I figure a lot of things out as I go along. I believe
everyone does, and if they tell you otherwise they are just fooling
themselves. And furthermore, they aren't growing as a person. We didn’t know what we didn’t
know, before we knew.
Today I want to
share something I have been trying to coming to terms with.
I asked God why He allowed me to have anything less
than a perfect life after relinquishment and adoption. To me, that was enough
pain for a lifetime. I had the attitude, “Hey God, I did my time.” I really believed in
my heart that this loss and living as "the different one" my whole life was enough for anybody to face, and that God should have
understood that. And He should have acted accordingly. It never works well to tell God what He should have done.
I was mad about this for a long time. I was confused about the losses that just kept right on coming. (The dysfunction and eventual breakup of my
adoptive home, etc., the loss of our first baby after we got married, the pain
of things not going the way I dreamed of in the first church we pastored, etc.)
One time I was being prayed for during an altar service. To
my recollection I was 17 or 18 years old. I was still in bible college when this happened because
I remember talking to my best friend Joanne Greer about this. And the pastor
who prayed for me, having heard a bit of my situation made
the statement that he was surprised I hadn’t committed suicide by that point
in my life. He was saying he sympathized with what I had gone through in
life and was surprised I hadn’t given up. Then he prayed for me to be healed
of what I was feeling inside. It wasn’t a bad experience at the altar, in fact
it was kind of healing in itself to just have someone validate what I was
feeling when for so much of my life nobody affirmed any of these feelings.
So fast forward a few decades and even more loss, and with
it a few friends gently spoke into my life, sharing with me that many people – adopted or
not adopted, face hurts and losses. That pain is not unique to adoption. At first I got upset that they
said it.I felt dismissed. (And maybe I was.) I tried to get out of the
conversation as quickly as possible. I wanted avoid more pain as well as preserve the relationships of people who I had this conversation with.But I still thought about it all
the time even though I didn't talk about it. Some things are hard to hear but we still need to unpack them, nevertheless.
This was something I needed to come to terms
with, inside myself. Because with each loss that would come my confusion grew. Did God not understand that I now deserved something different? Maybe not more in life but something different than what I was getting?
I'm careful to use the word deserve, because when it comes to work and outcomes, we typically get what we deserve. "You get what you put into it," we hear. I've found that true. The harder I hustle, the more the return. Success only comes before work in the dictionary. But on these random things like losses and pain and grief, I can't work my way out of them or control them. And I felt like I had already fulfilled the trauma quotient by birth. But God didn't feel the same. After about four years of thinking A LOT about this, for
probably thousands of hours -- here’s what I have arrived at.
People face multiple traumas in their lives. No one is immune. I
have many friends whose spouses have cheated, abandoned them,
and then they have cancer. I have one friend who has been abandoned by her husband and has now faced cancer not once but twice. And
the heck of a lot more. And she is NOT adopted. Is my loss worse than hers? Truth be told in most of my
friends who are not adopted I can name multiple traumatic circumstances in their lives -- children dying, cancer, abandonment of spouse, etc.
So how am I any different as an adoptee? This is what I’ve
Many of my non-adopted counterparts outnumber me in traumas. Nobody gets a guarantee of having only one trauma in life,
even adoptees. And sometimes our non-adopted friends will outnumber us in the amount
of things faced. I have come to understand that my loss feels worse because I
have faced it longer than most of them will face theirs.
My loss started before
I was even born.
Who else on earth can say that but an adoptee? Who literally felt their loss before they breathed their first breath?
My mother knew she was giving me up even though she vacillated
at times, and didn’t sign the papers for 47 days after I was born. She was at the maternity home four or five months after she got pregnant –
because she had no where to go. She was homeless...having been kicked out of the house once her
pregnancy was revealed. So from April of 1966 to August of that same year, she
was living in a maternity home – moving toward relinquishment. Scientific studies show that stress that an expectant mother is under affects a child in the womb.
