So how did I find her?

Well.. someone asked, how did I find my birth mother.

Grab a seat, a glass of wine (or whatever your poison) and read on.

So after I received all my non identifying information I was interested in finding out who she was. Who this mystery woman was who cared enough to have me hang around in her for 9 months and then hope I would have a great life. So I contacted my adoption agency again, which by the way is The Cradle in Illinois, and for a few buck (like $5000) they would "see" if they could track her down and "see" if she wanted to have contact with me. I was going through a very bitter separation, was working two part time jobs and raising my child full time. 5G's was not in the cards. Even if it was, I feel it to be somewhat of a blood money/blackmail situation. Some folks just don't have that, and why should they have to pay for something if perhaps their biological parents are out there looking for them too?

So what happened? Here's a little tid bit that had NOTHING to do with finding my birth mother. It turns out that at the same exact time (down to a week period) when I contacted The Cradle my biological mother had also contacted The Cradle looking to see how to try to find me. Wow that would have made a good 10G's for them huh if we had paid. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

But back to reality.. Reality TV that is.

So one night after I put my little one to bed, I sat down with a bottle of cabernet or merlot and sat in front of the computer with the internet. I punched in adopted children websites. By this point I felt that this was going to be my last ditch effort to find her. After The Cradle extortion I tried to figure out Illinois laws and they were INSANE relative to closed and sealed adoptions in the 70's. I could hire an attorney, go to court, be granted the ability to see what my birth parents were, but if my birth parents had blocked me from looking then it was all for naught.

So a glass of vino in, I started hitting every adopted child reunion website possible. I put in all the information I knew from my non identifying information. I put information on so many websites I called it quits at 4 am. This was my last ditch effort. I walked away from that computer with carpal tunnel syndrome and most likely a hang over in the making.

I felt at peace. I had done all I could do and I was exhausted. I left my search right there at the computer and carried on with my life. Of course I felt that 1/2 of those websites I entered all my information into would sign me up for swingers sights and credit theft disaster so I used my work information for contacts.

Nate Fletcher (way back when he was a dispatcher for our dept) called me one Sunday morning. He said "hey Woof, your mom is trying to call you". That seemed really weird since of course my mother knows all my information. She would never need to call my work to find me. Then he went on to tell me that it was actually a woman from Florida who said she had found my mom and was trying to get in touch with me. I had no idea what this meant so I came into work. He gave me the Floridian's phone number and I called it back. I still remember to this day sitting in a chair at work where a woman named Judy had told me that she had a match. She worked for one of the web search engines and that absolutely everything I had put down in my online search matched that my birth mother had entered. I didn't believe her. And this also meant that my birth mother had been looking for me!

So like all good folks who work in a police department- I grilled her. I refused to believe that this is real. She told me everything, and then asked if it was ok that she give my phone number to my birth mother. ABSO FREAKIN LUTELY!! She also told me that after our phone call if we wanted to meet she would make sure that would happen. At first I was ecstatic but then I asked for more details. Free web search data bases don't just fly people around to meet each other without something for them to gain. The fine print was that we would have to go on a tv show. Deal off. Too tacky.

So anyway, she still gave me the name of my birth mother and told me that she was going to have my birth mother call me later that day. Denise, my birth mother, did call and it opened up this whole new world.

Now many of you who know me realize I am an optimistic skeptic. I wanted more solid proof. In the next few days, when I can get a portable scanner home I will scan pictures of myself and Denise. You'll see no DNA testing is necessary. Denise sent me pictures of her right around the time she had me all the way up to currently. She also sent me a few baby pictures and it is next to impossible to tell us apart

In the beginning

We're always evolving, changing, growing. What if you had a part of your foundation of your life that was unknown. That you felt that part may play a part in your "formatting"? That you can't understand certain things that you are drawn to, or why you are the way you are about other things.

I grew up a very privileged life. My family had always told me I was adopted so that I would be comfortable with that. It was always told to me that I was "chosen" and "wanted". I lived in a large house in Darien, CT, had horses growing up, and was allowed to let the equestrian passion carry into my every day life from the time I was 8 years ago up until now. But there's just some things I didn't (and still don't) get. How does a girl who grew up in a very white collar environment, have every monetary advantage ever asked for given to her, go to the best private schools, end up living in a renovated barn in a bedroom community of MA. Growing up I lived in 4000+ square feet of spoiled exaggerated and quietly exploited wealth. Why do I chose to life the way i live now?. How is it horses are such a large part of my life when none of my family growing up shared that passion?

