A waiting mother ~ Anonymous

This particular story isn't about what happened after a reunion, but rather what happened when this mother found her son and reached out...

As long as both parties are still living, there is a chance for reunion.
One can spend years waiting for reunion.. for the one waiting, it can be very painful.

Good luck to this mom, and all those waiting. <3

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I found my son after 44 years and he has refused to meet me.  I am devastated. I connected with his Aparents via a lengthy letter explaining who I was and that I would like to meet my son.  The first letter I received was very warm and welcoming like they were interested in a reunion.  I was so excited as I had never dreamed of a reunion was possible. When the adoption process took place in 1975, I was told under no circumstances was I allowed to EVER go looking for him.  Even today my 83-year-old mother is against it...

Well, I found my son and was so hoping that a reunion would take place.  I received the first letter back from the Amom saying that they would be more than willing to speak with my son and show him my letter. When I received the second letter, I could hardly breathe when I opened it.  To my dismay, it was not what I was hoping for… I was told that they sat down with my son and let him read my letter, and he saw the photos I sent. His Amom then preceded to say, with sadness in her heart, my son wanted nothing to do with a reunion. He said, “I already have a family”.  I continued corresponding with his Amom for about three months. She shared many wonderful things about my son, which comforted me.  She also asked if she could send me a birthday card every year.  It has been three years now and we send each other birthday and Christmas cards with little notes. She is not interested in meeting me, as she feels it conflicts with my son’s choice not to meet me!

When I sent a letter telling her that I was intending to send a birthday card directly to my son, she asked me not to. She explained that one of his other comments at the time he read my letter was “don’t tell my wife, she will only nag me”.  Well, the first year I took her advice and it really didn’t feel right. From then on, I have sent birthday cards and Christmas cards directly to him.  I have no idea if he opens them or not but in my heart of hearts, I must believe that he will someday change his mind about a reunion. 

Until then I will continue praying!

A dream come true - Paige

You know you are in reunion when…. You dream about natural-family and the dream has some facts in it and not just wishes!

For instance:

Last night I had a dream about my natural father’s family. My four siblings, nieces and nephews were there. My Nfather’s wife was also there. (My Nfather is deceased and has been since 2015.) In the dream, we were all together just shooting the breeze and hanging out at my niece’s 21st birthday party. It is an interesting dream because, in two weeks, this is actually going to happen in waking life. I’ve been invited to the party!

I love it when my natural family shows up in my dreams.

My actual reunion initially began with a phone call in January of 1988. I had spent the prior summer researching and sleuthing all over town. It was pre-social media and definitely pre-Internet. Using microfiche was the hoity-toity technology of the day.

Before finding my family, I found my natural mother’s ex, in old criss-cross city directories. He was very kind but sadly told me that she died in 1976 at age 36. I never had a chance…not even close to a chance of meeting her. The upside: My natural mother’s passing was not due to anything hereditary, so with this news I received my first morsel of health history. The ex was estranged from the rest of her family, and it had been years, but he had enough info, sketchy but good enough, to help me locate one of my two sisters and her dad in Long Beach, CA.

After writing a letter to the address I found, that note led to a phone call with our older sister who was living near Portland, OR. The older sister called me, we must have talked for close to three hours about what had happened, and the rest is history. Since January of 1988, my sisters, some cousins, and I have shared in six weddings, two funerals, a meet up in Chicago for a US Navy graduation, (Wow! What an experience!) Most recently, we celebrated with a 30th “reuniversary” vacation to Disneyland! It is a beautiful, fun and sacred time when we spend time together. Due to everyone living so far apart plus budget limitations, we do the best we can. We three sisters feel natural and comfortable when we are together. Like Disney, it is a magical experience.

I also found my natural father back in the 80s. Technically, I found him in three days in 1987, which is almost as fast as when people find and confirm an identity of a loved one in today’s world via Facebook, but I did not act on reaching out right away. I needed time to process all these new truths surrounding my real life. I was scared; afraid that he would reject me, fearful that he might not be the kind of person I would want to know, and filled with trepidation because what if he actually was a terrific guy, and would I be able to respond to that?

