I can’t believe my terrible luck in my quest to find my birth family. Every day I see via Adoption-related Facebook groups, adoptees finding their family and I can’t help but think why not me?
I don’t know the percentage of adoptees who have successfully found their birth parents but from my perspective that percentage is pretty damn high and therefore I belong to a small group who may never find their birth family and that thought just breaks my heart.
Over the years the many searches that have ended no further in front have left me more rejected, deflated and beaten and I resolve to end my search and I manage to stay away from any form of searching for varying periods of time but one thing or another always draws me back and each time with a new surge of positivity.
Maybe I’ll hit the jackpot this time around!
The last time I got that surge of positivity is when I submitted my DNA through AncestryDNA.com which happened around October 2015. Through this DNA test I did uncovered my heritage and many 4th cousins including more distant ones. At least with my results I am fairly confident some of my forebears came from County Clare and County Kerry in Ireland and Midlothian in Scotland and that’s good knowledge for an adoptee. What I didn’t expect when I started down the DNA path is the hours I’d spend over the months to follow trawling through distant cousin’s ancestry trees, sending tonnes of emails, making lists, making trees with possible great-great-great grandparent leads. It’s literally sucking the time out of my life. I’ve spent a good 3 months off work in 2015 as well in 2016 trying to find that one lead that could break the case. I check my ancestry DNA match results at least 6 times a day in the hope that a close cousin will activate their DNA test. And as another Monday morning rolls by where I’ve spent the first couple of hours searching through Ancestry DNA matches trying another tactic I thought about through the night I can’t help but wonder what I would be doing if I wasn’t adopted or if I just didn’t want to know.
The adoption system has denied me so much and I try not to think about it, being adopted is who I am, it’s my lot in life and maybe, just maybe, I’d be lost for a cause if I wasn’t adopted. I try not dwell on the possibility that I’ve spent so much time and energy on this quest that I haven’t allowed myself to uncover and nurture other talents or passions but I have to let those thoughts pass by as I have to let many dark thoughts pass. I’m lucky in a way that I can let go of those dark thoughts because so many of those affected by adoption haven’t been able to and the consequences have been dire.
The thought of never looking into the face of my birth mother drives this quest and I realise as each day and year passes the face I may eventually see will be through a picture because as each year ticks by the likelihood of finding her alive diminishes. So many questions run through my mind when I think about her. I long to uncover her story because her story is mine and it’s the reason I’m here now writing a blog about a quest that may never end as long as I live.
I know this post sounds bleak but please know that I’m one strong cookie and at the end of the day I have a couple of weapons I use to get me through this adoption cesspool – my humour and my family and when combined these two weapons keep me sane. Yes we as a family can glean a joke and a laugh out of any situation and I’m thankful for that because these weapons are my coping mechanism.
