On the eve of my son's 35th birthday; Whomever you are, where ever you are, son, I love you. Always have. Always will.

Well, here I am. Into the day that I was admitted into the hospital and a little less than 31 hours before my son was born. It's been 35 years. 35 years of wondering. 35 years of worrying. 35 years of wishing I could go back and could change what happened.

Not a day has gone by in the last 35 years that I haven't wondered and worried about my son; did he have the same bad luck that I'd had in being adopted by cruel, hateful, unloving people or had he been luckier than I had been? Looking over the medical records from my stay in that dreadful hospital and reading about his birth transports me back - like time travel. I can see his beautiful little face and his head FULL of dark, shiny, straight hair. His eyes already turning brown. If I close my eyes, I can feel his warmth on my arms as I held him for those brief seconds a lifetime ago.

Adopted children are often told stories of terror about their first mothers and, I'm sure, some of those stories are true, but our story wasn't one of his being 'rescued' from some horrible, irresponsible teenager. Our story was one of love, loss and heartbreak. My entire life all I had wanted was to be loved. When I realized that I was pregnant, I knew that the baby I was carrying would be my chance at FINALLY being loved. He had been created out of love so I knew that he'd BE love. I fought. As hard as I could. But all I could think of was what it was like to be a homeless, pregnant teenager - alone, hungry and cold in the forests of Pennsylvania - and I KNEW that I couldn't allow my unborn child to live that way. Adding that I didn't want those whom had raised me so viciously, heartlessly and without love to be anywhere NEAR him; I wouldn't let them do to him what they had done to me.

I was promised by Dr. Norman E. Scott, my mother's friend and the delivering physician that 'arranged' *a.k.a. sold, according to his first wife* my son's adoption that my son and I would be brought together once my son turned 18 and Dr. Scott kept that charade going until shortly before he died. It was only as he laid dying that he admitted that he had lied to me for over 17 years in telling me that he'd introduce me to my son. Dr. Scott added that he fed me the lies to keep me from 'making any trouble for his *adoptive* parents' because there had been so many violations of Pennsylvania laws in the adoption of my son; ie: they ALL lied on the birth certificate and the adoption papers in telling the authorities that I didn't know whom had fathered my son when they knew full well whom had fathered him - all so that they wouldn't have to locate him and get his consent.

35 years and it still hurts like it was yesterday. My life has never been the same. I have never been the same. I'm blessed with two amazing, intelligent, kind and compassionate,beautiful daughters and a step-son whom I love like he's my own but nothing can replace my first born son. Nothing. The hole will be in my heart until the day I find out he's been loved and cared for through his childhood as he grew up. My daughters can't wait to meet and get to know their big brother.

Another year. My heart and mind say 'maybe this will be the year!' Maybe THIS will be the year? I love you, son. Who ever and where ever you are. Happy 35th birthday from your first mom and your sisters.

The Universe and my ability to time-travel.....

For those of you whom know me personally, you may remember that my son's birthday is next week; March 1. It'll be 29 years ago, on that date, that I had and lost my son and that I've been searching for him for 11 years now.

This time of year is always especially difficult for me and very often filled with sadness that emanates from a very deep part of my heart and soul.

So, I'm sitting on the floor working on preparing our coffee table for its new paint job and I ask Ari to put Pandora 80's radio on my ipod for me....the VERY first song that came on was "Separate Ways" by *my beloved* Journey. Now you're probably wondering 'what significance does THAT have?' Well, I'll tell you.

When I was in and out of the hospital awaiting the arrival of my beautiful baby boy *whom was due on Valentine's Day but decided to delay his arrival until March 1* Journey had JUST released its new album entitled "Frontiers" and, to those of you who don't know me and my affection for Journey, it would have meant the WORLD to me to have been able to get their new record. *Yes, they were still 'records' back then* On the morning of February 28th, I had some health problems that alarmed my care-taker enough to call the doctor, who had, in-turn, told him to bring me into the office immediately but I refused to leave the house; you see B-93 in Pittsburgh was giving away the new Journey album to callers every hour...I HAD to win. Well, my will power was strong, but not as strong as my caretakers and, within a few minutes, I was forced into the car and off to the doctor's office....and from there I was sent immediately to West Penn Hospital for problems that were life-threatening to both me and my unborn son....so the worst time of my life was about to worsen...the only thing that I had to look forward to was winning that damned record. The song "Separate Ways" was the first release from that album so, in the couple of months leading to my son's birth, it was played and played and played, like most big name new releases, so I heard it multiple times a day and I felt connected to that song, those lyrics and that band.

