My Big Brother

I picked up my phone today.  I wanted to call.  It hit me.  I can’t.

My brother is gone.

Today is his birthday.  And I wanted to call to wish him a Happy Birthday….. but I can’t…….

January 13, 2010, my phone rang.  It was an Idaho number and I knew it had to be him, my brother.  The brother I searched my entire life for.  I had had his name for over 20 years and longed to hear his voice and to see him.  I knew it was him calling.

I will never forget that phone call.  The first time I heard my brothers voice and his laugh.   We talked a while that first phone call.  We laughed.  We cried.  We asked questions.  It felt so good to finally have heard from him.

My brother.  The one I longed to know.

We called each other quite a bit over the next year and connected on Facebook where we could share pictures and catch up on our lives.

And then came the day I would finally meet my brother and the rest of my siblings.  I met him and my older sister at a hotel.  It was wonderful.  That first hug!  I will never forget that.  Or his laugh.  Us girls talked and talked, and he listened and laughed at us and with us.

And then it was time for all 6 of us siblings to finally be together.  What a wonderful weekend that was…… a weekend filled with laughter, stories and bonding.


I spent some time alone with my brother that weekend, sitting in his car in a parking lot waiting for our sister to meet our father.  We talked about our birth father.  My brother heard the emotion in my voice, saw the way I was struggling with seeing our birth father from a distance and he made me get out of the car and meet our birth father.  I will NEVER forget that.

After that time in the parking lot the three of us headed back to the cabin to have dinner and hang out with all our siblings.  We had a great meal, sat around the fire talking, and had a great time just hanging out.  So much laughter.

After that first meeting in 2011, my brother and I talked on the phone and stayed in touch via Facebook.  I would call on his birthday.  He would call me on my birthday.  And we would talk in between.  I really enjoyed those conversations. And his laugh.  He would tease me….  I so enjoyed having my big brother in my life.  It was part of what I had been missing in my life.

IMG_2328 copyWe didn’t see each other again until November 2012.  My husband and I went home to Washington for Thanksgiving that year.  I let my brother know we would be within a few hours of him in the tri-cities in Washington for a night on our way back to the west side of the state and he made the effort to drive a few hours to see us, meeting us for a late lunch.  It was the first time he had met my husband.  Such a nice visit, short, but nice.

The next few years brought lots of phone calls.  This was what I had always wanted.  My brother was a part of my life.  I wished we had grown up together, that we had had those years of memories to talk about… but we didn’t.  All we had was now.  Precious time to get to know each other.  I am so grateful for the time we did have, the short in person visits and the many phone calls.

I loved my big brother…  He was funny, had the biggest heart and loved the outdoors.  He could fix just about anything.  And he could play the harmonica!  He was so talented!

The end of December 2018, my brother came to Arizona, wanting to escape the cold winter in Idaho.  We were just one stop on his trip through California, Arizona and Nevada before heading back home to Idaho.

He arrived a day after my youngest son and daughter-in-law had arrived.  Finally, one of my siblings was going to get to meet my sons.  I was so excited to have my brother here.  The first night he hung out with us for a while, had some dinner.  We talked and laughed.  It made my heart so happy to see my brother with my family.  Another day he went fishing with my oldest son and stayed one night here with us instead of out at the lake in his camper, the night before my birthday.  It was a wonderful feeling to wake up on my birthday and have my brother here, in my house.  We spent the first half of the day just talking.  It really was nice to have him here.

And then he left again, heading farther away from us and then eventually back home.

May 29, 2019, I got a message to call his younger sister, the one who had helped my sister and I connect with our long-lost older siblings.  She wanted me to call as soon as I could.  I knew something was wrong.  That phone call….. I won’t ever forget…. She told me our brother was gone.

If only I had known that the night he spent here would be the last time I would see him….. if only I had known….. I wish I had been able to spend more time with my brother while he was here.  We thought there would be more time.  We planned for him to come back next winter and we would have more time together, we would plan it better.  If only……

That is the thing about death, it makes us question everything.  And it makes us wish for more time…for one more day…. One more hour…..

Today I wanted to call my brother to wish him a happy birthday.  I had 9 years with him.  It wasn’t enough time.  Yet I am so deeply grateful for the time we did have.  I am so grateful my boys got to meet their uncle.

