When I was four days old, I was adopted by a loving couple who could not have children. Well, they couldn't have children until they adopted me. A few short months later, they discovered they were pregnant.

My Bio-Mom was 18 years old when she made one little mistake. I am proof that you can get pregnant the first time. She left school and moved back home. During that time, Bio-Mom and her mother became closer. I was eventually delivered by their trusted family doctor. Bio-Mom did not get to see me before they bundled me off to the nursery. Her mother, however, was an employee of the hospital, and spent some time with me that evening.

My Mom told me I was adopted when I was about four years old, although I have no recollection of that conversation. It seems as though I have always known I was adopted, and I thank my Mom for that. The differences in appearance between my sister and I are obvious, she has wonderfully full and thick dark hair and beautiful blue eyes, while I have blonde hair and brown eyes. Other differences were not so easily seen. I've felt different and thought differently then them for quite a while now.

During my most self-pitying moments growing up, I wondered where my Bio-Mom was and if she ever thought of me. I scanned crowds for anyone that looked like me, and wondered if I had any other brothers and sisters. Mom had shared some of the information she had about Bio-Mom with me as I got older, and I finally decided to try to find my Bio-Mom when I was 20 years old.

I had just moved in with my boyfriend of two years, and we were kind of contemplating a life together. I rationalized that I should know who my Bio-Mom is for medical reasons. Were there any dreaded diseases that I should be looking out for? It sounded reasonable to me. Keep in mind I also had 15 years of curiosity lying just beneath the surface.

That was a big "breaking away" year for me. It couldn't have been easy on my Mom. I had moved out of her house, and now I was sitting in front of her, asking her to tell me all she could about my Bio-Mom so I could find her. I didn't want to sneak around behind Mom's back, and I needed her help.

After talking to Mom about Bio-Mom, I got out the phone book and just started calling people with that last name. I figured I would find Bio-Mom's Dad first because she was probably married. It never occurred to me that she might not want to see me. Whether that was just hysterical optimism, or something deeper, I can't say. Let me say right now that I was terribly anxious to find her and I prayed that I would.

Two weeks to the day I started looking for her, we met face to face. I did find her Dad first through two different telephone numbers. During the second phone call, it dawned on him who I was. I spent an agonizing weekend waiting for him to call back, and lost it completely when he did. He told me that Bio-Mom would contact me when she was ready. Two hours later she called. Four days later we met.

That was almost 11 years ago now. In that time, I've met a good portion of her family, and feel accepted there. After meeting Grand-Dad, I discovered that I have a strong resemblance to Bio-Mom's Mother (who passed away the summer after I was born). I also discovered that they don't like bananas either. They are included in all the big celebrations of our lives, our wedding being one of them. Bio-Mom had copied and distributed (to her siblings and myself) a booklet containing the holiday newsletters that her mother used to write. I treasure it, and while it wasn't the initial inspiration to our the "Three Ring Circus Gazette," it is one of the reasons I continue with it.

This past Christmas I was given a box of photographs and an album to use in putting my history together. One of these days I'll get started on that. I plan on arranging the pictures and the newsletters together to tell a story. It may not be one that too many people would want to read, but I can't wait to find out how it ends.

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