As it worked out, after my first contact by letter including copies of my birth documents so he knew I was not scamming him, (he lived in town about 20 minutes away from my house) we spoke on the phone once and then met at a local Denny’s. He, my husband and I spent close to three hours sharing life stories, a few jokes and some nuggets of general life advice. He seemed like a cool, fun-loving guy. The thing was, I was a secret from the rest of his family.

We were supposed to meet for a second dinner. He phoned the restaurant, (At least he cared enough to call.) to say he had to cancel because one of his kids had been in a car accident and was taken to University Hospital. During that call, he asked if I believed him, and I said I did, (because what else can you say?) He also said, “I’ll call you”, and we hung up. I phoned the hospital the next day because, well, I believed him, but not 100%. They told me, (pre HIPPA laws) that my other sister had been there but had been released. He did tell the truth about that part, so OK, but that “I’ll call you” line?

I’d had too many failed dates and job interviews to know what “I’ll call you” meant…

My husband and I mused that should he die, maybe someone would find the letter and copies of documents I had sent back in 1987, assuming he had saved the papers. I had the feeling he was a saver.

15 years later, (2002) my adoptive mom was in town visiting over Mothers’ Day. I’d secured tickets for us plus my two daughters to see the Broadway play, Mama Mia. (Cool Mothers’ Day gift/ Girls’ Night activity, BTW.) Little did I know that the crux of the plot of that show is a father identity story. That night, we came home, and there was a missed call on my answering machine. The caller ID box said it was from someone in my Nfather’s immediate family, but they never left a message.

As it turned out, it was my other half-sister, my father’s other daughter. She called back the next morning. Once again, we had a three-hour conversation. (I was getting pretty good at these three-hour talks.) We chatted and naturally, I learned that the gift of gab was prevalent on both sides of my family! LOL, we spent that first summer together, connecting and sharing life experiences about growing up, our challenges as moms, marriages, etc. Our kids experienced the reunion as well. I remember them as elementary school-agers standing on the sidewalk in front of my new sister’s house looking at one another’s freckles, eyes, and hair.

It took my father a long time to work through his embarrassment over something that happened in 1961. Then he was ashamed of the fact that he avoided telling his kids about me. (Apparently, his wife knew but promised him she would never say a word.) His wife eventually decided that enough was enough and made him be forthright when she realized that as they aged, secrets like this one needed to be resolved in order to honestly have inner peace and wellness.

Since that time, we have also experienced a couple of weddings and graduations, many family holiday meals, two funerals and the birth of a baby. (One grand niece was born on the same day that my daughter, a nurse, was working in labor and postpartum at the same hospital.) When my natural father died, I gave the eulogy. It was a unique perspective but accurate enough. I saw the man in ways no one else could have imagined. He was a proud American veteran, a dedicated worker, lover of sports, US history enthusiast, took great pride in his work, and was very brave when facing illness and other challenges he never expected he’d have to deal with.

Today, all my siblings and I strive toward and enjoy making memories for our kids and grandkids, nieces, and nephews. Our reunion is successful because we focus more on the here and now and less on the “coulda-shoulda-wouldas” of long ago before we had any say-so. We accept the past as a part of the history and culture of the times, but now have heightened awareness regarding single mothers’ resources and how other adoption practices have evolved over time. In addition, we share new knowledge re childcare, parent care, and other life-hacks for keeping our families together. We do not harbor anger about the lost past.

We just cannot.

Reunion on all sides of my family is about focusing on the present; preserving relationships with family ties and making the most out of the time, we do have together. We are all parts of the “Sandwich Generation” these days. We care for aging parents, natural or adoptive, juggle our own hectic job schedules, and are supporting our kids as young adults, while they emerge out of our homes and into the workforce, one-by-one, hopefully, better enlightened than ever before. We also love our dogs and cats, good food and fun music.

For me, every reunion, be it via plane flights or just driving 20 minutes across town for a dinner, is a major feat and a chance to enlighten outside people who have never experienced the same type of connectedness. (Let’s be honest here, it’s kinda fun to watch a newbie friend’s, total stranger’s or a relative’s eyes and face light up when we explain who we all really are!) Our family push-back has been minimal to none. My natural-people seem to all get it. My adoptive people have accepted that this is the way. My adoptive mom, (A-dad passed on in 1996.) has even been included in blended Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings.