I miss you, Nathan!  I will always miss you!  I will always love you, my big brother!

Happy Birthday!  I hope you had the best party EVER in heaven!


A Tale of Two Returned Letters

I have shared here on my blog about my adoption and the search for my birth family.  And I shared how I found my family and the reunions with them.  (Finding the Missing Pieces part 1, part 2 and part 3).  I am an adoptee and that is a part of my life story and a part of who I am.  And though I have found my family, there is still so much to learn, so many to get to know…. the journey continues through phone calls, in person gatherings, laughter and tears.  This month marks 8 years since I met my siblings and birth father in person.  In Finding the Missing Pieces part 2, I shared about meeting my birth father, how I forced my way into meeting him after he denied being my father three times.

The first denial was in the form of a letter, returned to me.  It was September 2002 and I had been waiting with breath held for an answer to a letter I had sent in August to the man I believed was my birth father.

aAnd then I received this letter in the mail.  An envelope addressed to me with his return address.  I held my breath…. Could it?  Would it give me the answers I was seeking?

And then opening it, my heart fell, hard, crashing into a million pieces.  Inside that envelope was my letter and my envelope, returned to me.  And on my letter was written-


I was devastated.  I cried.  And then I got angry.  My gut told me this was the right man because he did not want me to contact him again… and that was underlined to emphasize his wishes.  But my gut knew he was my birth father.  Why?  Because if he wasn’t he would have let me know in a kinder way and wished me well in my search, as others had done during my long search.  Underlining those words and sending me my letter and envelope told me there was much more to the story.

And I cried more.  The feelings of abandonment returned.  The feeling of having done something terrible came back in full force.  I was again that little girl who thought she had to have been horrible in order for her father to leave her and to not love her.  It had to be my fault.

It took me a really long time to get past this let down.  But I moved on.  Mostly.

And I continued to search for my siblings and my birth mother, while stopping the search for my birth father.  What was the point in searching for him, when I already knew where he was and that he wanted nothing to do with me?

My reaction to that letter was not a positive.  Despite finding a way to move on, the pain stayed with me until that day, May 9, 2011, when I finally met my birth father and he acknowledged me.

After finding my birth father, he called me many times.  We talked and he answered the questions I had.  He sent me pictures of my grandparents and of him as a child.  He sent me birthday cards.  He called on the anniversary of our meeting.  He said he loved me.  It was nice to have a relationship with him, even if it meant I could not call him and had to wait for him to call me.  He had a difficult marriage situation and he hid his relationship with his kids from his wife, calling from a cell she didn’t know about and using a post office box that we could send letters to so she wouldn’t see them.  I was okay with it, because I had a chance to meet him and the communication we had was a bonus.  Something I never expected.

Those few years of contact gave me time to heal.  I was still angry about him not giving me my birth mothers maiden name in 2002 when I first asked in that letter that he returned to me.  I was still angry because had he given me that info first time I asked, then I would have found my birth mother before she passed away.  But I couldn’t change what happened, so I learned to let it go and forgive him.

A lot had changed in me between the time I had received that returned letter and the day I met him.  I was healing and growing and learning to let go of what I could not control.

Eventually the calls from my birth father stopped.  It has been a couple of years now since I last heard from him.  The last few phone calls I had had from him were short and filled with questions about my older sister… had I heard from her?  What was going on with her?  And then he would have to go.  The calls to me stopped about the time she told him to not contact her any longer.

And it didn’t bother me.  I didn’t even notice he hadn’t called until a few months after my birthday a couple of years ago.  But I still sent him letters, Christmas cards and birthday cards.  I just wanted to let him know I was still here.  But I didn’t worry about and even wait for those calls or letters anymore.

I was okay without him.

cAnd then this past Christmas I sent him a card, like I have done the past few years.  And a couple of weeks letter it came back to me, marked return to sender.  Another returned letter.  But this time I didn’t cry.  I actually laughed.  Okay, I thought, he is finally done with his kids and moved on.  Instead of crying, instead of my heart crashing to the ground in a million pieces, I was fine.  I was okay.

