Friend pauses for what seems like a long time.  She looks up, bites her lip, starts to speak and then stops herself.

“Yes. I would still have searched. I needed to know this information. I HAD to make this contact.  The unknown was making me feel crazy.  I don’t feel crazy anymore even if I do feel disappointed in the outcome of my reunion. I know my story.” says friend.

“I totally get that.  While my situation is different, being a mother, I would also still search. It was less about me and more about her.  She has a right to this information, to know, to ask.  Since the law does not currently allow her to know this information, I had to do it to give it to her. The fact that she does not want it, does not want to know me, does not negate her inherent right to her information. Sure, I wanted to know her too but my real goal was to let her know who I was, how to contact me, and give her access the law prohibits. ” I offer in return.

“Where I have slowed things down and rethought my approach is in my actively helping others search.  In the early years I helped hundreds of people, spent many personal hours doing searches for others, these days, I don’t spend much. I make myself available. I answer questions if asked. I run ehbabes.com and share information there to help others but the intense, time-consuming, active searching? Over and done with that.  I cannot do it anymore. I feel bad about that.” I continue.

Friend shakes her head as if nodding in understanding.

“When I fell off my personal reunion rainbow cloud and truly felt the pain of the outcome of reunion, it occurred to me that while I had the potential to bring good things into people’s lives by helping them, I also had the potential to bring in bad.  Also, it took so much of my personal time, time away from my kids, my husband and personal life.  I had to stop it, cut back, trim it or something…Adoption already took so much of my soul. I could not give it anymore.  While I had no say, confidence, ability to fight it back in 1986, I do have the strength now” my voice trails off in bit of pain.

“I think that is totally understandable, Suz. I don’t think you should feel bad. You did good things. You helped me and it was good. You have helped many others. That work was good too.” friend says.

“I am not so sure….” I say as I grab my purse and head towards the door.

Come back tommorow to read the second part wherein I will share a touching statement I received from one of the adoptees I had helped.  Many adoption reunions go wrong or are less than fulfilling.  Some do go well. 

I hope her girlfriend and other friends and family take her out for a wonderful dinner in Brooklyn and shower her with all the love she so rightly deserves.

I made two donations in honor of her. Whereas years past, I would send her gifts or donate to causes she would support, her request for no contact and gifts has changed my approach. I now donate to causes that work to change adoption or prevent it all together.

This year I was happy to make a small donation to the Adoptee Rights Coalition and a Young Mothers Dream.

Happy birthday to all.

The surgery will take six to eight hours.  There is a 2% morbidity rate.  There are the standard risks associated with general anesthesia and oh, yeah, all those risks that come along with spine/disc/etc surgery.  My heart races a bit from anxiety and I realize I am just freaking myself out.  I assure myself that if something unexpected should happen I have a great husband, a good job, good coverage and I will manage.  I have been through a great deal in my life and I have come out the other side. I can handle this too.  Even if the worst should happen (that 2% morbidity) my children, well, my sons anyway, are taken care of. I have all my estate planning documents, wishes, etc. documented, approved and shared with the right people. My sons would have their father and other members of my family. My daughter? Well, she is grown and on her own and has no desire for contact. Should I give orders to someone to contact her in a worst case scenario situation, I wonder? Would she want to know?

My heart begins to race again at the thoughts of death and my children. I am struggling to work as I need to.  Decide to pop on some headphones, listen to some music and continue my analysis of the search data. I am attempting to produce an aging report and determine how long it takes me to implement simple meta data changes.

As I reach for the headphones in the top drawer of my desk, my work phone rings.

“Good afternoon. This is Suz” I say.

“Is this Suz Bednarz?” the caller asks.

“Yes, it is. How can I help you?” I respond.

“Oh, hi, this is Dr. S’s office. I am his physicians assistant. I am calling to tell you that he wants to schedule a CT scan. He forgot to tell you that when you were in the office last week.” the assistant shares.

“Oh, okay.  That is fine. What do I need to do?” I ask.

“Well, first I have to get approval from your insurance company.  I will handle that with our office staff.  Once I get the approval, we will schedule it for you and give you a date. Is any date or time better than others?” she asks.

“No, not really. My schedule is pretty flexible. I can accommodate early morning, daytime, evening. I prefer to go to [specific radiology location]” I state.

“Okay. Good to know. In addition to the CT scan, I was calling to give you my name and contact details. I will be your primary point of contact before and after the surgery. I will be with you all along the way” she says in a very chipper voice.

“Great. What was your name again?” I ask.

“Amber. My name is Amber.”

I choke on my next breath.  The person that will be with me “all along the way” carries the same name my daughter did at birth.