This is where we all stand when we begin to search, isn’t it. At the corner of Lost and Found, not knowing which direction to go.
I remember going to adoption support meetings where half the room had found and half the room was still looking.
It seemed like an impossible dream that you would ever make it to the other side of the intersection that divided that room. How did it happen? How did it go? That’s what you wanted to ask the people on the other side of the adoption reunion street.
Were you frightened? What did you say? What did they say? Did he look like you?
Meeting the person you are looking for is a life changing experience.
I decided to look for my child shortly after his 18th birthday and it wasn’t too long after that that I just happened to meet someone who knew someone who was able to help me. Although I found out a name fairly easily, (I was extremely lucky) I still had to find the person. Eventually I found an address. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out why he was not living with his adoptive parents. It turned out they had thrown him out.
I spoke with an adoption support group in his city and the person on the phone urged me to get to him as soon as I could because he needed me. She scared me a little. I wanted to be careful, I didn’t want to offend or frighten anyone. I was very conscious of his adoptive parents and worried that I would be intruding at a difficult or inappropriate time. She urged me to make my presence known.
Despite my fears and concerns, things and people kept appearing in my life. (See my post – Adoption Reunion and the Library) I knew it meant I needed to keep going. I was not a very mystical person before looking for my son but I became more of one over the course of looking for him.
A new co-worker at my job was his parents’ next door neighbour.
My husband’s grade school teacher was his parents’ down the street neighbour.
His parents lived a half a block from my grandmother’s house.
Bit by bit, I started to get the picture and the message. Finally, I wrote him a letter.
We met one cold April morning at the bus station. He looked like me. I took him home. I made him a sandwich. That was something I thought I would never get to do.
He spent the night under my roof. I felt a great sense of peace.
The next weekend he met his father.