Proof of ID

When I was younger, I developed a full-bloom fascination with the story of Anastasia, the youngest daughter of Czar Nicholas II. Quick background: In 1917, the Czar and his family were put under house arrest by the Bolshevik government, and after being moved further and further across Siberia, in 1918 they were executed. However, given that the details of their execution (time, place, bodies) were unclear and unverifiable, a lot of mystery and supposition grew up around the whole thing. In ensuing years, many people claimed to be the Czar, his wife, or his various of his children, miraculously escaped from certain death. The one who got the most attention, and who seemed to have a strong circumstantial case, was a woman who became known as Anna Anderson. She was called this because no one knew who she was. She was found wandering in Berlin one night, taken to a mental hospital, and after several months the nurses started saying, Boy, doesn’t she look like Anastasia? She spent the rest of her life trying to prove who she was.

At first, I was attracted to the Romanovs’ story because of its scope and, honestly, fin-de-siecle glamour. As I got older, I was more intrigued by Anna Anderson’s case and what it has to say about identity. Who are you? What makes you, you? If you woke up tomorrow and everything that signifies you—your memories, your family, your status, your knowledge of home and religion, your home itself and all your possessions—were gone, who would you be? How would you go on from there?  And if you thought you'd found your identity, how would you prove it?

I have been thinking about it a lot this week, this concept of identity, of starting over. The life before and the life after.

Several years ago, I learned that years before she met my father, my mother had given up a child for adoption. I wasn’t really upset when I learned the news; I already had a sense. Mostly, I was sad for my mother that she’d been in such a difficult position (unmarried, young, living at home with her parents, and the birthfather out of the picture) and forced to make such a heart-wrenching choice. It also explained a lot—comments from the past, behaviors, etc., were in a new light. But I wasn’t upset or angry. The situation was what it was.

My sister and I (understandably) left the question of “To search or not?” in my mother’s hands. Over the years, we’ve tried not to press it. There were upheavals in the interim, things that took precedence. In the past year or so, I’ve discussed the situation with her a little more, hoping that she could at least find some resolution within herself. I tried a few Internet searches with the limited information she gave, but nothing came up. I lost the details; life went on. Last weekend my sister and I were in South Carolina visiting her for Mother’s Day. The issue came up again; on a whim, I had her give me all the details one more time. I figured I could spread them on some adoption forums and see if anything came up. My hopes were not high. It’s a big Internet.

Three random Google searches later. Ding ding ding—maybe. Right hospital, right birthday.

Several e-mail exchanges after that, and it’s now right hospital, right birthday, right doctor, and the birthmother’s school subject matches my mother’s. The maybe is looking much smaller. The probably is looming huge.

She seems nice, this person who might be my half-sister (Adoptee). She says she’s had a good and blessed life, and that she bears no hurt towards her birthmother (absolutely what every birthparent hopes to hear). Since my mother doesn’t have e-mail, I’ve been acting as go-between. I don’t mind, as I want to do this for my mother. I want to help her get some closure. But it’s a weird position, trying to give enough information but still maintain privacy on both sides. Trying to inform but not intrude or overwhelm. Making sure everyone’s feelings are respected. It’s…it’s just weird at times, and I am terrified of messing it up somehow.

Mostly, I am trying to imagine it from Adoptee’s perspective, especially after the last letter I sent, which was something of a data dump. If she is the right person, a lot of questions she had growing up were answered in that one letter. And I’m trying to imagine how that must be—all the BIG questions of your life, answered in a week. Most of us will never know that feeling, to live your whole life with questions and suddenly get a letter that says, Your grandparents’ names are ____, you have two sisters, this is why your life went this way. And what if we’re wrong? What if, by some coincidence, she’s not the person we’re looking for? How would you go from thinking, “My questions are finally answered; NOW I know,” to starting back at square one? How unbelievably awful.

There’s a lot at stake.

Fortunately, the state where the adoption took place has a verification process. If you think you’ve found your birthparent, you petition the state with the information and they tell you if you have the right person. I hope that Adoptee does decide to go through with this. I hope that she is my mother’s child. I hope my mom and Adoptee, too, get a happy ending. 

Comments

[Theresa]

Wow this post was incredible. I'm always so curious to hear what younger siblings of adoptees feel. I think it's so interesting that you always had a sense of her.

I spent over 20 years searching for my first mom and just found where she is this month. I also discovered I have a younger half brother and a younger half sister. I don't know if they know about me or not; I haven't attempted contact with my mom yet while I sort out my feelings.

Your post was really helpful for me. Thanks so much for taking the time to write it. Best of luck to your family. I hope you get a happy ending too!

PS I have always been fascinated by that Anastasia story myself.

[Cath]

I think it is wonderful that you are doing this for your mother.

I am very fortunate that I have reunited with my son (happy reunion of 4 years now)

Before I found my son, I thought I better tell my other 2 children about their (half) brother. Their reactions were amazingly good.

My daughter (11 at the time) said, "That's so cool Mom - now I have a half brother just like all my friends do!!

My son (15 at the time) said "Thank God for that!"

I asked him what he meant by that.

He said "You were crying so much that I thought you were dying of cancer! What a relief that you are not!"

When we reunited, one of the first things that my son asked about was his siblings.

He was even more amazed that I had kept in touch with his father - we wanted to be sure that all of us were there for him as he has 2 (half) siblings on his side too.

We felt it was important to be honest with everyone and we felt it was important for all of us to be there for our son.

It went a long way to make our reunion successful and our son has now met all of his siblings as well as his father and myself. Our spouses have been wonderful about it as well - we have always been honest about our son with them and that helped too. My husband knew about our son before we were married.

Honesty is the best policy for successful reunions, that's for sure.

[Jill]

This is very cool and exciting. Congrats on your "new" sibling.

BTW, I am expecting a baby boy in September.

Jill