How A Health Issue Spurred My Adoption Search

Eleven years ago, I was incited to look into the circumstances of my adoption because of a potentially serious health issue.  To put that goal into action I needed not only the support of my twin sister, I required my adoption papers and my original birth record (OBR). Neither of which I possessed. At 48, I had to confront my adoptive parents for the documents, thereby alerting them of my search, then figure out the next steps. Daunting, right?

To be honest, my adoption and the circumstances surrounding it had been a curiosity my entire life. When suspicious mammograms, biopsies and an enlarging uterine fibroid persisted, the urgency to own my medical background took hold. Call it a midlife crisis if you will, but finding my personal history became an obsession. My goal morphed from simply craving the medical data into wanting a complete genealogy and a reunion with both my birth parents.  I craved all of that, and I wanted it as soon as possible.  

It was as if once I decided I wanted to know, it was owed me. I was ruthless. I was optimistic. I was naive.  You guessed it. I ran into substantial obstacles. (I’m writing a memoir about the search for my birth relatives. Get notified here for updates.)

I want you learn from my mistakes.

The roadblocks multiplied from the time I decided ‘to know’ to the day I received useful information.  The years ticked off. I celebrated three birthdays with my twin sister, before we even learned our birth mother’s real name. In the meanwhile medical ‘watchful waiting’ was looking more like a hysterectomy.

When I began my quest in 2007, the state of Illinois hadn’t changed its adoption laws.  Adoptees would have to wait until November of 2011 to request their original birth record (OBR). I wasn’t that patient and neither were my health concerns. Between 2008 and 2010, I burned up the internet scouring adoption forums, registries, search agencies (more details in my memoir) using the limited information from my adoption papers to try and make connections with my past. Each grab for information turned up an empty hand.  With each frustrating attempt to know more about myself, I became more persistent and righteous. I discovered that my right to information was in direct conflict with my birth parents right to privacy.  There seemed to be a secret pact to restrict our access to one another.  I plotted many paths to get around this. But as Robert Frost aptly said, “the secret sits in the middle and knows.” And it sat and sat. Glaring. Defiant. Silent.

In this blog, I’m going to keep writing about my search, what I did to better my cause, the amazing people that helped me and the astounding discoveries that came my way.  But first you need to know some other things: what being adopted feels like, what adoptees think about, how we relate to our adoptive parents and them with us, what stigmas birth parents wrestle with, and other complicated issues biological kids in normal couplings are clueless about. I promise to make it interesting and worth your while.

This is not a blog about being a victim. I will not rage or rant about the curse of being adopted. I am very grateful for life however it came about.  My posts will be a sharing of perspectives. I hope to generate considerate discussion around the complicated topic of adoption.

I urge you to join my Facebook group, TouchedByAdoption, and share your comments.  Anyone affected by adoption: adoptees, birth and adoptive parents, family or friends, social workers or health care professional are welcome to share their viewpoints in that space.