Adopted & Reunited (Part 2)

Many years ago I had it in my mind to attempt to find my biological family. To learn about my roots, where I came from. Keep in mind how much more primitive the internet was around 20 years ago than it is now, which made things feel like searching for a needle in the proverbially haystack.

I found an adoption website. There was a section I found where a person could input as much info as they had about their birth and it creates a record for you so that others could possibly connect with birth families.

So I filled-in as much information as I had about my birth. I had the city and hospital names where I was born. I was able to enter my first and middle name. Which was followed by a number. It was a "closed" adoption so nobody was to know anything about the others. I was literally part-name and part-number and ward of the province at the time of my birth for about 2-weeks.

When I was born, my birth mother described the emotional few minutes she had with me before hospital staff took me away. She told me about a scary, but kind SallyAnn house nurse who cared for her when she had to hand me over. All was explained to my mother as to what and how things would happen when I was born. Here on-in, I will refer to my biological mother as 'Diane' and adoptive mother as 'mom' to clear up confusion.

I eventually gave-up looking. I forgot about having filled out that adoption form looking for my mother or father. Life went on and I simply didn't think about it much...

Until one summer morning.

I logged into my Facebook account about 12 years ago, and I had a message waiting for me. The wording was almost exactly "I'm looking for my birth brother. I found someone with the same first and middle name in the right city. If you are my brother, you should know you also have a 5 year old brother...."

My jaw dropped.

It seemed to me that there could be no reason this person would be pulling this kind of stunt on another person. She had nothing to gain by approaching me. We mutually, however, thought a maternal DNA test would be a good idea before anyone became emotionally invested.

It was a week of hell, waiting for the results. I finally called them and they told me that Diane was my mother. They calculated that she was my mother to about the 5th decimal place. 99.999...%

An interesting thing I learned speaking to a biologist, is that in this kind of biology test (maternal and paternal DNA matches) biologists do not try to find a match, they try to find DNA (alleles) that do *not* match. For example, instead of saying Diane was 99% surely my mother, they phrased it "99.999.... percent of the American caucasian female population is EXCLUDED from being the mother of SteveXYZ..." Followed by "Diane XYZ cannot be excluded as being the biological mother of Steve XYZ because they share genetic markers. Of the 15 genetic markers checked, 15 /15 matched..."

I initially got the news by phone. When the lady at the company told me Diane was my mother, I dropped the phone. Took me a moment to thank her and got off the phone.

I could never forget messaging my sister on Facebook saying "I'm your brother!!!!" after I got off the phone with the DNA company.

My sister the sleuth, found me by finding that record I filled out online and forgot about many, many years ago! She took a chance. The first reunion with my sister "Jenn" was just around the corner!

We chose to meet at a cafe. When we awkwardly approached each other, I didn't know what to do. Hug her? Just say "hi" or shake her hand?

Earlier in the day I was to meet Jenn, I went to the small town flower shop where I lived and ended up regaling the store owner about why I was buying flowers and a little teddy bear. The shop owner hugged me and couldn't ask enough questions or wish me enough luck.

I was scared to death...

I was scared. To. Death.

I extended my hand to shake her's (what was I thinking? I wanted to hug her!) But she just hugged me, and it was intense, and awesome.

I had never experienced being embraced by (blood) family. I did my best to not appear too overwhelmed, which was an absolute failure.

We drank a lot of coffee, and she also acted as courier and gave me a card and letter from our mother, Diane. My sister said "I don't know if you want to read it now or in private...." She knew me on a level I was not used to be known. We both had questions and info flying back and forth over the cafe table.

I wanted to read the card right away. But I didn't want to waste a single minute with my sister. So the card and letter waited until I got home later.

There are many, many coincidences between my sister Jenn and I. We went to the same school - at the same time. We probably passed each other in the hallways all the time. We lived in the same town. The coincidence is made even more impressive since I predominantly grew up in Europe as a NATO brat. So to have moved back to Canada and to the town we did, without my folks knowing anything, is an extraordinary coincidence.

What were the chances? That I'd lived in various countries and that we'd eventually end up in the same city we were born - only minutes away from a sister I never knew I had and a brother who is 29 years younger than me!

I was thrilled Jenn was my (half) sister. In my mind, doesn't bother me that all my siblings are half-siblings to each other. We're just sibs and that's that.

To add a little more coincidence. After we polished off our coffees, we wandered around outside and sat on some steps to a large condo building. I chuckled and told her "we're sitting on the steps to the building I lived in for many years, you probably passed by it all the time."

Jenn and I resembled each other in some features.... same height, very similar eyes. When you've never looked into the eyes of someone who is biologically connected to you, it's impossible describe.

I met with Jenn before building up the nerve to meet my mother Diane. Jenn and I sort of felt that it might have been easier for her and I to meet ahead of time to get to know each other a little bit before we brought mom into the picture.

Now, the time was coming to meet my birth mom, Diane! And my five year old brother, Jay.

The meeting for the first time with my mother Diane and my five year old brother Jay was nerve wracking, worrying about it as the day came closer and closer. Were they going to like me? Was I going to just be some stranger?

If I have your attention, or if you've been in a similar situation, or hoping to do the same as I have if you're adopted, please enjoy my ongoing series on Adoption and my personal journey through the system and social aspects of the matter.

This is difficult to share, but I hope, if I can help one adoptee or one adoptive parent, it's all worth it. Keep an eye out for my next entry! Please share this article on social media, and send it to someone you feel might be interested in reading about the adoption experience.