Ancestry

I wasn't sure if I should blog about this just yet, but it's kind of a big deal for me so I've decided to go ahead and share. Writing about it will help me sort out my feelings about it anyway.

I've had an account on Ancestry.com for awhile, but only recently started to get into it, with being on summer break and all. I've been able to trace parts of my mom's family line back to Ireland, England, France, Canada (am I still allowed to make fun of them?), and of course, Germany.  I also traced Studdy Hubby's family back to England in the 1500s as well as Scotland.

On a side note, I got some junk mail the other day addressed to "Rachel Moore". Hasn't anyone informed the post office that she's gone? I briefly considered writing "Deceased" or "Not at this address" on it and tossing it back in the mailbox, but I refrained.

ANYWAY...

With all the searching for records I've been doing, I got to thinking about what records are out there with my name on it. Not many online as it turns out. And then I remembered that I was originally born Rachel Stoddard, my mom's last name after her first marriage, before she married my dad. But when I was born, she hadn't met him yet. When she did about 3 years later, they got married and he legally adopted me. So surely there's a record out there somewhere with my first name, right?

Not on Ancestry.com, well, at least not at this time. I tried doing a general internet search for Michigan adoption records and quickly learned that those are "closed" although the adult adoptee is allowed to request the record.

Hmmm...

A few short clicks, and I was staring at the form necessary to to get that information. It all happened so easily that I couldn't help but feel like this was the right time. 

Not long ago, finding my biological father or at least some information on him was hugely important to me. As I've worked through some other issues, I realized I had found peace with not knowing. And at the same time, I realized that I didn't try as hard as I could have to find him, or so it would seem. Otherwise, why wouldn't I have found this form before? What was holding me back? I'm not sure. Maybe there was a part of me that knew I wasn't in the right place to handle the information contained in the record. Maybe it had to wait until I was more at peace with the whole. Only God knows.

Saturday morning, I mailed in the form. They have 63 days to respond. If the father has signed something to where he doesn't want his identity revealed, then they can still share non-identifying information. If he didn't...well, I'm not holding my breath.

So we'll see what some of that. I'm trying to just put it out of my mind until August or until I hear something from them. 

Wish me luck!!

-Rachel

P.S. - Check this out: http://dna.ancestry.com/ I want to do this so bad!

Father's Day

(Come on, you had to know this post was coming...)

Oh Father's Day. I was determined not to let you get to me this year. I told myself I was past that. After all, I have an amazing godfather, and I should just be thankful for that and focus all my "Father's Day energy" on that. It seemed like a good idea. It just didn't turn out to be very realistic. 

The days leading up to the holiday were fine. I didn't get upset or teary at all. I thought I had won. This morning was fine as well. I had volunteered to work today (as well as Mother's Day) so I figured that would keep me busy. And it did! Until I sat down for lunch to catch my breath and opened up Facebook on my phone. I saw so many posts talking about what great dads people had and how lucky they are to have him. And it broke my heart. I couldn't help but wonder what it feels like. Part of me wondered how honest they were being also, but I'm going to assume that most of them were.

After lunch, I got back to work and didn't have time to think about it again. Once I got home, I made the foolish decision to watch a movie that I already knew would make me cry. Ok, I'll just be honest - it was Disney's Tangled. Long story short (SPOILER ALERT!), Rapunzel was kidnapped as a baby but reunited with her parents at the end. That's the scene that really got me this time. Maybe I knew what I was doing when I decided to watch the movie. Maybe I just needed to cry it out and get it out of my system.

A family reunited

I guess I don't have anything constructive to say here. In conclusion, Father's Day makes me sad, but I wish a VERY happy day to my godfather, and to all the wonderful, supporting and deserving father's out there. You truly are more valuable than you know.

Rachel

OMG! Oprah has a sister!

Now watch me turn this around to be all about me!

There was a lot of hype about today's upcoming Oprah episode. There was going to be some kind of "emotional reunion" between Oprah and some unnamed person. It turns out, she has a half-sister that she never knew about until October 2010. 

Oprah's mother gave up a baby girl for adoption while Oprah was living with her father. That baby, Patricia, tried to seek out her mother as an adult. The information she received from the state stated that she had a sister named Patricia (Pat), a brother named Jeffrey. It also stated that she had another sister living in Tennessee with her father. 

