Looooooooong hair

You know growing up I always wanted to try a hair cut that didn't have bangs. My mom would never let me saying that my face was way too long to go without bangs.

I think she was right.

There's a story many of my friends know, but I'll go ahead and repeat it here.

I had a little friend named Lisa. When we hung out, we usually got into trouble. We were grammar school age. 

My mom took us to the indoor tennis courts with her one afternoon. We sat at the table and ate the free cookies, for a little while.

Soon we ended up in the locker room, then into a bathroom stall. What could be more fun then playing with Barbi in the toilet?? Yes, we were very goofy girls.

As we were playing in the stall I told Lisa "Barbi was made after my birth mom". Maybe I said real mom, I'm not sure. I stopped using "real" mom pretty soon after I saw the look on my mothers face, so I am not sure if this was before that look, or after.

This Barbi was like any other Barbi. Blond and thin, her hair went down past her butt. When I told Lisa this story, I do recall that I believed it to be true. I had imagined, at least when I was a child, that my first mother was as pretty as a Barbi, with long flowing hair that she could do up in so many ways.

As soon as the words came out of my mouth my mother called me out of the stall. We opened the stall door and there she stood, my mom.

She told me that I couldn't tell such stories, that it wasn't true.

I don't recall feeling like the story I had told had been a lie. I really believed it.

What I do recall is wondering, how did she know it wasn't true?

Below is one of my favorite photos of Dottye. We don't have a lot of photos. You know back then was the time of film so I am sure they didn't take as many as we snap today. And she died when she was 24 years old, a short life with far too few photos left behind.

I was sitting at my desk thinking of my upcoming trip to Las Vegas and I wondered what she looked like for the short period that she lived there. Was she happy when she got there? Did she gussy herself up or go casual? I imagine she gussied herself up, she liked to be noticed after all.

This photo is back in Ohio, not long before she died. It shows a side of her that many of the other photos don't show, it's one of the few where I think I can actually see a moment of true happiness, of just being silly.

At the mental ward .................

Karen has many memories of Dottye as well as the stories from her Aunt Ruby. I can't recall if I heard the story as well......it's in my memory as if it were told to me by Ruby.

Ruby and Dottye were teens. As Ruby would tell it, Dottye was the one who snuck out and caused so much trouble, but it was Ruby who always got into trouble even though she was as good as gold.

Dottye wouldn't get up for school, or was it church. They were teens living at home. Ruby figured out that Dottye had taken a bottle of pills in an attempt to end her life. Ruby made her get up, they walked around the room for hours until the pills finally wore off. Dottye refused to be with anyone except for Ruby, or so the story goes.

I can't help but to wonder, was this before or after she lost two children to adoption. Was it in between the two? 

Karen can remember waking one night to find Dottye slumped out of her chair down stairs. There were pills all over the place on the floor and Karen screamed and ran to the neighbors. Dottye was taken from home and treated. What was she treated for? How did they treat her? How long was she gone, that time?

Ruby told us "Dottye called me from Las Vegas crying hysterically with a gun in her mouth. She wanted to kill herself. I talked her out of it and then she came to stay with me." Yes, that was the time in Vegas where she got pregnant with me. Was the gun in her mouth before or after she got pregnant. It would seem that it was after.

I look at her photos and there are only a couple where I can see happiness. The others, there is something in her eyes. I hate to say it as I see it but to me it looks like a sadness as close to death as you can get while still being alive.

Where did this sadness start? Was she born with it? Was it given to her by genes or did it begin when she left her first home for the orphanage? What happened to send her to the orphanage? Why couldn't she find peace?

My video says she died as she was finally finding happiness. I don't actually believe that, it just seemed like a good way to end the video. I actually think, or my gut says she was as unhappy as ever. Not more, not less, just the same stagnant way of living. Trying to find something to fix her pain while avoiding where the pain came from.

I know where my pain comes from and I swear I am doing my best to fix it. The barriers I run into are maybe a part of my own stubbornness and strong will. I can't see moving on past the pain until I complete my search. I don't know how to move past needing the answers of where I came from.

