9: Dreams of Her

9: Dreams of Her

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Think Possible

Dreams of Her

A moment in my arms, forever in my heart.

~Author Unknown

It was time to tell my son and everyone else. I had found her. “David, what if I told you that you have a half sister?”

I looked at my son with tears in my eyes. He looked at me with his eyes wide and said, “Really, a sister!” He was an only child you see.

I had given up a baby girl for adoption when I was eighteen, one of the hardest things I had ever done. The only people who knew about it were my parents, my siblings, a couple of close friends, my aunt and my grandmother. I kept this secret from others, even my ex-husband, for more than twenty-five years.

I had decided that when my son turned eighteen, I would tell him and start looking for his sister. I had dreamed about her many times over those years. All I had to go on was the one look I got of her through the window before I went to sign the papers to give her up for adoption. I always wondered what she looked like, what her life was like, and whether she had good adoptive parents.

One night I sat down at the computer and started doing some research about how I could find her. I came across a website for Texas adoptions. Birthmothers, birthfathers, and the adopted children could use the site to look for each other.

Before I entered my information I decided to do a quick search of the posts that were already there: “Female. The Edna Gladney Home in Ft. Worth, Texas. October 1973.” My hands shook as I typed.

One result popped up. It had been entered two months earlier. I was the only woman who gave birth that day, so this had to be her. I got goose bumps. It was hard to believe that I had found her already!

I knew that if I saw her picture I would know for sure. I replied to her and asked for a photo. I also told her that her adoptive parents took her home in a yellow blanket that my mother had knitted. I hit the send button.

I had a gut feeling this was it, but I couldn’t sit there waiting. I forced myself to turn off the computer and go to bed.

After a sleepless night, I saw my son off to school in the morning. He scurried around getting books together and grabbing a banana before he went out the door. I grabbed his coat and told him to hold up. I looked into his eyes and said, “David, I love you.” He was taken aback but he said, “I love you too, Mom!” And out the door he went.

Finally, I went to the computer, and there it was: her picture. The minute I saw her smile I knew. She wrote that her adoptive parents had kept the blanket that her grandmother had knitted. Her name was Kate.

After I regained my composure I wrote back: “Kate, I know you are my birth daughter, I just know it. You have your father’s smile.” We both wanted to meet, but we had to go through some psychological counseling and fill out some paperwork before the home would confirm our match.

A couple of weeks later we got the good news. We were a match and we could meet. That’s when I told David the news.

It felt like the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders because there was no “secret” anymore. I told my ex-husband, and he told his family. I told the rest of my family and my co-workers. I later found out my grandmother had written Kate’s birth in her family Bible.

Months later I flew to California to meet Kate and her adoptive parents. The tears flowed for me during those two days. Her adoptive parents were wonderful people and they gave her a wonderful life.

When I returned home I got a letter containing a paper that Kate had written in high school. Her adoptive mother wanted me to have it. It read:

It is quite difficult for me to write about an individual who means everything to me, yet I have never seen her or heard her voice. I suppose I could say that you see a likeness to her in me, but even that is enigmatic. This person I speak of, this hero is my biological mother. If there was one thing I could say to my hero it would be simply thank you for giving me such a wonderful life.

~Kate

Kate received an A+ on the paper and a comment: “What a wonderful story.”

It was wonderful. My dreams of her, my impossible dreams, came true.

~Susan Kocian

More stories from our partners