How I Found My Birth Mom

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.

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.

An Open Letter to My Birth Mom

Dear Birth Mom,

You don't know me. We met exactly once, on the day that I was born, but by then, you'd been in labor for, like, forty-eight hours, so you must have been exhausted. (I'm so sorry about that.) I hope they let you hold me for at least a little while, but they probably didn't. I'm sorry about that, too.

I should probably back up. Last year, I spit into a tube as part of the audition process for a reality TV show. I didn't make the show because my sister and her husband decided to have a baby (which is a whole other blog post), but I DID get the results from that tube I spit into. And guess what?! They found my birth dad.

He died twenty years ago.

In a car accident, sadly. I learned this from his other kids. I know you knew that he had kids, but did you know that one was only six years younger than you were? I guess he lied about his age. Is that why you didn't get married? I used to think it was because he wasn't a member of your church, but as it turns out, he was. Now I'm not sure what to think. Maybe you broke up with him before you found out about me, or maybe he broke up with you BECAUSE he found out about me. (I really hope that isn't it.) Hopefully, I'll get to ask.

As you've probably surmised, my spit couldn't pinpoint you. I'm quite certain it's because you were placed for adoption, too. But here's the most amazing thing--since my spit is half your spit, it found YOUR birth mom and dad.

   

Unfortunately, they're dead, too.

Are you noticing a theme? My head keeps reminding me that our genes weren't built to last, but my heart keeps holding on. I really need to tell you thanks for letting me derail your life. For giving me life, period. And for giving me two parents who went to the moon and back to help me become who I am. But you were adopted, too, so maybe you already know. Still, I'd love to say the words and meet you face to face. Again.

Until then, I won't give up. I'll chase every lead I have. It might take a little longer thanks to this lovely pandemic, but I'm strong-willed. I'm persistent. And I'm going to find you (in the friendliest possible way). 

Your birth daughter,

Krista

When You Don't Look Like Your Dead People

My maternal grandparents, Jose Junius Ramos and Elsie Marie Sorenson, are two of my heroes. They met in 1950 at Fort Douglas in Salt Lake City, Utah, where he was stationed as a special agent with the Counter Intelligence Corps and she worked as a secretary. They eloped a year later (to Nevada, no less--woo!).

In many ways, they were polar opposites. He was the oldest of nine children; she was an only child. He was raised in a staunch Catholic home; she was brought up in an inactive Mormon one. He was born in the Philippines and traveled around the world during the war; she was born in Utah and, as far as I know, never left it until after they were married. But they had a strong marriage and spent many happy years together until she died in 1980.

I know they must have faced more than a little prejudice, but I, for one, am grateful for their courage and sacrifice. Their example has taught me so many things--in fact, I owe one of the subplots in THE SOUND OF LIFE AND EVERYTHING to their story--and I've always been proud of the racial and cultural heritage I inherited from both of them.

As I kid, I loved filling in the bubbles for the demographic section on standardized tests. They let you fill in as many as you wanted, so I'd happily mark "White," "Asian," and "Pacific Islander." My adoptive grandfather was Filipino (and my birth father was part Filipino and part Hawaiian), so I didn't think twice about calling myself all three.

But as I got older, I gradually stopped marking "Asian" and "Pacific Islander." It wasn't that I was ashamed--that couldn't have been further from the truth. It was that I didn't feel like I could claim those pieces of myself because I didn't LOOK Asian or Pacific Islander. Sure, I had brown hair and brown eyes, and my skin tone was somewhere between white and olive, but many of my classmates could have said the same thing. Though I was technically Asian and Pacific Islander, I didn't feel Asian and Pacific Islander enough.

The truth is, I still don't. I was filling out an author questionnaire for Putnam the other day, and like those old standardized tests, it asked if I was of African American, Hispanic, or Asian heritage. At first, I just answered "No." But as I was reading back over my answers, I changed it to "Sort of. My biological father was part Filipino, and my adoptive mother's father was full Filipino." Then I realized how ridiculous that sounded and changed my "Sort of" to "Yes."

If there's one thing I've learned from my grandparents, it's to be true to yourself.

