Adoption Week e-Magazine Article

Linda Muzzin

At 15 you think you know it all. I was sure that if I were able to find my biological parents I could escape the fears of being different and somehow find my true place in this life. Little did I know it would be one of the most challenging adventures of my lifetime.

I talked two friends into going with me, and I had a sure fire plan. I excused myself early for bed, and then stuffed the blankets so that it looked as if I were there. I snuck out my window and then up to the bus stop to catch a bus downtown. That was where I caught a bus to San Francisco. I had the name of the hospital, and because it was a hospital, I knew it must be open all night. I thought I could go there, find out all I needed to know, and then return before anyone woke.

Yes, at 15 you will believe just about anything you tell yourself, because in fact you, at that age, know it all. I really did have the best intentions. I did not want my dad knowing I was looking. I did not want him feeling as if I did not appreciate him or all he had done for me. I know he did not have to raise me on his own, but he did. I wanted to protect him from thinking I was skipping out on him, but I had a burning desire to know who I was. I needed to know if it was because of me that they gave me up. I needed to know that they missed me and that the timing was all wrong, but that they thought of me everyday. I wanted to confirm my ideas that they had stayed together and suffered this loss together. I needed to know, no matter what the answers were. I just needed to hear them out loud.

When I arrived in San Francisco, I was frightened, and so were my friends. It was big and dark, and people you are warned about as a child seemed to be all around. I was armed with the name of the hospital, the doctor, and my birth certificate. I knew if I could just talk to the doctor, maybe he would remember something that could help me find the life I was meant to have. I was determined to find the truth, and I had not come all this way to be afraid.

We reached the hospital where I was born, but it wasn’t a regular hospital, and much to my dismay, the hours were not all night long. I needed to return in the morning during business hours, but the worst news of all was not that the doctor no longer worked there, but that he had passed away. The one thing I had to link me to this other life was gone, and at that moment, I felt more empty and alone than I had words for. I knew right then I had made a mistake and that I knew very little about making this happen. I was so sad, so angry, and so alone that I knew I would have to give this up… not for my dad, or anyone else, but for the mere fact that I was young and without the resources to keep trying to find them on my own. I knew I had been left. They were not looking for me. I was simply one of thousands, or hundreds of thousands, that had been given up, and I was at a emotional standstill.

Until next week, have a blessed day.

To read last week's article, visit http://e- magazine.adoption.com/articles/507/an-assorted-fairytale-ix.php.