I remember very little after the birth of my son after the delivery up and until the few precious moments I was able to see him and hold him and explain to him just HOW MUCH he was loved and how sorry I was that he had to leave me but that I would love him for the rest of his life and that, one day, I would come and find him.....when I arrived back at my family's home after being released from the hospital I had to get some things out of my suitcase, which my caretaker had packed for me since I had no time to do so before getting admitted into the hospital, and when I opened it, Journey's new lp "Frontiers" was on the top of my things...a gift from my caretaker. He KNEW how I connected to that music because he had kept me safe, fed, clothed and housed when nobody else would and watched me for months...the connection to that particular album always has the power to transport me back in time to March 1, 1983...the day that my heart was broken and part of it was taken away forever. And as I sit here and type these words on this blog I can FEEL the pain, the sadness and the panic that was present on that day back in 1983 and it seems as real to me now as it was to me back then. Time travel, my friends, is very much real.

So, I send gratitude out to the Universe for allowing me to continue my 'journey' here in this life when it looked like neither of us were going to survive and I thank my Uncle Larry for taking SUCH wonderful care of the little lost girl who was so sad that he wasn't even sure she would 'make it' through all that was ahead of her and for being so thoughtful as to give me one gift that would, forever, allow me the ability to travel through space and time back to a place that's extremely painful but also SO FULL OF LOVE.

To my son: whoever you are, where ever you may be, there has not been one day in the last 29 years that I have not thought of you. Every birthday that you've had, every holiday, every one of your half-sister's birthdays, every big occasion and life-changing events, even the tiny ones, you are 'here' with me...in my heart, where you've always been and always will be. You are not only 'of me' but also carry a piece of my heart with you. I'm pretty sure I know who you are...cause you look SO much like me and your father and we both pray that, one day, you'll allow us in to share with you all the love that we've always felt for you but weren't allowed to give to you ourselves.

So, whenever someone tells you that there's 'no such thing' as time travel you can tell them that you have irrefutable, first-hand knowledge that there IS such a thing. And every single time I hear that song I'm back at my Uncle Larry's house, hanging on to that phone trying to get through to that radio station, with tears streaming down my face and one hand on my belly - touching my son- fighting the impending emergency trip to the doctor because I KNOW what's going to happen once he enters this world...I'm going to lose him and I don't EVER want that to happen. Time travel IS real. I am living proof.

I love you, my amazing, beautiful boy...and hope that this year is the best one for you yet.

Who am I?

So...here I am again....this time not quite sure where this blog will take me but eager to get this out.

After something that I consider to be wonderful happened in my life last Monday, I received a message from someone that, once I read it, made me feel as if I was about to face another loss. I can't explain the details; but it felt as if my heart was being broken again.

So I'm sitting and trying to see the 'light' in all that surrounds me and who I am and the question enters my mind of who I really am....when I try to define who I think I am, every description is about what I DO rather than who I am. The reality hits me that I have NO IDEA who I REALLY am. I am the first mom looking for her son. I am the Life Coach that helps people change their lives. I am the mother of 2 amazing daughters. I am the wife of a sometimes troubled man. I am the friend of anyone that considers me to be so. I am an advocate of animals, a lover of Mother Earth, a believer that God is an amazing form of true and complete love...and the list goes on. But who AM I? Really?

I am the girl that has no recollection of what my body looked like before it became distorted by a teen-aged pregnancy and spent the majority of her life feeling ashamed of her body because of the damage done by deciding to give birth to a child that I knew would never know me as his mom or know the sacrifices I had made so that he could live. I am the girl that has very few memories of anyone actually acting loving towards me in the family I grew up in. I am the girl whose father would tell her each and every morning just how ugly he thought she was. I am the girl that worries about what's best for others and pushes my own needs aside.

Is THAT who I am? How DO we define ourselves? I know that I have a huge heart that's been broken more times than I care to count; even by some that had no idea that they could even do so. I know that I am smart and strong and capable of ANYTHING that I put my mind to. I know that I am a survivor in that I've survived not only a very un-loving childhood but the loss of my son, whom I loved dearly even though we had not even met yet. I know that I am fiercely protective of anyone that I love because I never felt protected growing up and will never allow anyone or anything that I love EVER feel alone.

Who am I?

