Wouldn't it be nice to not wonder? Or would it?

I wonder what it would be like

to never wonder.

To go to bed each night,

knowing I had one mother.

To never feel the need to protect them

from each other.

Always knowing where I came from 

and never having to wonder.

To see my face as as she walks by

as a reflection in the mirror.

To know that my talents too

would soon appear.

To have the same interests,

maybe even to fit in.

Being original all the time adds to a loneliness

to have the  same interests as my kin.

I wonder what it would be like

to never wonder.

What would it be like to be on the inside

looking out with the rest?

I wonder what it feels like

to have one mother

To not have to watch my words,

to not have to bite my tongue

to not have to protect anyone from each other

I wonder what it would be like.
I wonder what it would be like to totally embrace
and to totally be embraced with a love from only one mother.

Really, I just wonder.

night time thoughts of a mother lost

So many times I have wondered if I somehow got blown into this universe.

I was born a month early yes,I wonder if my duel personality as a Gemini has thrown the stars out of the galaxy.

The confusion I cause with my change of mind while I know the emotions in my heart can be felt beyond the stars.

When I cried at night because no one was looking.

When I cussed during the day warning that you better not show up unannounced.

I only wanted to have something that felt like control.

I only wanted to be in charge of my own life, my destiny.

Now I laugh when I find more clues and cry because once again they are all about you.

You're life to me was tragic and magical all a the same time.

The parallel I feel as I look back on my own, as I stare at your photo, as I see the bars on my very same windows.

It's you that I wanted to know.

You that I dreamed about even with anger.

I just wish that you could guide me to finish my search, so that maybe someday I might find about who I am.

I will always be your number one backer.

I will always feel the need to protect you from the harsh words and glares of others.

In so many ways I wish that I could have been the one to protect and defend you, during your short life.

I can only wonder if that is in part because that is what I wanted, what I needed from you.

As the anger turns into tears once again I can only wonder if when you died you sent a part of your soul into mine so that you might never be forgotten.

I will forever love you even as I breath fire.

I will never forget you even while others turn away and refuse to allow the light that was yours to enter their hearts.

A daisy a day while stopping to smell the roses............

Classmates and Three Dog Night

My sister had been told by her step mother that Dottye had a lot of trouble while in high school. I imagine she had heard the stories from Karen's dad, as "D" married him soon after Dottye's death.

Karen would hear what "D" would say, but it sounded so hateful that she didn't ask any questions.

At some point, Karen had been told that Dottye was supposed to have an abortion. She was on her way to do so when another gal died. They used to call these abortions "back ally" because they were illegal and often not done by doctors who had the skills or medical equipment needed. When they heard that the gal had died, they canceled the abortion. This, was her first born. We are not sure where she stayed to have the baby, my mind allows me to think of the horror. She was 15 years old.

We had to piece things together but could not find a lot of people whom we currently knew who would speak about anything that had to do with Dottye.

Classmates.com. I decided to join the group and post what we believed to be Dottye's high school years. I would send out my 20 emails a day to others who went to the same school around the same time period as Dottye.

We knew Dottye's parents were strict. Karen remembered there being bars on the windows of the house. She had been told by Ruby that Dottye was always sneaking out and getting into trouble. Of coarse as Ruby tells it,Dottye always remained the one who was treated well and Ruby was not. I've always had my doubts about that, and as people from classmates.com my gut couldn't help but to twist.

Of the 200 emails that I sent out I had found 4 people who knew her. I also had a lot of replies offering encouragement in my search. I did not start out by telling these people that I was adopted. I simply told them that Dottye had died when my sister and I were very young, that we knew she had a troubled past and were looking for anything that anyone might remember. I made one dear friend during all of this and I call him my online dad. He sends out emails to myself as well as a group of his friends that are stories based on his own life. I can only imagine that if my mom had the chance to know him, now or even back then, she would have enjoyed being his friend. Someday I hope to meet him in person.

I would share the emails with my sister and we would pick away at them and then some of them might jog a memory in her mind. We knew that the first born was a female.

A reply from "B"

I think it was in 1963 that I knew Dot. This is so funny but to this day any time I see anyone eating a chicken salad sandwich on white bread I think of Dot! She had one every day for lunch at school. She also liked Mexican food and at the time we listened to Three Dog Night.

I remember eating dinner at your grandma's and they put gravy on white bread and no potatoes! Is Ruby still alive? She might know Daphne's last name. I don't think I ever knew it. I think Daphne lived by your mom. Daphne and your mom were childhood friends. Are your grandparents still alive? They would know Daphne's last name too. If anything comes to mind I will let you know.

"B"

Daphne. I needed to find Daphne. I looked through the names on classmates and found her, sent her an email and hoped. It took her some time but she did finally reply.

