Dreaming, missing and hoping

I woke up in the middle of the night from a dream I was having. You know the kind where you actually regret waking up because it was so good.

I was dreaming that I was shopping with my sister, we shopped, we walked, we went for lunch in down town Toronto to her favourite vegan place. We were having some quality sister time.

Then I woke up just before I was going to have a bite out of my sandwich. Typical, food wakes me up.

I went to the bathroom and quickly jumped back into the warm bed next to my husband, but I couldn’t fall asleep  All I could think about was my birth family.

We spent the summer with them, three weeks, but we had to divide our time between my a-dad (and his family) and my birth parents. This didn’t go as smoothly as I hoped for, but that is expected when two families have to share one. Plus, the fact that my husband and three children where sharing a home with my birth family of four, came with it’s own struggles. We all like our private space and it was a challenge sharing it I must say.

But two weeks ago, when I watched a film montage that my daughter had put together of our time in Ontario, all I could feel was sadness. Sadness because I missed them so much and I’m pretty sure that I’m not the only one. When my sister and b-father saw the movie, they too said that they missed us and that we had such a great time. It’s weird, you don’t remember the ‘not so good times’ when you are missing someone, you only remember the good.

Even though I find myself to be blessed because I found my birth family, when so many haven’t, I still feel a bit bitter at times because of the fact that we live so far away from each other. A big Atlantic pool between us. I often find myself checking plane ticket fares hoping to find a good deal, but there is never a good deal when your family consists of 5 people on one pay check.

I guess I’ll just keep on dreaming…a whatsapp’ing.

“The scariest thing about distance is that you don’t know whether they will miss you, or forget you. “

If you have found birth relatives, do you see them much? Do you live far apart? If so, how do you build up a relationship?

Paradox by Lynn Grubb

As an adoptee I find it hard to explain exactly how I feel about adoption. Even though I think adoption is necessary in our disposable world…and I understand the sentiment of couples having difficulties conceiving, I still struggle with my own situation. I usually answer people’s questions on adoption with “yes, I agree that there are too many unwanted children out there, but….” And then I shut down.
I have a semi happy ending, being found a few years ago and since have reunited with my birth family, yet, although one wound closed…it seemed like another one opened.(more on that later)
Anyway, I still count myself blessed, but still at a loss of words on the matter, until I found a voice over at The lost daughters website.

I just wanted to share this with you all and suggest you visit their wonderful website.

Adoption is

a concept, a belief and an action
A lack of choice and being chosen
A legal solution to a spiritual problem
A spiritual solution to a legal problem
A loving choice and a thrusting upon
A nurturing touch yet a stealing away

it saved me; yet damaged me
Provided for me, yet took away from me
Blessed me yet cursed me
Gave me a name and took a name
It creates a chance for love to grow and a door for misunderstanding
It creates a family out of strangers and strangers out of family
It inspires and teaches and it wounds and damages

Adoption is

My friend and my enemy
A thorn in my side and my shining light
A rainbow and a gravestone
Acceptance and rejection
Truth and lies
Known and unknown
Love and hatred
a casting away and returning

Adoption is

Not my friend nor my enemy
Not the excuse or the cause
Not perfect or evil
Not the reason or the scapegoat
Not who I am or who I am not
Everything and nothing

(copyright Lynn Grubb; may reproduce with permission)

Mom, momma, mommy, mama, mother, mmmmmmm?

Mother

A mother (or mum/mom) is a woman who has raised a child, given birth to a child, and/or supplied the ovum that united with a sperm which grew into a child. —Wikipedia

I hope you all had a great mother’s day yesterday.

On the topic of mom, I was wondering , how do you call yours? Or what do your kids call you? If you are like me, you have an adoptive mom and a natural mom. So how and why do you call them what you do?

mother's day gift

My mother’s day gift from my Step-Daughter. She calls me “Mim”

 

I don’t see my adoptive mother any more due to some very unhappy events when I was a teenager, making me have to leave home out of necessity. When I met my natural mother, I asked her if I could call her mom. I never say “birth mother” unless I’m using it on my blog, just to help you understand about who I’m talking about. When my sister and I talk about her, we say “La momma”.
It was uneasy at first, calling her mom, not sure if she really felt comfortable with me calling her that and I would avoid saying it at the beginning, even though I longed so much to call her that. But now, it seems natural.
With my biological dad, it’s so different, I’m still in good contact with my adoption dad. I call him dad or daddy but I’m finding it hard to find what I want to call my natural dad. We get along so well, I actually get on on the best with him. We are pretty close ,so I’m trying to find something comfortable for us. My kids call him Grandpa-T and he used to act irritated when he heard it…but I think he actually likes it. He’s just being a bit silly.

