Out of the Shadows

Wow! I can't believe that it has been over a year since I last wrote a blog.  Life changed and got busy, so I had to take a break.  Here recently though, some people have been inquiring whether or not I ever plan to finish writing my story.  While I feel there will never truly be an "ending" since our lives are stories that continuously unfold,  I want to try to put into words my experience so it can be shared later on with my children and grandchildren, and hopefully encourage some of you along the way.

If you are new to the blog, you might just be wondering what exactly I am writing about.  It is the journey of my life as an adoptee, from birth to now....it is a journey of God's faithfulness and goodness as truth was brought to light.  May I suggest that you go here to start from the beginning?  It won't take that long to catch up. I promise. :)

If you have been following along,  you may remember that I had come to the conclusion through DNA testing and doing research on Ancestry.com that a man named Elliott Martin was a possible candidate for my birth father. I wrote him a letter and turns out my research had actually been accurate.  Because his wife was not exactly thrilled with my appearance and did not want the rest of the family knowing about me, I told him I would not reveal myself to any of them without his permission.  The only possibility of anyone finding out about me was if the first cousin DNA match on 23andme who had been anonymous for the two years I had been on that site would somehow log on and find my profile.  

Fast forward six months to August 13, 2016.....and that is exactly what happened.  Steve, the kids and I had gone away for the weekend, when I got a message from that cousin, Keith Denton.  He told me his mother was Susan Martin, who was Elliott's sister.  I had been found.  You can read all about the events leading up to that here. 

It was dark in the hotel room and the kids were sleeping. I was frantically relaying to Steve what had just happened. I decided to respond to Keith, but did not divulge Elliott's secret since I had made a promise that I wouldn't.  Instead, I wrote this:

"Hey Keith!! Actually, I do know how we are related and we are first cousins. At the moment, I am not at liberty to explain how, but as soon I can, I promise I will let you know."

I was a bit excited. Who wouldn't be? Here was an opportunity to open the door to family that I wondered if I would ever get to know. I had made the promise to Elliott and intended to keep it. He was hoping his wife, Hazel, would come around and he would be able to tell his family himself. She had not moved in her stance at this point and I wondered if something might happen to him before I had a chance to meet any of the rest of the family. What then? I had a half-sister and half-brother that I knew about and frankly, I was curious. I wanted to get to know them and wondered what they might think about me. At the same time though, I knew that the poop was about to hit the fan. Since Elliott had told me of his recent conversation with Hazel about me, I knew there was no way this discovery by Keith was going to be a happy one for her. And I really wasn't sure how Elliott himself was going to feel about being exposed.

Hoping to give him a heads up about the situation and a chance to prepare for what was inevitably to come, I immediately messaged Elliott. It was 10:50 p.m.

"Hey Elliott! I just wanted to let you know that your nephew Keith Denton has just contacted me on 23andme which is the other DNA site that I had done testing through besides ancestry.com. He has showed up as my first cousin since the day I was on there. Only today he has messaged me to ask me how we are related. I told him that currently I am not at liberty to say how we are connected. I wanted to let you know, because I am sure he will begin pursuing finding out how."

I sent the message desperately praying he would see it before things escalated.

But they already had.

By the time I finished writing Elliott, Keith had already responded on 23andme.

The Story of My Life: Found

In the last post, I shared with you about some of the conversations that I had with Elliott in the first couple of months after my initial contact with him. Those conversations ranged from talk of Carol in the days that he knew her to me informing him of the first cousin that I shared DNA with on 23andme and everything in between. I ended my last post telling you about how Elliott had been having some health issues and how I began to wonder what I would do if something ever happened to him before I had a chance to get to know the rest of the family.  You can read all about that here.

Everything turned out fine and the medical issues were resolved without any serious results.  As it turned into summer, communication with Elliott was more sparse. Our few conversations took place mostly through Facebook messenger.