Ongoing, Upcoming

April has been a slow month around here, so here are a few things to keep on your radar:

--I interviewed Ryan Gebhart on the Fearless Fifteeners blog last week in conjunction with the release of THERE WILL BE BEARS, his MG debut. It's a sweet story about a thirteen-year-old boy who's losing his best friend--also known as his grandpa--to old age, rest homes, and kidney failure, so they decide to sneak out and go on Tyson's first and last elk hunt. The interview also includes an ongoing giveaway (which is super easy to enter), so definitely check that out!

--"The Writer's Voice" returns THIS THURSDAY, so get those queries and first pages ready to go. If you click on that link, you'll find all the details, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask!

--If you live in or around southern Nevada and want to learn how to use free online resources to research your ancestors, I'll be teaching a class at the Spring 2014 Genealogy Jamboree. It's a free event, so if you'd like to join us, we'd love to have you. The jamboree will take place on May 17, and you can preregister anytime before then (or just show up on that day).

Finding Ann McCue

I recently found a brand new family on my family tree, and since several people have expressed interest in learning how to do this kind of research, I thought I'd share my process with you.

One of my fourth great-grandfathers is John Hook Jameson, and this last week, I've been researching his sister, Sarah Ann Jameson. I found her husband (Barney McCue) and two of their kids (Charles P. McCue and Susan Elizabeth McCue) pretty quickly using census records and findagrave.com.

Finding their oldest daughter, Ann McCue, took considerably longer.

The thing about researching your ancestors is that there are literally hundreds--if not thousands--of potential duplicates, and if all you have is a name, a birth year, and a birth state (which is all I had for Ann), the chances of pinning them down are slim to none. So you have to get tricky.

Step #1: Start with what you know.

The 1860 and 1870 censuses had informed me she was born in Iowa in 1855 (or maybe 1856), but by 1880, she was no longer living with her family of origin. The most likely explanation was that she'd gotten married, so I decided to try to find her marriage record.

Step #2: Find a specific record.

When I'm looking for a specific record, I focus on the collections most likely to produce it. To do this, I go to FamilySearch.org, then scroll down to the list of territories at the bottom of the page. For this search, I clicked on United States, then Missouri, since that's where Ann McCue was living in 1870. That brought up eleven collections, one of which was Missouri, Marriages, 1750-1920. (I could have tried Missouri, County Marriage Records, 1819-1969, but if you click on that link, you'll notice that the collection hasn't been indexed, which means the only way to find a record is to browse through ALL of them. It's an option if you're desperate, but I wanted to try the easy way first.) From there, I entered the following information in the appropriate search fields:

--My ancestor's name (Ann McCue)

--Her suspected marriage place and a range for her suspected marriage year (Missouri, 1870 to 1880--I could have specified a town or county but wanted to leave it more general)

That brought up four results, one of which was a marriage record for an Annie Mccue and an Issac W. Nichols. It didn't have a ton of information, but the date certainly could have been right, and the marriage took place in the same county where my Ann McCue was living. In other words, this was a strong contender.

Step #3: Look for more clues.

When I find a lead, the next thing I always do is look for corroborating evidence. If I can find an Ann or Annie Nichols who was born in Iowa in 1855 and also married to an Isaac W., then that's hard to dispute. So I went back to the homepage and searched for Ann and Isaac W. together:

--My ancestor's name (Ann Nichols)

--Her suspected residence place in 1880 (Missouri, 1880 to 1880--if I'd wanted to, I could have searched just the 1880 census)

--Her spouse's name (Isaac W. Nichols)

The top result was a census record that showed an Isaac, an Anna, and a Charles Nichols all living in Des Arc, Iron, Missouri, United States, which is the same town where Ann McCue was living in 1870. You'll notice that this census listed Missouri as her birth state, but I wasn't too concerned. People messed up their birth states ALL THE TIME (or the census workers did).

Step #4: Find a related person, like a parent or a spouse.

Since I now knew a little more about Isaac W. Nichols, I decided to do a general search for him back on the homepage:

--My ancestor's name (Isaac W. Nichols)

--His birthplace and a range for his birth year (Missouri, 1856 to 1858--I always include a narrow range even if I know the year exactly, since birth years can get messed up in census records)

Men are often easier to track, and sure enough, the top three results looked very promising. I was especially interested in the census record from 1910, since it appeared to list some children (but no Ann). The record itself included an explanation--Isaac W. reported he was widowed--and his children also reported that their mother was born in Iowa. At this point, I was all but certain that I'd found my family.