We are a family. We are diverse politically, financially and religiously, but still, we are a family. We are one, and we care. We revel in reunion. We rejoice, and we know that our stories are not finished yet. When we gather for family events, we are noisy, silly, fun loving but also organized in an offbeat, cacophonous sort of way. I am happy. I feel fulfilled. I feel real and a part of something in ways I never could prior to the reunion.

My reunions have gone beautifully. In my case, my dreams have and do come true.

Trauma ~Karen

I was born and adopted in Michigan in 1966, during the American “Baby Scoop Era". I was born in Flint and sent to live with adoptive family at the age of 6 months after staying in a foster home. My adoptive family was Jewish and I always wanted to know if my birth parents were Jewish, too.

In 1988 I requested the non-identifying information about my adoption from the State of Michigan. I was given that information, and a copy of a release of information my birth mother had signed years earlier saying it was OK to give me her name if I ever came looking for her. I found her and spoke to her within a few days.

The reunion was deeply traumatizing for me. I was confused and scared meeting my two siblings that day. My birth mother had never told them about me until a few minutes before I showed up to meet them that day. The shock on their faces when I walked in made me feel guilty and ashamed. Like I had done something personally to them to make them feel this shock and upheaval in their lives.

I was a dutiful daughter. I went out of my way to spend holidays and birthdays with these people. I even had my birthmother and father walk me half way down the aisle when I got married. My adoptive parents walked me the rest of the way. I never told them how much pain being adopted had caused me because I was afraid they would abandon me again.

I felt terrible every time I spent was with them. Seeing all their shared memories, their closeness and affection for each other broke my heart. At my maternal grandmother’s funeral I heard everyone say that nothing was more important to her than her family. I thought, “If that is true, how could she give her first born grandchild away to strangers to raise?” Strangers who abused me emotionally, physically and sexually.

At one point after coming back from spending time with them, I was very depressed and crying. My husband at the time said, “If you were not related to these people, would you have anything to do with them?” I realized I would not. They made me uncomfortable and sad.

A few months later, my birthmother called and left me a voicemail inviting me to Thanksgiving at her house. It was 3 days before Thanksgiving and I already had made plans. She did this to me every year, and in years past I would change my plans and go out of my way to be with her.  But this time I had had enough. If it was important to her to spend time with her daughter and her granddaughters during the holidays, she needed to put a little more effort into it. I did not respond to her voicemail.

I never heard from her again. That was 15 years ago.

From where I sit now, looking back on it all, I know it was in my own best interest to go “no contact.” But the way that it happened was deeply traumatizing. I lived my entire life feeling that she had just forgotten about me and was moving on with her life without me. When I met her, I thought maybe that was not true. But her second abandonment of me made it crystal clear that I do not matter to her at all.

I reached out to her recently. I sent her an email telling her I was molested by my adoptive uncle repeatedly. I did not expect a response from her, but the fact that I still have not received one confirms my belief that she does not consider me to be a human being at all. I think her shame has destroyed her to the point that she has lost her humanity.

~Karen 

  ~Adoptee

My Maternal reunion ~ Jen Matthews

On June 18, 2001 an intermediary for Orphan’s Court of Allegheny County (Pittsburgh, Pa) was the one who actually made initial contact for me.

I had searched for years in the early days of the Internet. I poured over mutual consent reunion registries for hours at a time. I had no real information to go by though. 

All my life, the only info I had about myself and my natural parents was very sparse. I had my birth date, the name of the hospital where I was delivered, the Doctor’s name, and that my mother was around 16 or 17 and from the North Hills area of Pittsburgh.

After she spoke with my grandmother, and my grandmother checked with my grandfather, the intermediary was granted permission to fill me in and give me their phone number and names.

My mother had passed away April 19, 1982.

I was devastated… But didn’t know it yet. The grief would come later.

When the intermediary told me what my mother’s name was… I was struck with the feeling of familiarity that I had never experienced before. My mind said, “Oh yea, that’s right. That is what her name was. You’ve known this all along, but just forgot.”

I called my grandparent’s house.