August rolled around and it came time for Elliott's birthday. I sent him a message with birthday wishes.  He responded the next evening saying he had spent the day resting.  For his birthday, he and Hazel had travelled to visit my half-sister Ava and spend the day celebrating the birthday of Melody, Ava's daughter, who shares a birthday with Elliott.  He also told me that he had tried to strike up a conversation with Hazel about the situation on the ride home.  Hazel still seemed threatened by it all and refused to discuss it with him.  He apologized to me and then said that he hoped in time that things would be different.  He asked me not to hold it against him or Hazel.  My appearance had been a shock to both Elliott and his wife and he knew that it would change who he was with everyone he knew once they found out.  His concern wasn't at much for himself as the rest of his family.  At the same time that he wanted to protect them, he also didn't like keeping things from his children. He said he knew that it was a bit convoluted, but he hoped that I would understand.

I responded to him and said this: "It doesn't sound convoluted. I totally understand. I have learned in my life that there is freedom in truth and often extra blessings that come with that truth, but it has to be in your time. No pressure from me. Glad to hear you had a good trip! Hope today is wonderful as well."

My conversation with Elliott had taken place on a Monday. The following Saturday, our family was going to be leaving to go away for a couple of days to Cherokee, NC. Steve was going to meet up with some of his guy friends there on Sunday and hang out for the day.

I never really like it when Steve is gone, whether he is out just for the evening or if he leaves on some kind of trip. Often, when he is gone, I find my anxiety levels rising or have difficulty going to sleep. I sometimes get the same tight chested feeling that I have if I am dropped off at the door of a restaurant or church where things are unfamiliar or I am surrounded by people I don't know. I had discussed this with my counselor and she told me it was an abandonment issue that comes from being adopted.

Since I wasn't really feeling like dealing with all of those emotions with Steve going away, I had convinced him that this time it might be fun if he took all of us along with him on the trip. We could do some family things on the way up on Saturday, and on Sunday while he was with his friends, I could find some fun things to do with the kids. He agreed and I was glad.

We left Saturday, stopping at the Wild North Carolina Nature Center in Asheville first. We had fun seeing the animals, walking the trails, and playing a bit of Pokemon Go. After that, we continued on to Cherokee where we took the kids to see the outdoor drama, "Unto These Hills."

Later that evening, as we were settling into the hotel, the kids were in bed and Steve and I were laying in ours messing around on Facebook. Just before going to sleep, I decided to check my email. There was an email from 23andme. It said that Keith Denton had sent me a message. In the message, he told me that he lived in Ohio and that his father was Ken Denton and his mother was Susan Martin.  

Susan Martin was Elliott's sister. My cousin had found me.

The Story of My Life: Conversations

In the last blog, I told you how Elliot had told me to check my email on Thursday morning at 9:30. I checked and he had sent me an email telling me to give him a call.  I did. And he ended up telling me my story.  You can read all about that here.

I talked with Elliott on that Thursday morning and on other Thursday mornings for several weeks following.  I would listen to him tell stories of his growing up years, learning things about him and his parents who were also my biological grandparents. 

He told me stories about my half-siblings, Ava and Joseph.  He just knew my sister would be thrilled to know of my existence.  Yet, because of Hazel's opposition to my sudden appearance, I made a promise to him that I would keep everything quiet unless a time came that his wife would be comfortable with the situation. I assured him that I would not try to approach his family and tell them of my existence unless he said it was okay. It wasn't an ideal situation, but I was just thankful for the opportunity to get to know him  and learn things that gave me a better understanding of myself.

I did alert Elliott to the fact that there was a first cousin on 23andme whose DNA matched mine.  I knew that this cousin was related to me through Elliott's side of the family.   That cousin was anonymous and had never made any contact with me.  But if he ever did, there would be no possible way to keep things a secret.  My name and picture were already public on that site. Elliott said he understood and if that happened, we would just take it as it came.

