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As an adoptee who had a relatively uneventful childhood, searching for my birthparents wasn’t a consuming goal for me growing up. I had a natural curiosity regarding obvious biological things: did anyone look like me, where did my blue eyes come from, who could I blame for this skin that burns in the slightest sun? Sometimes I would fantasize about how different my life might have been if I had been raised by my biological family or wonder if I had any siblings. As I became an older teenager, I developed a persistent concern that I might accidentally fall in love with a biological relative, heaven forbid, and having seen a cover story in the Weekly World News, have a resulting love child born with three heads. On the whole, however, I gave very little thought to the family of my birth as I was busy immersing myself in the day-to-day happenings of my life.
My college adventure opened me up to all of the complexities of life and the mysteries that accompany each individual’s journey. As I became friends with people who had vastly different family backgrounds from my own, I began to think more about where I had come from, and later, trained as a historian, started to believe that I owed it to myself to find out whatever I could. The need to know,however, was still only more of an academic interest, as if it weren’t my own life story, but rather a long dead subject that I could study through the lens of scholastic interest. When I would mention this to my friends, most of whom who were not adoptees, they were fascinated, eager to help me search if I wanted to.
Still, I wasn’t highly motivated to search. My family was my family with all the wrinkles of any family and I was comfortable in the Polish/German heritage I had grown up. Probably because of remarkably good matching on the part of Catholic Charities during my placement, no one could tell that I wasn’t biologically related to my parents so it rarely came up unless someone actively inquired. Beyond that, I tried to put myself in the shoes of my birth mother particularly & imagine how I would feel if someone just appeared in my life after I had put my life back together & moved on. It seemed cruel, unfair, and intrusive to me and I believed that she would have an easier time finding me if she wanted to since she had more information than I did.
At twenty-one, I started encountering the medical question that all adult adoptees dread: family history. Nothing is more frustrating than having to tell a doctor over and over that you have no idea about your family history of breast cancer, heart disease, stroke, diabetes, etc. It seemed crazy to me that I didn’t have anything to go on, any road map to tell me where my health might be headed in this era of personalized medicine. The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that such information should be mine for the asking. I didn’t want to intrude on anyone’s life, but I wasn’t going to just sit around and wait for some perfectly preventable condition to sneak up on me.
With medical information as my goal, I embarked on my search. I thought it would be simple. I thought it would be easy. I thought it was the matter of a phone call or office visit. I could never have predicted the path it would take me down or how long it would take.
Photo Credit: 2008 LisaB.
I was adopted with my twin sister when we were just a little under 2 years old. We knew all along we were adopted but we didn’t know who our biological parents were. Like you, I always wondered and never seemed to fit. Three years ago I applied myself and found my biological mother (my biological father died sometime in the 80’s). We reunited a little over 2 years ago and it has been great. (http://www.mekeliki.com/adoption/my-adoption-–-as-far-as-i-know)
What you think you are looking for when you search for your birth family and what you end up find out about yourself become different. It’s not something that can be explained, but only felt. The new relationships with siblings, the knowledge of the family history, family legacy and roots have all added to my life experience. Seeing the common gentic gifts and traits in myself and my children with my ancestors is comforting and amazing beyond words. I encourage adoptees to discover their roots in the most respectful way possible.
Dear Susan,
I found your message of 8-26 very interesting as it describes the hope I feel when I think of finding my late husband’s “people”. He had many wonderful traits but his special gift was music…that has to be a genetic thing, I know! Our daughter, now in her late 20’s, is very musical as well. Our son has many of his dad’s “mechanical’ skills. We would just like to find our “roots”!