Lesson in life
All my life I have known I was adopted.
My parents and sister are tall, slender with dark hair and I am the complete opposite.
I still love to hear the story of how my parents ended up with me and now it has a happier ending.
My sister is nine years older than I am and was an only child.
She wanted a sister; my Dad on the other hand wanted a son.
Once it became clear to my parents they were not able to have another child, the adoption process started.
After two years of home visits, paperwork and waiting the phone call came in.
&uot;We know your on the list for a boy but there is a girl here you have to see,&uot; said the social worker from the adoption agency.
My Dad was a bit apprehensive, but my mom was ready to go.
A few months later my parents were dressed in their matching white bell-bottoms en route to pick me up.
It is a two-hour drive from where my parents picked me up to my hometown. Within the first few minutes of picking me up, I managed to throw up all over my mom’s pants.
What a great first impression?
I don’t know why but my parents let my sister pick out my name, and at the time she was a huge Little House on Prairie fan.
Why not name your little sister the same name as Laura Ingles little sister?
I suppose it could be worse; it was the 70’s and I am sure there were TV characters with off the wall names.
When I turned 18 I started the search for my biological parents.
I petitioned the court for non-identifying information and joined an adoption support group.
Once I left for college, sorority parties and homework put my search on hold.
My first job out of college was with a newspaper group who owned a paper in the town my biological parents are from.
I decided to place a classified ad looking for my biological mother.
I received phone call after phone call of people thinking they may be her, but the information did not match.
Month after month passed and out of the blue she called me.
In talking to her I knew it would be the last we spoke. She had a husband and family who did not know about her past.
She e-mailed me on my birthday the next year and I have lost contact with her.
I was disheartened by my contact with her and the thought never crossed my mind of searching for contact with another biological family member.
Last year, out of the blue, my friend from Michigan called me. She had been searching Internet adoption sites looking for a relative.
In her search process she came across a biological father with information matching mine.
I quickly jumped online and accessed the website. Everything matched.
For months I carried around his e-mail address and phone number, too scared to make contact.
I came to the realization that he is looking for me and wanted me to make contact.
I sent a quick e-mail, stating I may be the person he was looking for. Within seconds I had an e-mail back from him.
We exchanged photos and there was no doubt what so ever we were father and daughter.
My first phone conversation with Jonathan lasted hours; we had 28 years to catch up on.
Jonathan is the type of Dad you dream about having. At the time he was vice president of a rum distillery in New Orleans.
He is also an artist and has a PHD in who knows what; has traveled the world on only a few dollars and makes puppets in his spare time.
He is quite the opposite of my accountant, &uot;by the book&uot; dad.
Jonathan and I talk all the time on the phone and via e-mail.
I also have e-mail contact with his parents and I am their only grandchild.
I am so happy I decided to make the initial contact and made my life story a little more colorful.