The Story of My Life: A New Awakening

In the last post, you read about my contact with Elliott.  He told me in an email that he had been in a brief relationship with my birth mother and that he was not for sure he was my father.     I however was convinced because of the DNA evidence that I had and the fact that he knew Carol. You can read our whole email exchange here. 

After a restless night's sleep, Sunday morning came and I had to get myself up and ready for church. I was playing the piano in the worship team that morning, so I had to be at church for practice by 9:00.  As I was getting ready, all of my thoughts were consumed by the events of the previous night.  

Then it hit me, for the first time ever in my life, I had woken up knowing were I had came from.  I didn't know all of the intimate details, but at that point, I didn't need to. I knew who and the basic reason of why and that was enough. It was more that I had ever dreamed I would know.  And it was overwhelming.  I felt so truly blessed.  So many adoptees never have this opportunity and I didn't know why I had been given this chance. I knew God had allowed this as his hand was evident throughout all of my searching. I felt that he had guided me along the way, giving me just the right piece of information at the right time or using someone to help guide me in the right direction. 

When I arrived at the church for band practice, I wasn't sure how I was going to be able to hold it together. The pastor's wife, who was leading worship that week, came over to the piano where I was and said, "Is it a good thing?" My eyes welled with tears and I told her that I just couldn't talk about it right now.  Somehow I made it through practice and the service.  I don't remember much about the rest of the day. I am pretty sure I spent much of it just sitting and staring into space, consumed with a wide variety of thoughts, mostly about Elliott.  

I had begun at that point in time to really think about what this discovery might mean for him.  He said he wasn't sure I was his.  Although he had questions, I didn't. I would have to be patient and allow him to come to his own conclusions.  But also, what kind of impact what this going to have on his family. Obviously from his email I realized that no one else, except his wife, knew about me.  I figured that was why his brother, Dave, never responded to my Facebook message, because he had been completely unaware of the situation. I had thought maybe a family member would have known if Elliott was in a relationship with Carol, but I had thought wrong.  What exactly had gone on with him and Carol that his family didn't know about her? All kinds of thoughts started whirling around in my head.  

As the day wore on and I hadn't heard anything more from Elliott, I began to grow concerned.  What was he thinking? Was he ever going to contact me again?  Did he think I wanted something from him? Did he think I was going to try to push myself upon him and his family and demand to be a part? Was he even okay because of this or had I hurt him through this process? Fear began to creep in along with some anxiety. I began to realize that just like Carol, he ultimately had the choice of whether or not he wanted to have a relationship with me. And he may very well choose not to and that thought scared me.  He didn't know me or anything about me.  He didn't know what kind of person I was or what I was expecting. So I decided to send him a letter to let him know what I was thinking about the whole situation and hopefully alleviate any concerns that he might be having.

Here is what I wrote:

Hey Elliott!

I don’t want to bother you as I am sure you are bit overwhelmed and full of questions at the moment. I am sure you are thinking what to do from here forward. I am hoping maybe what I am going to say will help lay aside some of your concerns and that you will find it helpful.

My motive behind looking for you was solely for information. I just wanted to know who you were, how you met Carol, what happened that I came to be. Up until four years ago when my dad suggested I look for Carol, I had never considered looking for either of you. I was happy and content with being adopted and resolved to the fact that there were a lot of things about myself that I would never know.  But once I began searching and starting learning things about myself, it lit a fire in me to try to fill the holes from questions that I had always assumed would never be answered. I have told several people that being adopted is like reading a book starting with the third chapter. While the story basically makes sense, the beginning is missing. That is how I felt about my life. I found Carol, and that answered some questions. But there were a lot of details that were unaccounted for….mostly concerning my birth father.  For that reason, I studied my DNA tests, did countless hours of comparing family trees of people who matched me trying to figure out how it was all connected.  I truly believe God led me to you through the suggestions given to me by Cousin Anne. Otherwise there would have been no way that I would ever have even known where to begin. And today for the very first time in my life, I awoke with a peace of knowing that I knew…..I knew who I was and where I began.

With that being said, I want to apologize if somehow I have done something to hurt you in this process. That NEVER was my intent. I have tried many times to put myself in your shoes and to imagine what it would be like if someone just showed up saying they were my child. I have asked my husband how he would feel and asked him for advice many times. I have tried to picture what it would be like if someone showed up saying they were my husband’s child. I cannot imagine what your wife must be feeling at this moment. For the past month since I figured this all out, I have prayed for you daily. Prayed that God would give you strength to go through this if it was to be. Prayed that he would divinely intervene if it wasn’t. I truly believe all things happen for a reason, even if we don’t understand what that reason might be. Obviously there must be some reason for this all.

With all that said, while I am not at all opposed to the thought of getting to know you better, I want you to know that I believe that choice is yours and I plan to respect whatever you decide.  You were not looking for me. You were not asking for me to show up and alter your life. It is a completely different situation than it was when I found Carol. She had told my siblings about me. They had been looking for me for years. They wanted to find me.They knew that if they ever found me, their lives would change and they were ready for that.   I would never be able to forgive myself if by doing this I somehow caused harm to you,  your marriage, or your family.  I have no intention of going to any of them to proclaim who I am. If that is to be known, it will come from you. It is your story to tell, not mine. 

Thank you for helping me know who I am.

Lorena

I sent the email and then all I could do was wait....

The Story of My Life: The Search Was Over

In the last post, you read how I had been in the shower when my phone rang. I didn't hop out and answer it right away, figuring if it was important, whoever was calling would leave a message.  When I finally checked, there was a voice mail.  It was from Findlay, Ohio.  When I finally quit shaking enough to listen to the message, it was from Elliott.  He told me to try to connect with him on Facebook and to please not call his home.  You can read all about that here.

