He missed out on 42 cards and 42 ties. He missed the day I took my first step, said my first word, hit my first ball, dated my first girl, married my first(and only) wife, had my first two(and only two) kids, and I’m not sure he even knew the opportunities he was missing.
My biological father had an affair with my biological mother, a coworker. My mother had me, gave me up for adoption, and never said anything else about me or their affair. I am not sure he knew anything about me, although working with a woman you had “relations” with and seeing her stomach swell would cause some concern, you would think. The beauty of the mind is it can create connections, make up stories, and absolve us of any responsibility. Since my biological mother was married, who’s to say the increase in belly circumference wasn’t due to her husband.
So maybe he didn’t know or didn’t want to know. After all, my non-identifying information that I received from the adoption agency tells me he already had children of his own from his own marriage. Therefore, maybe he already had enough ties, saw enough first steps, heard enough first words, witnessed enough first dates, weddings, grand kids and opportunities. Why would or should one more mean anything?
Because it was mine.
Over those 42 Father’s days, I can’t say I thought a lot about my biological father. That statement does not come from a bitter corner of my heart and is not said to inflict retaliatory pain. It is said honestly and matter-of-factly. The emotion that should be connected to this person was never planted so it never grew and that is a shame. Every now and then I run back to that little patch of heart-space where that feeling should be hoping the beginnings of something will show; hoping a small, tiny, curled up leaf will be breaking through the flesh of my heart right next to my right coronary artery or from underneath my left anterior descending artery.
Logically, it makes sense. How can I feel a connection to something I never had a connection with. But hope and the fact that so many have that connection to their biological father makes me stroll by that place straining to see the first sign of growth from this germinating seed.
Nothing.
This week I reached out to test this absence of feeling. I wrote a check and signed the paperwork to begin the process of locating my biological father. Since his co-worker/my biological mother never shared with anyone his name, no one but the adoption agency knows his name. To get his name, that was typed out clearly by a manual type writer and added to MY file that I can’t get access to, I had to petition the probate court of Wayne County, Michigan to allow access to MY file. Once that was done, the court gave access to MY file, to a court appointed intermediary, an unrelated third party, who will open my file, get MY biological father’s name and begin the search. Although, the intermediary is appointed by the court, she is paid by me. Last Wednesday, I wrote the check and signed the agreement to move forward in this unjust process.
Now I wait and calculate and strategize. I calmly run through possible scenarios like a pilot would run through a checklist prior to a flight.
If he’s alive and willing to meet, request a meeting.
—–If the meeting goes well…
—–If the meeting doesn’t go well…
If he’s alive and unwilling to meet, hope shrivels and dies; the heat too intense for survival.
—–Hope could still live in another relative that wants to meet.
If he’s dead, request a death certificate, search for an obituary tied to the name that is now released because dead people can’t object to their privacy being violated. In the obituary search for names of relatives and reach out to them; knowing I maybe the one who has to tell someone their father, brother, uncle, cousin had an affair 43 years ago. Request a meeting.
—–If that meeting goes well…
—–If that meeting doesn’t go well…
The possibilities branch out like roots from a tree moving and sprawling in every direction; over and back, reaching and clawing for room to grow.
My hope is that through the stress, as I plod forward in a mechanical and logical way, a connection to my DNA will water and feed that small dark and cold place in my heart. My hope continues. From the stressful search, I will find someone who looks like me, acts like me, and someone who will accept me; be excited to find me. Someone who was looking for me. Someone who…
Hope quickly grows into fantasy as it has since I can remember. As a child, the thoughts of who I came from rode on my stream of consciousness and this simple question evolved in to an elaborate secret fantasy. A fantasy that over the years got pushed further and further in to that dark corner because no one shared it with me. No one came looking for me. No one spoke about it in my home. I assume because they thought it would bring up too much pain. But ignoring my reality probably created more pain than was ever tied to this small seed. So I danced alone with this elaborate secret fantasy for many years and as most children do, I grew out of the need for this imaginary relationship; frustrated with a relationship that only took and never gave. I filed it away but occasionally I would return but never spending much time with it.
Now I’ve come to a point where I just want it resolved. I want a real story and not fantasy. The unworthiness that attaches itself to adoption tries to convince me I don’t need this or I shouldn’t be entitled to answers. But my ever-evolving, I-deserve-more-attitude pushes through to find more of me in those answers.
The unstoppable ball is in motion and soon the answer will come and I’m not sure how I will respond, if at all. Maybe, I’ll find him alive and he will want to meet and at that meeting, I can give him a Father’s day card and 43 ties…
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Kevin, thank you for a beautifully written post. Your words have helped me understand some of the feelings our 12-year-old son is likely to experience as he grows into manhood. I wish you the best possible outcome of your search.