So, what do you call your mom and why?

And if you are looking for some inspiration, take a look at the following link of Mother’s Day Celebration website. You can see how people call their mothers in other countries.

How do you feel about mother’s day?

Mother's Day card

Mother’s Day card (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Why I Hate Mothers Day

It celebrates the great lie about women: That those with children are more important than those without…

by author Anne Lamott

How do you feel about mother’s day? Does the upcoming mothers day raise your blood pressure a bit? Is it a day you look forward too or a day that you apprehend? Walking around you see all these advertisements for gift ideas to get your mom. Even your email can’t hide from all that publicity. “Treat your mom to a luxurious spa” —Hmm, spa…

Maybe you lost a child, maybe you grew up without a mom or perhaps your mama died and the though of her is still just to painful.

For me, mother’s day used to be right up there with the other days  you “must” celebrate, especially Christmas. I’m not going to get into Christmas just as yet, that might be a post for the next holidays but what I am focussing on now, is mother’s day now or how it should be called:  “Hail me for cooking your dinner and doing your laundry day” Now that’s a day I wouldn’t mind getting celebrated for.

However, mother’s day was one of those days that would remind me that I was all alone at some point in my life. Living in a foreign country, raising my teenagers on my own, without any love or support from my a-mother or any family for that matter. My a-dad lived far far away.

And how is it possible anyways for all the other moms out there to be happy and served on mother’s day? My mother-in-law lost her mom last year and the pain is still fresh because it would have been her birthday around this time. They were very close. I have friends who wish they could be mothers but it hasn’t happened or at least not yet. This is a sad day for my friends. How about the single mothers? Who’s cooking for their kids tonight? How about all the mothers who work in restaurants today, serving other mothers? Or in the shops? It’s a recipe for discontentment.

Now don’t me wrong, I don’t hate mother’s day,I used to but I’ve hated it less and less over the years. Not only because my situation has changed: a new loving husband and being found by my birth family, but because of the grace of God. He quieted my heart, He helped me see that I wasn’t alone and that He had great plans in store for me. We are never alone you see:

• We are loved with an everlasting love. (Jeremiah 31:3)

• We are the apple of His eye. (Proverbs 7:2)

• Our name is engraved in the palm of His hands. (Isaiah 49:16)

• We are carried through every storm. (Mark 4:35-41)

• We are wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14)

• We are watched over day and night. (Psalm 121:1-8)

• We are forgiven. (1 John 1:9)

• We are rejoiced over with singing. (Zephaniah 3:17)

I should say though that I am not condemning anyone for celebrating this day but what I do think is that you don’t have to buy expensive gifts to show your love. There are many many other ways to do so. Be creative. I will be giving my birth momma a small gift for the first time, because I want her to know that I care about her, I love her and that mother’s day must have been as painful for her as it was for me and now we can celebrate!

So friends, this year, I won’t be moody if my kids forget me. Over the years they have blessed me with many, many, many sorts of artwork that will last me a lifetime. Heck, even though two of them are teens now, their art still garnishes the walls of our home, more beautiful than any Monet will do. I will remember that I’m not only a blessing to them, but they are a blessing to me too and that is remembered each and everyday in our home.

Try to turn the pain of mother’s day into joy. Enjoy this weekend and remember that you are loved!

Please don’t hesitate to share how you feel about mother’s day. I am not claiming to be a specialist on this matter. My views come from what I’ve learned, what I’ve experienced, and what I’ve perceived as an adult adoptee and so I really would like to hear your thoughts on the matter.

Have a great weekend!

The angry adoptee?

Someone recently asked me how was it that I wasn’t bitter about my whole adoption past.

I asked that person what they meant and they wondered if or why I didn’t feel any resentment about the whole situation.