The state adoption agency called to let Patricia know that her mother did not want any contact with her. That same day, Oprah's mother was on the news giving an interview. She talked about her 2 children, Pat and Jeffrey who has since passed away. A light bulb went on in Patricia's head. She made the connection that this was her family and the rest is history.

As someone searching for her own family, this episode was incredibly emotional for me. As Patricia talked about how complete she felt now that she found her family, I felt the old familiar longing for the missing piece of my own puzzle. 

The past few days, that feeling has been particularly fresh. I received an e-mail from ancestry.com that I had a new "hint" for a relative. I logged in and looked it over and checked out some other relatives as well. I found some new ones on my mom's side of the family, and some new ones on Aaron's side including a woman that was married at 14 years old and died at 18 of tuberculosis.  

Anyway, as I was playing around on there, I saw an ad for their DNA testing feature. For around $150, you can send in a cheek swab and they will test it to find your ancient ancestors. "Great!" I thought. "I can use that combined with paper records to follow the trail to my mysterious relatives!" 

Nope, guess again. Women can only trace their maternal blood line. If they want to know about their paternal ancestors, they have to have a male relative submit their DNA. Something about mitochondrial DNA from the father being destroyed after insemination. I don't know, I didn't care. The point is, I'm screwed. I had such a bright glimmer of hope, and it was snatched away by nature. Besides episodes of especially painful menstruation, I think it was the only time I would have preferred to have a penis.  I was near tears.

Then, one of my favorite movies was playing on TBS this weekend - Mamma Mia! For those unfamiliar, it is a FANTASTIC musical based on the music of Abba. It is about a young woman, who is about to be married and her single mother. The woman has no idea who her father is, but stumbles upon her mother's diary. She finds out that her mom had 3 partners around the time she was conceived. She somehow uses that information to track them down and invite them to her wedding, assuming she will know which one is her father when she them. If you want to know the rest, please watch it!

He was happy, honest! Just nervous.
:-)

Anyway, when I watch it, I can easily imagine the anticipation she is feeling while waiting for the three men to arrive. The anxiety and nervousness of meeting them. The examination of their mannerisms, talents, etc. The decision of who should walk her down the aisle. This was something I had to figure out. Because of the isolating nature of abuse, I was never able to form close relationships with my male relatives. The one I was closest to was my Uncle and Godfather, Ralph. I could walk down the aisle in a symbol of independence, which was especially important to me at the time. Or I could have my mom walk me down the aisle, but that's too "non-traditional" for my taste. I had several male friends that I was close to, one of which I referred to as my "adopted big brother". But that didn't seem like an appropriate choice either. In the end, I chose Uncle Ralph. He had been very supportive of me and actually tried to be part of my life. He and Aunt Jane also sent me birthday presents for awhile, and that's something a little girls remembers. ;-) In retrospect, I wouldn't change that decision if I could. To really grind salt into the wound, there is also lovely poignant scene between mother and daughter as she is dressing for her wedding day. THE TEARS!!!

So between Oprah, DNA and Mamma Mia!, my "daddy issues" are feeling close to the surface right now. And it's just not something I'm ready to let go of, at least not yet. So I'm contacting the State of Michigan to see if I can find my adoption records (my stepdad legally adopted me when I was 2 or 3) to see if there is any info there. Wish me luck!!

Rachel

Baby Self

I feel like I have a million things on my mind right now that I could write about (when don't I!) so I'm doing my best to focus and get at least one post out tonight!

After a little Thanksgiving break, I jumped back into therapy today and did some more inner child work. We did two separate sessions. The premise for the first one is something I had never heard of, so I know I'm going to do a dreadful job of describing it. Basically, there is a theory that inner child work can go as far back as infancy or even pre-birth. Infants recognize when their needs are not being met, but they are unable to verbalize it. Fetuses have needs as well, as they feel whatever mom feels. See Google for more information!!

I've really been thinking a lot lately about Bio Dad. Going on the theory that as a baby I would understand things such as meeting him, or hearing about him, I started the first session in an effort to contact myself at this age and see if she had anything she could share.