Wendy,

I knew your mom in grade school and our freshman year.We were close, as close as any young girls could be. She and I would go to the movies when we were in the 7th grade.My mom would take us.This has been a very long time so bear with me. My mom had given me permission to go to her house for lunch and we would make bologna sandwiches. When we finally got to be freshman, we would go to football games and went to a couple of dances. If my mind serves me right, her parents were quiet and more strict then mine.They did give her a party when we were in high school, I remember the boy I had invited did not have a ride, so her dad picked him up. Which I thought was really nice. When we were freshman we got into some trouble.We ditched school and went to South Phoenix on a city bus and met some boys. Well, somehow my folks found out and when I got home I got my butt beat and grounded. I was not allowed to see Dottye again. I can't remember if Dottye was taken out of classes so we couldn't see each other or if my schedule was changed. A couple of months after all of this I got real sick.So sick I was home bound. I never saw Dottye again. How did she die? Where? Are her parents and Ruby still alive? I hope I helped a little, it's been such a long time. I do know she was my best friend. Sorry, I don't have any photos.

She also gave me her direct email address. I replied to her, telling her how Dottye died as well as answering the rest of her questions, and never heard from her again.

And finally an email from "L"

in part: I started working at the bakery near the school and your Mama worked at the dry cleaners across the street. One day she came into the bakery and I was so shocked to see her. I had heard that she had moved away. She mentioned that she had had a baby and we talked briefly. I saw her a couple of more times and then never again. I had heard that she had passed away in the late 60's obviously that was wrong.

There we had it. I also had one person who said they recalled Dottye being with Joey Schermetzler who went to high school at the same school. He was later known as Joe Shermie, bass player for Three Dog Night. It would seem he was rather popular while in school, being in a band I'm sure made him beyond cool with my mom!

My next step? I had to email fan clubs. Yup, I went for it. I emailed several fan clubs of Three Dog Night and women from two of the fan clubs were as helpful as they could be. One of them sent me the mailing address to Floyd Sneed, once the drummer for TDN. He called as soon as he got the letter and he was pretty amazing to speak to. He didn't remember Dottye but told me that if I found this half sister of mine, he'd be happy to talk to her and tell her all he could remember about Joe. He was super kind and added fuel to my search tank.

I then decided to go to findme.org. This is a very simple search site. I looked up births of females in Arizona and then narrowed it down to the summer of 1963, based on what the few classmates had told me. I sent in an inquiry and several days later I got a letter from "L" who was "M"'s husband. He emailed me photos of "M" as well as their daughters. If you put her photo next to Joe's, it's almost a mirror image. And their daughters look so much like Karen's daughters. It was pretty amazing. He shared with me her personality traits, and I knew we might have trouble. There seems to be this anger trait that we all carry. I'm not sure how much of that anger has to do with environment or how much of it was passed on by Dottye. My gut says that the anger or glass half empty comes from her.

Then he laid it on the line. He was getting a divorce from her after over 20 years of being married. Not only that, but he was the one to post her search, not her. She had no desire according to him to find birth family, it was he who wanted to know about her blood lines. Crap! There was really no way that tis could go well. I sent an email to him, and addressed it to her. Her response to him was "You posted the information, not me. Enjoy!"

I then sent a land letter in hopes that she would get it. Her oldest daughter signed for it but "L" later told me that it was then found unopened on his desk.

Case closed. She has no adoption records though her adopted siblings do. I'm not sure if  Dottye had her at home, if it was a friend of the family or what. But it was not an adoption done through the courts which is why "R" didn't have any mention of her in his file. There is not an ounce of doubt to "L", myself, Karen or anyone who see s the photos that we found our half sister. 

I did try to email her some time later. I simply asked if it was her, as I had some important medical information to send her. She simply replied "Stop." and so I did.

I had set out to do what I wanted. It didn't turn out the way I had hoped, but there was a part of me who sensed that it might not. I met my goal which was to find our siblings and share with them what I knew. I couldn't force them to be in contact, or to read what I sent them. 

I still hoped to find more people who knew Dottye. How as it that in her entire life we could only find a few people who knew her, and when we did find them they would only speak once or twice about her and then that was it?

What was it about Dottye that made her so intriguing to us and yet so forgetful to others?

Doesn't she deserve to be remembered?

She gave four people life, didn't that count for anything?

Search Angels ~ They really are angels

Dottye had been divorced?

This was a huge clue. Huge!!

I had joined an Arizona search group on line and started loading my questions to the group.

What is a "Search Angel"?? I don't know what it means to others but to me it meant having people who wanted the answer almost if not as much as I did.

In looking for my siblings in Arizona, I was lucky enough to be connected with such a search angel.

Her name was Becci and we spoke the same language. When I threw the "F-bomb" she threw it back. I knew I could speak or type my mind with her. She shot right from the hip, as did I.

She lived in Arizona and did a ton of foot work for me. 

I have often found along my search that while I can be creative, I'm not legally knowledgeable and she totally was.

She did a ton of research online and then headed to the court house, where she obtained Dottye's marriage and divorce records.

This is where lie's come into play.

And ya, this is my blog so I get to pick and chose what I tell you about.

Today I'll touch on one person whom I believe lives in a very safe place, who likes the world to revolve around her survival, and whom I often wish I can crawl in and take a peek at what she is really thinking.

Dottye had a sister named Ruby. It is our understanding that Ruby and Dottye are blood sisters, or at the very least half sisters. We know that they were adopted together, from the same orphanage. Ruby says that she herself was at the orphanage for a year before Dottye arrived, and then they were adopted together almost right away.

