If you looked at the title and thought, “Wait, there was a part one?” it’s okay. It’s been so long I almost forgot it was there, too. But this is indeed a continuation of this post, and this is definitely worthy of an update.
As a brief refresher, I decided to officially start looking for my biological family in early 2015. I’d always known I was adopted, but literally nothing more than that. Not a birth date, not a location, zero information whatsoever. I’d always been curious, but because of my lovely adoptive family, I had never felt wanting. Eventually, however, sheer curiosity overwhelmed me. My health starting to deteriorate was partially a motivator. All my life I’ve had no family medical history to draw upon, and it’s getting more and more important as time goes on.
And so the search began. I started by dredging up whatever newspaper articles I had about me (there were a good few) and putting together what information I could. I figured out where I was found, and the family who found me. So first thing’s first: I went to seek out the family who found me. Unfortunately they didn’t know anything either, but said they would contact some relatives and see if they had anything.
Gradually, however, I started to lose hope. Even after doing a DNA test, things were looking bleak. We were hitting dead ends everywhere. At any given time I had about half a dozen people helping me do the legwork, making phone calls, doing genealogy stuff I can’t explain, and more. Unfortunately, none of it went anywhere, and I felt pretty miserable. Though on the plus side, all evidence was now pointing to me being from another planet or something, which meant that I only needed to figure out how to use the superpowers I obviously had. Otherwise, things went silent, and I began to assume that we were done.
And then I was put in touch with an organization that specializes in finding people in situations like this. Only a few days later, in a total coincidence, I got a call on my birthday.
“We’ve found your parents.”
To say it was overwhelming would be an understatement. It wasn’t just parents. They’d found everyone. Parents, siblings (of which there are three), grandparents, great-grandparents, and everything. The discussion took all of an hour, if not a little more, based on the sheer amount of information they had. I had my doubts and questions, but they were put to rest. They really had found my family.
Now, obviously, was the hard part: communicating. Finding them had evidently been the easy part. How do you contact someone out of the blue after 27 years and drop that bombshell? Luckily I had people to advise me so I didn’t make a complete fool of myself.
I decided to contact my mother, and the next day, after much preparation, I made the call. Boy was that nerve racking. Unfortunately, it didn’t go so great. She pretended not to know who I was and said I must be wrong. However, while disappointing, it’s about what I expected.
This also doesn’t mean it’s the end. I don’t just know my parents; I know my whole family. What follows will likely be an agonizingly slow process filled with disappointments, and hopefully some happy moments, but regardless, I’m a lot farther than I was when I started. However this ends, I will have succeeded in my original goal.
There will hopefully be more updates to come, and hopefully positive ones.