Elliott was a much more mild-mannered person than Carol and it was easy to carry on a conversation with him.  He accepted responsibility for his past mistakes and said, "It is what it is, and we can only move forward from here."  He slowly seemed to accept the idea that I truly was his offspring.  We would talk of Carol and the whole adoption situation.  I told him how I had found her and shared stories of my interactions with her.  Whenever I found myself getting angry and frustrated with her, Elliott would calm me down and tell me that I shouldn't be angry with her. He believed she really did not know who my father was and he believed that to be the reason why she wouldn't tell me anything.  At times, I couldn't believe what I was hearing coming from his mouth. Here is the one person who truly had the right to be angry with her, and he was speaking gently and kindly, offering her grace.  

Elliott had known Carol for about a year.  This time spanned from his initial meeting with her, through their "relationship" and the months following until she went away to have me in Indiana. He even had contact with her a few times in the first couple of months after I was born.  He told me how he had felt sorry for her because she always seemed "lost."  He told me about how she talked with him about giving me away for adoption and how she cried when speaking of me. This was so different than the "I never thought of you again" conversation that Carol had with me on the phone.  I began to see another side of her that she had not made known to me, and although I was still angry and upset towards her because of some of her actions during my contact with her,  I began to soften a little bit and view her from another perspective. I began to understand why it was that Carol did not want me or the others to know the truth of her circumstances. It was exactly as she had feared, that she would end up looking like a horrible person. Instead of facing the truth head on and running to healing through forgiveness and grace, she hid behind her fear of condemnation and shut the truth up inside of her. 

My parents asked me what it was like to talk with Elliott on the phone.  I could only describe it as being similar to talking with an old friend. Even though I really didn't know Elliott, there was a strange familiarity that I found comforting.  We were strangers, but we were related, and I felt a connection that is hard for me to put into words.

As summer approached,  our phone conversations pretty much ended as Hazel was no longer going to Bible study. We kept in contact occasionally through Facebook messenger.  

In May, Elliott told me that he was having some medical tests run.  The situation turned out to be more serious than he had initially thought. But because it was caught and corrected, it did not turn into a life threatening situation.  

But this got me thinking though.....what if he did endure some type of medical crisis or even worse, what if he passed away?  What would I do then? Would I make myself known to my half siblings or any other members of his family? And if not, would be I be able to live without ever having the opportunity to meet or get to know them?

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.....

The Story of My Life: The Reunion

That last post took place on August 5th, just one day shy of it being two weeks since I had found my half siblings and birth mom.  I called her that afternoon and we had a fairly nice conversation, but I still found that I was having a hard time communicating with her. Because of my frustrations, I had decided to focus my efforts on my half-siblings for the time being.  You can read all about that here. 

Let's fast forward just a little over a week to Thursday, August 14th. It was the day that we were leaving to head to Florida for me to meet my half-siblings the following night. The last few days leading up to our trip had been busy with packing and getting all the final details together. I had finally had my first counseling appointment on Wednesday, the 13th. I loved my counselor, Jane, and was so thankful for how she had already helped settle some of my emotions. I had not been in much contact with Carol over that last week. We had a brief conversation on the 6th when I asked her if she knew any information about her own birth mother. Carol said her name was Joyce but that she didn't know where she lived or anything else about her. "That was too long ago," she said. So that ended that conversation.  The next time she messaged was a week later and she wondered when we were all meeting in Florida.  I told her we were leaving the following day and would be meeting everyone on Friday night. She said that was all she needed to know, so I left it at that.  I was too excited about the upcoming weekend to let myself be drawn into a super emotional roller coaster ride of a conversation.

We headed out driving through South Carolina and into Georgia. There were stopped at The Smoking Pig and had an awesome BBQ lunch. We continued on and despite the pleas of my siblings to just keep driving and get to Cape Coral a day early, we stopped in Ocala, Florida where we had Mexican food for supper and spent the night at at hotel.  

Friday morning, we continued our journey to Cape Coral, the city where all three of my siblings reside.  We enjoyed reading everyone's guesses as to where we were headed on Facebook.  Most people thought Disney or a cruise.  Steve tried to convince them that we were driving to Cuba to strike up a deal with Fidel Castro. I don't think anyone believed him.