When Karen called her, that very first night that Karen and I spoke, she asked Ruby if she knew about me. Ruby replied that she didn't know a thing about me, but that Dottye had one child while in high school. That was all she mentioned, that was "All I know" as she said.

Becci called me to tell me what was on the court documents. She was mailing me hard copies as well but didn't want me to have to wait for the information.

Affidavit for Marriage:

The filed to get married on December 11 1964. I knew in my heart she had to be pregnant when I saw that she was 16 years old and getting married to a man who was 22 years old. There is no way her parents would have allowed this, unless she was indeed pregnant. 

I also got a copy of her Marriage License:

They were married on December 11 1964.

Point of interest?

When you get married you have to have people sign as witnesses.

I am still looking for one of them, a man named Rudolph Steele. His name is as a witness, though I do not see his signature in Dottye's funeral book so I am not sure how they knew each other.

The other witness you might ask??

Ruby Robertson.

Yes folks, she signed as a witness. Yes she claimed to not know of the marriage when confronted with the question of if she knew Ronald Crittenden. We never confronted her more then the question of if she knew who he was.

Next were a lot of documents on the divorce. She filed for divorce and asked that her father be her legal guardian again in April of 1965. The reason for the file of divorce, while she was pregnant was in part:

V

That the defendant has been guilty of excesses, cruel treatment and outrages towards Plaintiff....................

............................ As a consequence of said cruel treatment, excesses and outrages toward Plaintiff on the part of Defendant, further continuance of marital relations between Plaintiff and Defendant will be detrimental to the heath and welfare of Plaintiff.

He abused her, or she claimed that she did. What I could imagine is it was bad enough to make her want to go back home, while pregnant. I could only imagine how desperate she must have felt. I put myself in her shoes and imagined having to go home after thinking you were free.

She got the divorce, we know that. She was pregnant when she got divorced. In one of the documents it stated that:

the care, custody and control of the unborn child of the parties hereto be awarded to Plaintiff, with Defendant to have reasonable visitation rights.

There was a huge uh oh when I read that.

My gut instinct once again included :Ruby knew all along, there was more then one child, and Dottye must have thought that she was going to be "allowed" to keep this child.

Also notice, that Dottye was not great at dates. She had the birth of this child in the wrong year compared to what she had told people with my placement records. 

We needed to find this child....now adult.

We had an idea of when this child must have been born, we at least knew what year to look at now. !965. Jesus she was only 16 years old. As we researched I also looked at the photos that I had of her. Some of them I questioned. Her look changed so many times, she was never fat, however in a few she was for sure looking a tad plump. Well, now we knew why.

One of them we are guessing was on her wedding day. I'll post that the end of my entry.

Becci and I searched and searched but couldn't seem to find this child. I knew that Dottye was supposed to have had a girl while in high school, I wasn't sure if this was going to a be a girl or boy though so we kept our mind open on it.

I finally caved and hired a CI. I hated doing this, it went against everything I believed in but I could not find another way. I had to pay her, and the thought that someone could look into Dottye's/ her birth child's records to see what was there, and I couldn't, it made me red with fire. I played nice and sent in my forms.

My CI got the file and called me to fill me in. She told me that she had his address and it was not in Arizona so it might take a while for him to reply. I had sent her a letter to send to him as well as some photos. I did not tell him that Dottye was dead, I figured we would speak on that at some point.  The photos were of  myself . I had no idea if he would want contact or not but felt that he had the right to know the very same things that I had always wanted to know.

Who is my birth family? Why isn't anyone looking for me.

The CI also told me that he was placed in a home and then later removed at 4 months of age due to abuse/ neglect. He went to one more home she believed before being adopted finally by a third family. His third family received him with a fracture to his skull. They had the fracture repaired but he lost vision in one of his eyes.

She also informed me that there was no mention of any other births in the file.......when my sister and I did the math, we knew that any other children had to have been born before him. What did that mean?

I was heart broken and could only imagine how he must have felt about his beginnings and how those feelings would reflect for the rest of his life.

While speaking to the CI, she said his first name.

As soon as I hung up with her I began once again surfing the adoption registries on the net, now having his first name and date of birth which was the summer of 1965.

It didn't take long to find him. There was something about the tone of his post that suggested he was less then happy in his search. He wanted medical information and that was it. Lots of adoptee's say that, but I had a feeling that he may have meant it. I hoped that my kindness might open him up a little, man was I wrong.

Below is a post the day of his horrible email. I posted it at a place called the Adoption Forums. It is a place to seek help in searching as well as support, at least that is what it was 6 and a half years ago.

Lets see if I can type what has happened.
Tuesday, after looking for 6 months I found a half brother. He was adopted, as was I. I contacted him. I got his email from a post he had on a different site. He put it there 3.5 years ago at the age of 36. I told him I thought I might be his half sister and asked him if his name was "R". He replied. Yes it was him. What did I want? Told him I wanted to share with him the same information that I had on birth relatives. Back and fourth emails. One time he wants info, the next time he is content. One time he tells me a bit about himself and that he would meet me but only for my benefit. The next time he does not want to know anything personal about birth family just medical. Last night I emailed him that I have a contact for his birth father so he can get his medical as he wants to. Then told him the medical on birth mom is brief as she too was adopted.(I did not give him any history or the fact that she died when he was 8). This morning I wake up to this email from him.