I find myself in the Happy Place, where my Actual Self is waiting for me, already holding a baby. I walk up to her, and she places the swaddled infant in my arms. I look down at her, in awe of her beauty and innocence. She is sleeping soundly. I bask in the moment. As we stand there, I talk to my Actual Self and explain what I'm looking for. I ask her if she knows anything, if she can show me anything. I then get the vague feeling that there is a path to the left, that leads into the more forested area. It is dark, but does not seem ominous, rather shrouded in mystery. I'm then distracted by a baby, sitting on the ground beside me. She is older than the one I was holding, and happily playing with some toys. I knelt down and played with her. She giggled happily. I asked her where her daddy was and she looked around, as if expecting to find him. We go back to playing, and I pick her up, balancing her on my hip. She babbles on, assumedly about about her toy, and I ask her again where her daddy is. She looks around, the same as before, then goes back to her toy. We play a bit longer before I promise her that I will be back and then leave.

I really don't know how this one is going to play out, however I do believe it requires an open mind. There was a time when I would have scoffed at all of this, but I realize now that that attitude is both ignorant and foolish. I have been amazed by the effectiveness of inner child work up to this point, and realize that I have a long road ahead of me. 

My therapist reminded me of something today that I did not remember. When I came in for my first session, I explained that I was there for anxiety, and that I had been abused in the past but I had already dealt with that. I knew I had grown and changed a lot in the past few months, however I did not realize it was THAT much! How foolish I was! Ok, maybe not foolish. But I am amused that it was only August when I said that, and now I blog about dealing with abuse. What a difference!

My Biological Father

I have never met my biological father, nor do I really know who he is. I have very few details about him, and I doubt the validity of those. Here's the story.

My mom was 29 or 30. She was single mom, with a 9 year old son from her first marriage. She was working in an office at Fermi II, a nuclear power plant. One winter night, she had a date with a contractor from the plant. His name was Jesse Patrickson. He was tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She seemed to remember that he may have mentioned having family in Pennsylvania. As the night wore on, Mom had a little too much to drink. He took her back to her apartment. He initiated sex, and she declined. He, however, insisted. Later, when she realized she was pregnant, she approached him to inform him of the situation and he offered to pay for the abortion. She wasn't interested. After I was born, she tried to pursue child support, but by then he had left town and the courts were unable to locate him.

That is literally everything I know. I cannot even put into words how strong my desire is to find him. Ideally, I would be able to meet him and have some time to talk to him, find out all about him. I'd like to know his likes and dislikes, his hobbies, everything about his childhood, his medical history...everything. I want to know what he looks like. I want to see photos of him when he was younger, and of his family. I don't look like my sisters or my brother, so it would be amazing to me to see someone who shares some of my physical characteristics. I want to know if I have more half-siblings. 

My sister's all have huge gorgeous eyes, as
does my mom.
Where do I get my little squinty ones?

I feel like it shouldn't matter; that I should feel complete without him. But I already have "daddy issues". I long for a real father, and while I realize he may not be interested, or I may not even like him, I can't help but desire the opportunity to find out. I've tried to rely on my Heavenly Father to fill that void, but even God intended for little girls to have daddy's. Inside, I'm still that little girl, looking for her daddy. I feel like finding him would bring me a great deal of closure. It's a part of me that is shrouded in so much mystery. I have to know. I have to find him. 

The trouble is, I don't know that I ever will.

I was talking about this the other day with a friend, and something clicked. I was thinking about how I only have the few specific details, and I don't know where he lives. It was exactly the same as the Chicago fiasco. We knew my car was there somewhere, and we knew some definite details, but we could not find it. In retrospect, we realized we had sat down right across the street from it. It was right in front of our faces, but we couldn't see it. I sometimes wonder if I do know my dad, and I'm not supposed to know who he is. That maybe the story of my conception is contrived to protect someone. It's just a theory. I have no idea. It just seems unlikely that in the age of the internet and social media, that I couldn't find this person. 

If anyone knows anything, please, let me know! Finding my father means more to me than I can even tell you.

Thanks for reading!

Writing the memories...