I was freaking out! I called Steve and told him what had happened. What did Elliott mean when he said he would try to "answer any questions I had?" Why couldn't I call his home? I was kicking myself now for not getting out of the shower.  If I couldn't return his phone call, then how long would it be before I would actually get a chance to talk to him?

I sent him another message on Facebook messenger saying that I had received his voice mail and was sorry I had missed his call.  I told him I was hoping he had some information that could help me. I also told him that I was sending him a friend request because I knew without doing sp he might not be able to see my message. I told him he could unfriend me if he wanted to after he read my message. 

By this time, it was close to 12:30 and I was really running behind. I quickly got ready and picked up Zoe from my parents.  I took her to drama, picked up Josiah, did our usual afternoon routine of homework and dinner, and then headed to worship team practice that evening, all the while being super distracted and unable to concentrate on whatever task was at hand.

I will never forget the moment that evening when I looked at my Facebook and saw that Elliott had accepted my friend request.  My heart was in my throat. I waited and noticed that he still had not seen my message. I checked out his Facebook page in the meantime hoping that he was just doing things and would eventually get to the message. There wasn't a whole lot of activity on his page. I looked through all the pictures and read all of the comments.  I confirmed that he had two children, a son, Joseph, and a daughter, Ava.  Ava had posted several things on his page and I could tell that she had a really good relationship with her father. I creeped on her page for a bit too, looking at the couple of pictures that I found of her and comparing her face to mine.  I could definitely see the resemblance.   Elliott had been on for quite some time, but by the time he got off, he still had not seen my message. 

The same thing happened all day Friday. I would see him get on for a while, then get off.  His little green messenger light would come on again, and then go off.  Around 11 that morning I sent him a "hello" hoping it would make the messenger window open and he would see my note.  But nothing.  He never saw my message and I never heard anything from him.  By Friday evening, I told Steve that I was wondering if maybe Elliott didn't really know how to use Facebook. 

Saturday came along and after watching Elliott get on and off Facebook again without seeing my message, I decided I needed to come up with another plan.  I figured he was probably checking out my profile, just as I was checking out his, so I put a post on my wall that was made so only he could see it.  It said, "I sent you a private message. I also made this message private so only you could read it."  

After getting all of that set up, I hurried to get ready to go out for dinner. We were driving with my parents to Greensboro to eat dinner with my brother and sister-in-law.  Their birthdays are just a couple of weeks apart, so we were celebrating them both together.  We planned to meet them at their new house so we could take a tour and then to head to a Japanese restaurant where they cook your dinner in front of you.

Once I was ready, we left to pick up my parents at their house next door.  Our car has three sets of seats.  Steve drove with my dad in the front row beside of him.  Zoe, my mom, and our exchange student, Valeria sat in the middle row. I sat in the very back next to Josiah.  Since he was busy playing games on his tablet and everyone else was so far in front of me, it was hard to be involved in the conversation and it gave me time to check Facebook.

It was then that I realized that Elliott had seen my post. He said he wasn't good at Facebook and asked for my email address. He also gave me his.  My heart was pounding out of my chest, and I couldn't say anything to anyone about it at that moment.  I asked him if he wanted to write me first or vice versa.  He told me to start.

By this time, we had reached my brother's house and I had a chance to quickly tell Steve during a private moment what was going on. He told me to email or do whatever I needed to do throughout the evening and that he would help cover for me. He understood that I was now very distracted and was stepping up to be the strong support that I had relied on so much during this whole process. Thankful for him and his help, as soon as we got in the car to go to dinner, I went back to the conversation with Elliott.


I sent him a short email saying that I was sorry I had missed his call the other day and that I hoped because he called me that it meant he had some information, especially regarding the woman, Carol, that I had mentioned in the letter.  I told him that I knew I had a lot of questions that I wished to ask him, but that he could feel free to answer only what he felt comfortable answering.  I also gave him permission to ask me whatever he would like.

A few minutes later, as we were sitting around the table in the restaurant, I received a response from him.  It said, "I assume you are adopted and Carol is your mother."  Shaking and hiding the phone under the table so as not to be obvious that I was on it during this family time, I quickly replied, "Yes, that is correct."   His response to me was a question asking if I knew where Carol was.  I typed a more lengthy response this time, explaining how I had been adopted through a closed adoption and because of the courts mistake, I had been able to find Carol.  I told him that I was in contact with my half siblings, but by Carol's choice I did not have a relationship with her.  I let him know it had been a year and a half since I had talked with her.  I also told him that Carol had not given me his name.  

While the emailing back and forth did not produce immediate responses, the time in between really was no more than five to twenty-five minutes each time. It seemed like an eternity. And waiting for his next response was no different.  When it came, I began to read and I do believe my heart stopped in my chest.

"I was probably on the birth certificate as she told me that I was responsible for her condition.  However this was a while after I had ended our brief relationship and I really do not know if I am your father or not.  It was not a long relatonship and I never told anyone except the lawyer I consulted. None of my family knew anything about her.  The only person I told was my wife before we were married as I did not want her to be shocked later (which is / could be  now).  That being said if you want to know for sure we can find out. If you know for sure tell me how."

It was him.  I could not believe it. It seemed so impossible to me that I would have been able to figure it out and find him, but here it was.  He didn't know for sure, but I did.  I had DNA that pointed to this conclusion.  I quickly responded to him and told him about the DNA testing and how I was related to people from both his mom's and dad's sides of the family.  I told him how Anne had helped me and how his family had fit the profile given to me by the adoption agency.  I told him while the evidence seemed to indicate that it was him, that taking a DNA test would determine it for sure.

And then I didn't hear any more from him.

