In 1993 I received a biographical health summary of my birth parents and their immediate families. Twenty years later I found a similar letter dated from 1970 which my parents received when they adopted me. Perhaps my late father knew this letter was in the family safe, but my mother had no recollection when I found it. I don't think it was kept from me intentionally, rather it was probably filed with the rest of my adoption papers and forgotten. Much of the information is consistent in both summaries, but there are a few details which needed clarification. In the l970 letter, it is stated "there are twins on the father's side of the family." The 1993 letter reads the father "has a twin sister." These two statements are not conclusive. Which letter writer is correct? Why did the writer of the 1970 letter not include my father was the twin, instead only saying "there are twins in the family?" There is a big difference between “being a twin” and “having twins in the family.” Also, the 1993 letter refers to my birth father in the past tense. It reads "he had," while the 1970 letter read, "he has." Since beginning my search I know he is alive—I've talked to him and will be writing about this aspect of my adoption story later. But when I received this summary in 1993, I had no way of knowing he was still alive. Perhaps the letter writer knew something about his fate which I didn't.
One of the other inconsistencies, though small and insignificant in the grand scheme, is the 1993 letter mentions my birth mother reports allergies to soap and fur. The 1970 letter neglects to mention either. I did my best to avoid soap, but I must not have inherited her allergy as my mom made sure I was bathed and never had any allergic reactions. I did however test positive for an allergy to horses in a skin prick test administered by my pediatrician. Thankfully, my parents never bought me a pony. But these small incongruences made me wonder what other information might be missing.
When I sent in my birth records request to the Ohio Department of Health, I received my original birth certificate and adoption papers. There was nothing in the packet resembling the information found on either biographical letter. I was perplexed by this inconstancy. I always figured the information would be the same at both the local and state level. Clearly, there were two adoption files—one with the state and another with the agency that facilitated my adoption. In this case, it was the Family Service Association located in Dayton, Ohio. At the time of my adoption, they were known as the Red Feather Agency and they are also a private organization with their own private files. This is where the biographical information came from in 1970 and 1993.
After a few weeks, I decided to inquire about my adoption file. Instead of calling then directly, I Googled the name of the social worker who provided me the 1993 information and sent her an email. I didn't call because they typically need such requests in writing and I thought an email would offer more credibility. I can imagine these agencies get calls and requests like this all the time and probably have their guard up. Plus, I've read some private adoption agencies are less than forthcoming when it comes to releasing details and I figured if I needed to get an attorney involved having everything in writing would be wise. Either way, it didn't matter. After not hearing back for about a week, I called and left the social worker a message and returned my call informing me she was now working for a different agency. She did however suggest I call the agency directly and ask for more information.
When I first called the Family Service Association, I spoke to a very kind woman who politely listened to my story. She took my contact information and gave me the name of the person who would be researching the file and calling me back. After a week or so she called back and I briefly explained to her my story and the discrepancies with the two letters. She asked what I was looking for and wanted specifics. Immediately, I thought this was a ploy on her part to stonewall me or gauge my true intentions. No doubt in her position she's probably heard all kind of crazy stories from both adoptees and birth parents and needed assurance I wasn't some scammer or troublemaker. I told her I had already been in contact with my birth mother's family and that she had passed away. I also told her I had talked to my birth father and was looking forward to developing a friendship with him. And, I had the corresponding documents to support all of my claims and I would be glad to send them to her. Then she asked why I wanted to know what was in the file. I told her, "A", she's my birth mother and I wanted desperately to find a copy of her handwriting and signature. And "B", I'm writing a book and if there was something in the file which could shed more light on my adoption story it would be "miraculous!" At that very moment, she said “You're in luck!” She revealed to me there was a letter in the file signed by my birth mother, Rosemary. I'm not lying when I say I think I heard angels singing in unison. I asked if she could scan or fax it to me, but she said it was against agency policies to send documents in this manner. She asked me to FAX her my ID and current address and promised to drop it in the mail the next day.