Wendy,

You know, this whole thing is a bit silly. Your (our?) mom doesn't know her
medical history beyond herself, so that knowledge is fairly useless. And
I'm sorry because it seems you've put out effort for all of this, but I've
lived almost 40 years of my life without knowing anything and this is a bit
too much drama. Nothing personal, but this hasn't made me happy or relived
or anything but a bit depressed...and who needs that.

You can have the satisfaction of knowing your search hit pay-dirt, so to
speak...ya found me. But I'd just as soon not take it any further, so I
will not be calling Judy, she has no consent to be divulging addresses, etc.
I would prefer not to be contacted by anyone for any reason, unless my
real dad was Bill Gates and he feels so bad about things he wants to pass
off a million or so bucks my way. I won't say no to that. Otherwise,
please cease and desist all contact, phone calls, emails, missives, etc.
I've got a family even if they're not genetically related. Thanks.

Please guys help me out here. The only contact I have for him is email and you see he asked me not to contact him at all. Please be honest in what you think I should do but please be gentle, this is really painful for me.
Thanks
Wendy

So there you have it. I had found my half brother and got a big old slap in the face from it. I don't think it hurts anymore, but I had always wanted to see what a male from our blood line would look like. Maybe part of that was because I had no way to see what my birth father looked like, I can't say for sure. I did later track down his ex wife and told her that it was probably wrong of me to do so but that my one desire was to see what he looked like. She sent me an email back saying she was so sorry that she could not do that for me and touched on his personality. I knew that she knew first hand and decided that would be my last attempt at any contact with him. She did tell him about it to which he emailed me and warned me that he was going to turn me into the FBI for cyber stalking. My husband, sister and I had to laugh at that. The threat didn't surprise me and the threat fit right in with his personality.

Photo of what we believe to be Dottye's first wedding day? 

She said "I know who your birth father is!"

During the first week of talking to my sister she announced that she knew who my birth father was. She said the name with excitement and I honestly didn't know who he was. Should I? She told me to go to the computer and type in his name, and so I did.

Waylon Jennings

The photos and links came up and I read that he was a country singer who paved the way for so many others. He had an interesting history, and interesting life, but there was just no way. I didn't even like country music. Surely if he was my blood it would be in me to like his kind of music.

And he was dead, so there would be no way to find out anyway.

My sister had her reasons for believing this to be true. She'd heard the story more then once of how her father got into some bar brawl with Waylon Jennings. We knew that I was the product of an affair.

It made sense but I let it go almost as soon as she said it. It did remain in the back of my mind though.

You see, I had a master plan when I set out on my search. The scenario changed from time to time depending on my age as well as my anger level. 

I'd always known I would find my birth mother. A slammed door in the face, a huge hug with tears, a simple hello here's my photo.........it never occurred to me that I would find her deceased.

It never occurred to me that she could have died when I was just 13 months old.

I would find her and no matter what her response was, I would find out from her if I had siblings and who my birth father was.

Finding her was always the key to finding everyone.

Even once I found her at the grave, I figured I'd get my answers.

I mean surely my sister would know?

How could she though. Her father took that all to the grave with him as well.

He never mentioned to her that I, or any others, existed.

It was with my sisters help that I was able to obtain some of my documents from my adoption file.

I have no idea what is in that file, it still remains locked away from my view.

We did however get some portion of my "placement records" as well as a letter from a doctor to my parents attorney.

Let's talk about those placement records, for those who are searching to see how to try and put things together.

The placement records stated a few things. One was her reason for not keeping me, and it's something that can bring me down each time that I read it. Yup, here it is:

"Dottye is married and has a 4 year old daughter. She was adopted when she was 6 years old and has been quite mistreated before. Her first child was placed when she was only 16 and the 2nd when she was getting divorced from her first husband. Last year, she had a complete mental collapse, left home, went to Las Vegas where she met the father of this child and after psychiatric treatment has been able to recover, but does not want anything to remind her of that episode. She wants the baby to feel loved and be well cared for, which is something she feels she can not do. Before releasing the child she wants to see her and make sure she us all right or she is afraid along with her husband that it might throw her back into a depression.

Previous placements if any : Jan 64 and Jan 66 in Arizona.

Natural Father (if known)

Birthplace: Boston, Mass

Birthdate: 29 years old

Nationality and Race : Italian Amr. Cauc

Religion: Cath-

Marital Status: Single, Div.

Employment : Keno Writer in Las Vegas

6'2"  190 pounds  olive coloring.

Dark hair, brown eyes, Good health.

Name of Child: Girl Moore

What did I learn from this?

So much and so little.

It was the lead that I needed to finding our siblings. I knew we might have a couple, Karen thought there was one for sure because her step mother had made mention of it.

I knew where they were born, and I now knew the years.

I'd get on this all right away with the help of some online groups. 

I also knew, I was conceived in Las Vegas.

Karen remembered it was her 4th birthday that she spent at her Aunts. She knew Dottye was there, but that Dottye seemed distant while she was there. She had heard that Dottye had left for a while and gone to Las Vegas. But hearing a story, and remembering that at 4 years old her mother was at her Birthday party, but seemed really distant, well that just breaks my heart.