We arrived in the early afternoon. Steve had booked a hotel that overlooked the Gulf of Mexico.  We enjoyed the view and tried to catch a quick nap before getting ready for the reunion in the evening. When the time came to change my clothes and get ready, I felt the knot in my stomach get tighter and tighter. The thoughts were racing around in my head. What if they don't like me? What if I don't like them?  What if we don't get along?  I knew there was always the possibility this could end in a huge disappointment, but I was praying it wouldn't be so.

We had decided to meet in an upstairs lobby of the hotel.  It would give us a bit of privacy and the chance to talk a little before heading out to a restaurant to eat.  Brent and his wife, Alyssa, and their boys, Blake and Brock, were staying in the same hotel with us for the weekend, so they were there and ready to go.  Jessie and her boyfriend, Frank, arrived with her two kids, Kaleigh and Franke. We were just waiting on Brad.  He was late. Apparently, he is always late. (lol!) We finally got the text that he along with his wife Melissa and kids, Kobe, Jaelyn and Bella, were finally there. As we came out of our room and were walking along the outside walkway to head toward the elevator to the lobby, I looked over the edge.  Brad and Melissa and the kids were down below headed inside the hotel.  We yelled down to them and waved. They waved back. And my heart smiled. I just had a feeling it was going to be a good weekend after all.

When we walked into the lobby, there immediately was a flurry of tears, hugs, and pictures.  There was so much to take in and my head was spinning with excitement.  For the first time in my life, outside of the two children that I had given birth to, I was face to face with people who shared DNA with me.  It was a very surreal experience.  During the entire weekend, I would find myself staring at different ones of them thinking, "Hmm....something about you looks very familiar to me." Then I would realize that it was because I was seeing various pieces of myself reflected in them. Brad and I ordered the same meal at every restaurant.  Brent and I both used the word "fridgerator." Jessie and I both use the same facial expressions.  I know those are just little things, but to me they were huge.  It was crazy that even though I had been raised in a completely different family far away from them, how many things about us were similar. 

We ate out several times, went swimming in the hotel pool, went to the beach, and went to church. The time there was crammed full of hanging out with them. There was lots of talking about life, about growing up and most importantly about Carol. It was during this time I found out that I was not the only one that struggled to have a relationship with her.  Her own children found it difficult at times. It was not uncommon for her to keep secrets, lie about things, or find ways to pit one person against another in the family. It was all beginning to make more sense to me. Her issues weren't just about me, they were just her issues.  And when I realized that, a bit more of the model of her that I had built up in my mind over the years crumbled and fell away.  She was becoming less and less of what I had dreamed her to be.

By the time Sunday came, I was very sad to leave.  I had a pit in my stomach from the time I woke up. It had been such a wonderful experience and I was so very excited to be connected to my siblings after all this time.  We stopped at Cape Canaveral on the way home and visited the Space Center with the kids.  I tried to stay focused on what we were doing, but that day and for a long time after, I would just find myself staring off into space thinking about everything that had happened during that month. 

One of my siblings told me while we were in Florida that I was the lucky one because I had been adopted and didn't have to be raised by Carol. I struggled with that. It was almost like I had survivors guilt. Even though a part of me wished that I had been able to grow up with my siblings, I now understood that God had protected me and given me wonderful parents to raise me, and as hard as I try to understand that at times, I just can't. But I am thankful.





         

The Story of My Life: The First Phone Call

I had gone to the beach for a few days with friends from church.  While there, I had decided to start trying to do my own research to find my birth father. My birth mother had not been too cooperative where he was concerned, so I figured the best way was just to work on it all myself. I, of course, found nothing.   When I returned from the beach, I had a conversation with Carol that indicated she really was pretty much done with all of this. You can read about that conversation here.  I decided after that declaration, I was not going to contact her unless she contacted me first.  I didn't have to wait too long.

