Lydia Admire's Story
“I’m adopted” is definitely the phrase I’ve been flaunting all my life. I made it so glamorous that my childhood best friend said she was so jealous she wanted to be adopted too! I attribute this to my beautiful adopted mother, who presented it to me in this lovely magical way.
My story began as many did in 1970, that two young people fell in love and created a baby, and when their families found out, my birth mother was sent away. The “away story” was that she was helping a family friend in California nannying for children. The woman she lived with, “Barbara,” was a doctor who had just had her third child, so it was a perfect story to tell. Barbara was very involved in the “Right to Life” movement, and that is how the connection was made with my adopted mother. Barbara told my mom that she had a young girl living with her and they hadn’t picked an adopted family yet, and my mom said, “I want that baby!” And in 1970, and $200 to an adoption attorney, it happened…that is how easy it was.
A week after I was born we relocated to Oregon. I was the youngest of five, and three of us were adopted. My mom is best described as a pioneer woman who loved the little farm we lived on. She spent her days doing chores like homeschooling us, gardening, raising animals, making her own soap, all while battling severe depression. Even though she had those struggles, she was strong and fierce and very religious, but above all she was so loving and allowed us to be ourselves.
My adopted father, however, was not loving. He provided for us and had an incredibly strong work ethic, but struggled at being a loving father, especially to me. He thought I was too loud, impulsive, and spirited. I could feel his disapproval of me. After exploring this as an adult, I believe he didn’t want another child. He died when I was seventeen of lung cancer, but before he died he had a conversation with me about not being the kind of dad I needed and how sorry he was for that. It was healing and also spoke of the kind of man he was and not the version I got.
The longing to find my birth mother was strong from a very early age. (I had dreams about it.) When my birth mom was pregnant with me, she had taken the time to write out a family tree covering the physical characteristics and medical history of both birth families. My mom shared that with me when I was 11 or 12, and I would examine that paper looking for similarities. I knew that after I turned 18 I could reach out to Barbara to see if she could connect me with my birth mother. At 19 I did just that and sent her a letter to be forwarded on.
A few weeks later I received a letter back, but in that letter was rejection. My birth mother didn’t feel she could introduce me to her young children, husband, and siblings that didn’t know about me. I WAS HEARTBROKEN. Along with the letter she included photos of herself and her boys. It was the first time looking at faces that had similarities to mine. I read that letter over and over again trying to find clues to where she lived and where I was from.
I got married in 1993 and had my first baby in ‘94 and continued to have six more. I loved the biological connection I felt for each baby and knew how my birth mother must have felt. When my youngest was two I received a call from my mom saying that she was contacted by Barbara and that my birth mother, in fact, did want to meet me. So a few months later we had a reunion, but she still wanted my existence to be a secret. That was until I met my birth father a few years later and it had to come out because of some overlapping friendships between the families. The secret was out!
It has all been a blessing, an answer to questions, and also challenging. I believe the guilt of everything has been super hard on my birth mother, and a few years ago she asked to put a “pause” on our relationship. I tell people she has really rejected me three times, and although it is hurtful, the pain is eased by the way my birth father’s family has wrapped up my family in love and acceptance.
I know this isn’t the end of my story. My feelings have changed over the years. They have evolved, matured, and accepted that choices were made that I had no control over, and I’m so thankful to be living and have the love and life that I have!