Page one of three

Fifteen years ago I searched for and found my birth parents. It was such a unique experience, I wrote a book about it, fictionalizing the story. This article will give you a personal perspective of one family's reunion.

I was adopted when I was three weeks old. At about the age of seven, my parents told me I was adopted, but I didn't have a clue what that meant, and of course didn't understand it until I was older. My parents tried for eleven years to have a child of their own. They went through the adoption process, and as it so often happens, my mother got pregnant. So my older brother was born. Because of complications, my parents couldn't have any more children, and so they went through the adoption process again and got me.

So here I was, an adopted child living with a natural child. I always felt so different from the rest of my family. But my mom always said that they "chose" me, and that was meant to make me feel special, which most of the time it did. There were however times when I was growing up, that being adopted was confusing, especially as a teenager. My brother and I were worlds apart and never close while growing up, although I am happy to say that we are very close as adults.

I was always curious about being adopted, and where I might have come from. My mother was quite forthcoming with the information she had surrounding my birth. She knew that my birth mother was sixteen when she was pregnant with me. I was born in 1956, and that was a horrible thing to be, sixteen and pregnant. She was sent to a home for unwed mothers to wait out her pregnancy. Times were so different back then, there was no question that I would be put up for adoption. It all seemed like a simple story, which it wasn't. Thank goodness times have changed and the stigma is not the same.

It wasn't until I had my first child that I seriously started thinking about my background. When I took my daughter to the pediatrician for the first time, he asked me questions about my medical background, etc. I didn't have any answers for him. I mean you can't exactly use your adoptive history for that! So it got me to thinking. There were other factors as well. My mother was also adopted. She was never told. She found out by mistake when she was in her mid-thirties, and felt horribly betrayed by her parents. I don't think she really ever got over it. She was never able to discover who her biological parents were. But I saw what it did to her, she was terribly bitter and resentful for the rest of her life. But of course it was also the reason that she had been so honest with me about being adopted, which I was grateful for.

About the same time, I was taking a creative writing class at a local community college. My instructor gave us writing assignments every week, and I wrote about being adopted. Turns out that she was adopted as well. After class one evening, she told me that her biggest regret in life was that she never tried to find her biological parents. She was well into her sixties at that time, and felt it was too late.

Then, what clinched it for me was a small inheritance I received from a relative who passed away. It just seemed like fate was pushing me in that direction. Everything was falling into place. Now I had the desire and the means. Even though I was afraid, it did seem that it was my destiny to embark on a search for some answers.

My mom even encouraged me. She thought it was a good idea to find out my history. I hired a private investigator and gave him as much information that I could. Two things that really helped, I had been given a name at birth, and I knew the city I was born in. The search began.

Click here to continue story

For details of the Lori Paris novel please click here