The last conversation with Carol had taken place on Sunday, August 3rd.  I didn't hear from her at all on Monday, but on Tuesday, August 5th she texted me.  She said, "I am not really mad at you. I am just tired of being the conversation of something that was so long ago and it has a simple explanation. I was pregnant, had a baby girl, gave her up for adoption and now you have a wonderful family that loves you plus your own children. Live life to the fullest....I was not supposed to be in this picture."

I asked her if she was going to be home that afternoon and if so, if I could call her.  She said yes, so I told her I would talk to her later that day.


The kids were gone somewhere, most likely at my parents, when I called.  I was nervous and there were a massive amount of butterflies in my stomach.  What was going to be that outcome of this conversation?  I really don't really know what I was hoping would happen.  Maybe that by talking on the phone and having an actual conversation the outcome would be positive and we might come to a better understanding of each other.  Maybe it was that we would be able to communicate what we wanted out of this journey. I wasn't really sure.  I had been struggling up to this point in my relationship with her.  What Carol seemed to be through text was so different from the image that I had built up in my mind throughout all the prior years of my life of who my birth mom was and what she would be like. 

She answered the phone. Her voice was not the soft, warm voice that I dreamed of all of those years.  It was a bit more on the harsh side and her talking very direct, much like the conversations that we shared through text.  We talked for maybe an hour and a half.  I let her know up front that I wasn't calling to try to find out information on my birth father. I just wanted a chance to get to know her better and I didn't want her to worry that I was somehow going to pop questions about him on her later on in the conversation.  She still brought him up anyway even after I had said that to her.  I didn't pursue the conversation and she really didn't give me any information. All she was was that she didn't know what his name was.  Big surprise. 

I tried to use the time to get to know her a bit better. I found it difficult to get anything out of her that was on much of a personal level.  She would share things about what she liked to do, for example, wear cowboy boots, plant flowers or eat at McDonalds, but would not really share information about who she was as a person. She never gave any real indication about what she was feeling or what made her tick. She did reminisce a little about her childhood and she told me about the cloak her parents made her wear while she was pregnant to hide her baby bump from the public eye. I encouraged her to think about whether she truly wanted a relationship with me or not. I told her I wasn't going to force anything on her, but that whatever determination was made about the future would be her decision.  I also asked her about the upcoming trip I was going to make to Florida.  In less than two weeks, I would be headed to Cape Coral to meet my siblings for the first time.  We were all excited and I knew that there would be pictures posted on Facebook and Instagram to celebrate the big reunion.  I asked Carol what she thought about all of that and if she was ready to handle it.  She said she would just deal with it when it came.  When I asked her what she would say if someone asked her who I was, she said she would tell them I was a friend of the family.

I had to go get the kids, so I ended the conversation.  I was more confused afterwards than I had been before. At this point, I was beginning to question my desire to have a relationship with her.  Part of me wanted to and part of me didn't.  My conversations with Carol whether through text or on the phone just seemed to end with such emotional upheaval. I had a deep down desire to get to know her and who she was. I really was so grateful to her for what she had done for me. But on the other hand, I wasn't sure I was permanently ready for the ups and downs the contact with her seemed to bring and most of all, I wasn't sure what those emotional swings would do to my family. 

Later on that day in a conversation with my sister, Jessie, I told her all about the phone conversation with her mom. I relayed to her that Carol said she did not know my birth father's name. She and I were both baffled at the fact that the adoption agency had information about my birth father from what his degree he had in college, to his height and weight, down to the fact that he had a growth removed from one of his armpits.  It did not seem possible that a person, like Carol,  could give the adoption agency such intimate and detailed information about my birth father and then say to me that she did not know what his name was. It did not make any sense.  It made me so frustrated and really just increased my anger towards her whenever I thought about it.

I also found out in that conversation with Jessie that she and her mom had not spoken in over a week.  So this whole time that Carol had been venting to me about Jessie trying to get information from her, they hadn't even been talking with each other. 