I was affected by all of that trauma before I exited my mother's body. Then, I continued to be impacted by it once I
was born. I was a baby and couldn't control any of that. It was what it was. My mother and I never had contact while I was in the hospital. I was
never laid on her chest – there was no warm contact of human being – no skin-to-skin
nurture, for a long time. From as long as I can remember, I rub my feet on the
sheets to soothe myself to go to sleep, even as a married fifty year old woman
with a husband who is affectionate with me, and gives me all the skin to skin contact I could possibly want.
I’ve arrived at a place of understanding that my loss feels so
much more profound than my friends although it may not really be more profound, because I’ve experienced it for even longer than
day one of my born life. I use the word feels because I’ve come to understand it’s a
feeling, not necessarily reality though it is my reality it may not be reality
for the rest of the world. This trauma I have faced feels like the absolute worse thing
anyone in the world can face. But is it? I've been grappling...
Perhaps my friend facing multiple cancers does have it worse. But then we
are getting into comparing pain. Which never leads to anything productive. I’ve
come to see that pain is pain and the person who faces it just feels that
theirs is the worst because it’s their day-to-day reality. And here’s my point –
this loss has been my reality and most any adoptee's reality for longer than we've been alive. And as soon as I
came to be able to realize what happened I felt like enough was enough and I
didn’t deserve any more loss in life. And, it’s not the way things work. Life
isn’t fair. The fair is where you get cotton candy. What hurts the most at times isn’t that I believe my loss is more profound than anyone else’s
but that it is dismissed as nothing and unacknowledged and worst of all mocked or even praised
by some. Yes, the praising kills you. That is what is so painful at times.
After letting all this percolate in my
mind for so long one thought I have is that I don’t want to be someone who mocks a loss,
especially one I haven’t endured. I pray I can be the healing hands of
Jesus, not someone people avoid so as to not endure even more than they have already faced.
A lot of things happen to all of us that we don't expect or deserve. Life is amazing AND life is hard.
My thoughts today probably seem like one bit fat
nonsensical rambling. Maybe people who read this will think I’ve seriously gone
mad. But here’s what my takeaways are from today’s blog post…
Everybody faces pain.
It does no good to compare pain.
Relinquishment and adoption are some of the most complicated losses to try to explain.
Adoption loss feels the worst because we experienced the loss and were affected by it before we even got here.
It will be hard for anyone else on the planet to understand the day-to-day reality of those who have known this particular loss that affected us even before birth. We can't expect those who haven't endured it to understand it. It's rather incomprehensible for those outside of it and all the more reason we need each other.
Our reality can feel like it’s the worst simply because we’ve
faced it for so long and don’t know what it’s like to live any other way.
To have your loss go
unacknowledged or mocked may even be worse than the initial pain itself.
Life’s not fair. You can go through what you feel is the
worst pain of all yet it may be far from the last loss you will ever face.
Nobody has a perfect life. Yet, we can all strive to build a
great one despite whatever losses we have faced.
I’ve been doing a lot of advertising in the area of Highland Springs - Richmond, Virginia,
where I come from. I
have reached out to former classmates of my mother's, and anyone in the neighborhood
who may have known her. I have even had a phone call with a 91 year old man in the community who reached out to me to help! He was a delight. In sharing the details of my story in the neighborhood –
I have gotten literally HUNDREDS of responses and leads as to who my father may
I saw advertising - putting everything out there in the community with names, dates, locations that I do know - to be a last ditch effort. But maybe this should be the first thing we do in a search? Perhaps we hold back because of fear. It's fear of what people will think. But that shouldn't be a factor in simply trying to discover truth. Truth that belongs to you and me. And the fear is unfounded. It’s
amazing the people who have written, emailed and called me who lived in the
neighborhood at the time (or still do) and actually knew my mother and want to help me.
It was interesting certain last names that kept coming up again
and again. One woman who is related to my maternal family saw one of the
advertisements and reached out to me to try to help. We have never met before.
I sensed right away that I could trust her. I mentioned to her about one of
the last names that kept coming up repeatedly among the leads. She was so excited and said, “Oh my
gosh, that’s my husband’s family!!!” I asked if she thought someone in the
family would DNA test and she said, “absolutely!!!” So, I paid for the test and had it sent and
now we are just waiting. I am hoping for a cousin match.