There are days where I can relate to her without even knowing the answers. There are days where I carry her pain though I know she never asked me to. 

There are so many days where I wish I could scream at the top of my lungs, but I've done it before and it didn't help much.

You would think that with all of the road blocks I have had to move over 21 years I might throw in the towel. The truth is, I can't. I've lived more years searching then not, and I just don't know how to "let it go." Fact is, I really don't even know how to take a break for more then a day or so.

There's something or someone out there, I just have to figure out the way to get to them. I know I have a lot of tools I just am having a hard time figuring out which one to use.

It's not a great moment right now. 

I wonder, did her mood change as often, as fast, and without warning like mine does?

Nah, I don't need to wonder, I'm sure it did.

Slow day's

I think part of the reason why a search is compared to a roller coaster ride is because there are so many ups and downs, and in many cases like my own, a lot of twists.

It's been a slow day or two and I find that my brain has a hard time with that. It's when I am busy with several different things going on that I seem to feel the most active.

When I don't have this resource to check or that person to write, I end up in a brain fart funk where I can't seem to think of a thing to do and I feel the minutes ticking by.

It also gives me the time to allow the feelings to surface and I don't tend to do well with that at all.

Tomorrow is my mothers birthday. I sent her a little gift, something I think she can use. I will cal with my usual greeting and hope that the conversation sticks to news, weather and sports. No feelings usually ends well.

I'm finding that I am having a difficult time with those who don't seem to understand, or those who don't care to try to understand, the importance of my search.

How can you look at all that I have done, the time and money spent, and not understand that this is more then a want, it is a need.

I have those who I feel like should understand it more so then others. One of those people I am beginning to feel myself draw back from for they have shown a lack of commitment when saying they will do certain tasks. I can't be overly open about it here, and that just plain sucks. I had opened this blog in hopes of truly being able to vent at any given time. Maybe I should have kept it private, maybe those words that I am holding in will come out at some point.

So, in order to feel active I am going to do my best to  list what I have done thus far, in hopes of finding my truth.I hope that I can remember everything, and I hope that maybe a few of you who may be searching, not just in adoption, might be able to pull something from my list that will help!Please keep in mind that my search began before the home computer (gasp!) and that many of the things I have listed, I have done multiple times.

While under the age of 18:

Sneak through my parents filing cabinet, desk and anyplace I had access, looking for documents.

Ask questions, in my case usually in a subtle way, take notes.

18:

Went to the Probate Court house.

Petitioned the court for my file.

Wrote Dear Abby

Letters to the editor in local papers.

Wrote talk shows including: Oprah, Maury, Montell, Sally.

20's through today:

Continued to write talk shows: Oprah, Dr. Phil , Dr. Oz, The View...........

Write TV : Unsolved Mysteries, Find My Family, The Locator, Dateline, Regis, Who Do You Think You Are, Search, Good Morning America, The Today show.

Wrote the governor of Ohio.

Paid and petitioned the court for my non id.

Wrote Ohio Vital Stats.

Internet search and forums as well as registries.

Researched with search books and memoirs.

Placed items for sale on Ebay and included in the description about my adoption search.

Once I found Dottye at a grave:

Asked for all info from the funeral home

Spoke to the police department about the accident report, no longer have it.

Joined Yahoo state specific search groups.

Hired a CI in Arizona.

Joined classmates for the years Dottye should have been in school.

Placed an in memory ad with photo in Ohio and Las Vegas paper

Took a dna test with a possible brother via birth father (was not a match)

Continued to ask questions to my parents

Asked the court again for more info with Dottye's death certificate

Continued to write talk shows and TV shows

Wrote letters to people who signed Dottye's funeral book.

Hired a no find no fee searcher who did not stand by her contract and never searched.

Spoke to Allison Dubois twice

Spoke to the man who took Dottye's funeral photos.

Spoke to Floyd Sneed of Three Dog Night

Started a web site on my search

Posted on Craigslist in Vegas, Columbus and Boston about my search.

