Where do I come from? That is the question I lived with for 35 years.  Sometimes I would look at people on the street or in the store and wonder if they could be my birth mother or father. I had even made up a couple stories about my birth parents and why they gave me up. Dreams and fantasies can never really fill that void though.

My adoptive parents were good people who were unable to have children of their own. My mother had endured numerous miscarriages before adopting my older (adoptive) sister. Almost two years later they would also adopt me at birth. We were a pretty happy family. I was a very lucky and somewhat spoiled child as was my sister Debbie. My teenage years were tough. I was pretty wild and my actions put a lot of strain on my family. We were very different people. Sometimes I felt as if I was living someone else’s life.

The subject of adoption would occasionally come up in conversation with friends. When it did I was always ready for the inevitable question. "Have you ever thought about trying to find your real parents?" My rubber stamp answer for that question was "no, because I wouldn’t even know how to begin." A true, although somewhat abridged answer. I had other reasons that included fear of rejection and a strong sense of loyalty to the parents who raised me.

There were times when I compared adoption to a puppy being put in a box, taken to the pound and then given away. It hurt and I would even curse my birth parents for not springing for a 25-cent condom. More often though, I hoped they thought of me and had a place for me in their hearts.

When I found out my mother was looking for me, it put a lump in my throat. When I heard she married my father and I had a younger sister and brother, I broke down into tears. I spend as much time as I can now with my new-found family. The tears still come and go. Tears of joy for our reunion and tears of sadness for so many lost years.

As a family we have no past.  We must start from here and look to the future. I hope we only become closer over time. I never realized how much I needed them until I met them.

There is a lot more to my story, but this is what I feel comfortable sharing right now. Maybe down the road mom will let me write more if I should feel so inclined…