We headed home from dinner and I shared with Steve everything.  I reread the emails I don't know how many times.  I sat and stared into space not believe that what I had just discovered could even be true.  I texted our worship leader to tell her what was happening so if I was out of it during practice and the service in the morning she would know why.  Then I went to bed and just lay there forever staring at the ceiling and thinking about it all. 

I had found my birth father.

The Story of My Life: And the Phone Rings...

The last time I wrote, I told you I had figured out just how Elliott's family tree was connected to my second cousin, J.S.,  on Ancestry.com.  Elliot's dad was married to J.S.'s mom's cousin.  Now that I knew their families were connected, I knew that there were no other possibilities for my birth father other than Elliott or his brother, Dave. Because Elliott fit the profile from the adoption agency, I had written him on Facebook.  He never responded so I decided to send him an actual letter instead. You can read all about that here.

I mailed the letter on Friday, March 4th.  After I mailed it, I wasn't really sure what I needed to prepare myself for.  All these different scenarios kept popping in my head.  After all, who is to say he would even respond if he got the letter.  If he didn't know I existed, which there was always that possibility, the letter might not mean anything to him.  If he was the one to have a relationship with Carol, whose to say that relationship was anything more than a one night stand and that he would even remember who she was. Who was to say that he would be the one to even get the letter.  Maybe someone else opens his mail for him. I tried to prepare myself for the worst while still being hopeful for the best.

Every night when I went to bed, I would just lay there and pray.  Pray that if my birth father was Elliott, that he would be receptive to the letter and that he would respond. And then I prayed for his wife.  I tried to put myself in her shoes and imagine what it would feel like if my husband had a child that popped up out of nowhere.  I just knew that wouldn't be easy, especially since I had learned through my research that he had been married to the same lady for almost 40 years. 

Every day dragged on. I tried to focus on the tasks I needed to get done, but I would find myself at times just staring blankly into space thinking about it all.  I felt like I was so very close, but yet the littlest things were huge walls between me and what I was hoping to learn and know.

It is now Thursday, March 10th, six days after I had mailed the letter.  Zoe was being homeschooled at the time. My parents were splitting the subjects and teaching time with me.  I was teaching the math and science and they were teaching the reading/phonics and social studies. I would teach her my subjects and then drop her off at their house next door around 10:00. Most days she would stay there until after I had picked Josiah up from school.  On Thursdays, though, I would pick her up at 1:00 and take her to drama class before heading to pick up Josiah from his school.  This Thursday was no different.

I don't remember exactly what I was doing after I dropped Zoe off at my parent's house.  Whatever it was, I ended up getting ready pretty late in the day.  It was noon and I was just hopping in the shower.  I remember standing in there listening to Chris Tomlin's song, "Good, Good Father" playing over the bluetooth speaker in my bathroom.   I love how the second verse of the song seems to fit my current situation.  The lyrics go like this: 

I've seen many searching for answers far and wide
But I know we're all searching
For answers only you provide
'Cause you know just what we need
Before we say a word

It is a great song! If you have never had the chance to hear it, you can go here to check it out. 

Anyway, back to the story. I was in the shower, listening to the song, when my phone rang. I remember thinking, "Oh, I should get that. It is probably someone from the school calling."  I didn't feel like hopping out of the shower in a hurry and getting water all over the floor though. Then I thought, "Ah....whoever it is can leave a message.  I can call them back in a few minutes."

I finished up and got out of the shower. I was still dripping a bit. I walked over to my phone curious to see who had called.  It was a number I didn't recognize so I was glad I hadn't hurried to answer it.  I checked to see if they had left a voice mail message and they had.  I don't know if you have an iPhone or not, but I do, and when someone calls you that is not in your contacts, it tell you what city they are calling from based on the area code of the number.  When I saw the city that the call had come from, I started shaking. It came from Findlay, Ohio.

I started pacing the floor, shaking the whole time. I knew that I should listen to the message, but I was so scared.  Finally, I was able to take some deep breaths and calm down enough to be able to listen to the message.  It went something like this:

"Hello, this is Elliott Martin.  I received a letter from you last week.  Why don't we connect on Facebook and I will try to answer whatever questions you might have.  Please don't call my home."

The Story of My Life: Almost Certain

Last time you read about how I began searching and found the obituary of George Martin from Findlay, Ohio.  He had five children, two of which were sons.  The things I found out about his one son, Elliott, seemed to fit the description provided to me by the adoption agency.  So thinking that maybe I had found my birth father, I wrote him on Facebook Messenger and then waited.  You can read all about that here.

I had dealt with Facebook Messenger and the difficulties with the other party not receiving your messages if you aren't "connected" on Facebook before when I was trying to first contact my half-brother Brent's wife, Alyssa.   This was a couple of year prior to the time I was writing to Elliott.  When I had written to Alyssa, my message had gone to her "other mailbox" until I paid a dollar for it to go directly to her inbox.   This time, Facebook did not offer me the option of paying the dollar.  I knew from other experiences that Elliott probably would not see my message unless it was by some random chance. I even did the whole "Invite Elliott to Messenger" thing in hopes that would alert him that I had written to him.  Still nothing.  

In the meantime, I started thinking about what I had done.  I mean, really, what are the chances that I could go through someone's family tree, find a family that appears to fit the description of my birth father's family, choose one of the men in the family and think he was my birth father?  It was so crazy and I knew it.  The more I thought about it, the more I began to doubt my discovery.

Then a thought occurred to me.  If I was related to Elliott, then my relation to fourth cousin Anne was through his father's side.  If I was related to Elliott, then how would I be related to the second cousin, called J.S., that was on ancestry.com?  Somewhere, there would also have to be a connection between Elliott and him.  It wasn't through Anne's side of the family, as J.S. did not share any DNA with Anne at all.  I figured that maybe the connection came through Elliott's mother's side of the family.  I began looking for that connection. The family trees would have to cross or my research would have been faulty.