I decided to turn my attention away from Carol and focus on the siblings. After all, I was going to visit them in less than two weeks and spend time with them in person. I didn't know if I was ever going to meet Carol and to be honest, at this point in time, I wasn't sure if I cared whether I ever did or not.

So focus on the siblings I did.  Plans were made. Hotels were booked. Lots of exciting conversations were taking place. My Facebook friends could tell from my posts that something big was going on in my life but they didn't know what it was.  I decided to string them along until the big reveal when I met my siblings face to face in Florida. (I am sure none of you are surprised by that fact. lol!)

I cannot wait to tell you all about the reunion....such a wonderful experience. Until next time. :)

The Story of My Life: The Girl Who Went Away

It is now Wednesday, July 30th, 2014.  It had been exactly one week since I had found my birth siblings and began contact with my birth mother. It had been an emotional ride as I had been having such a wonderful time getting to know my siblings through texts and messages but also struggling with the various different reactions I was having as a result of the things my birth mother was saying to me. When she told me that she had been drugged and I was the result of that, I wasn't sure what to think. Then the adoption agency told me that there was no mention of a trauma anywhere in my file. I wasn't sure what to believe from her anymore.  You can read more about that here.

I packed up that Wednesday morning and headed to the beach for a few days with some ladies from church.  We hadn't been attending this church very long, so I was excited to get to know a few more women and make some friends.  I rode in the car with my friend, Shannon, and excitedly told her everything that had been going on in the last week.  Steve had asked her before I left to keep an eye on me and to make sure that I did not allow myself to get drawn into anything too emotional with Carol while I was at the beach. I needed the time to relax and get away, and he wanted to make sure that I would do just that. Shannon assured him that she would take good care of me. 

We got to the beach and sadly, it rained most of the weekend, so there wasn't too much time spend in the sun and sand.  We savored the few moments we did get out there and then spent a lot of time inside, just sitting around and talking. I had brought along the book, "The Girls Who Went Away" by Ann Fessler and had the chance to check it out during this time.  The lady from the adoption agency had suggested I read it.  It is stories of women from the 50's through the 70's who gave their children up for adoption. It talked about what they went through at home, with their peers and at the mother's homes that many of them were sent to.  It tells the stories that many parents told about their daughters to be saved from the embarrassment of having a pregnant child.  It talked about birth mothers who searched for their children and vice versa along with the struggles that came with finding them and the reunions.

At different times during the book, I felt my heart breaking for Carol. I could not imagine what it must have been like to have to give up a child that you had carried to full term.  I asked Carol if I could ask her some questions that the book had brought up in my mind.  She said to send them to her and she would answer if she could. I asked her a lot and she didn't answer even half of the questions, which was okay with me.  I didn't really expect her to. I was just hoping that she would see that I was trying to make an effort to understand where she was coming from. What she did answer, though, gave me a better glimpse into what it must have been like for her during that time. I knew that she had been sent away to stay at an unwed mother's home.   She did say that the people at the home were very nice to her and treated her well. I was glad to hear that since some of the stories in the book told of very terrible experiences in some of those places.  Her parents never came to visit her during the time that she was there. She told me that no one was there with her when she gave birth to me. Maybe the lady from the home where she had been staying, but that was it. She was never even allowed to hold me. And by the time my parents adopted me when I was six days old, she was back in Ohio.  It all made me feel very sad for her.

I had decided already to take a break from trying to get information from her about how I had come to be and who my birth father was. I figured at this point that she wouldn't tell me the truth even if she did know. In my heart, I had a feeling that I would know one day, so I set out to try to solve the mystery on my own.  I felt like maybe if I could figure it out, once she realized that I knew, she could be free from the bondage of her own secrets. Because it was raining so much and I had some time on my hands, I got to searching on the internet.  I used whatever information I knew from the adoption agency along with anything that Carol had told me already (which really wasn't much) to see if I could learn anything knew. I enlisted the help of some of my newly acquainted friends and we all went to work trying to solve the mystery.  I tried to look up family businesses in the Findlay, Ohio, are since I knew that was where Carol was from and that my birth father had been working in his dad's business at the time I was conceived. I wondered if he could possibly have been the son of the man that her mom had worked for at the milling company.  I would search pictures of families to see if there was any resemblance with them, always checking their eye color and whether they wore glasses to see if they would match the description of my birth father. I googled every name or place that she had ever mentioned to try to see if was somehow related. 

