The Declassified Adoptee

My Facebook profile photo at the time. January third, I woke up early. The sun was peering through my window and keeping my eyes closed was no longer enough to shut the bright rays out. I rolled out of bed and made my way over to my dresser where my little netbook was sitting. No emails. I checked occasionally throughout the day to see if my original mother had written back.  I had just sent her my very first contact after receiving clearance from the Confidential Intermediary.  I played games with my son, thinking about what I was going to tell her about first. She was young and I was worried that telling her right away that she has a grandchild would freak her out. An original mother at a forum I frequent suggested perhaps not to tell her about that right away. In my email, I had told her the things I wanted her to know the most. I had read in my adoption file that she had told the adoption worker that she was afraid I would think she was mean for surrendering me to adop

I heard the familiar "clink" of the mail going into the box attached to the exterior of my home.  I had heard that clink before; almost everyday for 7 months.  The familiar thunk of the envelopes hitting the mailbox usually made my heart surge with hope.  Today, it made me weary; I dreaded checking the mail today and had for the past several weeks. For the previous 7 months, I had hopefully skipped to my front door, sorted through the mail before letting the door so much as close behind me, and feel my heart sink as "the envelope" was not there.  It would be another day until the mail would come again.  As the months ticked by, it became harder seeing my envelope wasn't there; I burst into tears on my front step on several occasions. "But today," I told myself, "I bet it's in there today." When did my reunion journey begin exactly?  I can't say for sure.  I had thought about reunion and various questions about my identity pre-