It is now about a week after I have written Elliott.  I am sitting at home working on the research.  I started with Elliott's mom.  I will call her Mary Alice. She had died in 1995, so I was not able to find an obituary to help me with her parent's names. I turned to ancestry.com's database in hopes that I would be able to find something. I searched and searched, but it was like her parents were not to be found.  Then somehow, I don't even know how, I stumbled across something.  It had her name written as Alice Mary.  I thought it would be worth a try to put her name in backwards from what I had been doing and when I did, what popped up on the screen made me about fall out of the chair.

I am tempted to end this blog right here, but for the sake of many that I know who would struggle with that, I will continue. ;)

Remember when I told you I had been researching that second cousin, studying his family tree for hours on end because so many of his family was from Ohio??  I probably could have almost drawn his family tree for you from memory.  So when the information popped up with the name of her parents on it, I immediately recognized them from J.S.'s family tree.  It was a set of names I had looked at over and over and over again with no results.

Now I was shaking. I called Steve and again tried to explain to him what I had discovered and mostly what this discovery meant.   Since I was related to Anne and I was related to J.S., the cross of the two family trees happened right there with George and Mary Alice. With the cross being at their parents,  the only possible people that could be my birth father were Elliott or Dave.  There were no other options.

With this newfound bit of certainty, I became a bit more brave. I decided that I would also write to Dave.  Even though I really thought that Elliott was the more likely candidate, I knew there was still a possibility it could be Dave.  The other thought I had was this:  If Elliott had been in a relationship with Carol, then maybe Dave knew about it and could tell me so or he would contact Elliott and let him know I was looking for him.

I copied the same letter that I had sent to Elliott and sent it to Dave on Facebook messenger.  I did the whole "Invite to Messenger" thing with him as well.

I don't remember how long it was before I was alerted that "Dave has accepted your messenger request".  It might have been a week or so. My stomach was in my throat because I knew then that someone had seen the message.  But then....nothing.  There was no answer.  

I didn't really know what I was going to do.  I didn't have peace to do anything other than what I had already done.  I felt like when the time was right, God would give me direction.  I had been praying about the whole thing from the first time I wrote Elliott.  I prayed for him that if he was my birth father, he would be open to talking with me about it all. And I prayed for his wife. I knew from my research that he had been married to his wife, Hazel, for about 40 years. I knew that there was a possibility that my birth father never knew that I existed and if that were the case and Elliott was him, I knew there could be problems.  I didn't want to make problems for anyone. All I wanted was to find out some answers for myself. 

One day about a month after I had written to Elliott, I was talking on the phone with my friend, Jude, about the whole thing.  She said, "Lolo, you just need to write him a letter - good ol' fashioned snail mail."  I knew instantly that was what I was supposed to do.  I got off the phone with her, and later that day I wrote out exactly what I had written to him on Facebook.  At the end, I included my email address and phone number in case he wanted to contact me.  I addressed the letter with his address that I had found on the internet, put a stamp on it, and before I had time to change my mind, I drove to the post office and dropped the letter in the mailbox. 

The Story of My Life: Could It Possibly Be??

If you remember, in the last blog I told you about sweet cousin Anne.  She was my predicted fourth cousin on ancestry.com.  She had written to ask if I knew how we were related. The only thing I was able to tell her was that I was related to her through my biological father that I did not know since I was adopted.  She had noticed on my profile that I had said some of my family was from Findlay, Ohio. She suggested that I begin looking at the line of descendants coming from one of her sets of great, great, great grandparents.  You can read about all of that here.

Anne had been helping me some and we had decided that it was possible that I could have descended from her great, great, great grandparents, Sophia and Solomon.  I put their names on a family tree and begin working on finding all of their descendants.  As it got closer to modern times, the searching became more difficult as ancestry does not publicly list the names of anyone who is still living.  You have to search obituaries and other public listings on the internet to try to determine these pieces of information. 

Anne had first contacted me in November.  It is now the very beginning of February.  I was home working one day on all of this, when I came across a name on one of the branches of the family tree.  I will call this person George Martin.  George was from Findlay and had passed away in 2011.  Since his death was fairly recent, I was able to locate an obituary online fairly easily.  As I began to read the obituary taking notice of all of the details included in it, I began to get a funny feeling in my stomach.

It said George was survived by his two sons, Elliott and Dave, and by his three daughters, Susan, Ella, and Janice.   Now I don't know if you remember all of the details that were listed on the non-identifying information from the adoption agency , but there were FIVE children in my bio-father's family and there were FIVE children in George's family.  I kept reading....

I read that George had owned a business.  After much research, I learned that his sons had been involved with and taken over the business.  My bio father was the Vice President of a family business that his father owned.

Then I read that George had been a member of a Lutheran church. My birth father's religious preference was listed as Lutheran.

I then turned to one of my favorite research sites - Facebook.  Yes, I admit,  I may be pretty good at being a Facebook creeper. This time though, it was for research, so I did it shamelessly.  

I found profiles for Elliott and Dave.  Almost from the get go, I felt that if my biological father were one of them, it would be Elliott. His profile was private, but the information that could be seen was exactly what I needed to know. In his profile picture he was outdoors and wearing glasses.  He graduated from a university with a business degree before I was born. His birthday was listed and I realized that he would have been 27 at the time of my birth. All of this matched the information from the adoption agency. 

My heart was pounding. I called Steve. He wanted to know how I had come to the conclusion that Elliott could possibly be him.  I tried to explain, but I am not sure he completely understood. I don't think he believed it possible that I could have found my birth father on the first try.  And maybe he was right.  I wasn't sure exactly what I ought to do.

I wrote to cousin Anne to see if she knew anything about him.  She said she really didn't know too much about that part of the family. She suggested that maybe I should write him a letter. 