My grandmother answered. She was SO happy to find out that I had been raised by a good family, and that I was “OK”. I was told that I had a younger half-brother, and an Uncle. Neither were ever told of my existence.

While talking to gram I realized that I already knew my brother. He had been expelled from his high school. His paternal grandparents (who raised him) wanted him to get his diploma so they paid tuition at a nearby High school so that he could finish… It just happened to be MY high school. He had been one of my bullies the last 2 years at school.

We talked about when I could meet them. My ENTIRE natural family lived less than 20 miles away from where I grew up. My grandmother said she would have to tell my uncle first.

I went to my adoptive mom’s house and frantically raided the photo albums for pictures I wanted to show them of me when I was little.

On June 20, 2001 I met natural family for the first time. My adoptive mom drove me to my grandparent’s house for the reunion, and I am quite glad she did, as I was a bit of a nervous wreck on the way there. I was so filled with anxiety, and fear, and excitement… I remember I couldn’t sit still in the front seat of her van. I kept saying, “I can’t do this.”

Mom would say, “Yes you can.”

We arrived at my grandparent’s house. My grandmother met us out in the yard. She hugged me really tightly. Tears were flowing. Then she hugged my mom and said, “Thank you for taking care of her.” And mom said, “Thank you for giving her to us.” (Which in retrospect feels a little weird.) In the moment it was magical.

We entered into the house by the kitchen. There I met my grandfather, who hugged me, and then chuckled and made his way over to the living room couch. Then I met my Uncle. He and I stared at each other a lot.

I remember the first time I saw my grandmother, I thought, “Well that’s what I am going to look like at 71.” It was THE first time I had ever experienced genetic mirroring, and it was that profound. I feel like I resemble my uncle too.
(Now I know I look like my dad too but that is a whole other story.)

The entire experience of meeting them was just amazing and TOTALLY OVERWHELMING. 

It was a sensory overload. Most of my memories of that time spent in their home are a blur. Except I remember thinking to myself, “she was pregnant with me in this house.” There were multiple small moments like that.

My gram brought out family pictures. She showed them to my mom, and I tried to look at them, but I was in such a state, that focus was difficult. I do recall hearing my gram point out certain pictures to my mom. They were all pictures of my mom with various animals. Ironically the photos I had selected of myself was a collection of me with various animals. I found out that she had had ponies, and a horse up till she was married. That really blew my mind because I have been obsessed with horses for as long as I can remember.

We went back to their home the following Saturday so that my brother and I could “meet” again. I always remember wishing I had a little brother. He said that he wished he had an older sister… I wonder if our mom told him about me when he was too young to consciously remember.

All of it was a LOT to deal with emotionally.

There was a HUGE blur of activity for several weeks after initial reunion. 

My uncle had been planning a surprise 50^th wedding anniversary for my grandparents the following month. I went up to help my uncle put up decorations on the day before. When I got to his place, there was an older lady there already putting up decorations. I had no idea who she was, and I had no idea if it was OK to tell her who I was. So this lady and I were working side-by-side, and of course we started chatting. She started to ask me how I met my uncle… I kept my answers vague. (Because in these situations you never know who knows what.)
Due to the direction of her questions, I got the feeling she thought he and I were dating.

YIPE!

I excused myself and went to find my uncle. I told him what was going on, and he explained that it was OK to tell her, because she knew. She was my great aunt! My grandpap’s sister! I was so relieved that I could tell her. I went back, and told her, and she was SO happy. She cried, and hugged me. She had known about me too, and always wondered what had happened to me. I had to work the day of the party, so I didn’t arrive till later in the evening… which was fortunate. I didn’t want to accidentally take the focus off their party. I was introduced to all these people… and it was an absolute whirlwind! I barely remember any of them. But I do remember my grandpap, a little bit intoxicated, grabbing me, hugging me, and calling me his baby girl. It made me feel so cherished and awkward at the same time.

After a few months the frequent contact died down…

Through all this, I had been in a support group, and we had weekly online chats on Sunday evenings to check in with each other. Another girl in the group had just located her parents. She found what I call, “The fantasy”. Her parents were high school sweethearts. They stayed together, got married, and she had several full siblings.