Just to clarify, my natural parents are still together and they have had two children after me. I have a full blood sister and brother.

I guess, when you think of it, one could feel upset by this. Some adoptees often express such perceptions. Many books, such at The Primal Wound and Journey of the Adopted Self, propose that adoptees not only have these feelings, but that they are correct perceptions, and that the adoptee may never heal from these feelings.

Isn’t this one of the reasons why people were encouraged in the past to keep it from their children, the fact that they were adopted? That it would protect them from a “trauma”?

I’ll be honest, while I had a terrible relationship and experiences with my ado-mom, I kind of felt abandoned. When I had my kids during my teens, I didn’t have a loving mom by my side to help me and guide me on my new journey into motherhood. I didn’t have a role model. I didn’t feel loved, I felt lonely…abandoned maybe.

But after being found and getting to know the story, I think we often forget the “trauma” and the bitterness our birth mothers must have felt. My mother couldn’t forget me, even if she wanted to, because I was born the day after her birthday. I can only imagine how she must have felt, counting year after year. I have at times, delicately tried to pry some info about my birth and I would get pieces here and there, but I can feel her pain and then decide that it’s just better to stop. At least for now.

So, do I feel bitter? NO! If anything, my heart leapt with joy when I found out that they were still together and that I besides having the sister who found me, I too have a brother!

Plus God has proven Himself faithful in every place of brokenness and loss during my life and has blessed me with this reunion. God has convinced me that my life was “meant to be”.

Even if you are not a Christian or you don’t have another religion holding you up and I’m saying this because God has and does keep me up, that life is too short to live it in bitterness, sometimes you just need to see the good things in life and decide to be happy. This doesn’t mean that you can’t ever be sad, but give it a place. We as individuals can choose our own attitudes at any time.

Oh and on a last note, I really hope that I haven’t offended others by what I said and if it seems like I’m belittling your feelings, this is not my intention and I’m sorry. I don’t know all your stories or pain, but I’m sure there is a lot of it. I do not claim to be an expert on anything but my own experiences and I would like to hear yours as well.

  • The Primal Wound – More Questions Than Answers! (sharonannevanwyk.wordpress.com)

The one year anniversary of meeting my birth parents.

It’s been a year now since I have met my birth parents with the help of a Belgian tv station/show, they heard about my story and suggested to pay for our trip; mine, husband and the kids, to Canada to meet them and of course station would film it.

Since then I’ve been in daily contact with my b-dad over whatapps and on a weekly basis with my b-mom. After we met them in Canada, they flew over to Belgium for my wedding and got to see how we lived, spend time with their grandchildren and got to meet those dearest to me here.

Our meeting falls into that category of significant and life-changing events that I will never forget:  being told that I was adopted, the birth of my children, my moving to Belgium, my wedding day,. All of these events, in fact, were crucial in the timing of my meeting my birthmother. But let me start at the beginning.

I was adopted as a two week old baby in what is called a closed adoption. I was not supposed to meet my birthmother. She was supposed to forget me and get on with her life. We were supposed to ignore the fact that something out of the ordinary had taken place.

What is it like being adopted? Being adopted means being different. Different is not bad, it is just different. To deny my difference would be to deny who I am. I started out in this world differently. My conception, prenatal experience, and birth were different. My birthmother was not joyfully pregnant. No one gave her a baby shower. She never saw the infant she gave birth to. Or at least that’s was what I thought.

Losing the mother who gave you life is traumatic. I wanted to keep a part of her in my soul. I thought about her a lot. My fantasy life about my birthmother was that she was a famous singer. Celine Dion maybe… I didn’t have a lot of facts about her. Only that she too, like myself was a teen mom and I knew her blood type. That’s it. I wondered if she ever thought of me. Did she remember my birthday? I had lots of questions that I wanted to ask her. I wanted to see her. I wondered if I looked like her. I wondered if I looked like anyone.

I was very tall and people would ask me how I got so tall. I didn’t know. They were brunette. I was blonde. People would even say that I looked like my a-dad but I couldn’t help but thinking each time I looked in the mirror; “Whose eyes are those “?

