A Re-Post: Adoption

I posted this back in November. Unfortunately, I haven't made any more progress in my search. I am hoping by re-posting this now and again, it might help. Thanks!

This is something that has been on my mind quite a bit in recent months. I've already started and canceled 3 blog posts about it because I wasn't sure if I was comfortable posting about something that is very personal to me. But I've been encouraged at least in part by my mother-in-law's story about finding her lost friend, and other posts she has made about things that are very personal to her. That, and I figure you don't ever gain anything by risking nothing. So here goes. I was born on February 13, 1978 at Blodgett Hospital in Grand Rapids, Michigan, to a woman I have never met. She was 17 at the time, and probably scared to death, yet very much in love with her daughter. So much so that in order to give her a better life, she gave her over into the hands of the D.A. Blodgett Home for Children to be adopted by a family that could provide for her. I was adopted in April of that year by two wonderful people, who did indeed give me the kind of childhood and life that my birth mother hoped for. I was able to go to college, and have (as I previously mentioned) secured a great job that is in turn providing for my own children. There's only one hole in my heart, one that I am becoming desperate to fill. I want, more and more with each passing day, to find my birth mother and, if nothing else, thank her for the wonderful opportunities she gave me on that day she gave me up. I have spoken to the people at the Blodgett Home, and they sent me several forms that I can file with the state to help put me in contact with members of my birth family. I send them to Lansing, and then if any other members of my birth family have filed similar papers, the state will send me their information so that I can contact them. But there's a problem. I am scared to death of rejection. Every time I come up with the money to send in my forms, my resolve falters, and I just can't do it. As much as I want to look my birth mother in the eyes, there is a deep abiding fear in me of what those eyes will tell me. Will they say "I have always loved you and wondered what became of you, I am so truly happy to finally get to see you" or "Please go away, I don't want to remember that part of my life, it was painful and difficult, and I have moved on"? I hope so hard that it will be the first one, but I don't know if I could bear the heartache if it was the second. So this is my compromise to myself. I will start small here, and keep trying to work up the courage to send in those forms. I ask you all please, if you know someone or are someone who let go their little blue-eyed, blonde-haired baby back in 1978, talk to me. If you know someone or are someone who is going through this same dilemma, talk to me. If you know someone or are someone who has accomplished this goal I am having so much trouble trying to reach, talk to me. Email me if you don't want to leave a comment here. Thanks.