My reaction to this second returned letter was a complete 360 from the first returned letter.  I was different and in a different place in my life when the second returned letter showed up in my mailbox.  I had finally realized that this was his issue, not that of any of his children.  I didn’t do anything wrong.  I wasn’t horrible, I wasn’t unlovable.  He had the issues.  And he was the one missing out, not me.  He was missing out on knowing his daughter and his grandsons.  And I was not the only one he was missing….. he was the one missing out on relationships with his six children, all wonderful, unique and amazing individuals.  And he was missing out on the opportunity to know and enjoy ALL his grandkids.  THAT was his loss.  Not ours!  NOT MINE.

I am very grateful for the relationship we had while we had it, and grateful for the answers to my questions.  I will always have a place in my heart for my birth father, for the man who took care of me along with my mother, the first year of my life.  And I am thankful, every day, that he gave me the information I needed to find my birth mothers family… my family.  I am happy that I got to know him and that I was able to get those missing puzzle pieces from him.

And more than ANYTHING I am at PEACE with this last returned letter.

Two returned letters….. two different responses.  And a grateful heart!

Thank you, mama

Yesterday I went to an event that I almost didn’t go to…. But God made sure I went. Something inside me said I needed to go to hear what my friend had to say when she spoke to a group of women at a breakfast.  I now know it was one of those “God Winks”.

I am so glad I was there.

The emotions inside me. It was as if in those words my friend spoke, there was a message from my birth mother… a message of love.

Before finding my birth family, I had often thought about what I would ask and what I wanted them to know. And when I finally found them, I was able to do just that.

But with my birth mother I was not given the opportunity to ask the questions or to say what I wanted to say to her. She had passed away in 2007, just four years before I would find her siblings.

There have been times these past few years that I have been angry with my birth father, had he just given me the information I asked for about my birth mother, instead of denying our relationship, I would have found her before she passed away…. But the past cannot be changed. So, I have moved beyond the anger and forgiven him. My birth father did what he needed to do based on his own family situation and for that I cannot be angry with him or fault him. We all do what we need to do in the place we are at that moment. And when he finally acknowledged me and gave me the info I needed, I was finally able to find the answers I was seeking.

My birth mother had been searching for me. She never forgot about me and my sister. She loved us. And wanted to find us.

So yes, I have answers.

What I haven’t been able to do, what I have been denied is being able to say to her the things I have longed to say my entire life….

And yesterday I realized I needed to do it, even if it was through written word…. Written to her but for me.

So here, is what I want to say to my birth mother today—

birth mom and meDear mama,

I have always known I was adopted and I have always wondered about you. Where were you? Were you okay?

But mostly I wanted to be able to tell you, that I understand.

I am a parent now and even though I am not sure anything would have made me give up my boys, I understand now the tough decision you made. And that you made that decision out of love for us.

For years I didn’t understand…. couldn’t comprehend how you could have dropped us off at Social Services and told the social worker you didn’t want us…. And then wouldn’t say good-bye to us. Now I understand. It must have been incredibly painful for you to leave your babies in a stranger’s hands. The pain must have been great. Your courage in doing what you believed was best for us was incredible. I admire your courage.

You did what you thought would give us the best life and safest life. I admire you for that. Thank you for loving us enough to realize that in that moment of your life you could not guarantee us that safety.

And I want you to know that yes, I have the best life. I am married to my high school sweetheart, a man who takes great care of me. And I have two wonderful boys who are now grown men. Being a mother has been my greatest blessing.

My life wasn’t always easy, but I did have a mother who loved me unconditionally. She held me when I was hurt and scared, she comforted me, she made a big deal out of every birthday and made sure I knew right from wrong. My mom made sure I knew I was loved and wanted. And my mom gave me a foundation in faith that has carried me through the toughest times.

I want you to know that I thought of you often and wondered. Every year on my birthday, I looked up at the stars and wondered if you were thinking of me too. I now know you were.

I want to thank you for giving me a foundation of love my first three years of life. A foundation I know helped to form who I am today. I know you loved me. And I loved you.

You were my first mom, my birth mom. And you gave me a wonderful gift of this life I have now. I don’t know what life would have been like if you had not given me up for adoption.  But I do know that the life I have now with the man I married and the children I love with all of my being, I would not have any of this without that decision you made all those many years ago.