But I had one last place to look for Isaac W. Nichols: findagrave.com. (To get to their search engine, you have to click the link on the right side of the page that says Search 102 million grave records.) In the "Died" field, I entered "After 1910," and in the "Cemetery in" field, I selected "Missouri" from the drop-down menu. That search produced exactly one result, but luckily for me, it appeared to be the right one.

(You'll notice that everything on the headstone matched up except for Annie I. Nichols's birth year. I still can't account for that discrepancy, but since it would have been impossible for a woman born in 1876 to have had a daughter in 1885 (as the 1910 census indicated), I feel relatively confident that this was an error. Besides, the chances that there were two sets of Ann and Isaac W. Nicholses who lived and died in the same small town in Missouri are extremely remote.)

If this seems like a long process, it was. I spent close to two hours going through the steps I just described, since I ran into a few dead ends along the way. But I found Ann McCue, my Ann McCue, not to mention her husband and a bunch of her kids, and that made it all worth it.

LDS Writer Blogfest: Families Can Be Together Forever

I started this post last weekend, but the words weren't coming out as smoothly as I wanted them to. Like a lot of bloggers, I don't usually struggle with blog posts, so this was frustrating. Now I'm glad they didn't, as this last week has put a completely different spin on everything, including this post.

I had a lot of thrills and frills initially, but what I really wanted to say can be boiled down to these five little words: Families can be together forever. God sent us to this earth as families and asked us to love and serve each other because He knew this simple truth.

I don't know why tragedy strikes some families but misses others. I don't know why some people die young while others live with broken bodies that may or may not function properly. But I do know that all that is unfair in life--and all that is just plain hard--will be made right eventually through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. And I know that in the meantime, His grace is there to lift and heal us.

Almost eight years ago, my aunt died suddenly. She'd battled multiple sclerosis for many years, but none of us expected her to deteriorate so rapidly. My mom didn't even find out she was fading until after she'd already passed away. That was a hard time for our family and especially for my mom, who felt like she'd somehow failed her little sister.

Several years later, I was sitting in the temple, reflecting quietly on life and things, when I got the distinct impression that my aunt wanted to be there , that she wanted to feel the same peace and contentment I was feeling in that moment. At that point, I had never done any family history, but I knew I needed to learn. So I went into my local family history center, the same place I now volunteer every Tuesday night, and asked the little old ladies there what I needed to do so Susan could receive the same temple blessings I had.

This is why I'm so obsessed with family history--because I know that families can be together forever and that this is the way God has prepared for EVERY family to receive that blessing. He knows that the vast majority of His children never had the opportunity to go to the temple during their mortal lives, so He lets their descendants receive those ordinances for them (like the sealing ordinance, which is what binds families together on earth and in heaven). The first time I went to the temple, I received these ordinances for myself. Now every time I go back, I receive them on behalf of one of my ancestors.

I believe in God and His Son, Jesus Christ. I believe that Their whole goal is to lift us up to where They are. I believe They love us and are aware of us and want in every way to bless us. I believe Their ways are higher than our ways and that, even if we don't understand why certain things are happening, we will understand eventually.

I won't be online much for the rest of the week, but if you have a question you think I can answer, feel free to leave it in the comments. I'll respond as soon as I can. (And if you have specific questions about temples, you might check out this post, which at least covers the basics.)

Getting Started on Your Genealogy

When I asked people to shoot me their genealogy-related questions on Twitter last Tuesday, the ever astute Elizabeth Briggs suggested I blog about it, so here I am:) If you’ve ever wanted to learn more about your ancestors but haven’t known where to start, this post’s for you.

Step #1: Start with what you know.

I imagine you know when and where you were born and when and where you got married. You probably know when and where your parents were born and married, too. So grab a four-generation pedigree chart and start filling it in.

Step #2: Figure out stuff you don’t.