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Kevin, I’m honored to follow along on your next search journey. I remember so well your journey searching for your biological mom, only to find out she passed away. Let’s hope this journey has a happier ending. I’ll be holding you up in prayer all along the way, and saluting you in my heart for yours is a most honorable spirit. Love and hugs to you and your family.
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this is beautiful. our son has been in our family for one year. he is little. far to young to understand yet what he’s lost. and already we are are feeling to start the hunt for his first family. i don’t want to wait until he’s older, til it will get harder, til they might be gone. I want a relationship with them. he deserves to know his story, which is their story. i don’t know if we can find them, and how hard it will be if we do or don’t. but we have to look.
thank you for your inspiration, as always.
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The internet has made searching a WHOLE lot easier than in the past. The key to a search is a name. When I contacted my Adoption Angel(someone who searches for and reunites adoptees and birth parents) to find my biological mother, I gave her the last name of my birth mother and the city where I was born and within 20 minutes she found my birth mother. There are plenty of people who are great at finding people and often times is easier than people think. If you want help in locating them let me know I know some fabulous people who can help.
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Kevin – I wish you the best in your search and although my path was different the feelings were likely similar. I also found a grave and sadly my father could not be bothered…I hope you have a better outcome.
Have you ever considered joining forces with an adoptee rights group in your state to change the laws so YOU can access YOUR file instead of having everyones privacy violated by SOMEONE not family?
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SS,
Thanks for the support and although I entered in to this with very little feeling as time goes by the hope that he will be alive grows which scares me. But it is something that has to be answered. I have considered joining with adoptee rights groups and I have been following the the legislation in Michigan and the struggle to get the laws changed. It gets to be frustrating watching as those in power have no clue as to the harm they are causing by not changing the laws. I loosely follow what’s going on and will lend my voice if needed by that process is like watch a cut heal.
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Kevin – I think the growing feelings and fear is pretty common – you know from the time you are little that you will never know, and then suddenly there is just that one tiny chance and its like Pandora’s box and the emotions get stronger as you wait.
Harm is an apt word – have you ever read The Baby Thief – The Untold STory of Georgia Tann, the Baby Seller Who Corrupted Adopton by Barbara Bisantz Raymond? It explains why so many states sealed our records…highly recommend reading it but it is hard to take.
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SS,
I will definitely check it out. Been looking for a book to read so I will add this to my list.
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Kevin, I’m adopted and have adopted. From reading your blog on and off I get that you’re a really introspective type of guy. I can relate to a lot of your adoption issues etc. However, I don’t quite understand why you continually conjur up all the what ifs….for this blog I’m talking about the bit about your biological father missing out on 42 Father’s day etc…..Don’t you have a father who raised you? Why isn’t or wasn’t he enough for you? Why do you always have to have more? How can it be productive to constantly be thinking about all the what ifs? What about the now? Your family now…..your parents now…your siblings now….not what might have been had you been raised by a biological family?
Would appreciate your insight…..
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If think part of my progression involves being more introspective at this point. If you read some of my earlier blogs you’ll see me addressing my appreciation for the sacrifices made and the way I was raised. As I have read more and learned more about adoption that has brought about a gentle shift in me and my writing. I like to apply what lived learned to my life and the great advantage is I can reflect back on things and think out loud about what I have learned and what I feel. Growing up I didn’t put a lot of thought into what it meant to be adopted and the affects of adoption. I like to share what I am learning on a daily basis with others as I go along.
One important point to make for me is I feel more freedom now to be introspective and ask the what if questions AND still honor my adoptive family. I can do both and that’s ok. Doing one doesn’t have to mean I’m disrespecting or ignoring the other. That is freeing for me because there was a time when I felt guilty about exploring my birth ties because I felt an alligence to my adoptive family. I no longer feel that way.
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This is in reply to Adopted & Adopted: Why do you question Kevin for wondering about his biological father? It’s human nature, very healthy, and takes nothing away from his relationship with his adoptive father that raised him. To deny those thoughts and questions, I think, leaves a person blocked off from those parts of themselves that have not been opened or touched or healed. Kevin is on a journey of healing. And I deeply appreciate that he invites the public to join him. I’ve learned so much from him. I’ve met him and his son and he is a wonderful father. Any introspection he does, only adds to his other relationships with family members. Do you only have room in your heart for one child? Likewise, why can’t Kevin have a relationship, or search for one, with more than one father or mother?
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