I have been on both sides of the search process. In 2005 I began my search for my birthmother, and thanks to one super-sleuthing wonderful friend, I found her only months later. I realize how lucky I am - I know there are people who searched for years with no result; I know there are those who searched only to find that their loved ones had passed away. I didn't have to wait for anything. I didn't have time to dissect my own motives, or to think about what I would say once I found her. I threw my search out into the black hole of the internet, and expected nothing would come back to me.
Of course, however unexpectedly, it did. Our reunion was (and is) a whirlwind of emotion, with an abundance of good, bad, and ugly. But regardless of the ups and downs, the simple truth that I had brought this search on myself, kept me somewhat grounded and level-headed. I initiated. I opened the door. I said, "Yes. For better or for worse, I want to know you." I felt more in control - even if it was an illusion.
This year, I received an email from someone asking if there was any chance that I could be his sister. He gave me details about my own adoption, knew my birth-name, and my birthmother's. The dates, details and information all made sense...except for the fact that in the ten years since we had been reunited, my birthmother had never mentioned having other children. In fact, she had made several comments that would imply just the opposite. The air went out of my lungs. This time, I hadn't been the one to open the door. I had been found.
Once I confronted my birthmother with the recently uncovered truth, and she confirmed that not only did I have one - but two - brothers who were both placed for adoption years after me, the difficulty of settling into a new normal began.
This particular side of the search process, still being so new, is difficult to articulate. Unfortunately, the similarities between the two experiences included a lack of familial support. Though I searched for my birthmother alone, without telling many (any?) people, once we connected, I confided in a few close friends - and ultimately, my family. Not a single friendship remains from that time in my life. Each 'friend' in whom I trusted my innermost fears and insecurities about reunion left shortly after. One friend - one who I thought was the closest to me at the time - refused to accompany me to the airport to meet my birthmother for the first time. She "didn't want to be a crutch", when a crutch is exactly what I needed.
Family support in my reunion(s) is certainly lacking. My adoptive mother once remarked, during my initial reunion with my birthmother, that "This is all too weird for me". A consequence that should have been considered prior to adopting, perhaps? My siblings are removed from the process entirely, choosing to ignore the fact that I am adopted. They don't ask about my birth family. They don't care to know anything about that side of my life. When I was recently contacted by my brother, my adoptive siblings' response was one of annoyance. This was just another interruption in their existence at the fault of my adoption.
Three years ago, their reaction would have sent me spiraling. Now, I'm numb to the lack of interest. I have resolved to floating through this reunion fog solo, trying desperately to minimize the damage of my sharp edges.
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