A decision you made out of a deep love for your children.

I want you to know I hold no anger or bitterness. I would not change anything, other than to have found you sooner so I could say all of this to you in person.

And I look forward to the day when we are reunited in heaven. I know you are there with my mom and the two of you are sharing stories and that she is thanking you for the gifts you gave her in her two daughters.

I forgive you!  I love you!

Thank you mama!


Finding the Missing Pieces part 3

After arriving home from my weekend of meeting my siblings and my birth father, I began the final part of my search. Thanks to the information provided by my birth father, I now had my birth mothers last name.

But it was like looking for a needle in a very, very large haystack…..seeming impossible to find….yet knowing it was there, somewhere, kept me pushing forward.

Over the next few weeks I received calls from my birth father and during those calls, he gave me little bits of information that I would then relay to my hired searcher, Julie….each little fragment of information built upon the last, until, finally, on August 19, 2011 my searcher and I realized we might have found someone.

After hanging up the phone with Julie, my searcher, I waited……would this be it? Could it finally be over?  Those years and years of searching and wondering, was this the culmination of all of that hard work??

I waited….and I waited…..and then the phone rang. The caller ID told me it was Julie…..Please, Lord, let this be the end of my search.

I answered the phone and then Julie said yes, this was my birth mothers brother and he and the rest of the family had been searching for us……

I cannot put into written words just what those words she said meant to me.

They had been searching for my sister and I.

They had not forgotten us.

We were wanted.

We were loved.

At that moment, I felt this immense, heavy weight lift from deep within my soul, freeing me from the pain of that very young girl.

And then Julie said the words I had dreaded… birth mother had died in 2007, just 4 years before I would find her. My heart sank.  I would never get to meet her….I would never get to hear her voice or hug her……I would never get to tell her that I understood and loved her. 

In the next few minutes on the phone, Julie gave me the details of my birth mothers death and birth and who she had married. And then she gave me the name and phone number of the uncle she had found.  He was waiting for my phone call.

I hung up the phone and I spent a few minutes just breathing…….

And then I dialed the phone….one ring and my oldest uncle answered the phone….he called me by my birth name, Teresa. Through the many miles over that phone line, I could hear and feel the emotion, the relief and the love.  He told me about my mother.  And he said she NEVER stopped loving me, wanting me or searching for me. 

My uncle told me that I had a really, really big family… mother was 1 of 8 children. And he said one of my aunts and another uncle had also been looking for me and my sister.  We hung up with promises of calling again and of finding a time, soon, to meet in person.

I called my sister to give her the information and we cried at the relief. My sister was the only person in the world who truly understood all that was going through my mind and my heart because she too, had those same feeling, needs and desires. 

Within minutes of hanging up the phone from my sister, my phone rang again, this time it was my youngest uncle, the one who babysat me as a young child. I could feel the love through the phone and my desire to meet these family members grew stronger by the minute.  And then a phone call to my aunt.   She told me about my mother.  They were very close and she had more insight into why my mother had given us up for adoption.  And my aunt said that right before my birth mothers death, she had said that she thought she had finally found me on the internet……but she died before she could reach out to me and before giving her siblings the information of how to find me.  I was getting answers from her siblings and my heart was bursting. 

My birth mother had loved me and had searched for me! I couldn’t believe it!  Truly an answer to my prayers and the start of the healing the little girl in me so desperately needed.  Until that moment, the little girl who had been separated from her momma, did not know she had been wanted.  That little girl thought that she must have been a terrible person for her own mother to not want her, she had to have been bad and unlovable.  It took a lifetime of searching for her to finally feel loved and to know that she had not done anything wrong…..those phone calls meant more to me than any words I could now use. 

It only took a short time to decide to make my way to Washington to meet this new found family.  I left Louisiana on August 26, 2011, headed to Washington state and a meeting that was 43 years overdue.  After spending a couple of days visiting with my dad and step-mom and seeing my youngest sister again, it was time to pick up my sister and go meet our aunt and uncles.

