Tag Archives: Late Discovery Adoptees

Pictures of My Mother

Everything I knew about my birth mother’s life was based on what I had learned in a two-week whirlwind of document discoveries and long distance conversations with newly found relatives.

I was hungry to know what the woman, who died 30 years ago this month, looked like. For days I waited anxiously for the mail carrier to show up with a packet of vintage photographs.

“Your mother’s pictures are here,” my husband, Tom, announced after picking up the mail one day last week. I ran upstairs from my basement office.

Tom handed me a thick envelope. I started to cry.

Nobody’s life story is complete without photos. Inside the envelope, the faded pictures, dating back to the 1970s, show a woman with black hair and dark eyes. She’s rather slender for someone who had given birth to five children. Lillian alternately looks happy, haggard, tired and bored in photos showing her with her husband, surrounded by his family, with her sons and daughter.

The nicest photo, probably taken by a professional photographer, shows my mother looking attractive and chic in a sleeveless black and white dress, a curl of black hair on her pale forehead, standing near her husband who’s wearing a suit jacket and tie. Looks like they were at a party. Maybe their wedding day?

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My mother, Lillian, with husband, Howard

Another one of my favorites shows my mother standing alone in front of a lake, holding three large fish in both hands. She looks happy.

Lil Fishin' cropped

Back of Lil Fishing

Lillian did a lot of living in her 48 years. She even became a grandmother, which is mind-boggling to me. Her granddaughter told me about the happy times she had with my mother, who took her fishing. Lillian skinned and filleted their catch of the day.

The photos flesh out Lillian’s story for me. It wasn’t all tragic, which is the impression I came away with from early conversations with her family members. Looking at the photos, I can see she had some ordinary, even fun moments. I am relieved.

Wife, mother, awesome cook. Hard-working waitress, drinker, angler.  My mother wore a lot of hats. I will always treasure the photos that bring her to life in my imagination.

Hitting a Dead End

I hit a dead end in my search for bio dad. Ok, that’s a stretch. Finding my biological father seems next to impossible so I’ll be happy to get a few nuggets of information about the man, who’s a stranger to me.

Last week, I tried to reach a distant cousin. As an adult, she lived with her mother for a while and her mother was very close to my adoptive mom.  I have a hunch there could be a family tie linking my birth parents to my adoptive parents. My cousin might know something, I thought.

I left a couple of messages for people with my cousin’s last name in Green Bay, Wisconsin, her last known place of residence. The phone rang at 11:30 one night. I was in bed. My cousin’s son was on the phone. A little groggy, I explained what I was looking for. Sorry, he said, but my mother passed away a little over a year ago. She was about 65.

Damn! Why didn’t I reach out to my cousin sooner? I should have started this mission a long time ago.

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Courtesy of Flickr/Al-HikesAZ

It would be nice to know my father’s name, occupation, ethnic background and medical history. Of  course, that’s not all I want to know.  I would love to find out how he met my mother and what kind of guy he is. Are we alike in any way?  Do we look like we could be father and daughter? Did my father have other children?

I assume my father would have to be at least in his 70s and possibly older. It is quite possible my dad, like my birth mother, is deceased.

Finding out you’re adopted is not the kind of news you want to hear as an adult. I found out in September 2002. To say it’s unsettling is an understatement. I turned the information around in my head several times but that’s as far as it went. I had no burning desire to find my birth parents. That would have meant unraveling my life story to an extent and exposing myself to something that could be ugly. I wasn’t ready to go there.

Years passed. I got used to the idea of being adopted and started to ask questions and poke around into the past. Of course, by waiting so long, I lost opportunities to talk to older relatives who probably knew a great deal about the adoption. My godparents are gone. They were very tight with my adoptive parents, who are also deceased.

I am kicking myself for not starting this search sooner. Do any of you also regret not having looked for biological family earlier? Tell me I’m not alone!

Questions for My Mother

The story of my mother’s life is the saddest story I’ve ever heard.

I have pieced together a rough draft of her life, based on documents and interviews with family members and a close friend. I only have bits and pieces, not the whole story. What I’ve woven together is far from complete but the more I learn about my mother, the more I want to know.

Born around 1934 in rural Indiana, my mother had enough brothers and sisters to fill a classroom. She was one of about 14 or 15 children. Feeding and sheltering that many kids proved impossible for her parents who struggled through the Depression. My mother and her siblings were separated, sent to live as foster children in the homes of strangers.  One of my mother’s foster moms was a woman with a “wicked tongue,” according to her daughter. My mother cleaned the family’s house and did other chores. She liked to draw and read fiction. She also looked after her foster mother’s children and grew especially close to one of her foster sisters, who looked up to her. The girl wept when my mother left for Indiana University.