After I got off the phone, I called my wife and the conversation began as to what the letter contains. In my exuberance, I didn't ask the social worker to discern whether it was a personal letter or a signed administration document or adoption form. Is it possible, forty-six years ago when Rosie gave me up for adoption, she wrote a letter to me in hopes of me one day reading it? Given what I know about her now, this is very likely the case. She was a writer and I have no doubt she would be compelled to explain the circumstances of my birth and why she made the decision she did. My wife wholeheartedly believes this is the case. I spoke to my aunt and uncle about the letter and they seem very hopeful as well. But I'm trying very hard to keep my expectations at a reasonable level. However, of everything I've learned about Rosie or have been given by her family, including many photos, her engraved silver baby cup, a volume of plays she wrote for her church, stories about her, and the wonderful gift of her family and our new friendship, next to my life, a personal letter from her may be the most incredible gift I could ever receive.
Needless to say I'm anxious to get home and check the mailbox.
One of the other inconsistencies, though small and insignificant in the grand scheme, is the 1993 letter mentions my birth mother reports allergies to soap and fur. The 1970 letter neglects to mention either. I did my best to avoid soap, but I must not have inherited her allergy as my mom made sure I was bathed and never had any allergic reactions. I did however test positive for an allergy to horses in a skin prick test administered by my pediatrician. Thankfully, my parents never bought me a pony. But these small incongruences made me wonder what other information might be missing.
When I sent in my birth records request to the Ohio Department of Health, I received my original birth certificate and adoption papers. There was nothing in the packet resembling the information found on either biographical letter. I was perplexed by this inconstancy. I always figured the information would be the same at both the local and state level. Clearly, there were two adoption files—one with the state and another with the agency that facilitated my adoption. In this case, it was the Family Service Association located in Dayton, Ohio. At the time of my adoption, they were known as the Red Feather Agency and they are also a private organization with their own private files. This is where the biographical information came from in 1970 and 1993.
After a few weeks, I decided to inquire about my adoption file. Instead of calling then directly, I Googled the name of the social worker who provided me the 1993 information and sent her an email. I didn't call because they typically need such requests in writing and I thought an email would offer more credibility. I can imagine these agencies get calls and requests like this all the time and probably have their guard up. Plus, I've read some private adoption agencies are less than forthcoming when it comes to releasing details and I figured if I needed to get an attorney involved having everything in writing would be wise. Either way, it didn't matter. After not hearing back for about a week, I called and left the social worker a message and returned my call informing me she was now working for a different agency. She did however suggest I call the agency directly and ask for more information.
When I first called the Family Service Association, I spoke to a very kind woman who politely listened to my story. She took my contact information and gave me the name of the person who would be researching the file and calling me back. After a week or so she called back and I briefly explained to her my story and the discrepancies with the two letters. She asked what I was looking for and wanted specifics. Immediately, I thought this was a ploy on her part to stonewall me or gauge my true intentions. No doubt in her position she's probably heard all kind of crazy stories from both adoptees and birth parents and needed assurance I wasn't some scammer or troublemaker. I told her I had already been in contact with my birth mother's family and that she had passed away. I also told her I had talked to my birth father and was looking forward to developing a friendship with him. And, I had the corresponding documents to support all of my claims and I would be glad to send them to her. Then she asked why I wanted to know what was in the file. I told her, "A", she's my birth mother and I wanted desperately to find a copy of her handwriting and signature. And "B", I'm writing a book and if there was something in the file which could shed more light on my adoption story it would be "miraculous!" At that very moment, she said “You're in luck!” She revealed to me there was a letter in the file signed by my birth mother, Rosemary. I'm not lying when I say I think I heard angels singing in unison. I asked if she could scan or fax it to me, but she said it was against agency policies to send documents in this manner. She asked me to FAX her my ID and current address and promised to drop it in the mail the next day.
After I got off the phone, I called my wife and the conversation began as to what the letter contains. In my exuberance, I didn't ask the social worker to discern whether it was a personal letter or a signed administration document or adoption form. Is it possible, forty-six years ago when Rosie gave me up for adoption, she wrote a letter to me in hopes of me one day reading it? Given what I know about her now, this is very likely the case. She was a writer and I have no doubt she would be compelled to explain the circumstances of my birth and why she made the decision she did. My wife wholeheartedly believes this is the case. I spoke to my aunt and uncle about the letter and they seem very hopeful as well. But I'm trying very hard to keep my expectations at a reasonable level. However, of everything I've learned about Rosie or have been given by her family, including many photos, her engraved silver baby cup, a volume of plays she wrote for her church, stories about her, and the wonderful gift of her family and our new friendship, next to my life, a personal letter from her may be the most incredible gift I could ever receive.
Needless to say I'm anxious to get home and check the mailbox.