I thought about it and continued researching in the meantime, frantically and as fast as I could.  I found pictures of Elliott from his high school and college yearbooks.  He was skinny as could be and I could see remnants of my own face from my younger days in his pictures.  I was becoming more and more convinced as the day went on.  

So, I began to research how to write to someone when you think they might be your birth father.  I found some really helpful suggestions, the most important being that you don't come right out and suggest that or ask them directly in case someone else were to come across the letter before they do.  One person suggested that you write a letter saying that you are working on your family tree and ask if they might be willing to help you.  That sounded reasonable to me, so I sat down to compose a letter. 

I wrote to Elliott and told him that I knew we were related because I was related to cousin Anne through great, great, great grandparents Sophia and Solomon so I knew I was related to him.  I told him I was interested in learning more about relatives who were business owners in the Findlay, Ohio area in the 1970's.  Then I said I knew there was a woman named Carol Close who was also somehow connected to the family, and I was trying to figure out what that connection might be.  I asked him to contact me if he were willing to help me with my research.

After writing the letter, I sent it to Elliott via Facebook messenger.  And then there was nothing I could do but pray and wait. 

The Story of My Life: Cousin Anne

Last time I told you how Brad, Jessie and I had all done testing through 23andme.  Once our results were in, I was able to use them, along with the family tree from Carol's side of the family, to start determining which family line my different DNA relatives were from.  I had an anonymous first cousin match that I knew was on my father's side of the family, but he never responded to any of my messages. You can read all about that here.

Trying to figure anything out by using my DNA and people's family trees was pretty much like looking for a needle in a haystack.   If I had a predicted second cousin match, for example, I would have to try to figure out who on that person's family tree (if they had a family tree) could possibly be our common ancestor.  For a second cousin, assuming the relationship prediction is correct, we would share a set of great-grandparents.  We all have two sets of grandparents and then four sets of great-grandparents, eight sets of great-great grandparents, and sixteen sets of great-great-great grandparents.  The number of sets of grandparents doubles for every generation you go back.  So the further away a relation is to you, the more possibilities there are for you to choose from when looking for that common ancestor.  It would get complicated at times, because a person who shares the same percentage of DNA with me and is predicted to be my second cousin, could actually be a first cousin twice removed or a half-first cousin.  This is why 23andme originally thought my relationship with Jessie was a grandmother-granddaughter relationship. We share close to 25% of our DNA so I could have been her grandmother/daughter or a half-sibling.   I know that this is a bunch of nerdy talk, so I hope that you are able to follow me as I keep going.

I would sit and take every relative, starting with the closest related to me, who I knew was related from my birth father's line and try to find that common ancestor. I would go back however many generations I needed to for that predicted relationship and then once I found all of the however many great grandparents, I would then sit and try to construct a tree made up of all of their descendants.  Can I just say that a lot of these people that I was researching had large families with lots and lots of children?? It took forever.  If I was fortunate, someone on Ancestry.com had a public family tree which made researching so much easier.  But then to complicate things even more, if a person is currently living, Ancestry.com does not publish their name on any family tree. They are just listed as private.  I found myself googling in hopes of finding obituaries or websites that would help give information as to who those living people might be. 

I spent hours and hours and hours, looking at family trees and names, just hoping that somehow, somewhere I would come across names that would match on people's trees that would give me a clue.  If I could just figure out one common ancestor between a couple of people who matched me, that would at least start me in the right direction. I did find lots of people who lived in the Ohio, Indiana and midwest region.  I spent more time pouring over those trees and trying to see if there was any connection between them. One of those people was a second cousin match, the closest match through my father's side on Ancestry.com.  He had a tree and by the time I was done studying it, I could tell you all about the Brown family that lived in Ohio, but alas, nothing was found that was of any significance to me.

You might be wondering what exactly I was looking for and how I would know when I had found it.  Do you remember the two paragraphs of non-identifying information I had on my birth father from the adoption agency?  I talked about it back in this blog.  It wasn't much, and I wasn't even sure whether it was true or not, but I was trying to find a family that somehow matched this description -  a family with five children, where the father and son were in business together.  I figured if I could find that, then maybe some of the other descriptors would match too. 

After months of searching,  God sent the key that would unlock the puzzle.  Meet cousin Anne.  Anne is a sweet lady in her 60's who also happens to be my 4th-6th predicted cousin on Ancestry.com.  She first contacted me on November 30, 2015 to see if by chance I knew how we were related.  I had been contacted before by many "cousins" and I had even contacted a few myself.  It seemed that many times when I mentioned I was adopted that people were suddenly no longer willing to help and just didn't respond anymore or there was nothing that they could offer to really be of assistance.  But this time was different. 

Anne had noticed from my profile that I had said part of my family was from Findlay, Ohio.  She said that could possibly be a clue.  She suggested that I begin researching one of her sixteen sets of great-great-great grandparents who had descendants who were also from that area.  She was very helpful and gave me some tips on how to make mirror trees and figure out where my strongest DNA matches were on a family tree.  We were in contact for a couple of months, trying our best to figure this thing out. I was slowly researching that line when suddenly, one day in very early February, I stumbled across something....

Until next time. ;)

The Story of My Life: Sorting It All Out

In the last post, I told about how I had contacted Carol's half-siblings. Because of that connection, I now know all kinds of things about that side of the family. I have medical history, a family tree and stories of the sweet grandmother I was never able to meet.  You can read all about that here.

Right about the same time as I found the aunts, I had also decided to do another DNA test. I figured it would not hurt me to put my DNA out there in as many places as possible if I was hoping to figure out this whole birth father mystery.  I had originally tested with ancestryDNA.  The closest relative I had was a second cousin and I really had no clue how she was related to me.  I decided to do another test with 23andme, the other big DNA company.  Not long after I send my test in,  Jessie and Brad decided they would take one too.  We were all curious to see what kind of information we could find out about ourselves.  