I began to search for my birthmother when I was 18 years old, just shortly after having my second child, my son Jaimy. I was totally a computer illiterate at that time and so I self-educated myself. I created my first e-mail address; I joined support groups, forums and wrote letters to try to obtain information that would help me locate her. I even created groups in Facebook. There were a lot of dead ends and a recurring voice in my head that said I shouldn’t be trying to find her. I would be intruding on her life if I showed up now. It wasn’t fair to her and in the end; I had to admit that she might just not want to be found.

My searching took many routes and I have had many disappointments. I had been searching for thirteen years when I decided to stop. It really consumed me. I let it define my happiness, I let in define who I was and so. At the age of 27 I had given my life back to the Lord and decided to just put it into His hands.  I didn’t want it to take over my life anymore, I wanted to just be happy with who I was.

A couple of months after that, coming home after work and having finished my mumly duties, I sat down in my couch and flipped open my laptop to find an email that would change my life forever. It went something like this:

“Hello Miriam!
My name is Leah . I am responding to a post I just found on the Quebec Query Board.
My mother’s name is Lynn . She had a daughter when she was very young on April 6th 1978. She named her Brenna.
I have been thinking about searching for my possible sister my whole life. Since my mom told me about her when I was 12.
Today..I made the decision to start the search. I sifted through pages and pages online and contacted a company called Batshaw (who was NOT very helpful).
Then..I stumbled upon this page..scrolled down..reading all of posts from people in the adoption world looking to find family and answers. I didn’t think anything would come of it..but I felt compelled to continue reading on..until I saw an entry that made me forget how to breathe for a few moments.
Posted May 14, 2009
Birth daughter looking for birthmother or relatives. I was born on the (date removed), in Montreal, giving name at birth was Brenna.

Is there a chance that this is a coincidence??? I’m not sure. But I would love to speak with you.
You can contact me whenever you like. My fingers are crossed it will be soon!”

What more can I say? I am blessed to have such a caring and wonderful  sister  who finally looked for me. I also now have father, brother and of course birthmother and we are fortunate indeed to all know each other. Even if it did take thirty-one years to meet.

Image

I’m the one in white. Sorry, but the blury is for privacy reason’s. I looked awful.

Gallery

Yes, we made into Glamour Magazine!

 

YES! Our amazing story has made it to one of America’s best selling magazines and I am particularly happy with the end result. It even brought a tear to my eye….ok, I can can be honest with you all, it made me weep. It was embarrassing.

So people, go get the magazine, get something warm and comforting to drink (vanilla latte is my preference) and enjoy.

Thank you to all of whom took an interest in our miracle and have made this story happen. Also a special thank you to my adoptive father who has always helped me in my search and has too welcomed them into his family. It must be hard but he did it and  with grace.

I just can’t believe how lucky we are. I have an amazing, loving ,sweet,  beautiful and talented sister whom I am sooooo proud of ! The future is looking bright. She might be in the spotlight, but behind her are our loving parents who have welcomed me, my children and my husband into their family as if we have always been together. A great mom who acted just like a mom would at our wedding. A father, who I feel like I related to the most and a great brother who my son A-D-O-R-E-S ! I kind of like him too. We even have matching tattoo’s now. We got them in Amsterdam. My wedding present from him. Sweet!

I only hope to be able to see each other more often. Having a sea between us ain’t helping! Can someone give me a job over there? Please ? ^^Ooops, I’m embarrassing myself again.

Love yah sis, mother, father and bro! Dad, I love you too of course!

Thank you God!


Meet me under the Eiffel Tower. -A sisters reunion.

I met my sister under the Eiffel  Tower.

My sister found me in November 2009. But because she was living in the States and I am living in Europe, it has made it impossible for us to meet. This is pretty frustrating, looking for your birth family for 14 years then being found but not able to meet yet because of the ocean between us and the high fuel prices making ticket prices incredibly expensive. Whom should I thank for that? But we still fabricated a strong relationship by emailing, Skype and BBM as I do with my birth-parents. Unfortunately you can’t see each other’s facial expressions, or mannerisms. Most importantly, you can’t hold each other.

 

Well anyway, my sister’s husband, who has family in the UK, planned a trip for them to Europe around Christmas, to my parents dismay. First London, then Paris. Ahhh! Paris. I was secretly hoping that we could maybe finally meet each other then, but it seemed like they had too many plans, romantic ones, and I didn’t really want to intrude. So, I just left it at that and pretended that my holidays were fully booked as well.