Contacted any form of media

Spoke to the widow of Dottye's widow.

Spoke to people at a family reunion

Took a DNA test with Bo Jennings (not a match for myself and Waylon)

Took a DNA test with my sister (we are indeed only half sisters)

Trip to Vegas:

Went to the University and copied the 1970 City directory

Went to the library and scanned on micro film for my "Legal notice"

Went to all casino's that still exist from 1971 and spoke to dealers, pit bosses as well as front desk staff. Handed out cards to my site.

Went to the Italian American club and spoke to the manager and bar tender about my search.

 Since being home from Vegas:

Wrote to every person I could find who worked in Keno in the 1970 City Directory (over 200 letters)

Wrote to talk shows and media.

Tried to hire another no find no fee searcher, they wouldn't take my case

Tried to get my agency name from the courts, still waiting on that.

Emailed every senator and legislator in Ohio

Made a youtube video about my search

Did basic DNA on two sites: familytreedna and 23andme   Have many 4th and 5th cousin matches but unable to make the connection.

This is what I have so far. Of coarse I also wrote my book and it sits collecting dust while I wait for the final chapter as well as for my sister to edit it. Once I get my final chapter (finding my birth father) I will hire an editor and get it published. Should piss a few people off, but hopefully help a few others.

That's all I can think of for now.......................

Here's a photo from this past birthday, 39 years old, 21 years of "legal" searching. Still hopeful. I'm sure you can guess my wish.

~When the phone rings~

It's my 6th birthday since knowing that my first mother, my birth mother, my natural mother........Dottye is dead.

Can I call it funny that when the phone rings on this day my heart still skips a beat as I go to see who it is calling?

No, it's not really funny because the pain that is there when I know it's not her is still as strong as ever.

Each call, there were not many thank goodness, I have Shannon look to see if it is an out of town number.

You know, in case "he" calls.

In case someone who knew him, maybe he's dead, but maybe someone will call to tell me who he was.

It didn't happen.

The waiting for that call moves into a lot of years now.

Someday it might happen.

I can't help but to feel sadness that today wasn't that day.

I am glad Shannon took the day off today. It was the best gift for sure.

He asked me several times how I was doing.

I know he caught me in thought many times. He didn't ask me what I was thinking, just put his hand on my knee or around my waist. Sometimes it's just good to feel him there, without having to try and give words to my thoughts. Without having to justify my mood.

We went to the casino today. It was just the right thing to do you know, being conceived in Vegas and all.

We walked to the far end , exercise is important :0), and sat down at our favorite machines.

He was a few isles over when the song started to play.

I ended my gambling early in order to go to him and make sure he heard the song.

Joy to the World by Three Dog Night.

Yes, Dottye, I hear you.

I miss you,I love you, and every now and then I hear you.

Joy to the World  <- click there to hear the song!

It wasn't just me....................

When I type it usually just flies out.

I don't read what I type in blog like places.

I do know the feelings that I have before, and then after I get the words out.

Some days I feel guilt as I let it come out.

Guilt?

I felt today would be a good day to flip the coin.

I wasn't the only one who got hurt.

I wasn't the one who got screwed.

I can blame my parents, or be upset with them, for their lack of understanding or willingness to be open as we are now all adults.

I can not however blame them for how they responded to bringing me home.

I'm not sure what is told to adoptive parents now. I know they have to take some classes, but honestly there are a few books that I have read that I don't believe are in those classes. I can hope that there has been change, I am doubtful though.

My parents were told to bring me home and treat me as their own. I was even going to look like them after all. 

Being taken away from the womb and placed into my new home would not cause any harm.

After all, I would be so much better off.

Truth is, I can look back and see how it would have been believed that I was better off. In so many ways I am sure that I was. Imagine: Dottye died when I was just 13 months old. How would her widow, or the rest of her family have felt about raising a child that she had during a mental collapse as well as an affair? Would I feel stares? Would anger be pushed towards me. Would I be blamed for her untimely death?

My parents were told to raise me as their own, and by doing so I would be.