One by one, our results came in. We all got a good laugh when Jessie's came back.  23andme predicted that she was my granddaughter. I went in an corrected that assumption really quickly.  I may be older than her, but I am not THAT much older.

Once everyone had their results, I was able to start the process of figuring out how people were related to  me.  If a DNA match was related to all three of us, that meant they were related through our mother.  My new aunt Jan's husband, Ray, had given me a family tree for Carol's side of the family. Using this information, I was able to figure out which of the relations were related to us through our grandmother and who was related to us through our unknown grandfather.  Turns out, the lady who was my second cousin and closest match on ancestry is related to me through our unknown grandfather.  We worked together for a while, to try to figure out who he might be, but to this day it is still a mystery.

My very closest match though, came on 23andme.  It was a first cousin match.  A male who was anonymous and he was related only to me.  Brad and Jessie were not matches. I still remember the uptight feeling I would get in my stomach whenever I would see him on my match list.  Such a close relative. He could be the key to solving this whole thing. If I could just figure out who he was, the mystery could be solved in a very short time.  I tried contacting him on a couple of different occasions and received no response. I just kept on hoping that one day he would answer.

In the meantime,  I would take every close match I had on ancestry or 23andme and try to figure out all of their close relatives to see if I could find a family that seemed to match the description given in the non-identifying information from the adoption agency. Sometimes, for days on end, I would sit at the table with my laptop and papers with people's family trees drawn all over them spread everywhere. I would work until I was so tired of researching and then I would take a couple of weeks break, only to come back to it and find myself repeating the process over and over again.  Some days, I would feel my task was hopeless, while other days I was sure the answer was just around the bend. I worked like this for a year.  And then in November of 2015, God sent someone along to help guide me in the right direction....

The Story of My Life: I'm Not the Only One

So last time I had talked with Jessie and she told me the name of our maternal grandmother, my birth mom's birth mother, Joyce Ray Bricker.   I googled and found her obituary along with a few other tidbits of information about her. In the obituary, I was able to find the names of Carol's half-siblings. I contacted Carol's half-sister Pam on Facebook.  You can read all about that here.

I was at Walmart when Pam messaged me back.  She told me to call her and that Joyce Bricker was her mother.  I messaged her back and told her I would call her as soon as I got home.  I hurried through my shopping list and headed home. I was a bit nervous about the phone call and not exactly sure what I was hoping would happen as a result of it.

I dialed her number and Pam answered the phone.  I told her who I was and then she proceeded to tell me that when she first read my message, she began to cry.  She continued with her story saying that over 20 years ago they had been in contact with Carol for a very brief period of time.  Carol then suddenly cut off all contact with them. They had been praying ever since then that she would come back to them.  She told me that she knew that I wasn't Carol, but I was the next best thing.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  I wasn't the only one that Carol had just abandoned suddenly. She had done the same thing to her own biological family.  As I talked with several of the sisters that afternoon, I heard some pain in their voices from their interaction with Carol. It was very similar to the pain I had been feeling from my own situation.  But there was also excitement and joy as this was a time of reunion.  At the end of the day, I was able to better understand the early days of Carol's story, which in essence is also a part of my own story and a link to the past, a past that not so long ago seemed unreachable.

My grandmother, Joyce, had gone away to nursing school.  While in nursing school, she became pregnant.  No one is exactly sure who the father was or how it happened.  It wasn't a boyfriend, just someone that she had met one evening.  Carol was born on September 7th of 1953. Joyce's parents, Harvey and Grace,  had undergone a divorce, so Grace had moved back in with her own mother, Ethel,  Joyce's grandmother.  When Joyce had Carol, she was also living there in her grandmother's home.  Ethel told Joyce that she was not allowed to stay there and keep Carol Ann.  We know she had Carol for at least three days, but the exact amount of time is not known.  A friend of the family said that they knew that Mr. and Mrs. Close who lived in Findlay were good people and they were not able to have children of their own.  Possibly they would like to adopt Carol.  And that is exactly what happened.

Joyce went on to marry George Bricker not long after that.  She would cry and mourn the loss of her child.  George urged her to just go take Carol back, but Joyce told him she could not do that to Carol's adoptive parents,  the Closes.  She always talked about Carol and told her sisters about her.  They knew that if ever someone named Carol Ann came to the door claiming to be their sister, that she truly was. Joyce just hoped to be able to meet Carol at least once in her lifetime.

About 25 years ago, Joyce had been having some medical issues and she felt that Carol should be aware of them.  She contacted Carol's adoptive mom, Virginia, telling her who she was and what she wanted.  Virginia gave them Carol's phone number in Florida where Carol and the kids were living at the time.  Joyce contacted Carol and told her about the medical issues.  They remained in contact for a few months, exchanging letters and phone calls.  Carol sent them a picture of Brad and Brent and one of Jessie and Jenna.  She also told them in one of the letters about a baby that she herself had given away for adoption......me. So when I messaged Pam, she knew exactly who I was.

Carol only stayed in contact with them for a couple of months and then it was like she disappeared.  They held out hope and continued to pray that she would come back and contact them again.  Joyce never got her wish to meet Carol as she passed away in 2005. And Carol to this day has never contacted them again.

I, however, have been able to meet three of my four aunts and one of my cousins.  They have shared with me medical information from their side of the family and my Aunt Jan's husband Ray, blessed me with a beautiful family tree of my ancestors dating back to the 1600's and Plymouth, Massachusetts.

My grandmother was the first lady mayor of Kipton, Ohio.  She loved Jesus and preached at her church sometimes.  Jan sent me a copy of a couple of her sermons.  She also sent me some angel ornaments and pins that had belonged to my grandmother.  I wish I could have met her.  She sounds like a truly wonderful woman. I feel as though I have been able to get to know a little bit of who she was through the stories that my aunts have told me about her.