I am the mom that loves to laugh with her children because it feels so good to know that I have them to laugh with. I am the person next to you at the red light that's listening to her music very loudly and singing along with it even louder. I am the stranger that will come up to you and tell you how much I love your hair, your clothes, your shoes or your bag and watch your face light up at such a random act of kindness from a complete stranger. I am *still* the comedian that will make you laugh until your cheeks hurt, only now it's genuine and not being done to hide pain. I am the woman in search of her son that was taken away by people that looked me in the eye and told me that I should have never been born.

Who am I?

Do you all ever ponder that question? If so, how do YOU answer yourself? And please know that I am very proud of who I am today; all of those things that I described herein have molded me into the person I am today. A person whom, after many, many decades of self-loathing, love wholly and completely....exactly the way that I am. You see, THAT is my greatest accomplishment in this lifetime thus far. I never, ever dreamed that I would ever be able to look into a mirror without hearing all of those hateful things that 'they' all said about me, of which I was one. So, perhaps I don't know who I really 'am' right now, in this very moment; however, what I DO know is who I am NOT and that's that hateful, sorrow filled, negative, angry little girl. That is accomplishment enough for me.

A new beginning and proof that 'it' really does work!

So, here I sit, on a Tuesday morning, after a surprisingly wonderful nights' sleep amazed that all that 'work' that I've been doing actually worked! We're told that anger, hate, bitterness and all of those nasty, negative feelings can actually eat away at us and cause dis-eases like cancer and that we should work on letting go and forgiveness, right? Well, I'm here to tell you that they're SOOOOO right!

I had an (over) hour-long conversation with my son's bio-father last night; after about 25 minutes of texting back-and-forth first. Let me go backwards here for a second; for those of you whom do not know our 'story'; we are the parents of a son who was lost to adoption almost 29 years ago. His name is Mike, and we had only seen/spoken to one another twice in the last 29 years.

On Monday morning, I turned on my BB and saw a Facebook friend request from him and nearly fell over. My eldest daughter felt that she had to remind me to stay focused on my driving while driving the girls to school; she said that I looked pale. I think I was in shock. I wasn't sure what to expect and wasn't really sure how I felt about it. After all the years that had passed and all of the anger that i had felt towards him.....and then my intuition kicked in and I realized that, with everything else behind us and all of the forgiveness work I had done, we both had one thing still in common; our son.

So, he sent me a FB message asking if our child had ever contacted me......it took me 14 hours to answer him; again, what did he want? Was he angry? Would he heed the warnings not to jump to any conclusions and hamper any chance that we may have of, one day, meeting our son? Once I replied to him, the communication began and I felt so relieved that I felt absolutely no anger, bitterness or fear...only love and compassion. How strange, huh? *in a delightfully pleasant way* My heart breaks for him after he told me that he'd had no other children; he hadn't been blessed like I have been. He even apologized for all that had been done back then. I was not only moved but also happy to know that I'm no longer in this "alone." Now, that's not to say that the Search Angels in my life haven't been wonderfully compassionate and supportive because they have, especially one in-particular *she knows who she is*..but this is different. I, suddenly, don't feel as if my feelings for my son are something I have to keep quiet about until it's 'appropriate'...he feels my pain and loss, just like most of the Angels do...but this is 'our' pain; he knows how I feel.

It's so freeing to know that all of that work that I have done over the last 10 years has actually paid off. I forgive him - I really do. I just hope he can forgive me. I know now that I did everything that I possibly could have to try and keep our son; I was 16 years old and there were a lot of 'them' and only one 'me'....I hope one day we can meet this amazing young man and that he'll be able to forgive both of us.

Thanks for letting me share. Love and light to all of you! <3

The other side of adoption

So, most of you know that I am not only a first mom looking for her son but also an adoptee searching for her paternal biologic connection. Well, back in February I successfully (with the help of my search angel) found my half-brother; she found a FB profile with a name similar to what I had been told by my first mother and voila! It was him. He acknowledged that he was my bio father's son and we emailed, through FB, several times. Upon asking me for some identifying information (to which I had answered correctly) he asked me for 'some time to digest' what I had just told him. I have not heard from him again.

