With a Little Help (and Encouragement) from My Friends

One afternoon, a co-worker of mine shared about a group she had recently joined. She told me about a website called Meetup.com and said that there were many different types of groups covering a multitude of interests. I decided to check it out and found an adoptees group that met in Fullerton. My husband and I decided to attend an upcoming meeting. I really had no idea what to expect, but decided to give it a shot. Perhaps they could offer some tips. While my desire to search had cooled down for quite a few years, I was open to beginning again.

I met Steve and Dan and was immediately surprised by how comfortable I felt. They asked, and surprisingly I shared, my adoption story. They were both adoptees born outside of California, one in reunion and the other still searching. I was given a book called "Primal Wound" which is written by a psychologist who deals with adoptees, and also happens to be an adoptive mother. In her practice, she began to see many parallels in the types of issues adoptees were facing. I must admit that I have still not read the book in its entirety; however, I have heard from numerous adoptees that it brought a lot of things to light for them. By the time I left the meeting, I was all fired up to start searching again!

As soon as I arrived home, I decided to go online and get started. Much to my surprise, I had an e-mail from Classmates.com indicating that I had a message. When I opened it I was shocked to see that it was from someone with the same last name as that on the document my mother had shown me over thirty years ago. While previously deep in search mode, I had written to everyone with that last name and my birthmother's maiden name on Classmates.com who attended high school in Wisconsin and Illinois (where my birthfamily had lived and where I believed they had probably returned). In all honesty, I did not even remember writing this e-mail. Since I was uncertain whether any of my birthsiblings knew I existed, I always kept the e-mails rather vague. I would ask if they were the brother or sister of . . . (inserting the name of one or two of my birthsiblings) and if they had lived in California at one time.

This e-mail was written to a Candance. I always thought I would find her first as the spelling of her name was unusual and somehow I thought that would make it easier. In the e-mail I had asked if she had a brother Robert and had lived in California. Her response stated that she did have a brother Robert, but had not lived in California. She said she did not remember me (by my name), but thought she might if she spoke with me and included her telephone number.

Wow! I cannot even put into words what I felt or actually didn't feel. I was numb ... in shock really. After more than 20 years of searching, hoping and praying, I had a phone number that could be an open door to the question I was trying so desperately to answer . . . "Who is Nancy Faye?" What was even more shocking was that her response had come a week ago and was in response to an e-mail I had sent more than a year before!

It took me almost 2 weeks to muster up the courage to make the phone call. I decided that Good Friday was the perfect day. I had taken a personal day at work, so my husband and I could go to church. I was literally sick to my stomach when I picked up my cell phone, went into my bedroom and closed the door. My hands were shaking so hard it was difficult to dial the number. The phone was ringing and I thought seriously about hanging up. It was too late, someone had answered. It was a young man's voice. I asked for Candance and he said she was at work. I said I would call back. For the next few days I tried, and each time the same young man would tell me she was at work. I left my number and asked that he tell her I had called. We tried unsuccessfully on several occasions to reach each other.

Finally one day he gave me his usual response, that she was at work, but said she had asked him to give me her cell phone number. This time, I called and she answered. She started out apologizing for not remembering me. I didn't know what to say. My mom always said, "When in doubt just tell the truth." So, I took a deep breath and said, "Well, you really don't know me. We've actually never met. I'm adopted and I think you might be my sister." Complete silence. I asked if she had a brother named Robert. She said she did, but she had never lived in California. She then said that she had two other sisters. I asked if their names were Robin and Rebecca and she said "yes". I didn't know what to say. I couldn't believe it . . . FINALLY!!