Story Time

I've been thinking that this is as good a venue as any for the one thing that I spend some time on as my own "cause", if you will. There are some of you who know me and read this blog and may not know this story, and some of you I've barely become acquainted with through writing here who know none of it as well. But you'll know as much as I do, now.

I was born in December of 1976 in a small town in Northeastern Pennsylvania, to a woman who was employed at the time as a sewing machine operator somewhere in that town. She had been pregnant by a man who she may or may not have been married to, and he was employed as a truck driver. She had graduated high school; he had little education past junior high. She had been pregnant four times before she had me, and three of those pregnancies had resulted in the successful birth of a child. Throughout this pregnancy she received no prenatal care. She was nearly 30.

Who knows what this woman's history was, or his. Did they have too large a family? Were they unmarried and poor? For any of these reasons, or perhaps none of them, they made the decision to place me for adoption. I can only thank them for that decision, because they could have made another and I would not be here to tell this story.

At this same time, another man and woman lived only twenty minutes away, starting their lives together. They had recently purchased a home and moved out of their last apartment. He had landed a good job as a professor at a local college, and she was a secretary at a law firm. Both were well-educated and well-traveled, and were ready to settle in to family life. For reasons I do not know and can only speculate on, they made the decision to adopt children. A lawyer and family friend was consulted with, and their wait began. It may be well known that families can often wait years for a newborn to adopt, and I do not know how long their search had lasted. When I was born, and the adoption finalized on my birthmother's side, the lawyer took me from the hospital himself and brought me to the house I grew up in. My birthmother had named me Leann; my adopting family chose a different name, the only one I ever knew until I learned "Leann" earlier this year.

What questions this information alone brings! Am I part Irish? I look it, some have said. Did she keep my older siblings? Where are they? Do they know about me? Was she married? Does my birthfather know about me? Does he have other children? Did I know any of them? Did I go to school with them? Are they alive?

But the story doesn't end there. Sixteen months went by. My parents (my PARENTS, my adoptive family, and it's them who love me and I love them, and none of this curiosity changes that -- would it change it for you?) were wanting another child. Their desire had barely been expressed to the same lawyer who handled my adoption. But he was looking out for them, and one night in April of 1978 they received his call. There was an infant boy being placed for adoption, and they could have him if they wanted. They needed to talk about it. They talked. They called him back. They said yes.

I'm glad you've made that decision, the lawyer said. Because I just found out that he is your daughter's biological sibling. Of course, he'd known, but couldn't say, because that would have swayed their decision to do something that they needed to decide without obligation. So I had a brother. A birthbrother, an adoptive brother, a "real" brother.

Now, I have no idea if my birthmother knew. Did the lawyer tell her that he might go to the same family? I assume that she would have contacted the same lawyer when deciding to go through adoption again. Was this her intention? Not to get pregnant, but to keep us together? Was she religious? Does that explain the apparent lack of birth control, at her age?

Now, I have to question the validity of some of this. Not that I doubt the words of my parents, or those of the lawyer who told him it was so. But was she telling the truth? Even if he's a half-brother to me, it's still a rare occurance and I have yet to come across anyone else with the same experience. What was my birthfather's role in all of this? Did she have to do it alone? Did he make her do it? What did her family think?

There are a million places to search. The internet has made that easier, and more difficult. Well-meaning individuals touched by the adoption experience develop a search site, allow you to post information, and then neglect to update the site after a year to two because it's too much work. Email addresses change. All the time. Private investigators want to take your money, but can't always be trusted, and most of the time you can uncover the same information for free if you have enough time. But that's what no adoptee has enough of. It could be a full time job in itself, if you had the energy. But it takes too much of that too, sometimes.

The information I learned about my birthparents came only earlier this year. I finally took the time to call the Orphans' Court in the county of my birth and request my "non-id" (non-identifying information). I could send them a more detailed letter and request all medical information, for the sake of myself and my own children. And if I really want to bring out the big guns, I could request that they make an attempt to contact them, or dig through their ancient and unorganized records, to see if they've agreed to contact should I ever seek it out. "So why haven't you done that?" you may be asking. Like I said, time, money, energy, other obligations...and, what would I do then? Yes, I want to know. But once you reach the point of contact, you're stuck in that place. What will she say? Does she really want to know me anyway? WHAT IF SHE HANGS UP THE PHONE? What if she's dead?

I do not lose perspective at this point. I know, from my own personal experience, what she may be feeling. I myself have placed a child for adoption. But I know where he is and I know he is happy. I know his name and when the time comes, if he chooses, he can know mine. Knowledge is sometimes all you need. I cannot imagine having made the decision I did if I were to have given up that knowledge as well. My birthmother did not have that option. State officials at that time, and even now, believed it to be in the best interests of all involved if information was sealed away. In some cases, perhaps it is. But that is not their decision to make. So people like me are left to exhaust all efforts at a snail's pace. Files in basements, unsympathetic secretaries, wrong phone numbers, changed addresses, deceased participants in the adoption process; the changes of twenty-seven years add up to huge hurdles. But it's not impossible. As I said, it could be that a few demanding letters, a few more online searches, a few more posts here and there that someone who recognizes this story might read...any of this might lead to a name.

I know who I am. My like has taken the course it has without this gap being filled. If I never know, the effect of not knowing will be subtle. I may not even give it much thought until there is no time left to search. But the thought that really keeps this going is that I'm not the only one who doesn't know. My birthmother and birthfather are somewhere. My birthsiblings are somewhere. They have to be wondering about it, too, don't they?

I imagine it's very hard for anyone who is not adopted to understand how this feels. Imagine tracing back your family tree. I have. We can trace my father's side of the family back to before the Civil War. We have letters he wrote from that time. I, like my father, love history. For me, especially, American history is fascinating, and the lines of families through time is some intricate web that we're all a part of. Except that here I am, part of my family's web, but that man from the Civil War didn't look like me. I do indeed feel that he is part of my family, that I am part of his. Yet somewhere else there is another family tree that has me on it as well. I'm very lucky to have that as a part of myself. But I have to find it first. So for now I'll continue to write my own "personal ad":


12/9/76 Female adoptee ISO BM, BF and siblings; born in Hazleton, PA at St. Joseph's Medical Center, 7:33 p.m. by Dr. Koch; may have three older siblings; BM near 30 at time of birth, sewing machine operator, BF a truck driver; may have named child "Leann" before adoption. BM also had son 4/11/78, also placed for adoption.