On August 29, 2011….43 years and 10 months after we were dropped off at Social Services, never to see our mother again, it was finally time to reunite with our birth mothers siblings. I picked up my sister and we drove to the restaurant up the road from her house, both of us more nervous that we wanted to admit.  We walked into the mall where we were to meet them and eat together and there they were….2 of my uncles with their wives and my aunt…..immediately hugging us.  They knew us.  And we knew them.  And yes, I cried.  Tears of relief, tears of happiness and tears of forgiveness.  I finally found that last missing piece of my puzzle.

Jones family
Reuniting with 2 of our Uncles and our Aunt


We talked and talked for a few hours. It was amazing to get to know these wonderful, funny, kind-hearted people… family.  I felt comforted and safe.  And I immediately felt loved.  They shared stories about my birth mother and about their lives.  And they told my sister and I about what we were like as babies.  Finally, the first chapter took shape and made the rest of my life’s story make more sense. 

Our aunt had brought pictures for us of our mother. And pictures of us taken months before our adoption.  I had never seen these pictures…..and seeing them was overwhelming.  And seeing the pictures of my birth mother…..I look like her.  I LOOK like my birth mother.  I have her curly hair, and her brown eyes.  I had never looked like anyone, and there staring at me was myself.  My uncles said I sound like her when I talk, that I laugh like her and stand and walk like she did.  I finally felt like I belonged.  I was complete.

We also learned during the conversations that our birth mother had had another child….we had another brother, younger than us. That story is for another day.

After we finished eating and visiting, we went with my aunt to make copies of the pictures she had brought and then said see you later…..never again will I say good-bye to them.

I left my sister at her home and headed to the hotel near the airport in preparation for my early flight the next morning. And then I digested all of the information, the emotions and the photos.  I did not sleep that night, trying to absorb it all and trying to make sense of everything I had learned that day and the 4 months prior.

I had spent more than 30 years searching for the missing puzzle pieces of my life and now that search was over…..what will I do now?

The search was over, and now to put the puzzle together without forcing the pieces, instead, gently putting them in the spots they needed to fill, taking the time to carefully place them.

And I needed time to just breathe…..

Finding the pieces to my puzzle has been amazing.  I have a family that has expanded beyond anything I had imagined…..and I have spent the past five years building relationships, getting answers and healing.  The rest of the story will be coming soon, the story of how I fit the puzzle together and the unexpected outcome from these reunions.  I hope that by sharing my story of searching and finding those pieces that I can give hope to someone else out there who may be searching for a way to put their own puzzle together. 



Finding the Missing Puzzle Pieces part 2

(I had intended to write and post this part of the story on this past Monday, but life happens and I was needed in ways that kept me from writing until today. So, here it is, a few days after the 5 year anniversary of meeting my birth father.)

Monday, May 9, 2011 is a day that I will not soon forget. It has been 5 years, yet still feels like it was yesterday. 

I had spent the previous day, which happened to be Mother’s Day, meeting and getting to know all my biological half-siblings, blogged about in part 1 of my adoption search story.

Monday morning, the four of us who had stayed at the cabin, rose early and went out to the lake. My sister and our older sister hopped in the kayaks and headed out onto the lake and I laid on the dock, absorbing all that had happened so far this weekend and thinking about what was to come…..

And I was feeling something that I couldn’t explain or quite pinpoint, but something felt wrong to me. Something, deep in the pit of my stomach was aching and I wasn’t sure why….

 My youngest sister and youngest brother were raised by our shared biological father and they knew where he was. In fact, my birth-father had asked her to find our oldest sister, he wanted to see her…..and that is what led her to message me and ask if we were related, since my adoption postings said I was looking for my birth parents and her fathers name was the same as the one I was looking for…..I am so thankful that our biological father asked her to look for our oldest sister, because if he had not, then I would never have known about her and my younger brother, we never would have met and the events of that Monday, would not have happened.

Things happen for a reason…..

After finding my birth announcement that summer in 1990 and finding the full name of my birth father, I searched every where for a man with his name….an uncommon first name, but a very common last name. Through the years I found bits and pieces of information but could never quite make them fit together to form a complete picture. 

Then in 2002, my sister had requested and received her case file from Social Services and she sent me copies……..reading the case file was quite emotional. They carefully blacked out any identifying information about our birth family, but occasionally missed blacking out a name…..which confirmed for me the first names of both my parents and my siblings.  More confirmation that I was on the right track.