My sisters birthday is on Halloween.

At the very least we knew that Dottye must have been in Las Vegas from September to October. I was a month premature, born at 36 weeks. It was all making a little bit of sense.

It also made me believe that what it said was indeed true, my birth father was not Waylon Jennings but rather a Keno Writer...........and part Italian. That made me laugh, I always knew it!

I understood her reason for not keeping me in the sense that she had an affair and back then, or with some people, well you just can't expect that keeping a child from an affair when trying to mend the marriage you have, with the child you already have. That just made sense, hurt but made sense.

I had to wonder though. She had the mental collapse and left him. She drank and smoked as well as did drugs while she was pregnant with me. What sort of meds did they give her in the mental ward? While she was pregnant?? 

What was the state of her thoughts while she was pregnant with me? 

And finally, how would letting go of yet another baby help her mental state at all?

I wish she had given me a name, I always wondered what it would be. 

I was finally learning about my first mother Dottye.

It hurt so much, still does most of the time.

I can tell you though, not knowing hurt a lot more.

Find out more and see more photos~ 

My 32nd birthday, the day they forgot.

My husband and I were talking last night about several things pertaining to adoption. I had him come look at some posts pertaining to law and adoption. I read it out loud as he stood behind me. He knows the look when I turn around and does his best to explain the word or phrase in "Wendy style" so that I can continue on reading.

I don't digest words unless the can put put in a common sense situation. I'm ok with that. I like having common sense. It may not help the world of adoptees in our fight for access to our OBC's (Original Birth Certificate) but it works for me. And judging on the few replies that I have received from government people, it works for them. Maybe they like dumbing themselves down every now and then. Conversation via email in my simple mind, is better then no conversation at all.

Common sense. It's been a wonderful thing for me when added to gut instinct.

It was my 32 birthday and per usual, my husband did his best to see me smile, hugged me when I cried, and showed patience as I sat on the computer and went back through my files "just one more time". There had to be something that I was missing.....there would be one more birthday before I found Dottye.

He went to work that evening, he worked the second shift. I spent the evening waiting for my parents to call. The only birthdays I did not hear from them on were my 15th, because I was a run away. My 16th, because I was in rehab. As well as my 30th because I was in New Orleans and they didn't have our phone number.

I sat and I waited. I had spoken to everyone else. I said my thank yous and with some discussed my frustration and sadness. I knew who I could be open with on that, and who might prefer not to hear it.

I finally went to bed at midnight. That would be 1:00 am in Ohio. I went to bed feeling guilty. At first I was angry as I waited for my parents to call, but then the guilt set in as I imagined that maybe they got into a horrible accident and had died.

My fear of death in a car spread to everyone that I cared about. I hated being on the freeway, I had always known that someday, I would die in a car.I feared that they went out and maybe hit a deer on the way home, and here I was only selfishly thinking of myself. Why was I always such a horrible person, why didn't I think of others?
I had spoken to so many who helped me to feel better about my birthday, even if just for a moment, that ending the day with these feelings always seemed to outweigh the good ones.

The following day my mom and dad called. They wished me a happy birthday and dad didn't say a whole lot after that. My mom informed me that they tried calling several times the day before, but we never answered and they never got the machine. 

I knew this smell right away, and decided to go ahead and play. Bull shit is warm and stinks, normally it just makes me angry to have to deal with it.I knew my mother well enough though to know if I used my words properly, I would beat her with my common sense.

"Mom, you didn't get the machine??"

"No, and we tried several times." she answered.

"And you're sure you were dialing the right number each time? Shannon and I spent most of the day home, or you should have gotten the machine."

"Oh I'm sure. I'm glad we got a hold of you today!" mom said.

"Hmmmmm. Ok well I guess I'll have to call the phone company because there must be something wrong with the lines then..." I set my bait.

"Will that cost you money?" she asked.

My reply " Oh well yes, see because it wouldn't be the outside line that is the issue, it would be the inner house line. Hopefully it won't cost too much though. But we'll need to have it fixed."

"Oh well you know there is a chance that I dialed wrong. Don't spend money on that, I probably just dialed wrong." was her final answer.

Dad usually sits by as mom weaves her web and then crashes through it. This was one of those times.

I was kind, cheery and never had a harsh tone. I knew the fact was, they never called.

It was a mistake I know. It was not done out of meanness on their part. I don't like being lied to though, not even in the smallest way. I was angry over the guilt and fear I felt as I fell asleep. I was angry that they couldn't just say "Oh crap! We totally forgot to call you and by the time we got home it seemed too late. We hope you had a happy birthday."

Actually, what I wish they wold have said is "You know what? Time to end the bull shit. We spent the day talking about your needs and we want to tell you everything we know, and apologize for not holding onto any of the legal documents."

Who knows. It could still happen...............

Birth date.....Birth - Day........Birthday

On other forums I have often typed about my dreams and hopes surrounding each birthday. I don't think I have ever really typed of the feelings, the confusion, and how they actually went down.

Then again, I don't read my own posts so maybe I have.

Sorry if I repeat, you do have the right to click away to your next site.

