New Old Family History

     When I first started receiving information about my birth mother and family, I felt as though my brain was being rewired and shuffled about. Over the years, I've created a narrative that allowed me to come to terms with being adopted and answer the inevitable questions that arise on occasion. I never felt emotionally distraught about being adopted, but as I tried to wrap my mind around this monumental uncertainty, I found creating a private narrative was a great coping mechanism. That narrative has fizzled over the last week and I now know the truth. 

     I promise I will reveal the full story of my early life in due time. I know many have been following my journey on my blog and on Facebook and I appreciate all the kind words and encouragement. What I will share, is my birth mother's pregnancy caused great turmoil for her and her family. In the letter's I've received from a newly found uncle, even after forty-five years the pain and regret he and his family felt is palpable. It's quite the thing to learn your happiness is the result of such great heartache, by those who let you "get away." I'm filled with conflicting emotions of gratitude and remorse.
     I don't feel guilty as though I've done anything wrong. After all, I had no say in the decision. But I feel genuine remorse for the pain she and her family went through. I've learned it changed them for life. I feel this for them as I would for any family faced with such a difficult decision. But, I wouldn't change the outcome. I was given a great gift--a loving family who could provide me what I needed to live and be happy. And while I've always known I was lucky, I don't think I really grasped the essence of that happiness until this past week. 
     When I was young I rationalized I ended up in the Hollst household because that's where God wanted me. Part of my coping mechanism as a child was believing my birth mother was nothing more than a mere vessel to deliver me to my mom and dad. That notion left me long ago and now that I know the truth I was a fool for ever thinking it in the first place. Perhaps, that's where some of my guilt rests. I'm only now learning about her and every day it's something new and fantastic, but I can promise you she was more than an incubator. She was a blessing. And along with her nose, cheek bones, smile, and love of singing and writing, I inherited some of her blessings. And I've been able to share them with the people I love and care about. But for her, I would not be. 
     Another remarkable aspect of this past week is I've learned the identity of my birth father. I don't know much about him yet. He has a Facebook page and I've reviewed what I could. Including a video of woman's bouncing breasts--a few times (I'm sure a friend posted it to his page). I, too, am bouncing around a bit on how to handle this potential reunion. Part of me questions his actions 45 years ago, while another seems willing to forgive him for wringing his hands of the situation. Truth is, I don't know this part of the story completely. There's some questions that need to be answered, so for now I think I'm going to sit on what I know. But not too long. I don't want to regret missing a window of opportunity. 
     I am looking forward to meeting my birth family. Through a coincidence of timing, they are coming to Ohio next month to visit family and friends in Darke County. From my newly found uncle's correspondence, my existence was no secret and after a few years was eventually spoken about openly. Apparently there is a family tree with a missing nut leaf that a number of folks are very eager to reattach. As an amateur genealogist I can't wait to add my info to theirs and vice versa and dig into my new old family history. Because I will claim them all as my own. 

What's in a Name?

     Imagine you were someone else. Not necessarily in personality or social status, but rather, you had been given a different name. Do you think you'd be the same kind of person you are now, only with a different name? Over the last few days, I've been wondering about this question quite a bit. I have a scrapbook my late father started for me after I was brought home from the adoption agency. In it, there are questions parents can answer for their children. One of the questions asked is, "Why we named you ______________?" His response in the book reads, "we named you Todd Alan because we thought it sounded good." While I'm not complaining, it always kind of struck me as being rather impersonal. I'm happy with my name, but nearly every other man with the last name of Hollst has been named after someone before him, except for me. Even I named my son after his great-grandfather. Well, I did change Adolf to Alexander, for obvious reasons.

     I've often wondered if I had another name prior to my adoptive parents giving me a name. I was born in September 1969 and came to my adoptive parents four months later, so I always assumed I probably had a quasi name. Sort of a stand-in name or maybe even a nickname, like "drool baby" or "the kid with colic." Plus, the law requires a baby be given a name and have it stated on the original birth certificate. I finally got my answer when I received my original birth certificate. I was born to Rosemary Folkerth at the Catherine Booth Hospital in Cincinnati, Ohio and was given the name Joseph Paul Folkerth. 
     The birth certificate revealed much information, but no father's name is listed in the space provided. It did, however, list my mother's maiden name of "Higgins." Of course, after getting information like this the first thing you do is GOOGLE. And to my surprise, I found a few listings for someone searching for a Joseph Paul Higgins. The first inquiry I found listed my birth mother's name and the name of a father--not, with the last name of Folkerth. This certainly raises some questions as to circumstance. I'm not revealing the name here because this person may still be alive and deserves their privacy. And he might not even know I exist. Again, many questions. The second "searching" listing revealed even more poignant information and it was heartbreaking: 

    When I began this journey, my intention was to simply find the name of my birth mother. I didn't feel I was ready to begin a new relationship with her or anyone from my birth family. But now, after discovering she tried to find me before she died, I too am compelled to complete her task. And as it turns out, though she passed away in St. Louis, Missouri in 2005, she's buried in her hometown--Greenville, Ohio. 
     I've sent an email to her brother who posted both inquiries and I hope to learn more about this unselfish woman who gave me up for a better life. My heart aches, but I'm filled with such gratitude for her sacrifice. I looking forward to expressing this sentiment to her and her surviving family in the very near future.