My first conversation with my birth mother

By AMY SHANKLAND
Perfectly Imperfect

As my adoption and reunion story continues, I’ve changed some names, places, and dates.

I had no idea how long it would take a letter to get from Indianapolis to Boston or vice versa. I tried to keep myself busy and distracted with work and our family’s activities. But when I went to bed at night, I always wondered – would I get a phone call tomorrow? Or a letter? Or an email? Or would I hear nothing at all?

Perhaps my birth mother wanted to leave the past alone. I had to be prepared for and understanding of that potential outcome.

My boys were at their youth group at church on the evening of Wednesday, April 15. I took advantage of the 60 quiet minutes to pick up the house. Just as I finished, I noticed there was a voicemail on my cell phone. I played it back and had to sit down immediately because I started shaking so badly. It was Linda.

“Hi, Amy, this is Linda Murphy calling. I received your letter about renewing a friendship that began almost 44 years ago. That’s what I’m calling about is your letter.” She gave me her number. “It’s Tax Day, April 15th, and it’s about seven o’ clock. I don’t know if you have a different time zone in Indiana, but I’m up late if you’d like to call me later on, that’s fine. Or, if you’d like to call me tomorrow a good time to call would be after one o’clock. All right, talk to you then, goodbye.”

After that moment, I knew that Tax Day would have an entirely new meaning for me. It is the day I first heard my birth mother’s voice. I still have the voicemail on my phone today.

My husband John seemed to have a knack for being home right when I needed him during this journey, and that evening was no exception. He often had to travel in the evenings for his sales job, but fortunately was home on that Wednesday. John knew as soon as he saw my face what had happened.

“I’ll pick up the kids tonight,” he said. “I think you’re going to be on the phone for a while.”

I grabbed a notebook and a pen and sat down on the floor at our coffee table. I punched in the numbers on the phone with trembling fingers. Ten seconds later, I was speaking with Linda.

Tears began to flow at both ends of the line. I thanked her profusely for getting back to me.

“At first I was going to wait maybe a week or so to respond after I got your letter,” Linda said, “But then I thought after a couple days, ‘Aw, screw it, I’m calling her now.’ ” We both laughed.

I noticed her voice had a higher pitch than mine and was trembling as much as my own that evening. I explained the process that helped me find her. Linda hadn’t even known that the State of Ohio was opening up its adoption records. I told her just how grateful I was to know that she was alive and well. Linda shared with me, however, that she had faced some major medical issues in recent years, such as bladder cancer. But she had been four years cancer free at the time of our conversation.

“I’m so glad… Thank God!” I exclaimed.