This is a Very Long Story, one I haven't blogged about because I genuinely thought it would make a better book. I still plan to write that book, but after trying--and failing--to get a single chapter down, I decided it might help to write a single blog post first.
Almost two years ago now, I convinced my little sister to audition for a genealogy-based reality TV show with me. Very long first half of this Very Long Story short, we didn't make the final cut, but we did spit in the tubes, so we ultimately gained access to the research they'd begun. They turned over that research almost a year ago exactly--and their research was spot-on. It identified my birth dad and a host of half siblings. But as I mentioned in this post, it couldn't pinpoint my birth mom, since she was adopted, too. At first, I was kind of bummed, but then I was kind of glad. The thought of solving this last mystery on my own made me happy.
My saliva HAD pinpointed the two probable families my birth mom descended from, the Monroes and the Carpentiers. That is, one of her birth parents was likely one of six siblings in this specific Monroe family while the other was likely one of four or five siblings in this clan of Carpentiers. Sadly, two of the Monroes and three of the Carpentiers had already passed away, but if I could reach the others, maybe they would have more clues.
I started scouring the internet for contact information for the still-living siblings. I found three or four phone numbers for each sibling on average, but as you might expect, very few of them still worked. When I was able to track down one of the Carpentier daughters, I literally did a jig. But her mind wasn't all there, so though she mentioned that her sister HAD placed a baby for adoption, I discounted what she'd said.
Fast forward a few months. After speaking to more siblings and poring over my matches, I was able to determine with a high degree of confidence that my birth mom's birth parents were Theodore William Monroe Jr. and Gayle Mae Carpentier. The problem was that both were dead, so they couldn't shed more light on exactly when or where my birth mom had been born. I could make educated guesses based, but without a date or place, I'd kind of reached a dead end.
I kept digging, though, kept fighting. I barked up some other trees. And somewhere along the way, I found out about Utah's voluntary adoption registry. Governed by the health department, the adoption registry matches adult adoptees with biological relatives if both parties come to them. But did you notice how I said that the adoption registry is governed by the health department? They were kind of swamped last year, so you could no longer walk in and fill out an application. You could mail one to their office IF it had been notarized.
This was back in the late spring. The formal lockdown had expired, but my county was under a blanket stay-at-home directive, and I just didn't feel good about violating that (even if I thought my reason was, you know, better than most). I let my application sit. And sit and sit and sit some more. Then, when October rolled around, a still, small voice whispered, "It's time." I strapped on my snuggest mask, went and found a notary, and sent off that application.
According to the website, it could take up to six weeks to hear your application's status. I thought I could handle that; I'm a writer, after all. Two weeks came and went, then six, and then two full months had passed. I decided to check in. A few days later, they informed me that they'd had to send away for the records on my case but that I should hear more soon. That Friday, I got an e-mail.
They'd managed to make a match.
I almost couldn't believe it. I also couldn't stop grinning. After running around and screaming for, like, an hour, I texted the number they'd sent.
It was my birth mom's. I'd found her.
Since that splenderific day, my birth mom and I have FaceTimed for three hours at a stretch on more than one occasion. We also got a chance to meet when she and her fiancé came for a previously scheduled ski trip.
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| This picture was taken safely. Please wear a mask in AT&T's stores. |
The fact that my birth mom was also placed for adoption was, at least initially, one of my biggest stumbling blocks. Now that I've (finally!) found her, though, I've come to think of it instead as one of my biggest blessings. She knows exactly how I feel because she was adopted, too, and she knows how much I'll always love my adoptive family because she was adopted, too. But I hope she also knows how grateful I am for HER. I would NOT be where I am without her genes and her decisions. She gave me a fantastic start.
