Adopted from Passaic County, NJ, USA
Now living in Pennsylvania
I was born in 1966 and named Michelle. I was adopted in 1968 after 2 years of foster care. My adoptive mom didn’t like the name Michelle. So she named me Dawn, but they had to call me Dawn Michele to get a response.
After having my first child in 1989 and my second one in 1992, I wanted to know my genetics. That Christmas I searched and searched, and by March 1993 I met my birth father. He was no longer with my birth mother, but they had been married and had a son. I met my full brother at the same time I met my birth father. It was nice, after 27 years of wondering and 2 children, to learn about my genetics, where I came from, why I was given up, and if I was like anyone else.
My birth mother was 16 when she had me. My birth father went into boot camp in the Coast Guard after I was born. Later in 1993, through my brother’s prodding, I met my birth mother! When I arrived on her doorstep, she came out and gave me the most wonderful hug of my life. I swear in that moment, on her porch and in her arms, all my broken pieces were fixed. I was whole. For the first time in my life I felt a mother’s love.
As we sat together, my husband was in disbelief. He said we appeared to be bookends, held our glass the same way, etc. After never having anyone similar to me, I was amazed too. My initial birth father meeting went well too. I met my brother, stepmother, half brother, and his fiancé, and we all went to dinner. I think the other people distracted from the moment of him and me, and that’s why the connection wasn’t as deep at first. I was a bit overwhelmed.
As the years progressed, my birth mother became my best friend. We didn’t live close by, but we chatted every day, and even more often when she got cancer. I went to the hospitals. We played cards. We talked. We stayed up late. I had my best friend, my birth mother, for over 7 years in my life. It wasn’t enough time, but it was quality time.
I talked to my birth father often and visited him too. He almost always had one of my siblings at his house when I visited, or other company. But a few weeks before he died, I spent a long weekend with him while his wife attended a wedding. He was in end-stage COPD. We had quality time when he could breathe. Just us. We discussed things we hadn’t before. It was a melancholy encounter, but also a blessing. We had thirty-two years of knowing each other, but that weekend was the most connecting experience.
My adoptive parents are deceased, as are now my birth parents. But I still have my full brother. I don’t communicate with my birth father’s other children at all. One is in jail, and the other I found to be too fake. I shy away, or better yet run away, from fake people. I’m genuine. My birth mother was genuine. Any personality traits I inherited from her, I’m humbled.
In comparing, I’m probably more like my birth father personality-wise, but due to my adoptive upbringing, I was raised with more morals. That’s a long story. Through my searching, I learned that I was too wild for my adoptive family (in their eyes!) and too docile for my birth family. But I’m just right for my husband 🙂 That’s where I fit in and am not judged.
To all those looking, I hope you find. The only thing I’d have changed then, if I knew what I know now, I would have kept my life separate. I was too freeing and open and brought my children. As their mom, I should have protected them more and not let them think this was their family, especially the one 1/2 uncle in jail.
