daughters collection. 

A Texas Adoptee Comes Full Circle When He Finds His Birth Mom

Tuesday, March 25th, 2014

[dropcap size=dropcap]I[/dropcap]n July of 2012, at forty-two-years-old, I found my birth mom. It was an unbelievably awesome and life changing experience! The funny thing is, for most of my life, I never thought I’d ever want this to happen.

I grew up in Waco, Texas, and I always knew that I was adopted. I had great adoptive parents, grandparents and extended family. My adoptive family never hid anything from me, and I never thought much about being adopted. My parents were my only parents, and to tell you the truth— our friends never even knew that I was adopted.

I fit in with my family perfectly. I shared the same beliefs, values and personality traits. When anyone learned of my adoption, I’d hear something like, “C’mon, you know you are not adopted—you look just like your dad.” Our family got a kick from that because it was so true. I was treated well, and I felt very loved and spoiled. I’d say my childhood was as good as it gets.

In fact, my life was so good, that I think if my birth mom had called me on my eighteenth birthday, I would have freaked out. Without a doubt, I would have run from her. It wasn’t that I was angry with her for giving me up—I just hadn’t ever explored the idea of knowing her.

In 2000, I met my wife-to-be, Robin. It wasn’t until four years into our relationship that I told her I was adopted. I wasn’t keeping secrets from her; my adoption just wasn’t a big deal. She was shocked. Robin also thought I looked just like my dad, and she couldn’t understand my lack of curiosity or my lack of desire to search for my birth mom. Our conversation prompted me to research the subject of adoptee behavior and searching. I was surprised to learn how so many adopted people wished to reconnect with their birth families.

Nonetheless, my desire and interest to reconnect with my birth mom did not increase. When I reached my late thirties, however, I started to wonder if I might have a brother or a sister in the world. I didn’t go too far out of my way, though I did post the date and state of my birth on a few adoption registries to inquire if any siblings were searching for me.  Nothing.

Life went on, until my wife and I started to look into what it would take to adopt a child. We had endured some heartbreaking losses and adoption seemed like a good option at the time. While we did not end up choosing to adopt, the exploratory process opened another door.

When we had attended an adoption seminar, we had heard some birth moms speak about their experiences of giving up their child. I was really moved to hear all of them say that they just wanted the best for their children and that they wanted to know that their children had turned out okay.

The words of those birth moms hit me hard. Had my birth mom worried and wondered about me for all these years? Now, I felt I had to do the right thing. If she had worried, then I felt the need to bring her peace.

Boy, did things change quickly after that. In May of 2012, I began my search. I viewed many sites and registries, but all of them led to dead ends. I requested my non-identifying adoption information from the state of Texas, which took a few weeks to receive. Wow. Just getting that and reading about my birth mom and dad was amazing.

My initial motive to search for my birth mom went from wanting to help her— to having a burning desire and need to know everything about her. The search experience was all encompassing.

Ultimately, I came across something called a “search angel.” All of these search angels were helpful and each of them gave me sound advice. After interviewing several of them, I chose to work with Marianne.

On July 1st, Marianne located my birth mom and birth dad. Even with the little information I was able to provide her, she had found my birth parents within only twenty-four hours. We discovered that they had married, and that I also had two younger full birth sisters. I was blown away.

Marianne found the addresses and phone numbers for all of my immediate birth family members. I was even able to see my sisters’ pictures on Facebook. Now what? My wife and I were too scared to call my birth family. So, Aimee, an intermediary and a friend of Marianne’s, made the call on our behalf.

I was a nervous wreck. What if, after all of this, my birth mom did not want to talk to me? On July 3rd, Aimee made the call. Five minutes later, Aimee called me…

She had spoken to my birth mom! She said that she had never talked to a birth mom who was so emotional or excited to have been “found.” My birth mom told Aimee that she would need a few minutes, and that she would call right back to get my number.

Two long days passed. My birth mom had not called back. I freaked out—why wasn’t she calling? I couldn’t take it.

Finally, I remembered that I had sent her an anonymous email through Classmates.com to ask her if either my birthday or Waco, Texas had had any meaning for her. Since she should have received it on the very same night that Aimee had called her, I checked my email for a response: “You’re the son I’ve thought of every day for the last 42 years. Please call me.”

My birth mom had been waiting on me to call her. She must’ve been a nervous wreck, too. Seconds later, on July 5th, I called my birth mom and heard her voice for the first time. She cried, laughed, and cried some more, and I could tell that she had needed and wanted this every day— since the day that I was born.

I also spoke to one of my birth sisters, who had been at my birth mom’s house at the time. On July 4th, just the day before this reuniting phone call, my birth mom finally told my sisters that they had a brother. They were stunned as I was, and yet, our conversation was so good, and so natural.

On that day, I learned my full birth story. When my birth mom had gotten pregnant with me, my birth dad’s parents insisted that I be given up for adoption because my birth parents were not married at the time of conception. My birth mom’s parents were quite religious and several of her relatives were even ministers. She felt then, that under all those circumstances, she could never tell her family that she had become pregnant with me. She believed she’d bring great shame to everyone.

At that time, my birth dad was in the Army. He had asked my birth mom to marry him while she was still pregnant. She had said “yes,” and together, they moved to the Fort Hood, Texas army station. She had me there in Waco, but like many mothers who relinquished children in that era, she never saw me on the day I was born. A year later, they moved back to Minnesota without me.

She told me that she didn’t want to give me up, but that she did what she thought was best for me at the time. No one back in Minnesota could know of my birth, but it was important to her and my birth dad that I was safe and that I would go to a good home. I believe she was being a good mom even when she couldn’t keep me. My birth parents stayed married for almost 30 years, until my birth dad died in an unfortunate accident. I never got to meet him.

