By AMY SHANKLAND
Perfectly Imperfect
Thanks to a fantastic babysitting co-op through our church, John and I were able to go out on a date with each other twice a month despite our low finances. Sometimes we would just have a picnic and listen to the free concerts offered on our beautiful historic downtown square in Noblesville. Other times we would go out for pizza and visit Target – gasp – all by ourselves. This was a real treat for parents of two small children.
I remember our conversations sometimes drifting to the topic of me potentially searching for my birthparents. John would talk about his frustration over my mother’s feelings. He could see that I was torn, and that deep down I was beginning to feel a desire to search for my biological family.
A couple of my closest friends also discussed the subject with me. They shared John’s frustration. But I want to be clear. I didn’t, nor do I currently, feel any animosity toward my mother about her feelings. Being a mother myself, I have often tried to put myself in her position.
How would I feel if my sons were adopted and one day they announced to me that they wanted to find their biological parents? I’m sure a part of me would be a bit nervous about what they would find and how close they would get to their birth family. But obviously, I would certainly be supportive of whatever they wanted to do.
I finally made a decision. I decided I would search for my birth parents after my mother passed away in the future. Mom was in her late 70s at the time. Of course, I loved her very much and wanted her to live as long as possible. I figured waiting 10, 15, or 20 years or so would be OK.
I did take one baby step in 2009. I decided to at least find some non-identifying information, hopefully medical. But where to begin?
I contacted Catholic Charities, formerly Catholic Social Services, of Southwestern Ohio. Since I was born in Good Samaritan hospital in Cincinnati, I figured they were the actual agency that handled my adoption. But I discovered that the correct branch was the Fort Wayne / South Bend one in Indiana, where I was raised. I called that office and asked what my options were as far as finding out non-identifying information.
They kindly directed me to the St. Joseph County probate court that handled the legal aspects of my adoption. A warm, courteous woman named Laura told me on the phone that she could look up certain pieces of information and share them with me. She took down my birth date and other information and promised to get back to me soon.
Two days later, Laura called me back. For the first time in 38 years, I learned pieces of my history. I was shaking so hard it was difficult to write down the information she gave me on a legal pad.