I'm  not sure at what age Birthday parties are that we actually remember them. I can look at photos and think or I remember that party, and then I can look at some and have no idea how old I was. I'll just start with the first on that I remember.

I believe I was in about the first grade, somewhere around that time.

There were probably around 12 other children at my party that day. It was at my house. I don't remember food but I know that there was cake and my oldest brother put on a magic show. The photo shows the audience looking rather bored, but I'm sure he put on a good show, or at the very least tried to. He was no magician, he was just my big brother.

The feelings? I was excited that it was my birthday. As the kids got there I was excited to see my gifts. I couldn't wait to open them and see what I got! I didn't yet mind opening gifts in front of people. Maybe at that age you just love everything that you get?

It was around the first grade where I started going to bed sad when it was all over. I could not pin point what I was sad about and thought it had something to do with enjoying being the center of attention, and then the let down once I no longer was.

It's hard for a first grader to understand what is going on inside, and I was already starting to feel like a selfish person.

Imagine, the night before your birthday or the morning of, how excited you are. Now imagine that you've been told that you are special, that your birth was special because you were wanted. In my case my parents had two sons. My mom had several miscarriages, all of which were boys. She threw in the towel and told dad "You don't have a girl in you!" but then special baby me came along and they went and picked me.

That worked I guess until the first grade.

Maybe I sense it before then, but again, words and feelings are hard to grasp at such a young age. When it's a pain that you can't see, for reasons you are not sure of, how to you verbalize them? I sometimes run into this issue even at 38.

I'd put on the show of happiness, after all this party was for me. To not smile and play happy would be not only showing disrespect, but it would also show that I was ungrateful and we didn't want anyone to know how ungrateful I was.

I would ask my mom around the date of my birth to tell me again about getting me. She'd tell the story of how she had knitted me my blanket (pink and white and yes I still have it) and they knew I was their baby when the nurse walked down the hall with me in the blanket.

At what age did it occur to me? They didn't pick me, if they had, they would have known me without the blanket.

It was the first year of junior high that I had my one and only sleep over party. Actually, as I look in my minds photographs, it may have been the year before junior high. I guess that the years of birth dates didn't feel the need to remain in my brain!

I was so excited to be having people sleep over. It was one of the only birthday parties that my dad was home for. He always had a convention or someplace to be on my birthday. Possibly, we may have had it before or after the actual date. Regardless, it seemed cool that he "wanted" to be home. It was not until years later that I figured out my mother must have demanded it.

What did I think of that party? As I looked at the girls hanging out and talking in little groups, I realized they were not there because I was special, they were there because their other friends were there. Maybe I was cool for having had a date of birth and arranging the group of invites, but it really didn't matter that I was there. That was what I decided I knew on that birth date.

The story of my adoption changed as I got older.I went from being picked to "We waited a long time for you. We had other adoptions lined up, but then they had boys."

Also " you were premature, we were in line for a different baby but you came first, and you were a girl."

So now I felt like I not only was supposed to be grateful for being or not actually being picked, but also for being a girl. Ya, the being a girl part wasn't working so well. Dresses, high fashion and make up like a good lady were not happening. Not just at my own hand, my parents were involved in my lack of style but we'll save that for another day, maybe.

My 15th birthday was miserable for everyone in my family, I made sure of that. I was acting out, running away, and saying horrible things to my parents. There was a final straw and they went ahead and gave me what I asked for, they got me into a foster home. My first night there I was blown away as I slept on a cot, in the attic hall. They gave me away, I knew it would happen. See, I was horrible after all.

I was only there a couple of weeks before I got busted or not busted for smoking pot. We didn't smoke it, but we were heard in a mall bathroom getting ready to roll a joint. I got arrested, I had no idea who should pick me up and the cops finally tracked down my foster parents.

I went to see a drug counselor who decided I needed to go to rehab.

I was set to go to rehab, June 1st, the day before my birthday.

Well, no way. I had a friend pick me up as I turned on the shower at the foster home and jumped out of the window. I used the key that I still had to my parents house, entered and took my birthday gifts. My mom had said "We will celebrate your birthday when you get home from rehab." No mam, the celebration will be ON my birthday. I opened my gifts in the back of a car and have no idea what happened to them. A few pairs of jams and a new skateboard. 

After spending several days in a friends attic, which got to above 100 degrees so I would strip down to my panties, with no water or food because she didn't want o be caught for having me up there, I called a friend and asked if I could come take a shower at her house. I promised not to stay, I just needed out of the attic and a shower.

To my surprise the cops picked me up along the way, and off to rehab I went.

My 16th birthday was also spent in rehab. See, after 9 months of "sobriety" my parents still didn't like my behavior and sent me back. I finally convinced the staff that I had indeed been sober, but they decided to keep me for 4 months to deal with my "issues." 

And no, being adopted didn't come up.

I did get a puppy when I got out of rehab a month after my birthday. It was good vs evil really. I had begged for a long time for a puppy. Besides the desire to feel normal and know why I was adopted, a puppy was the only thing that I wanted.

What was bitter about it was when I heard my mom telling people why she finally went ahead and gave the ok for me to have one.

She would say "I needed her to know true unconditional love."