Now, I did NOT divulge the fact that I had talked to his (our) father back in 1996, while pregnant with my eldest daughter; I had pressured my f/m to get me his contact info as some of the prenatal testing came back questionable and they NEEDED answers and needed them fast. She, apparently, had continued sleeping with this very-married man over the years since my birth and relinquishment and knew just how to find him at his work, as an engineer at Chrysler. I called; got a voice mail and left the following message "Hi, my name is Melanee and I understand that I have questions that only you can answer" and left my number. Within 10 minutes my phone rang; it was him. When I answered the phone he stated "This is Ron Huff'. What can I do to help?" I proceeded to tell him who I was and that I understood that he was the donor to the other half of my gene pool to which he replied "Who's your mother?" and when I told him, his EXACT words were "I'm not going to dispute that. What can I do for you?" I almost fell off the chair! I told him that I needed medical background information due to questionable prenatal testing and he proceeded to give me the information that I needed. When he finished I asked him if we could meet one day...his response was "My wife and children do not know that you exist and I plan to keep it that way. Good bye." And, that was it!

The reason I kept this from my bio-brother was that I didn't want to say anything negative about his (our) father. Didn't help.

So, why am I this big, dark secret? Why don't my bio-half bro and my bio-half sister want to meet me or, at least, communicate with me? Don't THEY have the same intellectual curiosity about me that I have about them?? Do we look alike? Are our personality traits similar? Do they see me as a threat of some sort?

So, the angry part of me wants to find my bio-dad and, when he dies, go after part of the estate as his child. Well! I AM his child!!! He even went so far as to send someone else in for the blood test back in 1966. And, I have the adoption papers stating that, in 1972, when my adoption was finalized, they had notified him and he never even responded. What kind of man does that? And then for my bio mom to keep meeting up with him whenever she could to sleep with him as a mistress??? OMG!! They had had a child (ME!!) together that neither of them were raising...didn't the ever think of that?

Ok, so the not-so-angry part of me would love nothing more than to know my half-siblings and to have my children know their bio relatives. Is that really such a bad thing? Really? As an adult, why should I have to wear this veil of secrecy? Why should I have to remain in the shadows? Don't I have the right to know my family? Why doesn't he (my bio brother) feel the same?

I can understand that he's shocked that his father lied to his family about me...that part I get....but, why wouldn't HE be curious about ME??? I'm guessing that he confronted his father and it was denied yet again; however, I'd be willing to bet that seeing my face would tell him the truth about who supplied the 2nd half of my gene pool...without a doubt.

So, where do I go from here? Knowing that my bio dad doesn't want his 'dirty little secret' to get out just makes me more determined to do just that! I'm 43 years old...I'm not going to be anybody's 'dirty little secret' anymore!

Down to the wire!!

So, tomorrow's the day....the reporter emailed confirmation that our story will be hitting the Worcester, Mass. Telegraph Gazette tomorrow! Once he emails us the link, I'll be contacting ALL local media..from Tampa to Key West, Orlando and Miami..anyone that'll hear us. I'm nervous, scared and exhilarated all at the same time. Nervous because I don't know what this sociopath is going to do once he gets wind that I'm the one that caught on to him (Not his "sis"!!!), scared because I'm putting my family 'out there' for another part of the US (to be judged) and exhilarated because I know that we're doing everything within our power to get this man's face plastered all over the media so that he'll be soooo recognizable that he won't be able to hurt anyone ever again!

Today, we sent an email to Governor Charlie Crist. We would like someone to answer as to why this man can pretend to be a 3-star brigadier general (with a fake military ID AND a phony press release announcing his promotion as such), which violates the "Stolen Valor Act of 2005" and no one really cares. Report after report after report to the FBI...nothing. Con after con after con...nothing. So we'll do our part. Let's see if we can make enough noise to finally be heard!!!

The search for my son has grown some more wings.....I have new angels.....and they are just that...angels. My cousin, Faith, has been a wonderful, new addition to this ongoing search. We are all rallying together and working as a team....talking, comparing notes...even though all of my notes have been lost to the computer monster....and he won't give them back! I had, however, emailed some of my search info to Faith...and she was kind enough to keep them....now I have some of that info back. My site, www.findmyson.org, should hit the main stream tomorrow...everyone please, PLEASE pray for site prosperity. Pray that donations will come so that we can allow Kinsolving to find my son....that all of the negativity that's hit my family (even from 'friendly fire') can be put behind us and we can begin the next chapter of our lives.

We're very excited at the prospect of this man getting caught. I'll be sure to post a link to the new newspaper article as soon as I can to the blog.

I want to thank all of you for taking the time to read my blog.....prayers are gratuitously accepted...especially at this moment in time. Good night all....see you tomorrow!!! YIKES!

