Missing Links and Important Clues

I couldn't quite accept this closed door. My "legal father" was not responding to phone calls or messages. It was painful. I'd come so close to some answers. I had a fragment of the story, a small darkened piece of history. I tried desperately to see things from his perspective. But, without contact, my view was limited.  However, I had to count my blessings in what I did discover. I'd found out that my birth mother was married to another man who was NOT my biological father. That mattered. I found out that this "legal father" signed my adoption papers. That mattered. I found out that he had remarried, and that mattered. I have to say that I couldn't touch the depths of my pain and anger over the idea of another man signing me away into foster care. I grieved for the baby that I was. So helpless. I fought hard to keep my mind out the space of wondering what type of person gives away a child that is not his. My life, identity, and medical history matter. I felt like I was in a crap storm of human maneuverings and corrective attempts to poor decisions. I was and still am a life in the midst of it all. I matter.
 What no one seemed to have a clue about was my sister. My non-identifying information did not mention her. To my knowledge, my 'legal father" did not mention her. Was she his daughter? Did she exist? In the history of adoption, caseworkers have often made up stories and relatives to "doctor up" the family history of the child being adopted. Since Dee seemed to have no knowledge of my sister, I was wondering if she was "made up". I called my mom and told her about my recent discovery. She said that she was told that my birth mother was single and raising my disabled sister. My mother and I had some differing information at this point. The adoption papers that my mother had never mentioned my birth mother's marital status. My non-identifying information listed her marital status as separated. The papers that my mother possessed gave my birth mother's age at the time of my birth. My particular packet of paperwork did not give her age. When I asked Dee about my sister and the other mismatched information, she said that nothing was ever mentioned of a sister. Dee even questioned me on where I'd gotten that information. As I continued to mention missing information and concerns, Dee became quiet about questions concerning "missing" or "varying" information. My hope was sinking, and my frustration was rising. At this point, my "legal father" was my only "found" link to my beginnings. So in a last ditch effort, I wrote him a letter:

"Hello Sir,
 I really don't know how to start a letter like this. First, let me say "thank you" for responding to the intermediary. I truly appreciated hearing from you through her. At this time, I just want to express my heart..."

Dee, my confidential intermediary, said that it never occurred to her to ask the questions that I was asking. She felt that all contact was lost after that first and last phone call with my "legal father". She never sent my letter. He never saw it...

Toothpicks for an Excavation

 My non-identifying information was quite limited. I wasn't given any medical history. That remained buried.  I was given court information about termination of parental rights. All forms had my name and my birth parents' names redacted. I also received a general physical description on my birth mother, and an even more limited physical description on my birth father. Tall. slim, and Black(African American). That's it. Yep, that about narrows it down. I combed through my entire packet. I hung onto every word trying to suck it dry of some form of a clue. It was exhausting. I cried. I wailed. I'd hit a wall, or so it seemed. What I was quick to learn from my dear friend Lorena, is that EVERYTHING mattered. I would become the detective that I never knew that I was. Some days it [the search] was invigorating. I felt accomplished. It seemed like I could take on anything. Other days, it left me drained and despondent.

  After I settled from the shock, I was extremely excited that my 'legal father" had been located.  I wanted to know what he remembered. Was he willing to cooperate with the intermediary? Was this a painful memory for him? Did he hate my birth mother? Was he sure that I was not his daughter? I had questions rolling out in wheel barrels! I contacted Dee by phone and by email. I always used every channel of communication that I could with her. I tried to be reasonable and thoughtful about her workload, and I tried to space out my inquiries as to give her time in working with others and receiving information about my case. On April 3rd, Dee informed me that she spoke with my "legal father". I was filled with the type of excitement that made me want to wet my pants...

 First off, he'd remarried. I was told that his wife listened in on this particular phone call. She was described as being quite vocal and full of inquiries. Dee said that my "legal father" said that he did not remember much from all those years ago. Let me interject right here. How in the bleepity bleep do you not remember much about a situation involving yourself and the adoption of a child? Really?! Let's move on... He said that he was not sure of my birth mother's location. I was told that he remembers her as having three brothers, and that her family was from Charlotte, NC. Dee believed that due to his wife's presence, he answered very few questions.  Things were almost made to seem like he didn't remember that part of his life at all. He wished me well through Dee, and said that she could call back if I had other questions. According to Dee, she failed to ask some of the important questions that I asked above. My mind was reeling. He was the first contact that had been made that held information about my beginnings. When she called back, he never answered the phone again...

Faint Marks to Dark Scribbles

On March 14, 2016, I got a long awaited email from Dee. My non-identifying information had been scanned and sent to me. I requested a hard copy as well. I wanted my proof in hand. The intermediary's job is also to take the identifying information and try and contact the biological parents. If located, the biological parents are given an opportunity to consent to contact with the adoptee. Here is the email from Dee:

I have attached your adoption summary.  The is very limited information on your history in your adoption file.  Based on the law, I am not have to provide any identifying information for your birth family until they consent based on the Confidential Intermediary law. 

I have begun the research for your birth parents, however I have not been successful in locating any information for your birth mother or father based on information listed in the file.  I was able to find information for your legal father (he was married to your birth mother) at the time of your birth.  I have left a message for him to contact me.  My hope is that he may have some information or know someone that can help me make contact with her.

I will put the adoption summary information in the mail today and keep you abreast of any findings.


