The Day I Found My Son

"B-mom" . . . . that term, applied to me by Diane Ritt in her reply to my query, sounded so odd, so strange. Yes, I had given birth to a son thirty-five years ago - - that covered the "B" part; but never having participated in any "firsts" of his life - - his first tooth, his first word, first sentence, first steps, first day of school, first report card, first major scholastic and/or athletic accomplishment, first communion or confirmation, first girlfriend, first car, his graduation, his marriage - - well, the "mom" part just didn't seem to fit me.

That day, thirty-five long years ago, now seems so far away, as though it happened to someone else. My circumstances at the time, were less than happy, and even though I knew my baby would brighten up my world 100 percent, I also knew that I was not capable of giving it the kind of care it deserved. I decided, pre-natally, to give up my child for adoption, a decision which would be all the more difficult, if I established any kind of contact following its birth. So, I chose not to see, hear or touch my child, all of which would have made it even more difficult to give him up. 

After his birth, my first reaction was one of relief - - in response to my questions, I was assured by a nurse that my son was healthy, and had all of the requisite fingers and toes. It took all the resolve I could muster, not to go down the hall to the nursery window, to sneak a peek at him. Satisfying my curiosity would have compounded the pain of separation, which was going to be difficult enough without added memories.

Then I was assailed by doubt: Have I really done the right thing for both of us? Will he benefit from this decision I've made on his behalf? How do I know that the people to whom I'm entrusting him, really care about what happens to him? Those considerations, in one form or another, continued to surface in my mind over the years. And they were always accompanied by the nagging guilt, engendered by the fear that perhaps he may have been shuffled from one foster home to another, and might not have the ideal type of life to which I hoped I had surrendered him. But once I signed the termination papers, there was no turning back.

Over the years, the guilt and doubt surfaced, in occasional quiet moments, and sometimes when a friend or relative had a baby and I attended baby showers. I can't recall exactly when the idea of locating my son became a definite goal, but I do recall telling a relative in 1993, that I was thinking of searching for him.

Where to begin ? 
I knew there were search services, and I had bought Joe Culligan's book, You, Too, Can Find Anybody, but I hadn't taken any steps toward searching. I had seen reunions on TV talk shows, so I knew it was possible to locate my son, but that kind of public forum didn't appeal to me. Then, in April, I went on-line on the Internet. The whole country remembers April 19th as the anniversary date of the Oklahoma City bombing, but for me ... I will forever cherish it as the day I found my son.

Using the search word "Adoptee," and clicking onto a list of adoption registries, I came across one titled, "Wisconsin Adoption Registry." So, I thought, "Well, it's one heckuva long shot, but here goes." And up came Diane Ritt's I.C.A.R.E. website. I was scrolling through the "Adoptees Searching" list, when, in the December births, there was my son's birthdate and place! I nearly swallowed my tongue! I thought, 'Surely this can't be him; but what if it is?' So I sent a cautious E-mail query to Diane. She responded with the delivery site hospital's name, and at that point, my world suddenly picked up speed and purpose, and life hasn't been the same since. It's been wondrously better!

I've done genealogy for twenty-five years, tracing my ancestry back to more than 300 early colonists of this country and thought, "Wouldn't it be wonderful, if I could find my son, and share this marvelous heritage with him?"

Now I have, and it has made all my research worthwhile. He has gone from knowing nothing of his roots, to having roots in abundance. Finding him has put to rest all my nagging doubts, fears, and guilt. I am so very grateful to his adoptive parents - - they are most remarkable people, to have opened their hearts and home to a child not of their flesh, and done such an excellent job of raising him to be the fine man he is. They did so much more for, and with him than I ever could have done.

Beyond all else, I want to thank Diane Ritt; without her website, none of this would have happened. Because of her, the hole in mine and my son's lives, has been filled, and we know how blessed we are to have Diane on this earth. I understand the chances of a Wisconsin adoptee and birthmother finding each other are slim, to none, so we know how very fortunate we have been, and we thank God, every day, for Diane. At long last, I get to feel like a mom, and thanks to Eric and his wonderfully supportive wife, Bonnie, I now get to feel like a grandma, six times over!!! Life is so amazing; what seemed like the worst experience in the world for a single, pregnant young woman, 35 years ago, has turned into the most beautiful life-altering event in my life - - what more could I expect, or do I need?

     - Eric's "B-Mom" Julie

Read words of encouragement from Julie's son Eric
One Year Later...