On my 16th birthday, or the month after, I learned that only a dog could love me unconditionally. I wondered why but never asked because in my heart I knew all along.

I was damaged goods. I wasn't wanted by my birth mother and my parents only took me because I was what was available. I knew in my heart that I had two mothers who knew some horrible about me. I could not pin point what about me it was that was so horrible.................but it must be something.

I spent the next two birthdays doing the smile and eat cake routine. Went to bed knowing full well that I was lucky to have a cake, lucky to have gifts, and ungrateful for not actually feeling lucky. On my 18th birthday I decided to make my own fate. I called my mother at work and announced with shock and glee "My birth mother called me! She called and said Happy Birthday, I've never stopped thinking of you!". It was a lie, I knew this. I am not sure what I was looking for but I imagine I thought my mom would hand over everything that she knew thinking that my birth mother had made contact.

She didn't.

She assured me that there was no way that my birth mother had called me. She told me that it was probably my ex's sister calling and pulling a prank on me. When I told her that this was not one of his sisters, it was for sure my birth mother, she told me then it must have been one of his friends.

There was no way that my birth mother called me.

I hung up the phone and could only wonder why my mom knew that it was not my birth mother.

I met Shannon just before my 23rd birthday. He got me cupcakes and for some reason it is one of the few birthdays where I didn't feel alone, ungrateful or sad. Maybe it was the excitement of starting my new life. It could have to do with my willingness of being totally open and honest with him from day one.

He knows my exact feelings at the exact time that they are going on, he is as prepared as he can be for my birthdays. There was only one year where he made a near fatal mistake.

He surprised me for my 30th birthday with a trip to New Orleans. I had never been there and was not happy at all about going.

Why?

What if my birth mother finally decided to call me on my birthday? I wouldn't be there to answer.

I thought that birthdays, birth dates, birth - day would get better after finding my first mother Dottye. I tried so hard to smile and enjoy. I still can't though.

I still don't have all of my answers and I am aware that some of them will never be answered.

I still hurt for the baby that sat alone waiting for someone to want me for 5 days.

And some birthdays, I allow myself to cry knowing that she never once got to hold me, touch me, or in the end get to wrap her arms around me.

For myself, I just will always feel like I needed that so much.

And I always, without a doubt, hoped that it would happen on my Birthday.

The photo below was my 17th birthday.Prom, engaged, only a year until I would find my freedom, I thought. Click here for more photos.

Dottye's voice?????

I had met Karen and two of her daughters once. She was flying through Houston to go visit her grandparents. I had such a fear of never meeting her that I took a flight to Houston to walk her to her connecting flight. It was awkward. We no longer spoke on the phone much and really spent our time getting to know each other via email. It was also amazing. I got to hug her. I listened as two of her daughters walked behind us giggling. They told Karen what was so funny and she then shared it with me.

It's interesting really how young adults can take notice to things that adults might not notice.

I was wearing Converse, I mean after all is there another shoe to wear?

Karen had several pairs of Converse and was always buying them for the girls.

I was chewing the inside of my mouth. This is something I have always done. I can't remember when I started doing it or why, it just happens.

That was what made the girls laugh so much. Karen does the same thing and it drives them nuts. How lucky I felt to hear those simple things. Those things that made me not so different, but made us unique together.

It was three months after our first phone call that Shannon and I were taking a trip to Columbus to Karen's home. We stayed at a hotel. We spent the weekend and Monday in Columbus then drove to Cleveland to visit my parents. We then drove back to head out from Columbus.

It's too much to write, at least that's how it feels. There were so many ups and downs and I got my first migraine on that trip.

 

Friday night we all went out to dinner. After we ate I stepped outside to smoke in hopes of getting my tears to subside. Shannon came out and asked me what was going on, if I was ok? All I could say was I just didn't understand.........

We then went to Karen's office which is a huge old building with so much character.She wanted me to see where she worked, where she so often emailed me from and to meet one of her bosses. David came up and greeted us. He knew I had been raised Jewish as was he and he asked me who my parents were. He didn't know their names so I began to list the names of their close friends. When I came to "S" he asked me what their first names were. For the life of me I could not think of their names! I went on to tell them what business they owned and that was when he said their names.

"Yes! That's them! They're my parents closest friends!" I said.

He laughed and told me that they were his wife's Aunt and Uncle.

I felt the butterflies begin to swarm as my world began to get so small. My new reality was surfacing, there was just no way to stop any of it now, and I wasn't yet sure if I wanted it to stop at all.

I began to feel like Alice in Wonderland. What was my reality?

Saturday was a full day. I think we all wondered at one point or another if we would survive. We started out by meeting Sue for breakfast. She had made this all happen after all and I wanted her to meet us as well as my sister. She did pull me aside after breakfast and asked how I was holding up. I tried to lie and say fine, but she saw the look in my eyes and gave me a hug. She assured me she would always be there for me and that she understood. I knew what she said was true, it all just felt too real and too confusing, even with her understanding.

We went back to Karen's house to try and view some slides that she had brought home from her grandpa's. We were able to see some, then the projector died and we were just done trying. At the end of the weekend we took the slides to a photo lab and they transferred them to cd for us.They were photos of Dottye and her sister growing up, and gave us so many more questions..........those questions would have to wait.