HOLY CRAP is all that I can say...

So by now we all know that I could be within only 72 hours of finding my son....my mind is REELING....does he look like my family? Does he have my personality? Do my girls look like him? Will he want to talk to me? If not, will he want to know his half-sisters? OMG, my mind is a whirlwind. Anticipation is crazy; I've waited almost 27 years for this so why does the prospect of waiting 3 more days make me want to jump right out of my skin?!?!? All the memories...all of them...are rushing back...the few precious moments that I saw him in the hospital and was able to hold him; his (already darkening) eyes, his head full of dark, shiny hair, hearing him cry as the doctor removed him from the hospital as they were putting me in the car..... all those emotions...the hearing where they made me lie to the Judge - my panic at the realization that I couldn't stop them.....'they' were taking my son.

All of the first moms that I know, personally, share one common fantasy...that when we finally found our children that they come running to us with open arms; telling us that they've been waiting for us to find them....the proverbial 'happy ending' (as happy as all of this can be anyway). I am fully aware that not all children welcome their first moms into their existence; which, as an adoptee, I just can not understand. I can only imagine how my life would have been different if either birth parent had told me that I WAS wanted by either one of them. But, that's just me. I know how I felt when, the one time I had spoken to my birth father, he said that he 'wouldn't dispute' that he was the 'donor to the other half of my gene pool'......shocked, saddened...and that little girl that keeps popping her head out for some love was crushed. So the question I pose is "Why?" Why don't they want to know about their conception, birth, genetically-related families? Isn't there some sort of a natural, intellectual curiosity about where they came from, whom they resembled both physically and intellectually and any pertinent health issues that they may pass on to their own children? Have their adoptive parents told them 'stories' about their birth parents that make them want to shun us? Are they angry at us? If so, why??? Doesn't anyone tell them how difficult it is for us to try and find them?? Do they know that we have NO RIGHTS to them, whatsoever?? That some of us didn't 'give them away'??? Hasn't anyone ever told them that it's hell on us to not have our children? Hasn't anyone told them that we have nightmares about terrible things happening to them BECAUSE they were taken away? Don't they need to know that we are told that it's what's "best for the baby" to let them go to strangers...by the same people that told us that we should just 'forget about it'??? Do they know that we were lied to and manipulated and that we have to live with all of this for the rest of our lives???? Do they realize that some of us literally destroyed our bodies by carrying them and delivering them?? Stretch marks from neck-to-knees, mis-shapen breasts, scarring 'down there' from either tearing or episiotomy?? Does anyone tell them that (and I think I speak for the majority of us) not a day goes by that we don't think and worry about them? I know that each and every time I saw a baby, heard a baby cry or even laugh it broke my heart all over again. Now, keeping in mind that we're not allowed to ACT as if we're missing part of our soul...no, now that's just unacceptable. We have to 'go on with our lives and forget all about it." (Really?? I mean, REALLY???) If some adoptive parents really believe that we are these horrible monster-incubators that randomly conceived, bore then left a child then why do some of them feel so threatened when they discover that these 'monsters' are looking for their children? If they've 'saved' these children then there shouldn't be anything to fear, right? Maybe one should carefully choose the stories they tell to their non-biological children so that the possibility of the bereaved first mother finally finding them won't be so scary, huh? As an adoptee, I can speak for only myself, but believe that adoptive parents rarely think of what's best for the child...but we, as first moms, are told that it's all we're allowed to even consider.

Only another first mom can know how difficult it was for me to tell my children about my son. To explain to them that they have a brother out there, somewhere, that they have never seen nor heard about before that moment. To have to answer the questions that follow....see the tears, feel the anxiety about whether or not they'll ever meet the brother that shares their mom. Some of you women, whenever you go into a doctor's office and fill out the health forms, see the question "How many children do you have?" and never, ever even bat a (proverbial) eye at that question, do you? A first mom does. We KNOW that we should answer the question honestly (in my case, "3") BUT we stop and ponder our answer. Why, you ask? Because JUST BECAUSE our children were taken away from us doesn't discount the fact that we carried those children for 40 weeks, nourished them with our bodies, protected them with our bodies, felt them inside of our bodies and heard their little heart beating inside our bodies. No matter how they try to label us, we're still mothers. Lies, stories and manipulation can never change the fact that WE have a biological connection to our children and that, my friends, always, always, ALWAYS makes us a mom.