The file also contained information I had not known…..that my parents were never married because he was still married to the mother of my older siblings, news that I was not aware of, but helped make sense of the pieces in my puzzle…..and in the file was the information that our birth father left our mother and me while she was pregnant with my sister, more information that brought forth even more questions…..would I ever know what really happened? There was more in that file, things that made me cry, saddened for the little girl who was trying to hold onto the hope that her mother would come back, that her mother loved her. And then as the social worker drove that little girl down the road to the house where she had lived with her mother….a house that was now empty….. I wept, wanting to hug the small child, the child within me, as she realized her mother was never coming back.  The case file held lots of information, and created more questions… I REALLY needed to know what happened…..

Shortly after receiving the case file, I located a man in Washington State who had the exact name of my biological father…..maybe I would finally have some info… I wrote this man a letter and put it in the mail…..and I waited….

A few weeks later an envelope arrived in the mail from Washington…..maybe…..I opened the letter and inside was the envelope I had sent my letter in and my letter, returned to me with a note saying he wasn’t my father, did not know my mother and to NEVER contact him again. I was devastated, and all hope of finding my birth mother and siblings was gone.  My gut told me that he was the right man, but I would never know for sure……until…….

When my older sister and I finally connected and spent time on the phone, I discovered that she too, had sent a letter to the man in Washington with our father’s name, about the same time that I had sent mine.  And her letter was returned to her.  We couldn’t both be wrong, could we?

I finally made a decision to hire a professional searcher to help me find my birth mother, since I had no idea what her last name had been. I told my searcher that I really believed this guy was my biological father and she did her research and contacted him.  He once again, denied being my father, but knew my mother and gave a name that was different than the one I had…….again, I was denied……rejection is difficult, especially when it is from a parent…..

Shortly before my trip to Washington, my youngest sister was seeing our birth father, to let him know that she had found our sister and she would ask him about my mother, so I sent her a letter to share with him……again, he denied being my father but gave her a little more info about my birth mother…..but not the correct name.   My searcher continued searching for my birth mother and I prepared to meet my siblings.

That Monday morning was emotional for me. My older sister was going to go meet our birth father and I was happy for her….he wanted to see her and she needed to see him.  But something in me wasn’t feeling right…..I had planned to stay at the cabin with my sister and relax while our older brother took our older sister to meet our birth father….then at the last minute I decided I wanted to go……just to ride along and see him from a distance would be enough…..I NEEDED to go.

The ride to the meeting location was silent, the three of us did not talk, each of us lost in our thoughts about what was coming. We parked in the parking lot and our sister went inside.  My brother and I sat there and then we saw his truck pull in….we had only seen pictures of him, and we both knew it was him.  He got out and walked inside……and then he came back out, alone.  My brother was about to jump out of the car to stop him and then we saw our sister walk out. 

I watched from the front seat of my brothers car as the birth father I had always wanted to find hugged my sister……and I started to cry…..why couldn’t he hug me, meet me? Why did he leave my birth mother and me all those years ago?  He chose to leave me when I was a year old and he never came back.  And there he was, in the parking lot, just feet away from where I sat and I couldn’t talk to him…….

While the two of them were inside, my brother and I talked. At that moment I really needed my big brother and he was there, listening to me, talking with me and understanding what I was feeling.  I decided to write a note and go put it on the windshield of our birth fathers truck, so that he would know I had been there.  My brother talked me out of doing that, saying that he knew that would not be enough for me…..he said that I needed to walk over to the truck and stop our birth father before he left…..and my brother was right. 

So, we sat there talking until we saw our birth father walk outside…..and I froze, I couldn’t open the door, my heart was beating so hard and fast that I thought it would jump right out of my body……and suddenly he turned and went back inside…..okay, breathe….

When I saw him come back out, something took over and before I knew it, the door of the car was open and I was walking, quickly, toward the truck, signaling to the man inside to wait a minute….as I approached the truck, he rolled down the window and looked at me questioningly.