And where the hell did motorcycles come from? SERIOUSLY! Where I grew up it was beamers, porches, ferraris, and mercedes. NOT MOTORCYCLES. Unless you were Paul Newman (who lived nearby).When I was 8, my neighbor, Mr. Lane, had a Goldwing and took me out for a ride down Hollow Tree Ridge Road and Cherry Lane in Darien. I had my pony club riding helmet on and I fell in love instantly with the wind in my hair. I realize now that I am a high adrenaline junkie. Love galloping and jumping horses, climbing trees, riding bikes and mixed martial arts.

I don't think twice to breaking a nail while changing the oil on my bike, and I wear my bruises from MMA with pride. I show them off to my coworkers at the Norfolk Police Dept.

For my work I am an animal control officer and a special police officer. I chase rabid animals and kill them. I go to calls where people are ready to kill someone about something. I get bit by dogs, I pick up lost pets and keep them safe until their owners can come get them, and in some cases I take people's animals away because of something they did or didn't do to or for them. I protect people from animal problems and I protect animals from people problems. I'm pretty good at it apparently since I was named Animal Control Officer of the year for the State of MA. I've seen animals drown, burn, freeze to death, hit by car, hit by train, and shot. If I can offer ANY love before or during their time of pain then I've done what I can do. Deer hit by car rarely die instantly. Usually it's their legs and they try like hell to leave the area because that's their instinct. Some know that I'm going to put them out of their misery. Some are frantic. If I can pet the sweet spot on their head,right between their eyes (the most vulnerable spot on a deer), it will put them at ease. They instantly relax. It makes the next step easier on everyone. Now don't anyone try this... They can also bite you , and strike you with their front legs (even if they're broken). How did I become an animal control officer? Why? Sure the job was posted, but why did I even think to try out for it?

Something drew me to motorcycles, animals, and law enforcement. It certainly wasn't my lifestyle growing up.

Short answer: My birth mother loves sheep, and wrote an agricultural newspaper about sheep ranching, and is a youth corrections officer. My birth father was very known to law enforcement (chuckle) and LOVED motorcycles.. loved to steal them and loved to ride them (more chuckling).

I had my only son in 1998. I was going through a lot of changes in my life and having a child made me wonder if I had any health risks with me that were genetic and perhaps I should try to go find my genetic past. I placed a call to the adoption agency and they responded that with $1000 they would send me all the non identifying information about my birth family.

I received a packet in the mail. My name at birth had been "Barbara". I learned some info about my genetic material but what stood out the most was that I learned my mother was only 15 years old when she was pregnant. WOW. She has to be the strongest young lady ever to be 1, pregnant, 2, living in a time where that is not socially acceptable, 3. she was shipped off during her pregnancy to not stain the family's name, 4. give up a baby that she carried for that long and just walk away.... Just walk away... Never know what happened. And she could have easily aborted me.

I wanted to thank her. That's what this whole thing is about. And I have always wanted to do this before I turn 40.

Guess what... We found each other 12 years ago on line. We've spoken on the phone, we email back and forth. We've mailed each other pictures. I'm going to meet her on my 40th birthday this year.

This blog is going to be an emotional pilgrimage into the adopted child's mind. I will talk about what it's like to be adopted and the process of how we found each other. This blog is also intended to show my physical pilgrimage. I am embarking on a two week motorcycle journey with three friends of mine to go meet her (yes, she knows we're coming!). We'll be riding the highways, several hundred miles a day, taking steam ships across lake Michigan, riding through the badlands, going through Canada, visiting different national treasures along the way and seeing things that I've never seen before. I was always afraid to travel as a child. I always wanted to stay home. Silly as it was, it was because I didn't want someone to leave me behind again. I knew the people that loved me would eventually come home. I missed a lot of trips with my family to Italy, France, etc because I was just afraid. My life now is wonderful, stable, and enriched. My husband is supportive and strong. He encourages me to grow. To spread those wings, be all I can be (insert rolling eyes at sarcasm here).

We leave July 14th from Massachusetts to go to Montana.

There's so much to prepare for... 99 days away.

You'll hear about the folks I'm travelling with. They'll post along the way as well. I'm sure with embarrassing pictures of me, perhaps me sleepwalking through hotels which I am known to do. You'll probably also hear from my family members as well. I have a sibling who is adopted as well and sometimes he can explain things way better than I ever can.