Adoptee's Voice
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Karen's Story
Most life stories start at the beginning. But being adopted you never really know where that point
is. You were someone else’s child before you were adopted. You ask yourself “what came
before” “Who came before” and then, the inevitable “why”?
I never remember not knowing I was adopted. I don’t remember being told. I do remember it
leading to many more questions. Ones that were never answered and seemed to be a subject I
was not supposed to bring up.
Children look to their parents as mirror images of themselves. Adopted children miss that and
over look its importance. I’ve been called ungrateful, disrespectful, and unappreciative for simply
wanting to find out more about my biological parents. Until I found the online adoption community
I had no idea I was not only not alone, I was in very good company.
I grew up hearing being adopted didn’t matter. To forget about it move on with my life and leave
the past in the past. But, I was told that by people who weren’t adopted and didn’t know how I felt.
So, I learned to leave it alone. You know the old saying “I did what I did until I knew better”? I now
know better. It does matter. It is of utmost importance to give a child a foundation in their life built
on honesty and as they grow into adults. That goes for adoption too.
If we teach our children to tell the truth then first we must tell it to them.
I contacted the courts that handled my adoption in later 1998 and requested recent and updated
medical records from my birth family. In the spring of 1999 the court assistant contacted me and
confirmed that my birth mother had in fact been found and agreed to give me these records and
to communicate with me. I was more than overwhelmed.
I was thrilled, ecstatic, but also scared. I found out that I had been a secret baby and my
birthmother had been sent away out of state to have me. Her current husband and my siblings
had no idea I existed. So, due to adoption laws for Missouri , until papers were signed for release
of identity on both sides, we would have to communicate through the court.
The court assistant told me that my birthmother was having hard time starting a letter so I offered
to go first. I had NO idea how hard this would be. I was a talker, a sharer, a natural communicator
and the person I had wanted to talk to for 38 years I couldn’t bring myself to put words on paper
to. Getting started was definitely the hardest part. So, I wrote basics. I described myself, my
hobbies, my family, dreams, how I had always thought about her and felt about finding her. I sent
her two poems. I wrote, rewrote, reworded, backspaced and finally came up with the final draft. I
prayed over the letter and sent it into the courts.
June 28, 1999 I received a brown envelope from the Springfield , Missouri court and inside was an
8 page handwritten letter from my birthmother. The most beautiful words ever written to me
contained the most precious news a child could hope for. I had been a wanted child, was thought
about, and had been prayed for all of these years. I responded immediately back to her. On my
birthday in August I received a 40th birthday card signed “Thinking of you on this special day.
From your Birthmother with love.”
The letter and card became treasured heirlooms stained with tears of joy as they were read over
and over by myself and to anyone who would listen. I felt my dreams had come true and that soon
we would meet and I would be welcomed with open arms.
Little was I aware that this would be the last I heard from her.
The journey is far from over. I repetitioned the courts for updated medical records this past year
and received new information from my birthmother but no answer to my request for contact. I
have not mentioned my birthfather or other family members. Five years ago the court located him
for medical background and he stated all members of his family were healthy. And, he was
interested in no contact. I can walk away knowing I have tried. I still would love to have pictures
and names. I have siblings out there I know that. I won’t ever give up hope that someday that
might happen. I still search faces in the crowds. I probably always will.
Visit Karen on Myspace
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