But my “soon –to- be- other- half” though differently and secretly planed a two day trip to Paris with the kids (and myself of course) to go and meet them. Poor dear, he couldn’t  keep the secret for long. Once I have the feeling that something is happening behind my back, I turn into Sherlock Holmes and usually find out what’s going on. It freaks my son out.

This would all take place December 2010. But, like some of you might have heard, the airports across Europe were closing down due to weather and partly because they were running out of de-icener. Crazy! Europe really isn’t prepared for winter when it comes to snow and ice. So, Heathrow, the airport my sister was flying into was shut down for a few days as well because of old man Winter. What happened then ? L’s flight got cancelled and my dreams to finally hold the sister I so longed for went down the drain.

I prayed fervently that evening, even posting a Facebook status asking my friends to pray for a miracle as well. I though for a second, but why God? Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?(sobbing dramatically)

But I quickly calmed myself down and choose not to make myself depressed or to feel self-pity. I know that God is in control and that even if I don’t understand some things that happen, I know He has a plan. If it’s not meant to be now, it will maybe be in the future then.

I woke up the next day to a couple of BBM messages and messages on Facebook. It was my sister.

“Where are you, I’m trying to reach you. I wanted to let you know that we were able to book another flight”

Thank YOU! I guess I just needed to realize that I have to trust God, no matter how unfair something may seem. It’s in spite of the trials, we always have God’s promise that the trials and tests that we go through are for our good (Romans 8:28, Hebrews 12:2, 2 Corinthians 4:17, James 1:2). We learn that it is through trust that our relationship with God strengthens and our love for Him grows.

So, three days after Christmas, my fiancé, children and myself, climbed into our Citroen C3 cookie tin box at six in the morning, making our way to Paris. By then, I think my hubby -to -be must have asked me ten times already if I was nervous. I said, no. I didn’t really feel nervous.

Three hours later we arrived at our hotel in Paris, parked the car and made our way to the Eiffel Tower, by subway. Unfortunately, the receptionist of our hotel gave us wrong instructions as to where to get off and we ended up across the river “La Seine” away from the Eiffel Tower. I yelled : noooooooooooooooooo! Five minutes to our meeting and we still have a river to cross. Typical!

Despite all of this, we were still able to be taken aback by all the beauty around us. We have been there before a couple of times, but it never grows old, it never looks dull. It was cold and foggy and but I really don’t think that there are many places that still  look so lovely on a grey day like this. Even the tip of the tower was hiding under a cloud of fog. It had something magical to it.

All that time my hubby-2-b was filming me and my sweet teenage daughter was taking pictures. I was surprised at the amount of photo’s taken when I was looking at them at home after getting back, she had been mainly taking pictures of horse statues and of pigeons apparently…many, many horses.

“Are you nervous?” Kim asked while filming me.

“NO, anxious, YES and worried that we won’t get there on time and annoyed at you for asking me if I’m nervous for the tenth billionth time.” I replied while rolling my eyes. I’m pretty good at looking annoyed. He got the picture and fully exploited it on film.

Well, anyway,continuing, we saw a bridge we needed to cross and started heading towards it. Then my daughter, who hasn’t let go of my arm since leaving the car except for maybe filming the pigeons and horse statues, asked me why I was walking slower instead of faster. I started to think and panic:

– “But what if she doesn’t like me?” “What if we don’t know what to say?”  “Do we hug or not”, “Darn, I should have not put on any make-up. Oh well, I won’t cry. “I guess I was just so scared at the thought of my fantasy bubble bursting and the fear of being rejected.

We arrived under the Eiffel Tower and we were all looking around us, desperately trying to find them among the herd of other tourists. I was squinting my eyes as if that would make them appear miraculously. I kept on turning and looking .

I was worried most of all that she wouldn’t like me or that she decided at the last moment that she wasn’t ready, or that they maybe got run over by some crazy French dude in a Renault. It could happen…have you been to the “Arc of Triumph”?

Luckily  for us, we ‘re living in an era where even dogs  have a smartphone and all that time we both kept in touch, monitoring each other’s step until I proudly sent:

-“We’re here!!!”