Chances are, you’ll be able to fill in most of the names and maybe even some of the dates on your four-generation pedigree chart just from your own memory. But once you’ve filled in as much as you can, you’ll need to start researching. Parents and grandparents know a lot (and probably have hard copies of birth, marriage, and death certificates, too), so definitely ask if they can fill in any blanks. If your parents or grandparents are no longer living, you might still have access to their papers, so if you can remember where you left them, definitely check those out.

Or you can use the Internet.

I honestly can’t imagine what doing family history was like before the advent of the Internet. I can’t imagine what it was like even five years ago. (Well, I can, since I did a little family history back then, but even five years ago, it was ten times harder than it is now.) Hundreds of thousands of new records are being digitized and added to online databases literally every day, so if your ancestors aren’t online already (and the chances of that are slim), they will be shortly.

There are quite a few websites geared toward family history, but the only one I’ve used with any regularity so far is FamilySearch.org. It’s free, it’s user-friendly, and its online collection is, like, the second largest on the Internet (but don’t quote me on that).

Out of curiosity (since I already have most of my four-generation pedigree chart filled in), I entered the following information in the appropriate search fields on the homepage:

--My grandfather’s name (Louis Van Dolzer)

--His birthplace and a range for his birth year (California, 1920 to 1926--I couldn’t remember exactly when he was born)

--His spouse’s name (Betty Jane Chittick)

It immediately brought up my grandparents’ marriage license, which, coincidentally, included a piece of information--my great-grandfather’s birthplace--I haven’t been able to find anywhere else. (I had to look at the actual image to see that; it wasn't part of the digitized record.) So in writing this blog post, I found another small piece of my family history. So. Cool.

Step #3: Go back from there.

Once you’ve got your four-generation pedigree chart filled in, you can go back from there. Records for one generation often include information about previous generations (like the marriage license I mentioned above), so even if you know nothing about your great-great-grandparents, knowing something about your great-grandparents will give you a place to start digging.

Also, keep in mind that your grandparents and great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents probably had children other than just your direct ancestors, so piecing together complete families is just as important as tracing your lines back ad infinitum.

This is just the tip of the iceberg, of course. Sooner or later, you’re going to have more information than you can reasonably keep track of on a single piece of paper, and there are probably hundreds of tips and tricks I've picked up over the last year and a half that I could share. If anyone’s interested in learning more, I’d be happy to blog about family history stuff somewhat regularly, so let me know in the comments! And if you have any specific questions, feel free to ask them in the comments, too.

My Latest Obsession

"Monster" Chittick's on the left

Or “How Monster Got His Name”

I got into genealogy about six months ago, not long after I heard an awesome talk on the subject. I thought it would be a nice thing to fill my Sunday afternoons, since Honey Bear has a bunch of meetings and my kids are super-sleepers. I never realized it would turn into such a quest--or bring so many little miracles into my life.

I e-mailed my only living grandparent, my father’s mother, and asked her a few basic questions about her parents and grandparents. The e-mail I got back was long and detailed, complete with attached pictures that she’d scanned herself. (My grandma’s eighty-five, by the way. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?) I couldn’t believe the wealth of information I’d discovered. But mostly, I couldn’t believe it’d taken me so long to ask.

Almost right away, one of the names stood out to me. It was my grandma’s grandpa’s name, my great-great-grandfather’s, Monster Chittick, who'd immigrated to the United States by way of Ireland in the late 1800s. (Monster is a nickname, by the way, one that I came up with for the purposes of this post.) That’s probably why I noticed it. I’d always liked the name Monster, so I was happy to see that it belonged to my great-great-grandfather.

Then I noticed that his birthday was January 11, 1863.

I felt like someone had plugged my finger into an electrical outlet. Because I have my kids by C-section, I already had a pretty good idea of when our Monster would be born. And according to my calculations, we were going to do the C-section on January 11, 2012, Monster Chittick’s one hundred and forty-ninth birthday.

I suggested the name to Honey Bear in combination with his grandpa’s middle name, since his grandpa’s birthday is January 9. He was a little resistant to the idea at first, mostly because he hadn’t come up with it himself (and I’d come up with all our kids’ names), but after a while, he caught the vision of the thing. And now we have our little Monster, who shares a birthday and a name with his great-great-great-grandfather.

That’s the beauty of family history. It brings the generations of a family together.