Photo Creds: Suzie Staples

I forget how I felt growing up, aching to know who my birth mother was. I forget how I felt as an adult, desperate to know what she looked like, what became of her, and why she gave me up for adoption. Once I found my birth mother, I no longer felt lost or melancholy about who I am. I got the closure I was looking for and the closer I got to her the quicker I forgot about the curiosity and frustration I had felt up until that point. What I’m about to describe is in no way meant to degrade how wonderful my adoptive family is or how great a life they gave me. What I’m going to describe is the wide range of emotions I personally experienced as an adoptee from the time my parents told me I was adopted up until I found her because as wonderful as everything is for me now, I forget that I did feel the same sad and frustrated emotions as other adoptees.

When my mom first told me, I was so excited. I was in the 4th grade and thought it was the coolest thing ever (mainly because of how she told me). If you don’t remember or don’t know how she told me, scroll through my blog posts, there’s one that describes it called, I Was Special. I was excited because there was something different about me than all the other kids. Now many people do not like to be different but I loved it. I thought it gave me a special feature that people would hear about and say “cool”! Also I loved, and still love, a mystery. I think in a former life I must have been a private investigator because I love solving mysteries. As immature as it sounds, that was one aspect that made me excited and happy to be adopted. It’s probably curious to most of you that i was happy and excited while so many of you felt abandoned and rejected. I in no way felt those emotions, ever. I can’t even tell you why, that’s just the way my brain told me to feel. I always loved attention and that was another way to get it. Is that genetic? Is that environmental? I don’t know that, but I do know that I’m glad I wasn’t afflicted with those sad feelings at such a young age. Unfortunately, the older I got, those feelings were dialed down while feelings of curiosity and frustration got turned up. The excitement of being different wore off and as I grew up and experienced normal life obstacles that caused hurt and fear, the longing for my birth mother began.

When I was first told about being adopted I raided my parent’s safe to find more information since my adoptive mom said she knew nothing of my birth mother. I found some papers that described her physically and a very short medical list and even some hobbies (who came up with THAT criteria for birth mothers to leave behind for their child?). By the time I got to high school, the papers were old and worn thin from me looking through them time after time. I had tired of just looking at those papers and after watching an Oprah show about adoptees being reunited with their birth families, I decided I was going to search for my birth mother. I decided to go on a road trip after I graduated high school to the adoption agency that handled my case. For the first time since I had been told about being adopted, I was excited again.

Unfortunately, the adoption agency could not hand me my original birth certificate and information because I wasn’t old enough and they told me of a requirement that I had to have had 30 hours of post-adoption counseling. So then came the feelings of complete and utter disappointment, frustration, and sadness. I had gone there with the expectation that I would have all my answers, so the answer I did get was like a punch in the gut. The next few years I really got out of control and tried to forget about my birth mother but she was never far from my thoughts no matter how much I tried to push her out… I actually think I tried to smoke and drink her out of my mind. I was also just a selfish teenager and then a young adult who wanted to party. Then I joined the Army and was forced to grow up. I still thought of her often but without a clear path to finding her, I let it all slip to the back of my mind while I tried to find myself, and love.

The next phase of feelings came when I had my daughter in 1999. When I got pregnant unexpectedly by a man I wasn’t in a relationship with, I considered adoption. It had worked out so well for me. Although I know SOOOO many of you hate that some adoptees feel grateful but I swear I always felt that way about it and I wasn’t brainwashed to feel that way, either. I never saw propaganda about adoption throughout my life and it wasn’t talked about at home. I just intrinsically felt grateful. When I got pregnant and considered adoption, I just knew I couldn’t go through with it. There was no reason for me to do that as I was 24 years old, had the father around, was financially stable and most importantly, had a supportive family. After the birth of my daughter, I started to feel sorry for my birth mother. I now knew what it felt like to grow a baby and to hold a baby and to love my baby. My birth mother never had the opportunity so my empathy towards her overwhelmed me and I was more determined than ever to find me to ease my pain, and hers.

At this point, feelings of frustration began to take over. These were the days before facebook and social media. In fact, AOL had just started chat rooms! I didn’t have a name, only where I was born and the state of Alabama had sealed records (which I believe is a crime against humanity). I put my name on several registries in the hopes that she was also looking for me but the internet wasn’t as mainstream in 2000 as it is now. I felt sad, lost and frustrated and then…. Alabama opened their records and I received my original birth certificate. I thought THIS was going to finally be it so once again my expectations were set high and once again, I was disappointed. My birth mother’s name was on there but there was a different name on the adoption court paperwork. Which one was right and on top of that, how could I possibly find her when I only have a maiden name? Basic google searches were not turning up my birth mother and my search went stale yet again. Major disappointment just fueled the frustration and sadness. On top of all of this I was having a hard time with my relationships and still struggled to find myself. I pushed the thoughts of her away again.

When I turned thirty, I couldn’t believe so much time had gone by without much progress on finding her so I decided to take the next step and hire a private investigator. This time, I kept my expectations in check and just tried to forget about it. Four weeks later, the PI called me. They had found her. I wasn’t ready for the emotions that came next.

One would think elation would be the first emotion however, I was frozen. I didn’t feel like it was real. I was in shock, happy, but in shock. I was given her phone number and the approval to proceed with contacting her, which I did…… three days later! That’s something else I wasn’t expecting, fear. I was scared to death of calling her. I didn’t know how she was going to receive me, what she was going to say, or if I would even like her or not! It was a can of worms I wasn’t sure I wanted to open. I will never forget making that call with my heart pounding. I had to leave a voice message, which she ended up saving for a very long time. We laugh about how I sounded then, very courteous and professional, like I always am with people I do not know. She called back, and we made plans to meet. In the meantime we sent pictures of ourselves back and forth. After all, my one and only wish was to see what she looked like. So this time, my expectations were met and I was happy! We met and next came all new emotions.

I was comfortable, comfortable with her and with myself. When we came face to face it was so natural, almost like she had just been to the store for the last 30 years. And the last eight years of getting to know her and my birth family has given me the closure and closeness I wanted and needed since I had been in the 4th grade. My emotions ended up right where they had started, excited and happy.

Nothing is ever perfect, I’ve had struggles since meeting her, to repair other relationships but the most important thing to me is that I can carry on in life feeling whole, like I know exactly where I came from. When I think about my personality I know what comes from her and what doesn’t. When I look in the mirror at my blue eyes, I can see her eyes. I don’t have to wonder anymore.

Being as happy as I am now for the last eight years, I forget how I felt then. When other adoptees who have not found their birth families contact me and express their feelings, I instantly remember and am empathetic. I want for them what I have, whether they want it or not! I have met several adoptees who don’t care to know, including my own brother and Uncle! They honestly couldn’t care less! I am happy for them, too, though. As long as they are at peace, that is all I could ever wish for anyone.