Growing up, for the most part, was probably like anyone else. Some good experiences and some bad. I had my share of trials, but I was able to get through them okay. I was loving and forgiving. Patient with my siblings and got along with just about everyone. Overall, I was happy.
My adoption was never a secret. I don't even remember my parents ever telling me about it. It's just like I always knew. I looked like I belonged with my family, so it wasn't like I stuck out. Everyone knew, and I was fine with it. I told my friends, teachers, whoever would listen. I guess I thought that made me interesting.My parents were always open about it. I would ask questions on occasion, but not often. Right before I got married, I had some lab work done. The results came back questionable and it upset my mom. She went down to the state's office and demanded as much medical history as possible about my biological family. She thought maybe there was something in my file that was not disclosed to them. She filled out some paperwork there that would change my life forever...but more on that later!
I remember friends, and even my dad on one occasion, asking if I ever wanted to find my 'real' parents. I always answered "No.". Thinking back, it wasn't that I did not want to meet them. It was more that I felt so guilty about it. I was afraid that I would be betraying my parents if I even thought about finding my birth parents. There were a few times I remember looking things up online about genealogy and such, but not knowing anything about where I came from made that a useless effort. The truth was, I did want to know. I did want to see if I looked like them, if they were still together, WHY did they do it, did they love me, did they think about me...I definitely was curious. I wanted to know them, but I could not admit it because of guilt. I loved my parents so much, I did not want to hurt them.
I went to college on a basketball scholarship and met my husband to be. I was happy. Life was great. We got married. I got pregnant...with twins! Since neither of us had twins in our immediate families, I instantly thought about my history. I wondered if my birth mom was a twin or if there were twins in the family. She, especially, was always on my mind. Never outwardly, I would not admit that to anyone because of guilt, of course. To make a long story short, my pregnancy was going great and suddenly at 26 weeks I found myself in labor and in the hospital. I was in the hospital for three days before our baby girls arrived...stillborn. To say that I was devastated would be an understatement. Having biological children was very important to me. I feared, since that was my first pregnancy, that dream would never happen. I had experienced my first major trial in adulthood. It made me evaluate myself and my life. It was at this time that I decided I HAD to know where I came from. I HAD to know about my medical history. I didn't think it was possible to find my birth parents, but I really wanted as much medical history that I could get from my adoption records. So, the search began.
Now I use the term 'search' loosely. I went to the state to see what I needed to do to open my file and get any records available. They gave me paperwork about an adoption reunion registry. Basically, you sign up, if a biological family member signs up as well it links you together and the contact can go from there. I filled it out, and eventually threw it away. I couldn't do it. I could not betray my parents.
Almost 11 months after losing the twins, we had our first baby. She was healthy and perfect in every way! I was in love. However, having her now made me even more curious about my history and, for the first time I admitted to myself that I felt a longing to know more about birth mom. Losing the twins and then having my own child made me realize that she made a decision I hoped to never have to make. I looked at giving a baby up for adoption as a death. I felt so bad for her. Leaving the hospital empty handed when you went in pregnant was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I can't imagine the pain and emptiness she felt the day she left the hospital without me. I knew she had to love me. I also had a desire to share my history with my own child now. Not knowing it made that impossible. Since guilt overtook me every time I thought about searching, I decided to step back and pray about it. I asked God to give me guidance and to help me find peace in whatever decision I made. I had NO idea what plan God had for me.