I could have sworn that half an hour passed before I heard from them again, but my son reassured me (while rolling his eyes at me, I’m so proud) that only 1 minute had passed. I then get an answer back from her:

”Where?”

Is she kidding?

-” Euh, sweetie, we are under the Eiffel Tower, between the other zillion tourists.” I answered.

While I was still frantically turning and squinting my eyes, my boo kept on bugging me to maybe move more to the side, next to a blue caravan or container with some questionable wet stains on the bottom sides. Not quite the movie like background I had imagined, so I pretended not to hear him.

I kept looking at my phone….then up….the around…then back at my phone, until I hear Kim say:

– “What are you doing? I’ve spotted her already you know.”

All of a sudden, all went silent, or so it seemed to me; I didn’t hear people talking anymore or notice the  pushy vendors trying to sell me a Eiffel Tower key chain, just silence….

This next bit will sound corny, and I apologize beforehand, but common, imagine you were me and your meeting your sibling for the first time!

So after hearing him saying that he had already spotted her, I looked up and it’s seemed like the crowd parted as if they were curtains on a stage.

And then, all of a sudden there she was, my sister. She was heading straight, not quite running, but walking very quickly. I leaped towards her and we just flew into each other’s arms and wept.  She was stunning and she was a part of me. We hugged and it felt like holding a long lost friend; warm and perfect. After a couple of minutes we let go of each other and it was the first time that our eyes have ever met. I was now starring into the two same pair of hazel eyes…the same eyes I have looked at for years in the mirror. I always wondered if there was someone out there with the same eyes. Is that person thinking of me?

She did. She thought of me, looked for me and found me. My sister.

We spent the next two days sharing, shopping, laughing, sightseeing, comparing our hands and freckles, and finding out things that we had in common. We have the same mannerisms, the same nose and same size of petite hands. It was just so incredible to find a part of me. A relative…besides the ones I have already gladly produced myself. She and I have the same mother, the same father plus the same brother. Basically, we have the same family. All of whom I still yet need to meet, but due to money issues can’t just yet. It’s just so sad.

But meeting my sister  has made me feel whole again and so incredibly happy. With her has come the first steps, the bridge if you will,  leading to my new found family.

I will be forever grateful to her for looking for me, finding me, accepting me, loving me and last, for helping me with filling up those ugly empty gaps. The gaps I had  in my family tree.

“Dear Lord, thank You for my family. I’m grateful for so many things, and one of those is for the family who loves me enough to want to meet me and want to be with me. Help me to trust You always. I might think I know what’s best for me, but I am not seeing what lies ahead the way You do. I want to submit to Your plans for me every day, in sunshine and shade.

In Jesus’ Name,  Amen.

Looking for my mother

If you have followed my posts I want to thank you first for showing some interest in my story.

So you’ll know that I’m adopted.

I’ve been searching for my birth mother ever since my son was born. When my daughter was born first I was 15 years (almost 16) old at the time, and too preoccupied with my new meaning of life. I did think for a split second of how my birth mother could give such a beautiful thing away…but that was only for a split second. I had other things to think and worry about.

Having my son a couple of years later really started to get me thinking. I was older by then and had already experienced motherhood. I never really thought of her in a negative way, but I can’t say that I could understand her actions then. I just couldn’t give my baby away. Where there is a will ,there’s a way!

I started frequently thinking about her, maybe because I was feeling lonely again due to the separation with my partner. I didn’t have any family where I was living and I had banned my adoptive mother from my life once I moved out.

I called my adoption  father who was by then talking to me again. I asked him about the adoption and asked him about all the details that he had. He gave me all the info he had plus the name of the doctor involved .I got this doctors number and dialled him a soon as I could. I got him soon enough on the phone and explained to him who I was . He listened and was very nice but he said that it was a closed adoption and that he couldn’t give me any info. He could however send me my medical birth records. I guess that was better than nothing. He also gave me an address of an agencie who could help me with my search.

I wrote to that agency and received forms to fill in, but it wasn’t without any costs . I think it would have cost me around 300 or 400$. I didn’t have that money to spare to be honest, so those forms stayed in my cupboard.I received my medical records, but I didn’t learn much except for that my birth mother was seventeen I think and what my birth name was . Knowing what my birth name was did make  me happy, at least my birth mother named me.

