Jan Ross's Story

I was born a coal miner's daughter, but my name's not Loretta Lynn!

Born in a small mining town in West Virginia to a 17-year-old girl and a married man whose wife had given birth a few months earlier.

When my mother came back to Ohio after I was nearly a year old, some challenging circumstances led my very unhappy grandparents to call the police, who, in turn, called social services. To complicate matters, my mother was already very pregnant with another child by my father, a full brother I never knew existed until I was in my late 50s.

We were both placed in foster care, parental rights were severed, and we were up for adoption. My adoptive parents wanted me, but they didn't want both of us, so we were adopted by separate families and grew up about 20 miles apart.

My story can get long. This is just an abbreviated version.

Because I always seemed to need to know more about my beginnings, I began to search. I got very close and felt a strong impression that I needed to stop, so I tucked my files away until I felt it was the right time. Several years passed. We now had six children, three biological and three adopted.

I hadn’t thought about my search for several years until the day I came home from work to a surprise. I walked in the door, and my husband acted a bit weird.

“You got a letter from your mother; I put it on the dresser for you.”

I thought it was strange since I talked to my adoptive mom and dad at least weekly. Why would she be writing me a letter?

Curiosity got the best of me, so I dropped my stuff on the kitchen table and headed to the bedroom. As soon as I turned the corner to walk down the hall, a thought struck me. Could it be my biological mother? Could she have found me?

There it was on the dresser, her name and address displayed on the envelope. My husband followed me, not knowing what to do or say. I held the envelope while my stomach began to quiver. I felt nearly sick.

Slowly, I unsealed the envelope and unfolded the letter:

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Dear Janet,

I just received a phone call from ALMA, and they told me you registered with them hoping to find me. I am so excited I hardly know what to say. I just want you to know that never a day has passed that I have not thought of you and wondered how in the world I could ever find you.

There are so many things I want to say to you and so many things I want to tell you. But honey, I don’t know how to put it all in a letter, and I want to get this in the mail as soon as possible.

All I want to say is, as God is my witness, I love you as much today as I did the day you were born and they laid you in my arms. Please, honey, if there are any bad feelings in your heart toward me, please don’t let that keep you from getting in touch with me.

My name is June Nash; my number is on the enclosed card. Please get in touch with me as soon as you can.

Love always,

Your mother

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I can’t begin to tell you how I felt, partly because I don’t know. I was happy but sad. Curious but satisfied. Nervous but at peace.

I sat down that evening and wrote her back to let her know I was glad to know she still remembered me. I gave her my phone number. She didn’t waste any time calling me.

Over the course of the next few weeks, we talked frequently, trying to get to know each other. She purchased an airline ticket for me to travel to Texas to meet her and some of my siblings. I was scared, but I really had peace about going. With my husband’s blessing, I got on the plane.

I arrived, and as nervous as I was, I spotted her immediately in the midst of the crowd. She didn’t look like me, but there was something about her that seemed familiar. Once our eyes met, she ran to me and hugged me. We were both crying.

Her husband, not my father, grabbed my bag while she grabbed my hand as we walked through the terminal to the car. I knew it was a walk of faith, but God had led me this far, and I knew He wasn’t going to just drop me and leave me on my own.

Faith carried me through the next several days. I met half siblings and cousins and nieces and nephews. I saw pictures of other family members and learned about some of their stories. I was surrounded by family who, although very different, were very much like me.

Finally, I didn’t stand out as the oddball any longer.

It was difficult to explain my adventure to my adoptive parents, but they were gracious and repeatedly told me they were happy for me. I knew it was difficult for them, but they were generous and did their best to understand my need to know where I came from.

It was several years until I finally learned about my biological father. Sadly, he had passed shortly after I graduated from high school, so I never had the opportunity to meet him. I’ve met a couple of his family members and have been in contact with several others. Once again, there was an uncanny similarity between his family.

I was just so glad to have the mystery solved, for the most part, and my children and grandchildren have an identity while being blessed by benefiting from my adoptive family as well.

I believe we are all richer for closing the gaps and solving the many mysteries of who I am and where I came from. Always a child of God first, but doubly blessed with two sets of parents who influenced my life in very different ways, but in ways that made me who I am today.