I found out about my adoption when I was barely five years old. Growing up, it seemed like just another fact, nothing that would come to haunt me -- like knowing my best friend liked cats and had a tendency to break her wrist when she skateboarded. I liked soccer, surfing, and didn't know my birth parents. No big deal.As she describes her desire to keep searching, "The burning desire and curiosity, the need, won't die out."
Once I hit puberty, finding out anything about where I came from was of utmost importance to me. I spent hours in the library, researching adoption laws, e-mailing Congressmen and Senators who voted in favor of adoptee rights, even joining websites that promised the Holy Grail of reconnecting family members. I applied to the Wisconsin department of Children and Family Services to "open" my records.
In the last seven years, I've been turned down six times.
No More Tears, Let’s Do This
1 week ago