I had left it rest the searching thing for a couple of years. I had other worries on my mind. But then came the internet ERA to my home. Wow …I would have never imagined as a child that everyone would have 1 or more pc’s in their homes let alone that we could send virtual letters to each other and such!

I was taking internet lessons and I learned how to make my own email account, how to “surf” the web. The teacher asked me one day if there is anything I would really like to learn  and after years of almost forgetting that I was adopted , I had all of a sudden the urge to give it another go. I told her briefly that I was adopted, that I didn’t know my birth parents but that I would like to look for them.

I don’t know sweety, ask mommy or Google.


My teacher then typed in “adoption” in the wonderful Google search engine ( thumbs up for Page and Brin…and for Wikipedia :) ) . After she pushed the enter button I had a life changing moment . I never imagined that there would be so many topics and issues about adoption, so much to read, amazing. She then showed me a few sites with forums on them and explained what a forum was. My real searching began there and then.

I started posting on every query board, forum or anything else involved with adoption. I searched sites  for anybody who might be looking for me. Sometimes I would on the web for days and then I would get frustrated and  then didn’t go near the pc for weeks.

It was so very frustrating. All these thoughts came into my head:

– Maybe my birth mother doesn’t have internet….

-Maybe she can’t remember when I was born ….(ok a bit far-fetched but possible)

-Maybe she has passed away …Dear Lord, please no!

-Or she might just not be looking for me

Years passed, without any news. I kept on surfing the web, searching, but not as often anymore. I discovered Facebook, that was another site I really enjoyed. Being able to connect with old friends from back home. I really loved that and still do, it has made me feel much closer to home.

The older I got, the less hope I had of ever finding ANY blood relatives. I have sufficiently put myself out there and there was no way that if someone was looking for me that they couldn’t find me.

Over the years I had thought more and more about my birth mother, for some reason with every birthday, I would calculate how old that she would be .

My children don’t look very much like me so I would always wonder if they looked like her ? Or my birth dad.

I would wonder if she would still think of me, did she have any other children? Maybe she has gotten married to some guy who doesn’t even know that I exist. Maybe I was a family secret? Oh no!

I have a very fertile imagination ,so I could think up stories and get myself upset over it. I really started getting frustrated and sad.

Adoption Cartoon e-Book by C.Papile

It’s really hard to explain, but the frustration you get, by not finding what you’re looking for, is for me beyond words. It’s like your being  “rejected” again . After years of looking and being excited of what you might find, comes years of sadness at finding nothing. When I look back at those years, I’m embarrassed to say that I had self-piety. Poor little me, nobody wanted me, nobody wants me, nobody is looking for me.

A couple of months ago, our Pastor was doing a sermon on prayer .  He was explaining that God answers every prayer that is lifted to Him. Sometimes God answers “no” or “wait.”But God only promises to grant our prayers when we ask according to His will. “This is the confidence we have in approaching God:

“that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him” 1 John 5:14-15

Well, I prayed each and every night for many weeks after that. Asking the Lord to help me find my birth mother. That this was so very important for me. I needed to know her, I needed to find her and I needed to tell her that I didn’t hate her for giving me up !

During my prayers ,somehow I though of the tough years I had behind me. How even though my children had whatever they needed, however much that I love them…would I have not wanted a better life for them? Of course I would, but I did my best and I’m glad that I have had them. But yet, I could understand why a woman would give up her child if she herself had nothing to offer(think that she had nothing to offer). That too is motherly love, wanting the best for your child, even if it kills you inside.

Weeks when by, my prayers left unanswered. I don’t have much patience unfortunately. I’m a now person ! So one day, I didn’t sleep very well the previous night, so I was cuddled up with a blanket in the sofa in the morning and just started writing a letter to my birth mother. I had almost given up hope by then of ever being found and I just decided to write a letter for her, of how I felt . I would probably never be able to ever give it to her, but it was a sort of therapy, like writing this blog.

I wrote the letter and saved it in my documents on my computer. That was it. I now give up.

Lord you have a plan for me. I trust in you. But please take this sadness away from my heart, I can’t cope with this feeling anymore.

But on the 16th of November 2009 , I was found.

To be continued ….

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