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.
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.....
So if you have been keeping up with the story, you will remember that last time I had searched for a way to get in touch with Jessie, who I believed was possibly my half sister. I could not find any way that I could contact her, so instead I send a message to Alyssa who was married to Jessie's brother Brent. Facebook would not directly send my message because we were not connected in any way, so I paid a dollar for the message to go to her inbox and not to her "other mailbox". I had been explaining all of the happenings of the day to my niece Flora who was living with us at the time. I was just telling her about the "other mailbox" when I opened mine to find a message there. It was from Jessie.
It has been sent at 9:10 pm. Here is what it said....
My hands were shaking at this point. It was now 45 minutes after she had sent that message. I truly felt that God had planned for me to explain all of that to Flora so I would have a reason to check my other mailbox. If she hadn't come home when she did and we hadn't gone through all of that, I do not know when I would have found that message.
I quickly replied and sent it off at 9:58pm. My response said: Yes. I found your post today on Find My Family that said you were looking for a sibling. I was born in Valparaiso, Indiana on August 25, 1973. I was adopted when I was 6 days old through a closed adoption. The courts accidentally sent my parents the wrong papers so they have known all along that my birth mother's name was Carol Close. It wasn't until a couple of years or so ago that they shared that information with me.
When I went to bed that night my stomach was in knots. Jessie had not seen the message yet, so I figured I would probably hear something back in the morning. When I got up, I saw that she had seen the message but she had not replied. I waited for an hour or so but still nothing. I started feeling sick in my stomach. Then I started second guessing what I had found when I was searching yesterday. Maybe the Jessie Harvey I found was not the Jessie Harvey that put up that post. Had I just freaked someone out by telling them that I thought their mom was my birthmother.
I tried to figure out how to back myself out of this mess, making a mental note that if I ever did this again I needed to proceed with a bit more caution.
I messaged Jessie again. This time I said, "Sorry. I realized this morning that I probably should have verified with you that you had indeed put that post before sharing all that information with you. I hope I didn't tell you something that you didn't already know. Here is a link to the post I was referring to" and I shared the link with her.
About a half an hour later she responded. Here is what she said....
I responded, "Absolutely," and gave her my number.
I was relieved. It seemed that I had found the right Jessie Harvey after all.
I had an appointment at the eye doctor that morning. It was the same eye doctor that at one point told me that he thought I had Native American blood in me. He has someone in his family that was adopted and for some reason this particular morning he got on the topic of searching for birth families. It was all I could do to sit there quietly and not say anything about what was going on in my life, that right at that very moment I was waiting for my possible half sister to text me so we could talk for the first time ever.
When my appointment was over, I checked my phone. Nothing yet. I left the doctor's office and met Steve for lunch. We sat outside the restaurant talking about everything that had happened in the last 24 hours when the first text came.
"Hi. It's Jessie. SO crazy!! I want to know everything about you. How old are you? Where do you live? Do you have kids?
But I do have to tell you first, mom doesn't know that you contacted me. She's always been kind of leary about talking about you... she was adopted herself. I'm going to call her in a couple of minutes."
By this time I had decided to be a bit more cautious with my assumptions so I wanted to make sure that Jessie really was my half-sister. I told her I would tell her everything that I knew about her mom to see if it matched what she knew about her. I pulled the piece of paper out of my purse that my dad had given me just the day before and started texting her the information on that page. She thought it was crazy that I knew those details about her mom and confirmed that it was indeed her.
We texted back and forth excitedly, sharing pictures and asking each other all kinds of questions. It was such a surreal moment. Jessie tried to call her mom in the middle of it all, but she didn't answer. She said she would try to call her later on. And we continued to text...
I told Steve at this point that we needed to talk with my parents. So we called them and arranged for them to come over to my house that afternoon.
I got Facebook friend requests from the boys and I began messaging with them too. So much happening at one time. So many different emotions.
My parents came over that afternoon. I was so nervous to tell them. When I did, I think they were a little bit blown away by how quick all of this had happened. After all, my dad had just given me the paper with the non-identifying information YESTERDAY and within 24 hours I had found and been talking with my three half-siblings. They were very supportive and were excited to listen to everything I had to tell them and look at the pictures of everyone. We were all amazed at the similarities between me and my siblings. My dad said he had always thought that I would find my family. They also expressed again how thankful they were for Carol and for the gift that she had given them. When they left, they told me to be sure to keep them informed of everything that was going on and I assured them that I would.
That evening I had to go to a VBS meeting at church. Honestly, I did not pay attention AT ALL to the things they were talking about. All I could think about was the fact that I had found blood family. Family that shared DNA with me. And then, as if I wasn't distracted enough, I got this text from Jessie.....
"I talked to my mom.... It was pretty emotional. Are you ready for some looooonnnnnnggggg texts? Lol"
