Lori's Story

I was adopted at six weeks through Catholic Social Services and an orphanage that took in unwed mothers. My adoptive family was the best family anyone could ask for. I always felt loved and wanted. My siblings, an older brother and a younger sister, were also adopted in the same manner.

Years later, in my early 20s, I became curious about my biological family. I had only been told by my adoptive parents that my birth mother was a young unmarried woman who met an Irishman in Canada. That is all they were told back in the late 50s.

I found the Adoption Identity Movement. They helped me get a hold of my original birth certificate. I did know my birth name and my biological mother’s name. On the birth certificate was my birth mother’s address at the time she gave birth to me.

I spent many weekends in library after library looking up names in Bresser’s directories, trying to find relatives or my biological mother. It was a very common Italian surname, so there were a lot of possibilities.

One weekend, I decided to visit the address on my birth certificate. It was a Sunday early afternoon. No one answered, but a neighbor, an elderly woman, asked if she could help. I told her I was looking for someone at that address. She knew the family, but they had moved many years ago. She said she kept in touch with the daughters, but one had passed away. She gave me a phone number, and I connected with my mother’s sister.

My mother had died at age 43 of breast cancer. I learned my mother had two daughters in her marriage. My newly found aunt said it would be best not to reach out, as they were both very troubled.

Not until 30 years later did I find one of my half sisters, who was in the Detroit area. She never knew about me.

From there, I decided I wanted to know about my biological father. I resembled my biological mother and half sister a lot. Fortunately, by this time Ancestry and other DNA sites had evolved. I dove in.

I immediately had a close match with a woman in the UK. From there, a mystery evolved. There were two paths and two families on my biological father’s side. I worked with two genealogists who helped me put together a family tree. They were called search angels.

We were able to narrow down my biological father’s family from Ireland. From there, I got a name. He was from Dublin, Ireland, but had moved to Windsor, Ontario, Canada in 1956. He met my biological mother on Labor Day weekend in 1958. Windsor was just across the river from Detroit.

Unfortunately, he had passed away just a few months prior to me identifying him. His children were adopted, so we could never get 100 percent confirmation of paternity. The mystery close match we discovered was a relative of my father’s father, but not the father he knew.

I wish I had searched earlier. I might have at least met my biological father. His son provided me with photos and shared what he was like. I still check all my DNA sites for matches.