There were a few problems with that. I wasn't theirs, not by blood, genes or heritage.

I looked enough alike them to avoid the stares of strangers.

My personality would never match up.

There were too many things in my personality that ran through my blood from Dottye as well as I'm sure my birth father, and while my parents wanted me to be like them, or more like my brothers, there was just never really a chance.

They were set up as well.

Set up to believe a fairy tale the system told.

I can't blame them for believing what they were told.

So, had to put that out there. I know my parents did the best that they could with the tools that they had.

My only wish is that they could continue to grow, to allow change, and to someday at least try to understand my needs.

Celebrate my Birthday with me by sharing my link below? 

Sometimes you just need to hear the words

You should be grateful.

I was sitting here thinking that no one actually said it to me. Maybe some friends as we were children who didn't know better said it. Not anyone who was important though.

It was always felt by myself though, that I needed to be grateful for the family I had.

I was special, picked, chosen.

Maybe if I wasn't grateful enough I would no longer be their picked child, and returned.

As I sat and thought I remembered.

It was my oldest brothers engagement party.

My parents had the party at their house. 

There were so many people there I just have no idea the actual number.

There was one lady there who we called an Aunt. She wasn't, she was just a very close friend of my fathers. When we would go to visit my dad's family in Ohio we would go visit her family as if they were truly family as well. 

Aunt "E" said she needed to talk to me. We headed upstairs to my parents room where it was quiet and dark.

We stood at the foot of my parents bed in front of the large windows the overlooked the front of our house. We lived high up on a hill, everyone knew our house it seemed.

"Oh, you live on the hill" people would say.

She got right to the point and she waved her finger in my face.

"You should be grateful for all your parents have done for you. You've put them through so much, you should be grateful!" she used some other words to sting. I stood there just watching her finger as she spoke in such a nasty tone to me.

I was shocked. I had been "sober" and playing the good girl for them. I was almost 18 and so close to getting out of there. It stung but I couldn't help but to wonder why she was so angry with me. Maybe she had something going on with her own family and felt comfortable taking it out on me?

And grateful?

For what?

It never ceases to amaze me when people chose a side without knowing both of the sides.

I know I usually do my best to see both sides.

Lord I have the bills from shrinks to back up the fact that I honestly have tried to see both sides.

There's a point, and I feel like I'm rather close to it, where it is time to chose my side.

It's hard, cutting those cords even when they are not healthy.

Someone once said to me "What do you hope to get from this relationship?"

It's a great question really.

What do I want, what do I hope to give in return, and how much damage to my own being should I sacrifice in order to please?

In high school and even once I got out on my own I used to cut myself, and hit myself.

The cuts and bruises felt so good. It was a release for the pain that I felt inside. It was almost like venting because I had no idea what the pain was about, where it came from or what to do with it.

The often hidden bruise or cut was my release. I could feel it, see it, and knew full well where it came from.

The pain inside, I had no idea where it came from, and even as an adult it was very confusing.

I saw that "Aunt" a few years ago at a wedding. She could see that I was cold and draped her shawl over my shoulders. I honestly nearly crapped my pants as she put her arm around me to try and warm me up. All I could think, and tell my husband later was "Why was that bitch pretending to like me?"

I can't say for sure. 

Maybe she thought I had shown that I was grateful?

I have had a lot of experiences in my life, and some day I'll post them or get that book out there. I do believe that each experience was started by the one prior. And if we're going to get into it, it did all start with my birth.

I may never be grateful enough. Part of that is my own problem with my super sonic memory. I retain things that hurt me, I do my best to let them go but when I get hurt again, they fly back into memory.

I've spent my life trying to figure out who to survive it, how to feel comfortable in it. I've had to change the way that I see some things in order to feel like a better person. Not better then someone else, just a better me. 

Can I be grateful?

You betcha'!!

I'm grateful for the love that I feel from some of the people in my life. I'm grateful for the health that I have. I'm grateful for so many things, even the things that make me sad or angry. 

I will not however "show I'm grateful" just to make someone else feel more comfortable.

Grateful.

