Twice Adopted (Part 1)

Baby Di with parents 1963

Have you seen those TV shows about people who were adopted? They usually feature adults who want to find their birth parents. You know, they thought about meeting them for years, and they just couldn't shake it. Most of them felt like a puzzle piece of their life was missing.  I could have been on one of those shows.

I am ready to share my story about longing for a man I didn't know: my father.

I have felt for years that what I went through would need to be told. I also know there are countless people who have experienced something similar. You might know someone like that, or  maybe you are that person. This is about my journey through countless questions, searching, dreams, grief and gifts of grace. Finally, answers and acceptance.

I lost my father through divorce when I was age three. My step-dad married my Mom when I was eight, and he legally adopted my younger brother and me a few years later. He was a good Dad to us and I will always be grateful that he took on a ready-made family. He and Mom gave us a baby sister less than a year after they got married.

Dad , Mom, L-R Heather-5, Darrell-11, Di-14

When I was a child, I would occasionally ask Mom about my biological father. She would answer my questions, and she never cut him down. When I was old enough, she explained why they divorced, but without bitterness or negativity. I would get out the pictures sometimes and look at images of myself with him.  It was when we lived in Honolulu! Awesome, huh?  It looked like we had fun together.  He was tall, big and handsome too.

You know, it seems odd to me now, but I don't think I ever questioned WHY I never saw him. I didn't ask my mother and I don't think I even wondered about it in my mind. I think I just accepted that he wasn't in my life.  I also didn't have any actual memories of my father, just photos.

So, like most kids, I was busy growing up. Doing the mountain tops and valleys of life. When I was 27, I started thinking about my biological father again...a lot.

I wasn't sure what triggered it. My step-father and Mom had divorced a few years before that. Maybe that was it? My firstborn child was three. Later I thought that might be significant, since that was the age I was when my parents separated.  (I have played the role of Junior Psychologist many times, trying to figure some of this out.)

I started really missing my father. I started asking my Mom questions, which she was willing to discuss. I felt so unsettled, like I just wanted to find him. I started having dreams about him.

I sincerely prayed to God for guidance. I got a very clear answer "Put it away for now."  No, not a booming voice from Heaven or something audible.....just a knowing in my heart. My son was three and my daughter was under a year old. Being a full time Mommy of two babies was top priority, as it should be. I didn't have much physical or emotional energy left for a father search at that time.  I came to some peace about waiting. Not giving up, but waiting.

To be continued...