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 50th 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.
