Wednesday, February 11, 2015, started out just like any other ordinary day. It ended, however, unlike any other.

I had gone home for lunch that day, as I did most work days, and saw a notification from Canada Post stuck to my front door. A registered letter had arrived for me. After eating lunch I drove back into town and went to the Canada Post outlet which is right beside my office. As I signed for the letter I glanced at the return address which I noted was from the Ministry of Community and Social Services. I’m not sure why, but I immediately thought it must be something for my daughter in university. It didn’t even cross my mind what this letter could be.

It was just about seven years earlier, on his 18^th birthday, that I had registered my personal contact information with the Adoption Registry. I wanted to make sure it was easy for my firstborn son to find me. I mailed the completed form that I had downloaded from the internet, then eagerly checked the mailbox everyday looking for a letter in response. I jumped each time the phone rang in case it was a call for me with information. After a few weeks I reasoned with myself that it was unlikely for me to get a response so quickly. I couldn’t handle the anxiety of waiting any longer so I prayed that God would help me to wait patiently. As the weeks, months and years passed my hope was waning. Sadly, not once did it occur to me that I could initiate a search for my son. I think it was because of things the social worker had said, and so I really wasn’t sure if he would even give me a thought or have any desire to know me. But if he did want to find me, I was going to make sure he could.

I left the postal outlet with letter in hand. As I walked toward my office I slid my thumb along the edge of the envelope to tear the seal. I started to pull the letter from the envelope when I read the words in the top left corner, ‘Custodian of Adoption Information’.  My heart began pounding immediately and fiercely, and I said out loud, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” My pace quickened as I stuffed the letter back into the envelope. I reached the main entrance of my office building and proceeded to go inside. I walked swiftly to my office where I stood behind the door. I stood there, my body trembling with anticipation, as I quickly pulled the letter fully from the envelope this time and read it from top to bottom. There I could see the name, address, phone number and email of my long lost son. I laughed out loud as I cupped my hand to my mouth. I could hardly believe my eyes! Then I went into the washroom with the letter securely in hand. There I stood reading through it again, letting my eyes fall on and fully take in his name, his phone number, and his address. My eyes welled up with tears, but I laughed out loud again. I really didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

After drying my eyes I returned to my office and carefully placed the letter in my purse and began working. To this day I do not know how I managed to get through the rest of that afternoon. I was clearly in shock, and my mind was certainly a million miles away! I pulled the letter out of my purse several times that afternoon to re-read it. I sent my husband a text to let him know about the letter as well.

In the days that followed we shared this exciting news with our three kept children first, of course, then made phone calls to other family members who knew about our son. While my husband’s family was not aware of our pregnancy and subsequent adoption at the time, we had shared this with them in 1999.  Regrettably, they were never given the opportunity to speak into our situation or offer assistance.

Now it was time to open up with our friends, none of whom knew about our first baby. We wanted to share the news with our closest friends in person. So on the weekend we began making our way around to a few of our friend’s homes. Needless to say, they were flabbergasted. It was emotional and heartwarming as they each expressed their congratulations, and empathy. Our friends showed so much compassion for how painful it must have been for us to have lost our baby to adoption, and to have been without him for all these years.

At this point I had no idea how things would change for my fragmented family, but it was so freeing to no longer live under a veil of shame and secrecy. At times throughout the years, I considered opening up and sharing with friends, but I could never find the words. I had done the unthinkable and abandoned my own baby for no good reason. That’s hard to talk about. 

A couple of days after receiving the letter my son and I began communicating by email. We were eager to meet each other. I was willing to get together that very weekend, but he already had travel plans that could not be changed. So we excitedly made arrangements to meet the following Friday. Which turned out to be the day that changed everything.