There are multiple men in this particular family who
could be my father, some dead – and some alive! If a first cousin match comes
back on this test, then I would need to start going through the cousins and
having them test to see which one might be a half-sibling match. The person who
tested believes if it comes to that point, everyone in the family will
cooperate. We will see!
The two cousins I have spoken to are very excited about this
and think others will be too. Of course you never know when you get right up on
the moment, but I have faith. There are caring people out there. I find this out
in searching, all the time. As many roadblocks as you face, you also meet so
many kind souls that are willing to do anything to help another person. Sadly, many of them will immediately reach out to do more than your own family!
So here's a word for those of you who are running into obstacles. We are all familiar with these challenges if we've been searching for very long. Obstacles are generally "secret keepers" who feel it is their mission to protect what should never be protected. (They protect/conceal truth of who you are and where you come from.) People who even go as far to try to protect the dead in some fashion. Have you ever heard of anything so bizarre? Well here's the thing -- for as many of those secret keepers that are out there, there are even more kind souls with open hearts who will do anything to help. Find them! Keep going. Whatever you do - do not quit!
through this so many times before, so I am trying to guard my own heart and keep it from breaking again if it's not a DNA match. And yet it's hard to not be excited about the possibility. So I consider what I will do in the event that it's not a match...
What will I do? PRESS ON. I will
never give up and will advertise even more. A few months ago I was so discouraged and said
I didn’t know if I could do this again. My heart was shattered in pieces when the last DNA test came back not a match. There was a family in Virginia who sent me pictures at Christmas and said the only thing missing was me. They were already planning our vacation together in Gatlinburg. (No, I am not kidding.) They cried as hard as I did when the test came back not a match. In my lowest moment of bawling over this non-match, my husband looked
at me and said, “You don't mean this that you are quitting. I know you. You will keep on. That’s who you are." He was right.
And I say this to any of you who are waiting for breakthrough in your own search and discouraged
– I understand. But don’t give up. Press on. People are finding their truth all the time. And DNA is yielding more results every single day. Millions more are testing and every day holds the possibility of a match! And by the way, if you haven't already tested or uploaded your raw DNA to myheritage.com, do it today! I did and have many new matches I am working through. So far I don't have any close ones, but nevertheless I have some new ones.
Everybody pray hard! I may just have a reunion coming up,
after 50 (count ‘em 50) years!!! In a few months I could be taking a train to meet
A job I love that is more than a job - a ministry, a passion that sets me on fire.
A beautiful place to live.
And at the same time I have gone through so many changes in
the past six months it felt like it would kill me at times.
Where does it show
the most? In my dress size. Just keeping it real.
I can remain stable in loving my family...in managing my job like a pro, in leading a team...but trying to lose five pounds? Yeah, it's up there with asking me to be the one responsible to find the cure for cancer. Or solve immigration. Or something equally as lofty.
I tell myself if I made it through the past six months of big changes, what
else can’t I do?
Change is so hard for me as a person and as an adoptee it is
at a whole ‘nother level.
Some people say they thrive on
change. The truth is, absolutely no one I know thrives on change unless they
are the one making it. Who do you know that thrives on change that is completely out of their
For an adoptee change not of your own making can feel like the world is ending.
It’s not just uncomfortable, it’s terrifying.
Like you wonder if you will survive.
Or if you want to.
So here’s what I know about this. Sometimes we do have more
on us than we can bear.
Did you know the Bible never says we won’t have more on us than we
Yes, I know Gospel singers say differently. I know lots of old wives tales
and sermons down through the years say the opposite. But the truth is, the Bible
never promises, “He will never put more on you than you can bear.” It says you
will never be tempted beyond what you can bear. There is a difference between temptation and hardship, or trauma.
I often have more on me than I can bear and you know what?
That’s why I need Jesus.
I am thankful for the power of the Holy Spirit that helps me
every day through challenges and changes that I could not bear otherwise.
There have been a lot of them over the past six months and
every one of them He is helping me through.
Now if He can only help me lose
a few dress sizes. It will just take time but through a power greater than my
own, I can do this. For a while there, I didn't even care. At all. The fact that my dress sizes were going up was inconsequential compared to the loss and pain I was feeling and the insane desire to feel better if only for three to five minutes while a piece of cake went down my throat.
