Where do I begin???

OK, so I'm an 'adult adoptee' AND a first mom...so I have a familiarity and a definite opinion about BOTH sides of this double-edged sword.

As an adoptee that was lucky enough to know my birth mother, whom was kind enough to share the name of my birth father, I still struggle with the 'Primal Wound'...and as a first mom whom had her son taken away from her at birth by the very people that had insisted that I abort him, only to have him placed into a private adoption, I feel the 'other side' of that 'Wound.'

For the last 6 years or so I have been catching on to the wave of New Science and Biology; I am the proverbial positive thinker. Every thing happens for a reason. Everything is working for my greater good. What we think about, we bring about. I have worked really, really hard to turn my life around. Having come from an adoptive family in which my a/parents told me every day of my life that I was ugly, worthless and so unwanted that even my 'real' parents didn't want me, one can only imagine what kinds of emotional and self-esteem problems I suffered while growing up. I have fought to overcome the darkness of those days and have, thus far, succeeded into the light. However, this little girl still lies inside me that has all this anger and sadness....when she shows herself I will give her a little hug and send her on her way...until she shows herself yet again. I am proud of the battles won and lost in this lifetime...but I am missing something. My daughters and I are all missing something...my son; their brother.

From the time my son was stolen from me in the hospital...and I use the term stolen because I wasn't given a choice. I was 16 years old and had no rights. My a/parents had thrown me out when they found out that I was pregnant and refused to concede to an abortion. Having no place to go, my best friend (whom was the ONLY person that stood by me when it became known that I was pregnant) found a complete stranger to take me in. Without proper nourishment and care and without any doctor's care I ended up in the hospital. Taken to a large city to a bigger hospital, I was taken in by a family friend. He contacted an OB/GYN that my a/mom had worked for and had a close, personal relationship with. This doctor promised to care for me, deliver my baby and arrange for a private adoption. While in his care, this man promised that he would be sure that my son had a wonderful home and that, if I continued to travel to his office each year for my annual exams, he would give me information about my son. My son was due on Valentine's Day, 1983; however, he didn't feel like entering this world until March 1. He was taken from me immediately upon delivery. The bracelet given to me in the delivery room was switched in the recovery room so that, if I managed to get into the nursery, my bracelet wouldn't match his; therefore, not allowing me to see nor hold my own child. The delivering physician physically removed my son from the hospital. I was told by my a/parents that it was NEVER to be spoken of again. It was over. I returned back to their home and was told to rest after a very difficult pregnancy and delivery. The very day I arrived my brother (also adopted, the first after thier b/son had been killed in an accident) and his girlfriend (both seniors in high school) announced that 'they' were pregnant...were keeping the baby and were going to stay there at the house. My a/parents LITERALLY jumped up and down with excitement...."We're going to have a grandbaby, we're going to have a grandbaby...how wonderful, we're so happy" (really. That's what they did) so I asked "What about my son??? You just gave him away?!?!" to which they replied "that kid was a bastard. We don't care what happens to it." The adoption hearing was held a few months later, in a county that was different from the county I resided and also different from the county in which he'd been born. My a/parents and the 'wonderful man' doctor had concocted a story that I was to tell the judge so that my son's father's signature and permission were not needed to finalize the adoption. I was told that if I did not tell this LIE on the stand, to the Judge, that I would be left there, alone, and that they'd never look back. I told this lie; sobbing the entire time. Thus the story of my son's birth. So fast forward 12 months...I return to this 'wonderful man' doctor, whom tells me that they named my son "Colin John" (my Uncle remembers it as Colin James) and that he looks JUST like me and is already a 'spitfire' (as most that know me would describe me...even to this day). This man promises me that, once my son turns 18 and I have a family of my own, that he will 'bring us together'. Each visit over the next 12 years, as I traveled back to his office (even after moving to another state over 1,500 miles away) this man continues to feed me info on my son...he has freckles, just like me, he has brown hair, just like me, brown eyes, just like me....I became pregnant with my eldest daughter in 1995 so I had to find a local OB/GYN. I kept in phone contact with the 'wonderful man' doctor via phone at least once every 12 months. My a/father passed away only a few months before my son's 18th birthday. While in my hometown for the funeral, the 'wonderful man' doctor phoned my family's home to offer his condolences to my family; I took the opportunity to remind him that a few short months later my son would turn 18 and that I couldn't wait to see/meet him. That's when the 'wonderful man' doctor told me that I needed to just 'let it go'..it had all been a lie. Call it karma, as I do, to say that this doctor died only a few months later from complications of emphisema....giving me NO INFORMATION about my son. All those years. All of those lies. So, I ask my a/mom...just not believing that she could have left my son 'go' without knowing 'something' about him...I mean, who could be that cold-hearted, right? Her response to me was "he was a bastard. I didn't care where he went or what happened to him. I never did. I don't know where he is and I don't care to. You need to let this go."

So here I am...8 years after his 18th birthday, searching for a young man that was born from me and is a part of me. Not a day has gone by in his 26 years (almost 27 now) that I did not think about him. I look at my daughters and wonder...do they look like him??? Does he act like them? Did he have the same misfortune I did in getting adopted by parents that didn't really 'want' him? I've contacted the doctor's family...his widow (whom refused to even speak with me), his ex-wife (who is an absolute dream but was divorced from him when I was only a baby), his daughter...no one seems to know anything about my son; where he is, whom adopted him. The only thing that I know for sure is that there's a court house in Beaver, PA, that knows where my son is and whom adopted him...but I have no rights to that information. No one cares what my situation was. No one cares that he was stolen from me...clouded by lie after lie after lie. Adopted illegally due to all of the lies surrounding his adoption. So where do I go from here? I keep searching. I emailed Kinsolving...they can find my son for me....for a rather large sum of money, which I do not have. Another heartbreak. I will promise, as I did to him when the nurse at that big hospital snuck me into the nursery and let me hold my son for 3 minutes against EVERYONE'S orders, I will not stop looking until I've found him. He may not want to have anything to do with me....God only knows what he's been told of the 'woman that gave him away'....if he only knew.