On August 16th, in the same year that I had found my birth mom, I traveled to Minnesota to meet her. My reunion was something out of the ordinary—and not something I can explain well to others. It was surreal—like I had entered into a world of fantasy. Hugging my birth mom for the first time, holding her hand and just being with her was so incredible. I got to meet my sisters, too. I had always thought that I shared the exact mannerisms of my adoptive family, but when I met my birth family, I couldn’t believe how many mannerisms I also shared with them.

I now know how hard my relinquishment was for my birth mom, but today—she, my sisters and I, share a nice relationship. I talk to my sisters all the time, and I talk to my birth mom almost every day.

I’ve never held one ounce of bitterness toward my birth mom. Times were different back then and my birth parents were only kids themselves. She was twenty-one-years-old, when she had to leave her baby boy in Texas and move back to Minnesota. I can only imagine that kind of pain.

On my 43rd birthday of this past year, my birth mom returned to Texas to celebrate my birthday with me for the very first time. We appreciated many special moments then, and I know I will enjoy the ones left to come.

My adoptive family is supportive of my reunion journey to this day. Although, my parents were understandably a little uneasy with my search and reunion at first, it did not take long for them to realize that I would never abandon them and that they would always be my parents. I love all of my families very much.

To think that a few years ago, I neither wanted nor envisioned all that led to this happiness, and now it’s my new normal. I feel fortunate to know my birth family— only wish I had met them sooner.

Image credit: photo provided by author.

Thanks for visiting our online community. In addition to stories like this one, you can find valuable resources, discover your rights to your original birth certificate, meet other adoptees, and join the discussion by commenting (below) or on our Facebook page.

Subscribe to our blog to receive more adoptee tales, and consider adding your voice to our Secret Sons & Daughters collection. 

An Adult Adoptee’s Dilemma: To Search or Not to Search

Saturday, March 8th, 2014

Imagine you are at your favorite Chinese restaurant. A bill tray and three fortune cookies are slipped on the table in front of you. Before you dig into your wallet or purse, you grab the first cookie, crack it open and read the enclosed message, “Don’t wait for your ship to come in, swim out to it.” Amen, you might think, it must be a sign. I should just go for it.

You crush the next cookie. “I think you ate your fortune, while you were eating your cookie.”

Now, you stare at that last cookie. This one will to be the fortune that yields all the answers. You inhale deeply, break the cookie in half and pull out the white narrow strip—“Next time you have the opportunity, go on a rollercoaster.”

When I seriously considered whether I should or should not search for my birth family, I might as well have turned to fortune cookies to guide me in the right direction. At the time, I did not know of any other adoptees wanting to make a search.

Adoption forum boards, private Facebook discussion groups, and fellow adoptee Twitter feeds did not exist. Research on the subject of searching was scarce and adoptees were expected to just be grateful that they were adopted. Although my adoptive parents were responsive to my questions—not even knowing if I should crack open the proverbial cookie in the first place, hurled me straight aboard the search and reunion roller coaster.

I was under ten-years-old, when I absorbed the meaning of being adopted from an era where adoptions were closed. I felt an internal dilemma riddled with ongoing debate and mystery.

Even though I was being raised in a loving and supportive adoptive family, I still yearned to fill the holes drilled into my being.

By the time I was a young teenager, my craving for answers grew. I would frequently ask myself: “Where did I come from; why was I given up for adoption; what is my birth story; what does my birth family look like; do I have biological brothers and sisters; and what is my ancestral and medical background?

I would often seek signs from the universe to tell me if I should actually proceed with a search, and longingly look up at the stars on my birthday wishing that my birth relatives might be doing the same. When I was sixteen-years-old, I even attempted to will the name of my birth mother and father right off the page of the non-identifying information that accompanied my altered birth certificate!

It wasn’t until I reached my late teens, that I asked my parents for their help to search. I felt a thrilling sense of excitement and overwhelming spell of fear. The thought of slashing into the now archaic principle—a birth mother has the right to privacy—caused me alarm. If my search were successful, I would have to be prepared to deal with any and all possibilities.

Even though I strongly desired to capture my missing information, I made it clear to my parents that I was not looking to replace any of my adoptive family. In fact, it was because I felt loved and secure in my adoptive family that I felt confident enough to search. I hoped to eventually meet and love my birth relatives, but I was painfully aware that I might not find a fairytale ending.

With the aide of my parents, a dedicated adoption search angel, and a few clues, I was fortunate to find my birth mother at the age of twenty-one—in the state of Texas— where birth records remain sealed today. Our reunion did not fill in every one of my missing holes, but I have no regrets. I accept what I’m able to know, and I’m grateful to know it.

Like many adoptees, my longing to potentially search occurred as a child, but according to 2007 statistics from the American Adoption Congress, some adoptees are motivated only after a triggering event—which could be a marriage, the birth of a baby, or following the passing of a loved one.

Still, I have other adopted friends who have never felt the same need to seek out their pasts. Some prefer to leave well enough alone. They are either quite content to leave the past in the past, are afraid of finding something negative, fear rejection, or dread the idea of potentially hurting their adoptive families.

The adult adoptee’s dilemma of whether to make that search or not, is a deeply complicated and personal preference. And thankfully, today, an adoptee does not have to make the search decision—alone. Adoption research abounds, and books, adoptee memoirs and adoptee essays are plentiful, including several that are on Secret Sons & Daughters’ Adoptee Tales “Searching” page.

Sometimes just reading the stories of others can help provide a sense of a future direction that might be right for you, which can make that fortune telling scenario a thing of the past.

Stay tuned for my upcoming post on resources and tips for searching for your birth family…

How did you feel when you decided to search for your birth family? What was your experience? Would you like your medical history without an ongoing relationship?