Of course, I figured out nothing.  How could I? Did you know there can be an awful lot of family owned businesses in a town? And how would I ever know if I had the right one? I would have to figure out a better way to get this search going.

I headed home, relaxed and thankful for a fun weekend with my new friends.  It had rained a lot, but we still had a great time full of laughs, shopping, and McDoubles and sweet tea.

When I got home, I contacted Carol to ask her if she had been involved in the process of picking my parents. I had been told that at some point she thought they were doctors, so I was curious to see if she had been allowed to give any input when they were making the decision of who would be my parents.  She was not very agreeable to my questions and said some things that let me know that. She said that she did not know anything about me after I was adopted. That she was not allowed to know anything about me or my parents and that what they did was not a matter of interest to her.  I apologized for upsetting her,  and told her I would not going to ask any more, but she continued.  She wondered what information my parents had about her and I told her that it was just the little bit of information that was given to them by the adoption agency and if I had been asking her questions of things I already knew just to see if she would give me the same answer.  I could tell she was getting really upset, so I tried again to apologize to her. I told her I was sorry and that I never wanted to hurt her or interrupt her life.  She vented a little bit and then said, "I am done and thru with this whole ordeal and ending conversations reference to all this. I am a human being with feeling and now I have to go on living with the fact that what was to be private is now known due to one person thinking she had to know. I AM DONE AND OVER ALL OF THIS..."

All I could say was, "I understand."

I decided for the time being that I was not going to contact her any more unless she contacted me first. I was not looking to force myself upon her or make her have a relationship with me.  That would be something that would have to be a mutual agreement between both of us. And it sure seemed at the moment that it was not something she was interested in at all.

The Story of My Life: The Pendulum

Sunday, July 27th, ended roughly for me.  Carol had texted me a picture of herself and said, "Me....your momma."  It brought up a rage inside of me and I felt very violated.  I was beginning to wonder what I had gotten myself into.  If you missed it, you can check out that post here.

On Monday morning, I decided to send Carol an article through Facebook messenger about adoption reunions.  The article share a lot of advice and suggested issues that should be talked through by the adoptee and biological parent/s and siblings.  I told her that I hoped we could begin talking and working through these things and that there needed to be lots of open conversations about them in order to make this process more successful.

She responded that she was in the middle of something and that she would read it later.  Then she started in on Jessie again, but in the midst of it all, she inserted something that caught my attention.  She said, "It was my worse nightmare but out of it I had a beautiful baby girl that my adoptive parents MADE ME give her up."

To see her use the words "it was my worse nightmare" made me think that something terrible had happened to her. Possibly a rape.  I immediately felt sympathy for her and assured her that although I wanted to know generally what the situation was that resulted in me being given up for adoption,  there was no hurry for me to need to know and I for sure did not need to know specifics. 

In the texts that followed over the next couple of days, I found what she said to me to be so confusing.  One text would find me feeling sorry for her and sympathetic and the next one would leave me angry with her and never wanting to speak to her again.  But I took it all in, figuring there must be some information that she was giving me that was true and would help me find the answers I was searching for.  

She told me that she wasn't a bad person, but rather a human being that got in a wrong situation and was suffering for it now except for the fact that she wanted to meet me and get to know me.  She added, "What happened is not important."  I could not have disagreed with her more. I felt like knowing what had happened was very important. It would help me understand better who I was and where I came from.  I was in no hurry to make her tell me anything and I tried to let her know that I had no expectations of her.  I just hoped that in time she would be able to tell me the general reason why I had been given up for adoption.

