I’ve been searching for you…if you’re reading this, you probably already know that, and that’s probably why you’re here.
In case you don’t, or can’t read anything further, just know this; I am not mad at you. I hold no anger or resentment in my heart for you, or for what you did. Whatever the reason, whatever your feelings, I’m grateful. Maybe you wanted to keep me but just couldn’t or maybe you just didn’t want to be a mother. Either way, you made the right decision.
You gave me life, and the life I had was wonderful. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I hope that you have thought about me, wondered how my life turned out. Wondered who I was, who I am.
As a mother now myself, I can’t imagine that you don’t want to know, even if knowing is the most difficult thing that could ever happen…
If you’re reading this, I want you to know.
I had a really great life. My mom and dad are amazing. My mom is incredibly caring, compassionate and creative. My dad is hilarious and brilliant. They are both hard workers, and wonderful people. Being their daughter has been a blessing.
You obviously had no way of knowing where I’d end up or with whom, but you knew my life would be better with someone else. Maybe you felt that your life would be better too, and I hope it has been. I hope you’ve had just as wonderful a life as I’ve had.
I’ve known since day one that I was adopted. I don’t think there was ever a time that my parents told me, it was just always something I knew. I knew and I loved it. I loved having that one little thing that made me different. I bragged about it. I told anyone who would listen. I always thought it was so cool, and I still do.
I always found it funny when people would comment about how much I looked like my nana (I did–we had the same little pug nose) We’d be out in public and someone would say “Oh Lois, she’s definitely your granddaughter! She looks just like you!” and we’d give each other a little look, and thank them. She always told me it was best to let them think that, rather than to embarrass them with the truth. Though, sometimes, it was fun to embarrass people.
There were a few occasions where people did not believe that I was adopted. In fact, a fight nearly broke out between two of my friend’s moms at a school spaghetti dinner. Another time my teacher called my mom to tell her I was telling kids I was adopted (we’d talked about it during a social studies lesson)
Like I said, I was always happy to be adopted. As an adult I’ve been told about what your reasons may have been, but as a child, I always made them up. I had this romanticized idea of the situation. You were famous…he was famous…maybe it was a Romeo and Juliet thing. Two lovers who just couldn’t be together, their families wouldn’t allow it. I searched for years for all the celebrities I could find who gave children up for adoption. I thought that, most likely, you were Joni Mitchell. I felt that you’d written Little Green for me. Ignoring the fact that the song was written more than 10 years prior to my birth. At one point I had my youngest cousin convinced that I was some kind of extraterrestrial being, that you were the Moon and my father, the Sun. I had a pretty big imagination.
If you’re reading this…
My life was great. There were trips to the cape and Disney World. Many visits to the zoo and the museum. I rode my bike, I swam, I tried gymnastics once, I had so many friends. My life was fun.
I was a really good kid. I never got in trouble, I got good grades, I was a teachers pet, I went to church, I volunteered, I was a girl scout.
I have always loved learning. No specific topics, just everything I could read about or research. I read my parents medical books cover to cover, multiple times. As an adult, Google is my favorite hobby. I love finding things out, and storing that info for a later date. I think I’d do really well on Jeopardy.
I went to college, and I went back to college, and then I went back again. I love being in school. Some people have called me a degree collector. I wish I could study everything. I have a Bachelor’s degree in Graphic Design, I went to school and became a licensed massage therapist, I went back to school to work in the adventure travel industry. One of my biggest regrets is that I waited too long to consider Medical School.
I’ve worked. I worked in advertising, I’ve worked in marketing. In high school I cleaned rooms at a B&B. I’ve even worked at a florist shop, and thought I’d like to do that forever. I’ve had many jobs, some wonderful and some terrible but the one I wanted most was to be a mom. All the other jobs were just ways to kill time before motherhood took over. Now I work from home ( and love what I do) in between my daughter’s activities.
Avery is 2 and a half and full of moxie and joy. The girl is cute, funny, exhausting, and smart. Dear lord is she smart! And I love every cell of her being and I know being her mom is exactly what I was meant to be.
My husband is also amazing. He’s a great man, incredible father, hard worker and a blessing to me and our entire family.
I have all these dreams of the life I want for our family. I’ve always wanted to live on a farm. Not a real, working farm, mind you. Just a hobby farm. I mean, I want the hundreds of acres, and tractors and big white farm house, but I don’t want to be up at 2 in the morning milking cows. I prefer to sleep til 10 or later. I just want a big, wrap around porch, a rocking chair, a glass of sweet tea, and my daughter playing in the yard with our dog. And maybe some chickens. Or a goat. Maybe. Definitely a horse. And a restored, blue Ford pick up truck from the 40s, that I can drive in to town.
I’m a country girl. The city isn’t for me (except Toronto, I love Toronto) I need green grass, and trees, rolling hills and mountains, creeks and lakes.
I hate cream cheese, and sour cream, and mayo. Maybe you do too.
I’m passionate. I love passionately and I hate passionately. There is rarely a “grey area” for me. I either love something or hate something. I’m creative, and funny. I’m generous to a fault (my bank account is not big enough to keep up with what my heart wants to give) I genuinely care about people. I also hate saying those things about myself. I feel like I’m bragging or something, so I guess maybe I’m modest, but I don’t think that’s the best way to describe me. I worry about things, a lot. I care about what other people think of me even though I always say I don’t. I want everyone to like me, and when someone doesn’t I lose sleep over it. I’m sensitive, but I can push it down, and be the rock for my family and friends. I’m great in an emergency. I have road rage. I can be argumentative, but I always try to fight fair. I have a love/hate relationship with politics.
I give money to homeless people, I give more if they have a pet.
I love animals. All animals. I even love bugs. With the exception of most spiders.
I love Disney World, and cupcakes, and the Boston Red Sox.
Most importantly, and above all else, I love my family and my friends.
And I love you for what you did. For giving me life. For making the right choice.
So, if you’re reading this, Thank you.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
If you are reading this, please reach out to me. Even if it’s just to say “I’ve read this” please give me that. Please share some medical history information with me. I only know what you wrote on my adoption paper work; “Mother: strawberry & tomato allergy” (my daughter also has those allergies!) and “Paternal grandfather: Cancer” (I wish you’d said what kind,. Cancer scares me, so I’m hoping it was prostate or something I don’t have to worry about!)
I understand that you have a right to privacy, and I apologize if I’ve harmed that, however I have a right to know. To know where I came from, to know my medical history, to know who you were and who you are. You made a choice, a good and wonderful choice, but I did not. I didn’t have a say in how this all turned out. Nobody asked me what I wanted, and now I want to know. I want to have a say in this now, to choose what happens next. I want to know. I think I deserve that, I think my daughter deserves it, and I think you deserve it as well.
So, please, please contact me…
…if you’re reading this…