The Story of My Life: The Journey Continues

In the last blog that I wrote,  I told you about how my relationship with Carol had ended.  You can read all about it here.  It had been less than two months since I had found her and my birth siblings.  So much had happened and so very quickly.  When she decided she was not interested in having a relationship with me, in my heart I determined that I was going to do everything I could to figure out who my birth father was. The door had been cracked and I really wanted to know what circumstances had led to my existence and who the other part of that puzzle included. I had always liked a good mystery so I was up for the challenge.

At the end of September, I went on a two week missions trip. I visited the Challenge Farm for a second 

time. The Challenge Farm is a home, located in Kitale, Kenya,  where they take in orphaned and abandoned children. Many of the children come from the streets, where they have been sniffing glue or kerosene. These substances serve as a drug to numb them from the pain they feel of being hungry or cold.  During the time at the Challenge Farm, I was able to share with the kids the story of me finding my birth mom and birth siblings.  I told them how God can do what seems impossible at times.  His plan is so much greater than ours, and He can lay down the details years in advance for things to come to be. This was exactly what He had done for me and I was thankful for the opportunity to publicly praise him for it and hopefully encourage someone else with my story at the same time.  

The opportunity to be involved with the students and staff was a refreshing one for me.  It was nice to be able to focus on other people for a while and not to think about everything that was going on with me.  Despite the ebola epidemic that was going on in Africa at the time of my visit (it was very, very far away from me), here is the picture of the only Ebola I brought home with me.   It is a silly nickname I still call my keychain to this day. 

Once home from Africa, I was able to focus on my search again. I wasn't really sure about how to start looking for my birth father, so I decided to start by searching for Carol's birth family.  I had learned from Jessie and briefly from Carol, that they had been in contact with each other at some point in the past. I figured they would be open to communicating with me and at least answering whatever questions they could about Carol and her adoption situation.  Jessie had mentioned at one point in time that she knew what our biological grandmother's name was, so I asked her again what it was.  She told me that our grandmother's name was Joyce Bricker and that she knew she had passed away about ten years or so ago. Jessie also said that her mom had forbidden any of them to ever try to get in touch with her birth family.  At this point, I didn't care about that.  Carol had no authority over me and I was curious and wanted to know more about where I had come from.  

Once I had a name, I got busy searching.  There is a picture of my grandmother and the man she eventually married on her tombstone.  I remember finding this photo and just staring at the face of this cute little lady who had birthed the one who had birthed me. I also found her obituary and it contained more information about the family, including the fact that Carol had four surviving half-siblings that were living in Ohio. I began looking for them and eventually found them on Facebook.  I debated for a while whether I was actually going to contact them, but then I did it.  On the morning of November 14, 2014,  I sent a message to Pam who was one of the sisters and also my half-aunt.

Here is what it said:

Hey Pam! I realize that you don't know me so this message might seem a bit strange. My name is Lorena Hungerford. I was adopted in 1973 as an infant and just this past summer, through a series of events that I totally believe were planned by God, I was reconnected with my birth family. I have met my three birth siblings in person, but have not yet met my birth mother. She also was adopted as an infant and has not been very willing to share much about her biological family. Through talking with my half-sister and doing some googling,I came across your name. I was wondering if you may know a woman named Carol Close. She is my birthmother. I was told her birthmother's name was Joyce Bricker. I know that was your mother's name, but I am not sure if it is the same lady or not. My birthmother told me that she had been contacted by her birthmother at some point and my half-sister told me that she thought one of my birth mother's biological sisters had also tried to contact her. If by chance this is her, would you have any information you might be willing to share? I apologize if this catches you off guard or upsets you in any way. After 41 years of not knowing anything about my background, I have been excited to finally learn things about myself that I never thought I would know. I know my biological siblings have had questions too that they have never had answered because of her hesitancy to talk about it. I appreciate you taking the time to read this. Sincerely, Lorena


Later that afternoon, Pam replied to me. She said, "Lorena, you can call me..." and then gave me her number. "Yes, my mother is Joyce Bricker."

The Story of My Life: ....And the Door Closes

In mid August of 2014, about three weeks after I had found my half siblings and birth mother, I had the chance to travel to Florida to meet my siblings for the first time. It was a wonderful weekend where I had the chance to be face to face with people I shared DNA with for the first time (other than my own children).  You can read all about that experience here.

We returned home from Florida, and following the advice of my counselor, I had not been communicating with Carol unless she contacted me first.  We didn't really text much and I only remember talking with her on the phone a couple of times.  Those times that we did talk were not necessarily pleasant memories for me.


One of the times she called, we talked for a bit. It was a nice conversation. We chatted for a few minutes and just as I told her how much I had enjoyed talking with her, she started in with "Jessie and Brad just need to....."  This time I couldn't take it, so I yelled back at her.  I said, "You really just need to stop blaming everybody else for your problems!!" Then I hung up the phone.  She ended up calling me back about 45 minutes later. I could tell she had been crying. I apologized for hanging up on her but also told her that I wasn't going to let her talk bad about the siblings to me any more.  We continued our conversation for another half an hour or so.  Later on that evening she texted and said, "Thanks for listening and talking with me today. I really appreciate it."