I still hadn’t fully processed the fact that I had “found a grave”…

It was as if I had been kicked in the gut. I started sobbing. I hadn’t allowed myself to grieve… It wasn’t logical in my mind to grieve for someone I had never met. My phone rang, and it was the first mom who ran the support group. She knew what was going on. I cried, and she told me it was OK. I told her that I didn’t even know her… 

How could this hurt so bad.

She gently reminded me, “Yes. You did know her. You were a part of her, and you did know her. You knew the sound of her heartbeat, and her voice. You knew her smell.”

The flood gates opened. It hurt so badly. The realization had finally hit me that my mother was dead. I would never ever get to talk to her. The finality of death punched me in the gut.

I am not unfamiliar with death, but this was entirely different.

I sobbed, in a way I had not before, and it went on for over an hour. The first mom on the phone the whole time, supporting me, and being there for me.

I had been emotionally numb since after initial reunion. I knew it too… But I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I did not know that I needed to grieve. I had to let the pain out.

It helped. But I’ll never be the same again. I’ll never be in the fog again. Can’t go back in. Can’t unlearn what I have learned.

Now I needed some time.

I called them less often… I wasn’t trying to fully insert myself into their lives. I understood they had lives of their own, I and didn’t want to assume I could just insert myself into their lives.

Hindsight being 20/20, I realize we never communicated about any of it. What was OK, or not OK? How much contact did they want? Etc… I was just so afraid of stepping on toes I tried to play it cool… be aloof, not be too demanding. I had a fear of being too much for them. When I was with them, I couldn’t help but ask questions… a LOT of questions. I could tell that my questions made my grandmother a little uncomfortable… but I had questions… My mom was not around to answer them, and my grandma was the only person I had to talk to about any of it, especially since my uncle never even knew about me.

There were times that she said things that felt kind of... hurtful. For example, one time we were standing in my uncle’s kitchen, and she told me she only wanted to meet me to see if I looked like Deb.
Very flatly, she said, “You don’t.” and that she was disappointed. OUCH!
There were other things too. In my mind, I was “just” the adoptee… I didn’t have to be where I was. 

They didn’t have to allow me to be a part of their lives, yet I was. I was just so glad to be there, to be able to be with them, and learn anything I could about them, my family… I just dealt with it.

I did question my grandmother about why I was relinquished, and I am sure that is what made her most uncomfortable. But, to her credit I feel like she was 100% honest with me about all of it.
I asked her why? She told me that my mother had to finish school, and she (gram) “didn’t want to raise another baby”.
I asked her if she came up with the adoption plan. She said, no the doctor came up with the entire plan. My mother stayed in school, and had a Doctor’s excuse stating she had a fibroid tumor so she didn’t have to participate in gym. Over spring break, the “fibroid tumor” was removed.
I asked her if she saw me when I was born. She answered, “No”.
I asked her why… she struggled to respond, so I asked, “were you afraid to see me?” She nodded.
I asked, “were you afraid that if you saw me you wouldn’t be able to leave me there?” She nodded again. Quickly the subject was changed.

That was hard… It feels like my entire life pivoted on that one moment. If she had seen me, I may have stayed with my mother.

Then I asked her if anyone saw me. She said that yes, “My mother insisted on seeing you”.
I inquired if she had said anything about me. Gram answered, “yes, she said you had strawberry blond hair, and you were cute.”

So much to process…

Time went by, and I would check in with them every so often, and with my uncle. They sent me birthday cards, and Christmas cards. And there were occasional visits. It didn’t completely fade away… I still wanted to be a part of their lives, and at the same time I was busy with my life.

On Father’s Day 2004 I had been planning on making cookies to take over to my grand pap. But for whatever reason, I wasn’t feeling up to it, and decided I would just visit them later in the week.

On Tuesday my uncle called to tell me that Monday evening, my grandpap had passed away. It was completely unexpected.
He hadn’t been feeling well all day. Gram told me she thought he had the flu or something. She told me that he laid on the couch all day. When she called him into the kitchen for dinner, he walked in, sat at the table, and just slumped over. My poor gram was so distraught. She relied on him for nearly everything. She told me that she didn’t even know how to make coffee. He made it every single day.