I told him who I was, that I was Laura Mae’s daughter and then I saw it in his eyes……he KNEW who I was. Before I knew it, he had put the truck in park and jumped out and hugged me…..and I whispered “are you my dad?”  And very quietly, he whispered in my ear “yes, I am your dad”. 

My knees gave out…..he had to hold me up. He WAS my birth father…..he Acknowledged me.  My tears flowed uncontrollably. 

He pulled away from the hug, held my hands and looked me in the eye and told me my mothers full name…..I had her last name. He told me where her family was from.  And then he asked me if there were two of us and if I was the oldest one?  Yes, and I had a younger sister.  He asked about her and then hugged me again.  He said he was sorry that he had not given me the information sooner, but that he was really happy that I stopped him.  He asked me to give my phone number to my younger sister and he would get it from her and then he had to leave……

I was shocked, shaking, and at peace. I ran inside and got my sister and then as she talked with our brother, I had to call my husband to tell him that I had forced my way into meeting my biological father and I had the information I needed. 

And then I called the searcher and gave her the information my birth father had given me…, hopefully we could find her.

One more piece of my puzzle was found. But there were so many more questions I had for him. 

We went back to the cabin and spent the rest of the night hanging out with our siblings…..what a weekend it had been…….I met my siblings and my birth father.

And my birth father did call me, a few days after that meeting. We have talked several times since I forced my way into meeting him and he has answered my questions, even the tough ones. 

I don’t know where the courage to confront him came from…..but I know that I HAD to do it. The feeling I couldn’t pinpoint that morning was a deep need to meet the man who was a part of the first chapter of life and I am so glad that I did it…… brothers encouragement was all I needed to find it inside me to finally confront face-to-face the only person who could give me the information I needed to find my birth mother…………another part of my story for another day.

I am so blessed to have been able to finally put these missing puzzle pieces in my puzzle… to find the last piece and figure out how to put it all together.

Finding the Missing Puzzle Pieces, part 1

5 years ago today, Saturday, May 7, 2011, I boarded a flight in Minot, ND….bound for Washington State and a weekend I will never forget.

I was adopted along with my younger sister. I was 3 years old and she was 18 months old when we went to live with our new mom and dad.  I always knew I was adopted and when the kids teased me in elementary school, as kids will, my mom held me and soothed my tears.  The kids said that my birth mom didn’t want me….I was unlovable.  My mom told me that she CHOSE me and my sister and the other kids parents got stuck with them.  She WANTED us from the first day she saw us.  That was my mom.  She always knew how to heal my hurt and make me feel loved. 

Before my mom’s death she had shared with me the information our caseworker had given her…..dates of when I walked, ate, slept all night…..information that was carefully tracked by my birthmother and given to the caseworker. And on the back page was a list of three names, titled “important people in Teresa’s past”.  On that piece of paper was written my birth mothers first name—Laura.  My mom loved me enough to let me know the information that would eventually help me to find the answers I sought. I am sorry that she was not around when I finally found those answers, many, many years later.

A person’s story starts the day they were born, but for an adoptee the story starts the day they are adopted. And my story began when I was 3 years old.  It was as if I had been dropped on this earth, at the age of 3…..out of nowhere.  I longed for the answers of where I came from and why I was given away.

I have often been asked why I searched for my birth parents, did I need to find my “real” parents? My “real” parents are the couple who adopted me.  My mom and dad arrived in my life when I was 3 years old, and they will always be my mom and dad.  My search was more about answers, putting the pieces of a puzzle together, trying to complete that puzzle when pieces were missing….I needed and longed for those missing pieces.  I wanted to know who I looked like, where I got my love of writing and reading, where I got my love of the outdoors…..and I wanted to know why my sister and I were given up for adoption.  Did something happen, a tragedy perhaps?  Or was it the way the kids at school said it was—that my parents did not want me or love me?  I had a hole in my heart, a part of my story missing and I needed to know the answers.

I searched for years….long before the internet. And I dreamed about what it would be like when I finally found them.  I knew I had a birth mom and dad and I knew I had an older sister and brother….where were they?  Why were we not all adopted together?  Were there more siblings?