At one point she said, "You know I was adopted also...my parents that adopted me were my parents....not the lady that gave me up. She was the birth person and that was it...I was grateful she did as far as giving me up for adoption but that was it. I never met her and only talked to her once on the phone because she called my mom that adopted me to get some medical info to me. Once I was adopted, my adoptive parents were my parents and always will be."

At this point I felt like maybe we understood each other.  I had been wanting to address the "your momma" reference to her picture, so I used this as an opportunity.  I responded, "I was reading the things that you said about your birth mother. In a lot of ways, that is how I feel about this situation. I love my mom and dad and they are my parents and always will be. I am grateful that you gave me life and I am thankful for the role that you plated. I understand that this is hard for you...I want you to know, I have no expectations of you. I don't want you to feel like you have to have a relationship with leif that is too hard. I would love to get to know you as a friend if you feel like you can handle that. That is the only role I would ask you to fill in my life."

She never responded directly to what I said. But she did tell me again to send her any questions that I had and she would answer them, again saying that the others were not to know.  I had decided after the earlier reference to some kind of trauma around my conception, that I was not going to directly ask her about that again. I didn't want to cause her additional stress. I would only talk to her about it if she were the one to bring it up. 

It didn't take long. I received a text later that day that said, "Ok this is it...my life is mine...what happened to me was a long time ago. 40 years right? The guy's name I do not know. I was drugged. I woke up and my friend that took me there, her and I then left. End of story.  I know it is not much but that is all I know and remember."

I was sick to my stomach as I responded to Carol, "So it was rape?"

She texted back, "If it was rape or it was consensual, does it make a difference?  No, it doesn't.  It happened I got pregnant. I had you and end of story. This is my life we are talking about and no, I am not happy or proud about what happened, except I had you and gave you the opportunity to be adopted and you were. End of story.  Please do not pass this info on to Jessie or Brad or anyone. Thanks."

I was so confused. Was it rape or was it not?  And if it was rape, why was it so important to keep that a secret from the others? I figured in a traumatic situation like that, they would rally around her and be supportive. So why the secrets?  Secrets are powerful and if you let them out, they can no longer have control over you.

I told her that I had always assumed it was consensual and if it was rape, that it would help me to understand her better.  I told her that I was not ashamed of who I am even if I was conceived in a way that she thought people might judge...that my conception is just a part of my story, but it doesn't define me.  What defines me is who I am in Jesus and that she needed to let that define her as well.  Under the blood we are all forgiven and God sees us as righteous beings because he sees the cloak of Jesus' righteousness on our shoulders.  I urged her to let God define her and not to worry about what other people would think.

It hadn't even been a week since I had found my biological relatives, but already it was having an emotional toll on me. I was having difficulty sleeping at night and I found my emotions changing so quickly from happy to sad to angry.  The emotional changes were affecting not just me, but also my family.  Something had to be done.  Steve urged met to back off on the texting with Carol, so I did. He also put in a call to the adoption agency for me.  He told the lady there that I had found my birth mother and she offered to call me to talk with me about the situation.

When Linda from the adoption agency called, I was so grateful. My first counseling appointment was still over a week away but I needed someone to help me navigate this situation.  She had pulled my file and read through it. She said the file was pretty thin without a lot of information in it.  And even though there wasn't much, she wasn't allowed to share all of it with me. She did tell me what she could and was willing to try to answer questions that I had.  I asked her most importantly if I came to be as a result of a rape.  She responded, "There is no trauma indicated in Carol's file."

I decided at that moment, I was done with trying to get information from Carol. It seemed I would have a very difficult time knowing for sure if what she was telling me was the truth or not. 

Later that day, Carol texted me and said that she did not want any of this to be anyone else's business but mine and hers.  I responded and said, "I don't need to know any more. I know enough."

I decided that I didn't need her help to figure it all out. I just believed in my heart that one day I would know.