have you heard?

Is anyone else sick of hearing those commercials about how you can drop your baby off at any hospital in Pennsylvania to give it up, "no questions asked?"  Anythings better than the twisted "solutions" mothers find that involve trash bags or ding-dong-ditch, but hearing about this non-stop on the radio is still a major buzzkill.

I remember in the eighth grade, we were old enough for politics to be discussed in social studies and got into debates about pro-life, pro-choice and everything in between.  It hit home for me and I had to excuse myself from the classroom on multiple occasions.  That was the time in my life where I immediately related to abortion and thought "that could have been me."  From then on, I was pro-life.

It didn't take long for me to realize that not everything is so black and white.  It was only a year later that my classmate had an abortion at the age of 14. She was young, and she was dumb, but she was also unhealthy, as was the baby inside of her.  We'd never know what kind of life it would live unless she had rode it out, but what if she did and it was a disaster?  It was her choice and it affected her life, not those of distant classmates.  It was her decision alone.

Then I reached college and my feelings were changing.  What if there was "an accident?"  What a nightmare.  Would I ride it out and do the right thing like my own biological mother did?  Would I do what my classmate did?  Would I not be able to go through with adoption?  My head is spinning just thinking about it.  I know that this is a sensitive subject.  The fact is, I don't even know where I stand on this.  It doesn't concern anyone but me, anyway.  I respect whatever anyone else's stance is on this as long as its expressed tastefully, so have the decency to respect mine.

What these commercials have made me think about MOST is the fact that 25 years ago, a young woman named Nicole Whalen had a tough decision to make.  She went into labor, found herself at the hospital, and let someone else take her baby home with them.  There was no specific arrangement made.  She did not have any legal agreement with a couple that was expecting her to birth their new miracle.  She could have, up until the moment her daughter arrived, changed her mind.  Actually, she could have even after that.

That child was me.   And what little I know about my adoption is that it wasn't final the day I was born. My parents got a phone call during dinner that there was a baby for them, and they had to call everyone they knew to borrow a car seat, a crib, etc.  They were completely unprepared.  My adoptive parents had to go through countless evaluations and preliminary procedures before I was truly theirs.

When I was in high school, my curiosity got the best of me and I really wanted to find my biological mother.  I had met people online who had been in my situation and were supportive of helping me find my mom.  I tried to emanciapate myself from my adoptive parents because our relationship was (and still is) insignificant in my eyes.  I spent many days leaving school early to browse the yearbooks at local high schools and colleges to try tracking her down.

I had no luck, and it was discouraging.  A friend and I went to the Alumni center at the local university and figured if there were any record of my mother at that college, it would be there.  Unfortunately, it was another dead end.  There was no sign of her enrollment. 

I had tried to do people searches online but the ones that really work all cost money that I didn't have.  Coincidentally, the woman who worked at the alumni center had a son who was my classmate and recognized my friend and I.  A few days later, she appeared at my job... I was cashiering at the grocery store when she came up to my register with a sealed envelope with my name on it.   I immediately started to cry because I could only imagine what the contents were.  She had conducted a people search that the university must have had access to... it showed every Nicole Whalen there was. 

What I managed to do was to narrow down by age, middle initial and location around the time I was born to find the listing that was hers.  None of the addresses or phone numbers were valid anymore and I began to wonder what she was constantly running away from or running towards.  I even reached a point where I would search addresses in the phone book and call neighbors of the listings who had old school names that would imply they were from another generation, you know, Margie and Sue... maybe they would sympathsize with me and call me back to tell me they had known my mother.  A lot of people listened to my story and longed to help, but had no information to share.

After an exhausting effort, I grew tired of trying to find her and was more concerned about finding myself. I was in a good place and didn't need this woman - technically a stranger - to make me feel whole.  But every now and then, the curiousity crosses my mind.  I still do random Google and Facebook searches, but nothing beyond that. 

After a psychology exam in college, my professor pulled me aside and said that he had found his biological mother by paying a private investigator... simple as that, he had all the info he wanted.  Even so, nearly five years later, I know how easily I could find her and I haven't made that effort.  What if she doesn't want to be found?  What if she has five children of her own that she didn't give up?  I'm not sure how I would feel about that. 

Throughout the years, I've always enjoyed using the conversation starter "what nationality do you think I am?"  It's funny because people think it's so weird that I ask that, and they're quickly uninterested and say, "I don't know, what are you?"

Well I'm adopted.  I don't know.  That's why I asked you.

Suddenly it's like a game.  I've been told I have German, Italian, Indian (Native American), and English heritage. 




I'm the one on the left.  What do you think I am?