Karen and I then went to the grocery store. I felt awkward. I stood so much taller then her and felt so insecure in public with her. I just knew that people would look at us and wonder what a snazzy and smart lady like Karen would be doing with a lurk like me. I was so happy to get back to her house and back to my safety of Shannon.

After dinner was when the storm erupted.I knew it might come, I just didn't know to what degree. I had never had an attack of panic like this, and I had no place to run to, no way to free the feelings that were brewing.

Karen had pretty much all of her childhood papers and memories in a small suitcase. It mostly had photos of Dottye, papers from when Karen was in school, the funeral book from Dottye's funeral........you get the idea. We looked through the photos. Somehow it felt different seeing them in print, in original form. Not a copy that I had printed from the computer. They were old, their texture was thicker then the prints made today. Some of them had that while border with the date.

We looked in awe at most of them, laughed at the one of  Dottye when she was pregnant with me. It was dated April 1972, 2 months before my birth. There was a photo of Karen that same day and we laughed that they two of them must have sat on the couch eating ice cream a lot! They both looked large, but the truth is it was just the way the photo was shot. We needed to laugh, because the moment was coming where we wouldn't be able to.

Karen pulled out a cassette tape. Then she went upstairs and got an old boom box. She told me this should have mom's voice on it, it was a recording that Dottye had made to send to a relative who was over in Vietnam.

I sat at the table as she put it in and heard the voice.

A woman was talking childlike to a toddler. I looked at my feet, then up to Karen. We were confused. The voice was clearly Karen's. Karen fast forwarded it then re-winded it. She said "I wonder if I accidentally taped over it when Katy or Alix were young?"

She seemed panicked, I felt disappointment.

We decided to listen to it again, this time the full few minutes that were there.

That's when we heard the little girl saying that the little dog was trying to eat her. When I looked up I saw the sadness in Karen's eyes.

And then she said it. The woman on the tape speaking in baby talk said "Karen......"

And so there it was. We thought it was Karen speaking on the tape because indeed she is a carbon copy in voice of Dottye. 

I heard my mothers voice 32 years after she went to the grave.

When the tape ended I got up and headed outside. Shanon sat next to me as I rocked myself back and forth almost uncontrollably.

"Why? Why now? What does this all mean? Why now?" was all I could manage to say as I tried with little success to hold back my tears. 

I told him I would be in after a minute and he went inside to assure them that I was fine. 

Next my sister came out to check on me. Her presence made me snap out of my current state, I didn't want her to think that I was unstable. I smiled a half ass grin and just said how wild this all was.

It was a long night and the Bailey's and coffee was not doing a thing to help. We made plans to meet in the morning. At the hotel Shannon and I didn't say much. It was hard for both of us to find the words. I could only tell him how grateful I was to have him in my life, there with me, on what was our wedding Anniversary.

Sunday we got to Karen's house and I could tell it had already been a tough morning for her. I'd entered her life and made her speak of the person she had needed. She thought of her often I am sure, how could she not. But I felt like here I was to bring it all to surface, weather she wanted it to surface or not. I was beginning to feel like a horrible person.

We looked through photos of her daughters. I couldn't help but to think they were beyond cute, and they were so good and free and enjoying just the childhood things in life. I only wished that I could have been a part of it all. 

Karen had spent the morning crying, and one of her daughter spent the morning sitting with her. By the time we were finished looking through, far the lack of a better word "happier" photos, Karen was feeling better. 

We headed out to grab coffee and to see where Karen had gone to school and grown up. My migraine, though I didn't know at the time that was what it was, was setting in.

Our first stop was to where Dottye died. There was a new several lane road built, but the patch of two lane road where Dottye died was still there on the side, with a gate that closed it off. Shannon and two of Karen's daughters were with us.It could have been awkward but for some reason it wasn't. Shannon had the camera and took some photos.

I stood in many places, wondering, is this where she hit the pavement when she flew out of the car?

Did she die before she hit the road?

Is she here?

Does she see that I finally found her?

Will my sister someday hate me for making all of this surface again?

The final stop of the day that I can remember, was the house that Karen lived in when Dottye died. We got out of the car and headed to the door. Karen asked if we should see if anyone was home, if we should see if we could go inside. My response was why the heck not? Worse they could do was say no.

But no one answered the door that day.

We sat on the front steps for a photo.

My sissy and I at the house that had so much history, and so much of that history we were just now understanding.

It was the house where Karen woke one night to find her mom slumped in a chair after trying to take her own life with an overdose of pills.

It was the house where Karen played with her mom.

It was the house where Dottye was pregnant with me, and began calling Karen Sissy.

It was the house that Karen never got to go back to after the death of her mom.

In my mind, it was the house where my sister lost her childhood.

My sister hates that photo, of us sitting on that step. It happens to be my favorite.

We're not smiling. We're tired and the feelings have surfaced to a point where they began to turn into anger at the world. 

But when I look at it I see us. The two of us who have the same mouth and same lines along the side of our nose. I see two sisters who had lost so much, but who were working on getting through it as a team.......though like all teams, the members have to learn what shots are best to take on their own, and which shots should be left to the other team member. And finally, which shots need to be worked at together?