Yep. My birth mother was married. She was married at the time of my birth. She was not married to my biological father. I was thrown for a loop. Now I should have known to be open and expect the unexpected, however this was a bit different from the short story that I'd been told over the years. More questions were beginning to rise. Over the phone, Dee said that in order to minimize confusion, my birth mother's husband was being called my "legal father". Well of course! How could this be more confusing!(Rock with me on this blog. Obviously I am an emotionally expressive writer... and person.) My head was spinning. What twisted triangle was this?! Blank spaces were now being colored in, and the markings were not pretty...

While I Waited

 I wanted something tangible to hold on to at the very beginning of my search. No information had materialized yet, and I wanted something real. As a symbol of my faith, I purchased a family tree album from Barnes and Noble. This precious book was marked as a clearance item. It's empty pages held such promise. I had plans to acknowledge the family that I grew up in, but this was to have written proof of my DNA relatives. I cried as I looked through it for the first time. It was blank (of course). But, looking at the spaces for mother, father, siblings, and so forth, left blank spaces in my heart and mind. I filled in my name, my husband's name and the names of my children. I could not go beyond that point. Not knowing is like running into some invisible wall. It's so strange.

 I have to say that I was not the most patient person in waiting. Those non-identifying forms could not get back to me fast enough. My husband and Lorena would anchor me down and encourage me. Lorena would tell me that once those forms came back that things would really kick up. I was told to relax and just enjoy each present moment. It was difficult. The DNA kit could take anywhere from 4 to 6 weeks to yield results. It was that feeling of being so close, but so far away. During this time I perused the Ancestry website. I familiarized myself with it's inner workings. With Lorena's guidance, this place would become a second home to my aching eyes, restless mind, and hopeful heart.

 When the first three weeks had passed while waiting on my non-identifying papers from the state, I emailed Dee. I wanted to see if my information had been received from the state. Since she is a confidential intermediary, all information had to be filtered through her. What a load of crap! This mess was designed to cause massive ass headaches.  This was the response that I got from Dee:                        

I am writing to let you know that I am still awaiting your adoption file from the state office.  Once the file is receive I will provide you with your non-identifying information and start the research process.  If you have any questions or concerns please feel free to contact me.

Sadly, my questions were often met with silence. I'm sure that it was because Dee just did not have answers. I was positive that she had a heavy caseload. I was apt to be gracious until I called her at the six week mark, and she informed me that my information had been in her possession for several days. She did not update me, because she had not sifted through the information and made sure that there were no identifiers. This law SUCKS! She was withholding my information so that she could WITHHOLD my identification. This frustrated the living poo out of me. Dear God, I was praying for another way to conduct my search beyond Mecklenburg County DSS. It was March 11, 2016...

Tools For the Dig

The last time that I left off, I'd just received the information about me having a sister. At the time that I was born she was about 11 or twelve. This information would be vital as I searched.
 My adoption was a closed adoption. My birth records, including my original birth certificate, were legally sealed. I have never seen nor owned my original birth certificate. So, I was starting my search from scratch. From my research I found out that I needed my non-identifying information. This is paper work that gives descriptions and other limited information about me and my birth parents without disclosing their names. I was adopted through the Mecklenburg County Department of Social Services. I would need to apply for my non-identifying information through them. My goodness. On January 11, 2016 I spent an entire morning being tossed around through Mecklenburg County DSS until I landed in Family and Youth Services. They not only handled current adoptions, but they also helped in adoption reunions. Here is where I met Dee*. Dee was the social worker assigned to my case. She informed me on how to apply for my non-identifying information. All of the paper work had to be notarized and sent in with a copy of my license. I was so excited. I was now going to get some clues, and maybe even some answers. I sent my application in, and I waited...
As I waited for my non-identifying information to come back, I just could not keep still. *Dee, the caseworker, told me that my information could take 3 to 6 weeks to arrive from the state capital (Raleigh, NC). I was on edge. I was excited and anxious to see what I could find out. I was hoping for something that I didn't know. In the meantime, I reached out to a friend who had been adopted as well. She was actively doing her own search. She became a safe harbor for me. She supplied me with information and wisdom in ways that I would have never imagined. We don't live in the same state, but her shoulders were right there for me to cry on. I am so thankful to God for Lorena. She suggested that I do a DNA test kit. For the first time, I was about to connect with DNA relatives. For the first time, I was about to connect to my immediate ancestors. And, for the first time, I was about to see their connection to me. I was no longer going to be the "only" ancestor that my children had. I was going to see myself as a part of a continuum. That nearly blew my mind. So, in March of 2016, I submitted a DNA test kit to Ancestry.

What I Did Not Know

On New Year's Day of 2016 I revealed to my mother that I was going to officially search for my biological relatives. It was time to stop wondering and get to work. Upon my asking, she revealed to me...
that I had a sister. WHAT?! I'd never been told that I had sister. My mother said that my birth mother told the social worker that she had a daughter that was eleven at the time that I was born. According to my mom, my sister had disabilities. I was floored. I tried to hold my composure. My emotions ran wild. What the hell??? I was thrilled to learn that I had a sister. I always wanted a sister. It was a longing in my heart. It was a connection that I felt that I'd somehow missed out on. Then I became incredibly sad. What  type of disabilities did my sister have? My mind began to race at how I'd missed a lifetime of helping to care for her. And then... then there was anger. It was stirred in with the rest of my emotions like a sticky goo. I was pissed. Why had this information been kept from me for all of these years? Why did I have to ask in order to be told such important information? I was steaming.  I thought I'd explode. I felt like a damned pressure cooker. Yet, this all remained under wraps. I took in this information as it was vital to my next step...

“Usually when we hear or read something new, we just compare it to our own ideas. If it is the same, we accept it and say that it is correct. If it is not, we say it is incorrect. In either case, we learn nothing.” 
-Thich Nhat Hanh