Baby Boy Neary, that is the name that appeared on my birth certificate. My first one. When my adoption was finalized I got a new certificate with my new name. It bore the name of my adopted mother, Elizabeth Mott, but no father. That is because in a first for 1965, an unmarried woman had been legally allowed to adopt a child.
My mom told me that I had been the first single-parent adoption to a woman in the U.S. I’ve researched this and can find nothing to dispute her claim. Regardless, it was still quite a feat for any woman. Especially for 1965. A time when women could not even open a bank account without their husband’s approval.
I knew from a young age that I had been adopted. Of course at that age I didn’t know what adoption meant. All I knew was that she was my mom. I didn’t have a dad, but having never had one I didn’t know that I was missing anything. I lived in a multi-generational house with my aunt and grandfather. I called him Pop.
I came to understand what adoption was when I got older. Mom said that I could look up my birth parents if I wanted, but I never felt the need. I had my family, why would I need to go looking for someone I’d never met? But then things changed.
My brother-in-law was also adopted at birth. When he and his wife were planning for their first child he decided to find his birth family to obtain medical histories of his birth parents. They wanted to know if there were any medical issues that ran in his family that they should know about before starting their family. He had an easier time looking up his birth family because his mom had their contact information. This wouldn’t be the case for me.
Seeing my brother-in-laws experience I decided that I too should look up my birth family for the same reason. I was a father and knew nothing about the medical history of my birth family. But I decided to wait until after my moms passing. My mom didn’t care, I could have done it while she was alive. I just felt like somehow to have done so would have been a betrayal.
About a year after mom my died I started going online and researching what information I had. It took me a couple of months using sites like Intelius and a few hundred dollars paying for background checks. I knew that my birth parents were married at the time of my birth, just not to one another, which was why in 1965 I’d been given up for adoption. So I was researching multiple names.
I first found my fathers family. I’d missed finding him by just a few years. He’d passed away from lung cancer and cirrhosis of the liver. I learned that he had served in the Marines during Korea and had been married multiple times. But no health information.
It’s harder to find women than men because they often change their names when they marry. I started calling the numbers I’d gotten during my online searches. Some of the numbers were disconnected, a few of the people I called had passed away. Others were just wrong.
Often I’d leave a voice mail message and wait to hear back. These were awkward messages. “Hi, I’m looking for a woman who gave up her baby for adoption at birth 40 years ago. Is that you?” Sometimes I’d get a call back saying that it wasn’t them but wishing me luck in my search. Then one afternoon while driving home from work I got the call I’d been waiting for. It was Bonnie.
The moment was surreal, and terrifying. I’d spent all these months looking for her but hadn’t considered what to say. We talked several times in the coming weeks and swapped email addresses. It was overwhelming at times hearing about all these relatives I hadn’t any prior knowledge of. I’d only gone searching for two people but found dozens.
Within a few weeks she flew down to Orange County from San Francisco for a meet. I also got to meet some of my extended family. Some of whom lived near me. We continued our communication for several months but eventually I broke off the relationship. I started to feel overwhelmed again.
I had lost my mom, I had a family and a business, had recently re-enlisted in the military reserves, and was out of work and job hunting. And it felt weird having this large new family in my life. I’d only been looking for medical information. I hadn’t gone looking for a new mom, or a new family. To be honest, I felt a little guilty.
I’m thankful for the medical history I was able to obtain, and it was interesting meeting and talking with these people. It’s not that I begrudge my birth mother for giving me up, nothing like that. It’s just that I never felt a connection to them. I already had a mom, and a family.
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