The other phone conversation took place not long after the first one, although I don't remember the exact date. The phone call started off well.  I don't remember all of what we talked about.  I just remember asking Carol at some point in that conversation if she ever thought about me after she gave me up for adoption.  Her answer to me was, "I was done with you when I gave you up for adoption and never thought about you again."    I sat there on the bed, stunned. It felt at that moment like a knife had just pierced my heart. Surely she had not just said what I thought I had heard.  If she had, I felt like that was the cruelest thing anyone could ever say to me, especially coming from someone who had been adopted herself.  So I told her I didn't believe her.  I said that I had miscarried two babies of my own, and even though I don't think about them every day, there are times I sit and think about how old they would be, whether they were boys or girls, and what they could have possibly grown up to be. To think that someone had carried me for nine months months and gave birth to me, and yet never thought of me again, seemed beyond belief.  But she said it again. And then added, "I wasn't supposed to know anything about you and you weren't supposed to know anything about me."  So I told her that it was up to her to decide whether or not she wanted a relationship with me. I wasn't going to force myself upon her if she didn't want me.  She thought about it for a second and then responded, "I guess I don't." I told her that was fine, but also that I was not going to give up trying to find answers about who my birth father was. I told her that I was going to ask questions of everybody I could until I figured it out.  She told me to ask away and she she didn't care who I talked to.

I hung up the phone in disbelief. I was hurt, angry, sad, confused, and most of all rejected.  But the rejection that I felt was not the rejection of just this phone conversation, but a two-fold rejection.  I had never felt at any time during my growing up years that by being given up for adoption, I had been rejected. I had always held her in such high regard and assumed that she had given me up out of love.  I had always assumed that she cared about me, but in this moment, I didn't feel like she did, then or now.  And I felt it.

I only ever remember talking to her once after that.  She called upset because I had been talking with my brother Brad about people in his past who might possibly be able to help me with my questions.  He had asked his mom something, and she realized that he had been talking with me.  She called.  "Have you been talking with Brad today?" she asked.  When I told her I had, she said she didn't know why.  She said she thought she had answered all of my questions about my birth father. I assured her that she had not.  That "I don't know" and "I don't remember" are not answers, at least not ones that meant I didn't have questions anymore.  She was angry with me and I was angry with her. I was not about to put up with her lies or excuses any more.  She had told me she wanted nothing to do with me, and at that point as far as I was concerned, I didn't need to tiptoe around her any more.  I told her I did not believe her when she said she did not know who he was.  I told her that it did not make sense to me that the adoption agency would have a description of him specific enough to include the fact that he had "a growth removed from an armpit" and that his mother had "lumps removed from her breast" if it was someone that she did not know.  She finally told me that the reason that she did not know the identity of my biological father was because there were three different men around that time.  The first was the man in the drugging incident that she had told me about. The second was a man she was in a relationship with for a period of time. The third was someone she was involved with briefly.  She begged me not to tell the others this bit of information because of how it would make her look to them. I asked her just to give me a name.  I told her if she did that, I could use the results of my DNA test to confirm whether it was him or not.  Again, she just told me that she "didn't remember."


It wasn't long after that when she blocked me on Facebook, even though there had not been any contact between us. And that was the end of it all. I have not heard from her since.

I cannot lie. It has been a struggle for me at times. The hurt, pain, anger, sadness, rejection....it is all so very real and raw.  And my emotions can flip from feeling sorry for Carol one minute to being really angry with her the next.  But now that I am a couple of years out from the situation, there are a few things that I have come to realize and learn about my feelings regarding this situation and some about adoption reunions in general.

Let me share some of those things with you:

- Carol was not looking for me. She had told the others about me assuming that I would never be found. And I wouldn't have been, if the court had not made that mistake all those years ago. Not every adoptee or birth parent wishes for a reunion and not ever adoptee longs to be reconnected.  Some adoptees are very content in their situations (just as I had been for so many years) and have no desire to know more. To push them or encourage them towards searching or reunion when they are not ready or do not desire it would be a very damaging thing to do.  This process has not been an easy one emotionally and I cannot imagine what it would have been like to go through it if I had not been ready and wanting to do so.

-Carol has the right to refuse to have a relationship with me.  It is not how I would have done things if I were in her shoes, but I am not.  She is not wrong in her choice, just as I was not wrong in my desire to want to get to know her.  But the same goes in reverse. Just as she had the choice to continue the relationship or not, I also have the right to make that same choice.  Just because an adoptee searches and find a birth parent does not mean that they have to continue in a relationship with them forever. If they find that the birth parent is toxic or harmful to their well-being in some way (which they often are), they have the right to cut that birth parent off without having to feel guilty.

-The anger I feel towards Carol because of her lies to me is valid. I value honesty above all and she wasn't honest with me.  She could have outright said to me that she did not want to discuss certain things and I would have respected that.  To intentionally give me incorrect information or pretend she didn't know something was just wrong.  And when I later contacted the adoption agency again, they told me that Carol had written a letter to them when I was six months old inquiring as to how I was doing.  So I have solid proof that she was lying, and it is not just a guess.

-I assumed my whole life that my birth father knew of my existence and had to sign off on the adoption papers. I also learned when I contacted the adoption agency that he didn't have to sign. They  said in my file that it said Carol told him about her pregnancy and that he said it was "her problem."  For the first time ever, I began to wonder if maybe he did not know of my existence. I was also angry with him when I first heard that he had said that to her. But then I had to tell myself that she had lied so much to me, that I couldn't know for sure whether or not that was a lie.  Then I began to question whether or not the information she provided about him was truthful or not.  The adoption agency told me that they did not know of any reason why she would have provided inaccurate information at the time, but there really was no way to know.

-I am saddened at times when I think about the fact that I may never get to meet Carol.  The only time I may possibly see her is at her funeral.

- I realize now that the image I had built up of Carol in my mind was an image of what I imagined a good mother to be. I had placed on her the characteristics of my own mom, someone who was loving and kind.  Carol was not that person and never would have been.  God blessed me with a wonderful mom and I am so thankful for her and for God's protection of me when he placed me in their family.  This whole experience just confirmed to me that I grew up exactly in the home where I was supposed to be.

But don't go anywhere, the journey isn't over.....