As part of my adventure into writing, I'm going to start writing about some of my memories. I believe these are going to undergo several edits as I learn to write in a way that conveys more emotion and feeling. I've talked about this one in counseling recently, so I'll just use it first.

I was somewhere around 12 years old. I remember because my memories are all based on where I was living at the time, and we moved often. In this particular memory, we were living in my favorite of all the rental homes we were in. It was a large 2 story brick home - originally purchased as a kit through Sears and Roebuck. If memory serves me right, it had 4 bedrooms. As the oldest of 5, I had the luxury of my own room. The house was probably in great need or repair, but to me it was a castle. One of the problems I was very aware of was the lack of central air. Even though Michigan is a northern state, summers can easily reach 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Often times, the setting of the sun brought no relief. For pajamas, we would wear over-sized men's t-shirts.

When the heat was especially relentless, mom and dad would let us sleep on the living room floor, instead of upstairs in our bedrooms. It wasn't much relief, but we took what we could get. To my sisters and myself, it was an adventure: our own little sleepover. To keep an eye on things, dad would sleep on the couch.

Although we did this on several occasions, only one stands out in particular. I was in a dead sleep, in the middle of the night. Something woke me up...a strange feeling. In that moment between awake and asleep, it almost felt good.  As I woke a little more, I realized the feeling was coming from between my legs. I looked down and saw my step-dad laying by my feet, his arm reached up as far as it would go so that he did not awaken my sisters who were sleeping on either side of me. His fingers were rubbing my vagina through my underwear. I squirmed and rolled over, pulling my knees up and together, pretending to still be asleep. He left me alone, and I fell back asleep, but fitfully so. I remember waking up and making sure he was still sleeping on the couch.

I think this memory is so vivid for me for several reasons. For one, I think it was the first time he had been so sexually direct in touching me. He didn't touch me again like that for quite some time. Also, I think it was one of the first times I realized that I was no longer safe with my family around me. He was getting sloppy. Anyone could have woken up and seen him: one of my sisters could have simply opened their eyes. Mom could have come downstairs at any given moment. But he must have reasoned that the risk was worth it, although I doubt he bothered to think about it for too long.


"If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud"

What have I gained?

I found this when I was looking for an inspirational wallpaper for my desktop. I thought it was perfect! I've spent a lot of time talking about what I have been without in the past. Saying we didn't have much money when I was growing up is an understatement. Because of this, my sisters and I went without. We went without new clothes, fashionable clothes and appropriately fitting clothes. We went without experiences like Disney World, Cedar Point, etc. The list of things like that could go on and on. The thing I think I missed the most was having a loving father. I yearn to be a daddy's girl. I try to remember that God is my heavenly father and he loves me more than anyone on earth can, but I am only human. I still long for that. I want to find my biological father so badly, but I don't even know if the little information I have is true. My mom has said his name is Jesse Patrickson. She met him when she was working at Fermi. He was a contractor, or contract employee (I don't know if there is a difference). She said he was tall and good-looking; a blue-eyed blonde. He may or may not have said he had family in Pennsylvania. She said they went out on one date. She had been drinking and they went back to her (?) apartment where he forced himself on her. She said she was too intoxicated to do much about it. When she told me about this, she didn't seem to realize she was raped, or maybe didn't want to. It was the 80s after all...I don't know if the term "date rape" was even being used. She said it wasn't long before she found out she was pregnant. She remembered crying in the doctor's office. When she confronted "Jesse", he offered to pay for the abortion, which mom obviously declined. After that he left town and couldn't even be found by the courts when she tried to pursue child support. Maybe the story is 100% factual. But in this time of the digital age, it seems unlikely that I can't find anyone with that name and approximate age. 

There is a chance that I would be disappointed if I were to meet him. But on the other hand, it would be amazing to meet someone who looked like me; who shared some of my personality traits and quirks. Would he be like me at all? I want to know so badly. Do I have other brothers and sisters? Do any of them look like me? Don't get me wrong, my sisters are my sisters. I don't care if they have a different biological father. We all grew up together, not knowing any different. I'm just curious who else is out there. If you're reading this and you have any advice at all, please, share with me!

I have gotten completely off the point. lol So, I'm wondering what I gained. I'm not saying that I think I didn't gain anything. I'm just contemplating what it might be.