An Emotional Toll: Finding the Missing Piece

For days, I felt like my world was spinning out of control. My emotions were all over the place, from feeling fine one moment to breaking down in tears the next. While my work kept me preoccupied during the day, my mind would race all night. This took a toll on my husband, who was understandably concerned. Before we got married, I had discussed the mystery surrounding my biological situation with him. I was relieved that I had told him beforehand, as I couldn't imagine having to explain the situation after the fact. Once again, I was forced to confront the issue that had been weighing on me for so long. I reached out to my parents after receiving an anonymous letter hinting that I might have been adopted. I was hoping they would clear things up once and for all, but much to my disappointment, they remained silent. The uncertainty and lack of answers plunged me into a deep depression.

Thankfully, my husband noticed my distress and took action. He called my parents on my behalf, expressing his concern for my well-being and urging them to finally tell me the truth. Though I wasn't present for the conversation, I was later informed about the call.

The phone rings and on the other end, I hear, "Jesikah, we need to talk to you."

Hopeful, yet anxious, I wondered if this could be the moment where I finally learn the truth and put an end to this ongoing nightmare. The conversation was brief, and my mother did all the talking. She repeated her claim that my father was, in fact, my biological father. At this point, I was skeptical of everything and everyone. It was clear that someone had information, but no one was willing to share it with me. This realization only added to my frustration. I couldn't help but wonder, why would someone send this to me? Then it hit me, it was intentional; someone was trying to grab my attention, and they succeeded. When I confronted my parents, my mother replied, "Oh, someone is just using you to get to me."

Are you kidding me, Lady!?! (Keep this in mind, as it will become relevant later.)

I decided that I needed to have a one-on-one conversation with my father. Maybe then, I could finally uncover the truth. However, it would take years before that conversation would come to fruition.

I know what you’re thinking..why would she let so much time go by? Why didn’t she press the issue?

Honestly, I don’t know if I was afraid of the truth or just afraid that I would be lied to again. Whenever I brought up the issue, my mother would get upset and say, "I am your mother, isn't that enough?" I didn't want to hurt her or make her feel unimportant, so I decided to let the matter rest and avoid talking about it--- with her.

At that time life was going well. I have a loving husband, wonderful children, and a supportive community that feels like family. However, things took a strange turn when I decided to call my dad and ask him some questions. I wanted to know who my birth mother was - the mysterious woman who brought me into this world. As he stuttered through his response, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. Though it should have been a red flag, I was just happy to finally have some answers. He shared a name with me, and while I was shocked, I was also grateful. We talked a bit longer about unrelated topics, and then I ended the call as if he hadn't just given me the final piece of the puzzle I had been searching for.

I finally have a name!!! Let the research begin!!!!

During a work project that requires me to travel and train others across the state, I had the pleasure of meeting Monique, a fellow married mother from South Carolina. We hit it off instantly and became fast friends. As we worked closely together on the project, Monique shared with me a fascinating story about her friend, Shelbi, who specializes in reuniting individuals with their biological relatives. Monique even told me her own experience of connecting with her biological father. In turn, I confided in Monique about my father giving me the name of a woman who he believes is my biological mother. "So when are we calling her?" Monique questioned me. Her words left me at a loss for words. I had already researched this woman and knew she had a family. Although I was tempted to make contact, I didn't want to disrupt anyone's life. The weight of the situation was overwhelming, and I chose to suppress my feelings and move on.

Monique, on the other hand, was persistent in her belief that I had a right to know. After some contemplation, I realized that she was correct.

I took a deep breath and made the call...

She answers.

To be continued...