During a trip home to Washington in the summer of 1990, I finally found a piece of the puzzle.  I found my birth announcement in the archived papers at the library in the city where I was born.  There in black and white was the name of my birth father, the address where he and my mother lived when I was born and the names of my older sister and older brother.  I had to be sure this was the right family….so I went to the city where my sister was born and at the library there, I found her birth announcement and the same couple had given birth to her.

I finally had a last name for our parents and names for our siblings. The emotions took over and I spent the next 20 years searching for them, posting on message boards for adoptees searching, posting on message boards for lost siblings, and searching the online databases.  The internet was a blessing, making it easier to search through databases from thousands of miles away.  But I kept hitting brick walls…..searching for the needle in the haystack and never finding it.

I began to feel as if I would never find my siblings, my parents or my answers.

And then one day, in January 2010, my sister called me. She had messaged every person she could find on facebook with the same name as the person who had been searching for our biological father….and she got a response.  I messaged the individual and she called me.  She was the younger half-sister of our older siblings and yes, she knew where they were.  Within minutes of hanging up the phone, my brother called me….my brother CALLED ME!  I was overwhelmed with emotion.  Finally, on the other end of the line was the brother I had longed for.  I don’t remember what we talked about, I just remember the tears, laughter and the love…immediately.

It was a few days before I heard from my older sister and when I heard her voice on the phone, I dropped to my knees….I knew her. The connection I felt was immediate…yes, this was my big sister….the one I had longed for.  We didn’t talk long….the emotions took over for both of us.

The four of us spent the next year connecting on facebook and talking on the phone. My sister and our newly found older brother managed to meet for a weekend shortly after we had all connected.  And after a year of getting to know each other we finally made plans to meet in person in Washington state, all four of us.  I was looking forward to this weekend and being able to see my siblings, to hug them, laugh with them and get to know them. 

A couple of months before we were to meet in Washington, I received a facebook message from someone who was looking for my older sister and had seen my posts on the adoption message boards….the posts where I was looking for my siblings and my birth parents. We messaged back and forth and then talked on the phone.  There were lots of emotions in that phone conversation.  Suddenly we had another younger sister, and a younger brother.  2 more siblings…..6 of us, sharing the same dad.  I cannot imagine the emotions she felt as she learned that she had not only the older sister she was looking for, but 2 other sisters and a brother she didn’t know about.    And then, one more call, to my younger brother, excitement and emotion ruled those calls.  I was thrilled to finally have some of the puzzle pieces and to have an expanding family….expanding faster than I had ever imagined.  We made plans for all 6 of us to meet on Mother’s day weekend. 

So, I boarded that plane on Saturday, May, 7th and flew to Washington.  I arrived at the airport, got my rental car and headed to the city where I would spend the night in a hotel with my two older siblings.  I was nervous and excited.  I arrived at the hotel and a little while later, heard a voice in the hall….I opened the door and there they were… older sister and brother.  We hugged, cried and laughed.  We spent the night in a flurry of conversation, tears and laughter and eventually sleep came.  I finally had more of those puzzle pieces and the puzzle was getting closer to completion. 

The next morning, Mother’s Day, we drove to my sister’s house where she was finally united with our older sister. And then we all drove to the cabin we had rented for the weekend….a great location on a little lake where we could meet and get to know all our siblings.  After arriving at the cabin we heard cars pull up and there they were, the youngest sister and brother.  Lots of hugs and tears as we met for the first time. 


The night flew by….conversation, tears, laughter and connecting.  3 pairs of siblings came together that night….strangers to the other pairs and yet we knew each other…..we were connected by a shared father.  We spent that Mother’s day together, celebrating our expanding family. 

The next day was spent hanging out at the cabin, kayaking, talking and eating. We had dinner after our youngest siblings returned to the cabin and then sat around the fire that last night together, talking, sharing stories and laughing.  This was my family and I was almost complete. 

I will never forget that Mother’s day weekend or the pieces of my puzzle I found. I found the two older siblings I had been missing and found 2 younger siblings I never knew about.  And I am so blessed to have found them, to know them and to love them.

The first chapter of my life story was finally filling in…..and more answers would come, during that weekend and in the months that followed, as I would reunite with my biological father and find my biological mother’s family.

Those stories are for another day.

For today, I cherish the memories made that weekend, 5 years ago.