The Complicated Process of Discovering Birth Parents

My Aunt Jodie sent me an article with the headline "I did Ancestry.com DNA submission and now I need psychiatric therapy." It's funny because it's the truth. For as simple as finding my biological mother was... discovering my biological father was the exact opposite.

My biological mother told my siblings about me, when I found them it was like being reunited with the best lost things ever.

Now I cite, Newton's Third Law: "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction."

Let's go back, to 1980. My father was 12. His mother, who has since passed on, told him that it was unlikely he could possibly father a child. He was too young. She signed the adoption papers on his behalf and they never spoke about it again.

There's a bit more to the story than just this, but only this is pertinent for today.

Fast forward to January 2019, I log into my ancestry.com account and see the name Jodie Brown (close match). I know the name because my biological mother Tammy told me my father's name and his sister's name.

I messaged her and say "I think I am your niece based on the similarity match." She replies, saying this is actually my father Tom Brown's DNA .... forgetting that my father's full name was Tom Brown Jr. I am confused. She proceeds to say I think your my father's niece. I didn't know that Tom Brown Sr was alive so after some short confusion and I bring up some of the facts my biological mother had shared, she seems pretty dumbfounded. Ultimately, it was "we never knew that it was his baby. My mom always thought he was too young."

Over several months Jodie and I got to know each other better. She shared my details with her dad and they both discussed how to tell my biological father Tom.

Tom is married with no additional children. Him and his wife are both school teachers in Florida. Considering that they had never had children and he had no idea about my existence I knew that this ancestry reunion would not be the same as my first.

I will say I found it really entertaining that both of my biological mother and father work in education. Sometimes genetics triumph over environment.

I still have not met or spoken to my father. There are obvious reasons why I have tried to take this slow. I don't want to upend his life, or upset his relationship with his wife. Most 12 year olds don't have their mistakes pop into their lives unannounced 37 years after the fact, so I try to keep that in mind.

I have made friendships with my Aunt Jodie, my Aunt Cherie and my Uncle Nate. Cherie and Nate are siblings from another mother, who lives in Girard. My Uncle Nate lives in Girard and we've been able to meet and hang out a bit. I am looking forward to meeting Jodie and Grandpa Tom in August when they come to Pennsylvania.

I am hopeful that someday I will get to meet Tom and his wife. So, Happy 1st Father's Day! From your 37 year old daughter. Hoping that I don't cause therapy for you or your wife.

Here's a fun comparison to how similar we look:

You have a beautiful face.

"You are beautiful. Also, I really like your outfit," I said to the woman in front of me at the check out.

"Oh thank you!" she gushed, then she turned around and looked at me, top to bottom.

"You have a beautiful face," she said as she searched for a compliment to repay me in front of my 5 year old.

"And you are a gorgeous little girl," she gleamed as she turned to my 5 year old. "Make sure you keep busy and get in all that exercise."

My smile wavered and I turned away from her. She finished checking out and left. My daughter noticed that I was fighting back tears. 

"Mommy, why did she say you have a pretty face? I think you are beautiful all over."

I stopped packing my groceries and hugged her deeply.

"Sometimes people don't know how to compliment correctly," I said. "What matters is that your compliment is genuine when you give one. It's about giving, not receiving."

We walked to the truck, I loaded my groceries and fought back some anger because I know that woman didn't know me or what I have been through, but it hurt nonetheless.

After I got in the truck, my daughter said, "Mommy why did that lady tell me to exercise?"

I sighed, "Well because she didn't want you to end up like me."

"Why wouldn't I want to be like you?" she replied.

"She meant fat like me."

"Oh," she frowned, "but there nothing wrong with you being squishy. I like that you're squishy. I don't want you to be dead."

"I am fine with being squishy too," I said with a chuckle, "I don't want to be dead either." 

In my heart, I am not fine with being squishy. If I had a dollar for every time I was told I have a pretty face I would probably be a millionaire.

Why am I squishy? Well it's not because I have not tried everything humanly possible to not be squishy. The reason my daughter said I don't want you to be dead is because I almost died trying to be a thin version of myself.

It was 2010 and I weighed 400lbs. I was so depressed by my appearance I went to a gastric doctor who recommended that I get a lapband. A lapband is something that gets placed in your stomach to restrict the amount of food you can eat. I thought this seemed like the right thing to do.

"I have never really felt full." I said, explaining that part to my husband was weird but necessary. As I tried to sell him on the necessity of getting the surgery. "The doctor said the lapband pushes on a nerve, which tells your brain you are full." He reluctantly came around.

After I had the surgery, I thought for certain I would be able to lose the weight. I did, by 2014 I weighed 180lbs. I loved the way I looked and I enjoyed dancing hula even Taihitian. 

However, I never felt full even with the lapband in place. Despite the doctor saying that would be what happened - it never did. The nerve the lapband was supposed to rest on, to signal to my brain I felt full - never did. Actually after the surgery, I always felt like I was starving. Often, I ate my meals grounded up with a blender to the consistency of paste just to try to get the feeling that I had eaten.

In 2015, I got pregnant with my third daughter and things took a turn for the worst. I couldn't even keep water down. I was constantly throwing up. We spent three months, in and out of the hospital, because the doctors were certain that I had hyperemesis and I would get over it. 

I spent days hooked up to potassium, in tears because it was beyond painful to have it delivered to my body through an IV. I remember having a conversation with my maker begging for my life - so that I could take care of the two daughters I already had because I felt I was unfit to vessel the third.

My husband stayed by my side, he mentioned to every doctor we crossed paths with, that I had a lapband and struggled to keep food down normally. He tried to convey that he thought maybe something was wrong with it. One doctor listened, he ordered a scan and they discovered that the lapband had slipped and was obstructing my bowel.

I was fed up. This would be the fourth surgery, I would endure because of the lapband. The first was to place it, the second was to try to figure out why when they filled the port with the saline it wasn't filling. (They discovered that the surgeon accidentally sliced a tiny nick in the tube, so it was not filling at all.) The third surgery was to replace that tube. Now the fourth surgery (while I was 16 weeks pregnant) would remove it all.
I would literally go back to square one after 5 years. I knew it would only be a matter of time and I would be fat again. I dreaded it. But I wanted to live, so it was removed.

Now, it's 2019. I have three daughters, amazingly enough I got through that pregnancy with my little firecracker. I currently weigh 360lbs. I am not happy with it, but most days it's bearable, unless I run into someone who gives a back handed compliment. I would certainly love to share with those people my story and the injustice that I have gone through trying to be thin. But I don't, instead I smile, hide the tears and relish in the fact that all three of my daughters, my husband and my cat love me squishy and just the way I am.