So here's to caring again.
I pray that while I'm starting to care again, big changes can just stop
for a while.
Unless I like you... Unless I asked for you... Unless I welcome you... just stop it already.
The man presumed to be my paternal father - the man listed in the adoption agency files --is dead. So I tested with his brother who is still alive.
I received the result weeks ago but haven’t written about it
yet because I’ve needed to process things by myself. This was a bigger blow to
me than any other because it didn’t just hurt me, but a family that very much
wanted me to be theirs. They were so excited that their brother had a daughter they never knew about. I would have been his only child. But I wasn't a match with his brother.
They didn't accept the results of the DNA tests.
They still don’t.
They want me to test with other companies, just between myself
and one of their family members, preferably one of his sisters who are also still alive.
I am reluctant to do that because I can’t imagine that both
Ancestry and 23andMe could be wrong.
I trust the results. Two DNA companies of such reputation can't possibly be wrong.
The family has assured me there is no NPE in the family that would
affect these test results. They would not be lying to me. They so badly want me to be
one of them. They aren't afraid of family secrets and would do anything to get to the bottom of this.
They rejoiced at my entrance into their lives, and they embraced me.
At the Christmas holidays I received texts withphotos of them at their family gatherings saying they
were thinking of me. They are Christians as I am, and on Christmas morning they were in church just like I was. They texted afterwards to say that during church the pastor told everyone to get in little circles and hold hands and before they prayed share something each of them were thankful for. They said, "We shared that we are thankful for you." They couldn’t wait til’ my first visit…and for us to share many more things. They were planning a visit to Tampa to see me the first week of March. Every one of them accepted me from the
youngest to oldest family members. It seemed a match made in heaven. But ultimately we were not a match, although were brought together in life for some reason. And we still keep in touch. (And they continue to want me to test more. I am still thinking about it.)
One thing we do know…my mother had a relationship with this
man. He is the man listed in my adoption agency file. He worked with my mother
at the drug store in Richmond, VA.
seems maybe this (multiple men) was what she didn’t want to tell me about. There was more than one
man, possibly even in the same month. So somewhere in all this mix there is a Greek man. My DNA
tests also indicate Balkan heritage. Specifically it points to the area of
Tripolis and the Peloponnese area.
He’s out there.
I just don’t know who he is.
When I first got the results, I wanted to stop searching. It hurt so much. And it all gets too overwhelming at times to deal with anymore.
My sister and her husband were visiting at the time I got the results. I excused myself for about an hour and went into my room to cry alone. While I was in there, my niece Lexi and my sister Kim headed off to Publix. They got a Marie Callender's Razzleberry Pie for me because Lex knows it's my favorite. They started baking it and when I came out of the room, gave me a slice because they knew it would cheer me up. (Food always does. I've used it like a drug since I was born.) I was depressed a lot the first few days after getting results and ate all the things that usually help me feel better, at first. Now I'm back on a plan and exercising and trying to get it under control.
My resolve to quit searching was short lived, as my husband said it
would be. On the first day I said, “I quit!” but my friend Gayle told me she
wouldn’t give up no matter what. Gayle rocks.
One thing that this situation shows me is that a lot of people can
want you but it doesn’t stop you from wanting to know the truth.
My husband and
children want me. My adoptive family wants me. My friends want me. This family
I thought was my paternal family wants me…and still does.
And all of that means
the world. But I still want to know the truth.
I want to know who He is.
to know where I originally came from.
And that doesn’t mean the love of all these other
people means any less.
It just means that my heart longs to know.
Recently a friend said to me, “Maybe God doesn’t want you to know.”
Is that how God works?
Would we say to a friend whose legs were amputated, “Maybe
God doesn't want you to have legs?"
But people say this kind of thing all the time related to adoption.
Even good friends.
Because they just don't know.
Adoption is in a category all it's own, a world all it's own that many people even in it don't understand.
But back to my question...
Does God work like that?
Does He not want some people to know who their original parents are?
It’s a question I ask myself often.
And I also ask Him..."God, do you really not want me to know?"