I'll be 39 years old tomorrow. I'm grateful that my mother was wrong, and I've mad it way past 18 :0)

I'm your gift!!!! or ?????

June 7th 1972.

The story often changed, or more was disclosed as the years went by.

Two facts never changed.

I was born on June 2nd.

I went home to my new family on June 7th, my adoptive mothers Birthday.

It was often said I was a gift, going home on my mom's birthday. 

With the anger and adolescence I began to think I was no gift at all, but rather stealing the light from my mother's own special day.

My mom never made me feel that way, no, I did that all on my own.

I could only imagine what my own feelings would be.

Bring home a baby on my Birthday?? It's supposed to be your own special day, and I made her have to share it.

I was told that I had to stay in the hospital for 5 days because I was premature. It was true that I was premature.I was tiny weighing 4 pounds 11 ounces. My parents said I had to be in an incubator for those five days, why shouldn't I believe that to be the truth?

On my 32nd Birthday, the month before finding Dottye at a grave, I set my mom up yet once again.

"I'm contacting the hospital to find out my birth name." I told her.

"Birth name? What do you mean? You know your name." she replied.

"Well mom, if I was in the hospital for 5 days, then you had not yet adopted me, I had to have another name." I said with strength.

I asked her to tell me the story again.

This time, there were two new "facts".

"Mom, why did you have to wait five days to get me?" I asked.

"They had to run blood tests on you. They had to make sure there were not any drugs or anything in your system. Also, I had a health scare. We had to deal with that first. Depending on what the results were from my own scare, I had to decide if we were still going to get you. Your blood tests were fine and my scare was just a scare, so we decided we would adopt you." she said as I allowed her to speak without interruptions.

I insisted that because I had "no family" for five days, I would have had to have had a different name, and that I intended to find out what it was.

We finished out that conversation. I reminded Shannon that patience, and asking the same thing over and over would some day pay off.

It was the following month that I got Dottye's name, my sisters name, and also my name.

My mother was right in a sense.

That is, unless "Girl Moore" can be considered a "name".

I did write to the hospital with in a couple of months of finding Dottye at a grave. The answer to records, even writing as if I was never adopted at all, was that they had been destroyed. It had been over 25 years, and I imagine that they may be telling the truth. I would never know anything especially about those five days.......

or so I thought.

It wasn't much but when I got some of my documents from the courts, after my sister spoke on my behalf and I sent them Dottye's death certificate, I did get one document pertaining to my hospital stay. It was a letter from a doctor to my parents attorney. It stated that while Dottye had done drugs on several occasions while pregnant, I showed no ill signs of it. I later tracked down the doctor who is retired but gave permission to his old office manager to search archived records. She took a day to search through storage which was above and beyond what most folks have offered and actually followed through on. She called me with the news:

"It's odd. I did find one piece of paper pertaining to you. It was not in a file though. It was in a box of files but there is not a file for you, just this one piece of paper that was in the box with other patient files."

She sent me a fax of it, and it was the same letter that I already had.

I couldn't help but to smile though.

She had really gone above and beyond. I get a warm feeling with every day folks go above and beyond like that.

I did not share this information with my mother until 6 years later, which was last year. It was just before the bomb of a fight hit between my mother and I. Before the fight I had offered to share the letter with her. I told her : "I will mail it to you, and address it to you. It seems that when ever I email anything to dad pertaining to my adoption he ignores the email. It is possible that my emails are not getting to his in box. So, while I will give him the benefit of the doubt, I would feel more comfortable making a copy of this and mailing it to you so I can be sure that you get to see it."

A week later we had a heck of a fight and I decided that anything she wants pertaining to my search or paper work along the way she can get herself. 

So you see, Birthdays aren't all horrible. Each year or close to it I am able to sneak just a little more information out. And it may not help me to find my birth father, but it helps me just to know or to try and know the truth.

And I may never feel like I was some sort of special gift to my mother, but I do know that she had the same choices that Dottye had. Just because my father wanted a daughter doesn't mean she had to go get me that day, her birthday.