You know my response to the social worker if you have been reading much of my blog. Had I responded differently, I wouldn’t be here blogging about search and reunion. I wouldn’t be one of the staunchest advocates for search and reunion on the face of the planet.

Most importantly though, I would not know the joys of having a relationship with my oldest son. If I had said, “No” to Sara, the social worker, I would still be deeply wedged into that safe, but uncomfortable, birth mother closet of denial.

Had I said, “No”, I would not know my son’s name, where he lives or anything else about him. I would not “be” a birth mother, or at least it would not be public knowledge that I am one.Although I technically became a birth mother the day I signed relinquishment papers so many years ago, I never lived and wore the role until I was found. It was a deep dark secret until the night that I was found.

The secret is out now that I am a woman who placed a child for adoption decades ago. There is no small irony in the fact that after so many years of cautiously guarding my secret status, I now openly and publicly proclaim my role as a birth mother. Not only have I told my friends and family, but, I have been on television, radio and in the local newspaper speaking as a birth mother.

I do not announce to the world that I am a birth mother because I am proud of the fact. I will always believe that relinquishing a child to adoption, in most instances is not worthy of praise. I allowed my son’s adoption because I was not strong enough to stop it. Although I did not orchestrate his adoption and/or plan it; I did not fight to stop it. I am not proud of my lack of strength, and my ignorance about what his loss would come to mean to me.

Being found began a new path for me life. Adoption is now an integral part of my life. Obviously, I called the social worker the next day as I said that I would, and told her, “Yes, I want contact, as soon as possible. Please tell my son that I am eager to be in touch with him.” After completing the paperwork, she gave me my son’s name and phone number, and he got mine.

I shall forever be grateful that he found me, and that I had the strength and courage to say, “Yes” when she asked if I wanted contact. For me, it was not a difficult decision. I knew that no matter what, I had to be in touch with him. It was the right choice. I am glad that, at least this time, I was wise enough to make the right decision.

P.S. The photo of the little blond-haired boy is not my son. However, it looks very much like a picture I have seen of him at the same age.