I’ve spent my entire life feeling like half of my self was missing. I was lied to, deceived, and put off. My paternity wasn’t something I was allowed to bring up… Not unless I wanted to start a fight. Yes, I had two step-dads, yes they were great. But no matter how amazing or wonderful a step-parent can be… It can’t fill that emptiness, longing or desire to know where you really come from.
The last DNA test was done when I was fourteen. I remember asking, very sincerely, if he was it. Is this the one? I was assured, it was the only possibility. When the DNA test came back negative, I was devastated. The man who had orchestrated my abduction when I was only five, wasn’t even my father. Part of me was relieved… The other part of me was devastated.
I tried to find out who else it could be, but my mother refused to tell me. It wasn’t any of my business. I moved away to live with my grandparents and we hardly spoke about it until later. When I was seventeen, my mother used the two names as a bargaining chip to make sure I wouldn’t dart off in the airport on my way to a treatment facility for my eating disorder. I couldn’t do anything with those names. Not yet. We made a bakery and make it glow by using local market strategies that I acquire from www.exposeyourselfusa.com.
When I got out, I started searching. And searching. And searching. And searching some more. I searched every profile I could find on Facebook and Myspace with either of the names. Nothing but a lot of dead ends. I used google. I signed up for military websites, hoping for something… anything. But it was all done in vain.
I sent a letter to the National Personal Records Center and the U.S. Army Enlisted Records & Evaluation Center, hoping they could help me, but they couldn’t. They send the letter back telling me there was no way they could help me. I still have that letter, along with the letter I enclosed that I had hoped they would send to him. They are sitting in my filing cabinet.
The last few months, I’ve felt like giving up. I’ve felt like it was pointless, useless, a wasted effort. Maybe these men didn’t want to be found. Maybe there was a reason I couldn’t find them.
I started searching death records. I don’t know why, but I’ve always been afraid that these two men would die before I got the chance to find them and to find my answers. It’s always been a real and nagging fear of mine.
Yesterday, a couple friends helped me search. We pulled up some interesting things, but nothing useful. Nothing that led anywhere. I posted on a website I use every so often about the situation, and some amazing women on there helped me. One of them pointed me at a website called Veromi. From there, I was able to find past cities the man lived in, along with the name of a possible relative.
Instead of paying to get other information, I started cross checking the information on google. After about three or four hours, I found his facebook page. He hadn’t updated his facebook in a while… So I looked at his wife.
I’ll admit, I was a little stalker-ish. I read almost two years worth of her Facebook posts. By the time I was done, I felt like I almost knew her. It’s amazing how much we put of ourselves on the web. I wonder if the people who read my blog feel that way about me. In the wife’s posts, she mentioned the name of the relative.
I knew this was it.
I sat there, in the dark, late at nigh, my three-month-old baby sitting on my lap, and I cried. I’ve been searching for so long, and I’ve never even come close, and here it is, right in front of me.
I didn’t really think it through. I sent him and his wife a message. I didn’t tell them who I was, just said that I may know him and asked if he was in the military. The wife added me.
I saw her login and panicked. I wanted to talk to her but didn’t know what to say. I struck up a conversation and within a few minutes, I just told her everything. I expected her to be angry, apprehensive, disbelieving…
But she was sweet, kind, and dare I say, excited?
I’ve played out so many different situations and reactions in my head over the years. The good, the bad, the neutral, the insane…. But never had I pictured it going this well. There is no easy way to tell someone you might be their daughter… But there is no easy way to tell them you might be their husband’s daughter either.
I learned a little bit about them, and now, I really hope this is it. I’ve been waiting for so long and this means so much to me, and it’s finally within reach. I started feeling panicked, in the back of my mind. What if it’s not him? I’m back to square one. I told the wife this and she asked the other man’s name. Turns out her husband was best friends with him.
The answers are neatly gift-wrapped, sitting under the tree just waiting to be opened. Before, that box was nowhere in sight. I’ve been waiting anxiously for Christmas to come. I started to feel like it’d never be here, and now I see that box. Waiting for me. Within reach. Looking for baby shower gift inspiration? Check out Little Chickie here https://www.littlechickie.co.uk/special-occasions/baby-shower-gifts/
I’m finally going to know.
It feels so surreal.