PART 3: Slow The Crap Down

*This is PART 3 in a four-part series. To read PART 1 & 2, click below.*

PART 1: The Gift of Adoption
PART 2: Jump Towards Hope

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SLOW THE CRAP DOWN

"I think we should send a Facebook message to the three kids, and their mom (my match)."

At this point, we didn't know which grown kid was my birth parent. We didn't know much of anything, really. For all I knew, my life could have been a huge secret that the other siblings knew nothing about. Maybe I was a secret from my birth parent's new family. Maybe I was a secret they had spent the last 34 years trying to forget about. We tried to keep this in mind as we put together our Facebook message.

"Hello! My name is Ashley. I was born September 30, 1984 in W****. Shortly after my birth, I was adopted by a couple in O****. I have never known the identity of my biological family. The only thing I know from my adoption file is that one of my grandfathers was a pilot. I recently did an AncestryDNA test and it came back that I am a closely related match to Shirley. Thanks to social media, I've done a little digging and discovered all of you.

I'm wondering if you might be able to help provide me some answers to how Shirley, or any of you, might fit into my story! I've spent my life being incredibly grateful for the gift of life that was given to me by my birth parents, and I'd love the chance to share that with them. I know I am asking a lot, but would you be willing to help me connect some dots? Grateful for any info you might be able to share!"

Send.

This was just before heading to bed for the night, and I'm not sure how I was able to sleep. But sleep, I did. And when I woke up in the morning, I checked Facebook. OBVIOUSLY. But there was nothing there. In fact, nobody even saw my message.

"What if it's in their messenger junk folder that I always said never existed but now it seems totally logical to run forward on this as quick as I can?!?!"

Slow your roll, girl. Thanks, Jake.

I had a coffee date with Betty that day. My goal was to sit across the table from this dear friend and sip coffee, while she sips her hot water with lemon, and be all about her. I did this, and she did this for me as well. I shared tidbits of what had played out in the previous 24 hours, and she cried, cried, cried. It slowed me down even more, and helped me realize that this is something.

This is something, and I'll appreciate it more if I slow down and embrace it. All of it. The tension, the release, and every spot in between. Thanks, Betty.

When I got out to my car after our coffee date, I checked Facebook. OBVIOUSLY. This time, I could see that my post was seen by a few people in the group.

"Okay, good. Someone saw it and now I can rest in knowing that I did what I could. Now it's up to them to do more."

Just as I was about to call Jake, I saw that someone else was added to the group. Someone named Matt. I had no idea what this meant, but I saw it as a step in the right direction. Not only did they SEE my message, but they're doing something with it.

I decided to go home and be in the moment. This meant that I was going to do what was in front of me - not obsessively check for new messages.

Embracing it, and waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

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As someone who writes about family, kids, life, there are many things I don't share. Not because I don't want to open them up to the world, but because when I do it feels cheapened. A penny gets tarnished by oxygen. I like to keep a few pennies really shiny. This is a penny that I'm going to keep under wraps.

It's for me, and for her.

Just before picking Carter up from school, I checked my messages. And there it was. The penny. A beautiful, tender, sentimental message from her. My birth mom. If I didn't know better, I would have thought that I, myself, wrote it. Her verbiage, her tone, her structure...it was me.

I'm not sure if it was 30 hours of tension, or 33 years of tension. But this was the release. It was everything I didn't know I wanted. It filled a little space that I didn't realize existed.

And the person she added to the group? My baby brother. My FULL baby brother, Matthew. If you're confused, this means that she and my birth dad stayed together, got married, and then had Matthew. She also told me that she was excited to share this news with my birth dad, and that he'd be thrilled.

She shared with me that she always kept her information updated with the agency, and also some adoption search websites. When I turned 30, she assumed that since I hadn't found her yet, I wasn't interested in reuniting. Yet, here I am.

This part of the story is called "Enjoying It". I remember feeling so incredibly settled. So many questions that I had throughout my life had been answered.

Okay, but hold on. There is one little piece of her response that I believe is worth sharing. Remember when I said that as a kid, I always fantasized about my birth family celebrating my birthday with cake? I knew I didn't want to even MENTION this to her, because I didn't want her to lie to me out of feeling obligated.

But.

One of the first things she shared with me is that every year, on my birthday, they had cake.

Cake for me.

The skeptic in me wondered if this was just something she felt like she should say. But it was confirmed moments later when I received my first message from my brother. In it, he said that every September they celebrated my birthday. He spent his whole life (as an only child) knowing that he had a sister 'out there somewhere'.

Over the next several days, I remember crying while I was scrambling eggs or folding laundry or reading my kids books. Macy would ask me "Mom, are you feelin' sad?".

No, Macy. I'm feeling happy. Really happy.

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{Come back tomorrow for PART 4}