She never earned a degree. My mother married young and had several children. They all lived in a simple bungalow in a suburb north of Chicago. My mother was known for her great cooking and lively personality. People I talked to recalled how nice and sweet she was sober. After a few drinks, the sweet attractive woman morphed into someone who could be belligerent and aggressive, a woman who talked a lot and would not let go of a grievance.

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Courtesy of Flickr/Carrie Ann Images

My mother already had four children when I came along. Her husband had every reason to believe I was another man’s child so after I was born, my mother gave me up to a couple in their 50s. They adopted me and never told me I was adopted.  My mother and her husband eventually divorced and she raised her four kids on her own for a while. She worked as a waitress.

She married again and her second husband was said to be good to his stepchildren. My mother’s oldest, a boy, was born with developmental delays. Her second child was a girl. Her third child, a boy who did very well in school, helped keep the family together. Tragically, as a teenager, he took his own life after breaking up with a girl. The death of a child is every parent’s worst nightmare and suicide adds another layer of pain. My mother was never the same after that.

She was coping with breast cancer when her third son, a troubled young man, was seriously hurt in a motor vehicle accident. Divorced again, my mother took care of her injured son and herself at home.  I was told near the end of her life, she and her son lived in a rented cottage on a lake in northern Illinois, a place where my mother felt at peace. She was about 48 when she died. Left behind was her son, who eventually died from complications related to the accident.

My mother was gone before I even knew she had existed.  If I could talk to her, I would ask a lot of questions.

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Courtesy of Flickr/Mikecogh

What would you do differently if you could re-live your life? How did you and my father meet? What did you see in him? What’s his name and what is he like? How did you feel about giving me up for adoption? Did you meet my adoptive parents?

I don’t resent her at all for giving me up. She did what she had to do and I’m sure it made perfect sense at the time. It makes perfect sense to me now.  In that situation, I probably would have done the same thing.

My one regret is never having had a chance to look into my mother’s dark eyes and talk to her.

The Search for Family

I started my search for biological relatives. I sent 25 messages to strangers on Facebook who share my birth mother’s maiden name – Arvin.

I am hoping one of these strangers will offer clues about my birth mother, a woman I’ve never met. I wrote a nice, polite letter of introduction with the few facts I have about this woman – her name, place of birth, age when she had me.  So far, I’ve only heard back from one Arvin. She said birth mom is not related to anyone in her family and hinted at a possible family tie in Kentucky.  I am pursuing people in that state along with Illinois, Indiana and Ohio.

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Courtesy of Flickr/psycho_pixie
(Probably) not my family members

So this is how searches go. You wait and wonder who will respond to your message. You check email and Facebook frequently. You try not to think about it too much.

Some adoptees post their photos with a “help-me-find-my-family” message on Facebook and other social media sites. That could be a quicker way to get results, especially when the photos go viral, but I’m not ready to put myself out there just yet.

I’m sure there are more efficient ways to track down biological relatives but I chose Facebook because it’s free and relatively painless. I may spend money on DNA tests or travel to the Midwest to continue the hunt but for now I’ll stick with social media. What strategies have you used to find blood relatives?

Adoptees Sought for Research

Researchers at Montclair State University are looking for adults who were adopted for a research project. They’re especially interested in hearing from people like me who found out they were adopted late in life.

If you are a late-discovery adoptee and have 25 minutes to spare, check out their online survey. The researchers are trying  to get a handle on the emotional impact of adoption discovery on adults. How did finding out you were adopted affect your sense of well being? Were you hurt by the news? How did you deal with it?

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The survey is interesting. It made me think back on the time 11 years ago when I got the call from my sister, Melissa. Turns out we both had been adopted. What a bombshell! I was dazed by the news.  Our adoptive parents were deceased so we couldn’t confront them.

While learning this shocking truth left me feeling unsettled, the information didn’t damage me. I was (and still am) happily married, with a little boy, dog and a career. Life was good (and it still is.) That’s not to say the news had no impact. The revelation punched holes in my life story. I question where I came from, and wonder what my birth mom’s situation was when she brought me into the world.

If you want to find out more about this project, call Amanda Baden, the lead researcher at Montclair State University, at 973-655-7336. You can also email her at badena@mail.montclair.edu.