 My uncle needed to go and make funeral arrangements, he asked if I would be able to come and stay with gram on Wednesday while he did that. Of course I agreed! I spent the majority of that week with them. To my amazement I was included in my grandfather’s obituary… This was a really big deal to me.

I did a really stupid, thoughtless, impulsive thing at the first viewing. We were the only people at the funeral home. I saw the guestbook, and for some reason, instead of just signing my name I wrote, “Baby girl B____” Then my name next to that.

I immediately realized my mistake and offered to rip the page out. I was the first one in the book. No one would’ve known a page was ripped out. But gram said to leave it. (in hindsight, I wish more than anything in the world that I had ripped that page out anyway.)

During the viewing I met many people who were wondering, “just who was this other person standing by the coffin”? I felt like I had to explain myself repeatedly. I would take a break and go stand on the front porch of the funeral home. People would approach me to find out who I was. I had several amazing quick conversations with people who knew my mother. There was a lady who was a friend of hers that surprisingly knew about me. My mom had confided in her back when they were kids. She told me that she and my mom would jump in mom’s car and skip class. (She was apparently a little bit of a rebel.) It was really cool to hear that story.

Friday was the funeral & wake. All seemed to be fine…

On Saturday, that all changed.

My partner and I were driving to a dog event for a rescue I was involved with. My cell phone rang and it was my brother.

He starts with, “yeah, gram isn’t happy with you bad mouthing the family, and she wants you to stay away for a while.”

My mind reeled. WAIT?!? WHAT?!?!

I frantically started replaying the past few days in my mind and could recall not one single instance of me “bad-mouthing” the family. I told my brother, “I would never bad-mouth the family! That’s just crazy! And how long is a while???”

It was that “a while”. It freaked me out. It was too vague, too uncertain, too long… What does “a while” MEAN?!? My brain latched onto that short phrase.
I remembered that my brother is not someone I trusted completely… and I asked, “If that’s the case, why doesn’t she just call me herself and tell ME?”

He said, “She asked me to.”

My brother who had been in jail, and was still on house arrest, who I visited both in jail, and while he was stuck on house arrest… Who even though he was a SHIT to me in high school, I was attempting to make it a point to try to have a relationship with him BECAUSE he is my brother. The fact that he just did her bidding without speaking up for me, felt like a huge betrayal. I realize that could’ve just been my emotions… but I tend to rely on gut feelings.

“A while”

WTF

I called my grandmother to try and get some clarification…

(Disclosure: this was a long time ago... I’m trying to remember how it went best as I can… Since I was really distraught, I only remember bits.)

I was sobbing hysterically. I told Jeff what had just happened. Took a couple breaths and called Gram’s house.

She answered, and I told her about the call I had just received from my brother.

I asked, “What do you mean by bad-mouthed? I would NEVER do such a thing.” She answered with something about some other family members “overhearing” me “Bad mouth” the family while I was talking to someone else on the porch of the funeral home.”

WHAT?!?!?

I said, “So instead of talking to me about it… instead of asking me if this actually happened, you are just going to have my brother call me on your behalf, and ask me to “Stay away for a while”? And what does a while mean anyway?”

She said something about not wanting to talk about it.

Pretty sure I was bawling my eyes out…

I don’t remember much else until she said, “You know, you focus too much on being adopted. And, you ask too many questions.”

I about lost it. I said, “I AM ADOPTED! This is WHO I am!”

Then I said, “Of course I ask questions! I went 30 years not knowing where I came from. My mother is dead, I have no one to ask but you!”

I honestly can’t remember much else of the call. That was the final straw.

My gram and I never spoke again.

My uncle refuses contact too… I imagine he must feel like he’s in the middle? I don’t know, because he won’t talk to me.

Over the years I attempted to reach out to them here and there with no response.

In 2010 when I was pregnant, I wrote 2 letters, one addressed to my uncle, and one addressed to my grandmother. I explained how I was so sorry for any mistakes I had made. I included an ultrasound photo, to let them know I was expecting. I was really hoping it would soften my grandmother. But what I didn’t know is that she was ill. She had developed dementia. Again, looking back, I remember seeing the signs. But as I didn’t know them all that well I assumed they were just personal quirks.

In 2013 friends of ours got married, and their wedding was near where my uncle lives. We spent the night in the hotel after the wedding and we made a surprise visit to my uncle’s property. I found him sitting out in his woods near the creek. We talked. He told me what had been going on with Gram. I told him that if he had let me know, I would’ve been glad to help. He went back up to the house for a while. Jeff, Derek and I waited down by the creek. Derek was about 1 ½ and he had a ball playing in the creek. 

Finally, my uncle came back down to the creek, but this time he was accompanied by his girlfriend. He introduced her to us. He also brought down eggs, and bacon, and other breakfast stuff. I cooked a meal over a campfire, and we all had a pretty good day. While we were there, he gave me his cell phone number, and I took a photo of him and I together that I totally cherish. 

I have called & texted numerous times since. No response. 

He will not reply to me.

It breaks my heart, and I have left messages that probably make me sound like an insane person… but only because I get so overwhelmed with emotions.

I have kept in touch with my brother’s ex via FB. She is a lovely person and is the mother of my niece. (side note we met them this year. I really wanted to meet my niece, and for Derek to meet his cousin, so we went to her birthday party. She is a sweet kid.)

Around Christmas of 2016 I had messaged my brother’s ex to wish them a Merry Christmas. It was then that I found out that Gram had passed just about 10 days prior. I was devastated that my uncle never reached out to let me know. I don’t exactly hold it against him. I understand that he is in a weird situation that he didn’t ask for either… But it really hurt my feelings. And… I was not included in her obituary. I am not surprised… but after being included in grandpap’s… Well…

More time has gone by…

I have connected with other members of my maternal family. Cousins of my mother, and they have been so sweet, and welcoming. I’ve even been getting little gifts from them… Photos of my mother, a drawing she did when she was little. To them it may seem like it’s not a big deal, but to me they are precious treasures, and when I see them tears well up in my eyes.

It’s hard to find a grave… There are so many questions left unanswered. There is really nothing I can do but accept the fact that my mother is dead, and I will NEVER meet her, see her, hear her voice, or feel her hug me. It hurts. It hurts bad.

I am still hopeful that my uncle and I will have a relationship again… Whenever he is ready, I am here.

Would I do it again, even with all the heart ache?

ABSOLUTELY!

Every adoptee is in a life situation that they did not choose. I get it, none of us chose to be born. But I feel like removing a newborn from their natural mother, and putting them with a different family is like disrupting fate. It changed where I was meant to be. No one asked me if I was OK with it. Life is hard enough already, but being adopted adds another layer of pain, low self-esteem, ADD type issues, depression, and fear of abandonment… The list goes on and on.

We have the right to know our heritage, who we look like, what our medical history is, and so on.

My advice for people looking to reunite:

You can try to mentally prepare, but nothing can really prepare you for the emotional roller-coaster that you will go on. I HIGHLY recommend that adoptees, and reunited natural family members communicate about what level of communication is acceptable. 

Set ground rules. How often contact is expected, are you going to be a part of the family now? If not, you will have to accept that. What are people willing to talk about, set boundaries if needed, remember that NO ONE is perfect, and your recently found family members will have flaws just as you do. You will learn amazing things about yourself, and perhaps find the craziest coincidences.

Have a good support system available to you. Communicate about what is affecting you with your partner instead of withdrawing into yourself. Remember, they love you and only want the best. It’s important you can open up to them. I wish someone had told me that a long time ago.

Lastly, try not to have expectations. 

I think being an adoptee means you have to become a pro at acceptance. (it's not fair, but it is what it is.) We are put in these circumstances where we have no choice but to accept a lot.

As for my paternal side, I have done DNA, gotten results, reunited… But that is a whole other story for another time.

Written by,
~Jen Matthews ~Adoptee

Founder of Conversations about adoption FB Group
https://www.facebook.com/groups/750018055185825/
And Youtube channel 
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCzIgcA6Ee2IzUYBBZ7vJBww
And the FB group "I found a Grave" for adoptees who found deceased parent(s)
https://www.facebook.com/groups/2087515868138323/

You can also find me on Instagram, and Twitter.