Finding My Roots (the Finale!)

So, I don't know if you are all bored to tears about hearing about this story, but I really need to get some of these details down while I can.
So, you may remember in the story of my dad's adoption that his birth mom was married at the time she gave birth, but she wasn't married to my dad's biological father. Does that all make sense? This story is so clear in my mind and these people are so real to me now that I find myself feeling them and telling their story so easily that I forget not everyone is following as closely as I am. So, for convenience sake, I'm going to provide some code names to make the story more easy to follow.

Biological Mom: Marie
Biological Dad: Alex
Man Married to Biological Mom: Lyle

There, clear as mud? Okay, so on with the story...
Lyle is a 20 something year old truck driver living in Colorado. His route takes him to destinations in Memphis, Tennessee, and Dallas, Texas. However, his loading port is in Arkansas.
One day while Lyle is waiting to get his truck filled in Arkansas, he decides to get a limemade. He ventures over to the local pharmacy which has a soda fountain in the back. Working at the soda fountain is the most beautiful blonde he's ever seen (No, it's not me, I'm not even born yet! It's Marie). He buys his limemade and chats with the woman for a while.
From that point on, every time he's in town, he stops in and chats and pretty soon he begins to date Marie. At some point in their dating, Lyle encounters Alex who makes it quite clear to Lyle that he is infringing on his territory by dating Marie. Lyle is not deterred by this and continues to date Marie anyway.
After they date seriously for quite some time, Lyle decides to ask Marie to marry him. She agrees. He drives back to Colorado to get the ring and places it on her finger making the engagement official. They never get around to setting a date, but after dating for several months, something changes. On one trip to down to Arkansas, Marie gives Lyle back his ring and says she can't marry him. She offers no other explanation. Lyle is heartbroken. He is in love, he wants to be with Marie forever.
Luckily for Lyle, his route is changed right after this happens and he doesn't have to go to Arkansas anymore. He still thinks of Marie and what could have been, but he hears nothing more until about a year later when he gets a letter in the mail.
Marie writes that she's made a mistake. She loves Lyle. She still wants to marry him. Would it be possible? Lyle is thrilled! Of course he wants to be with Marie. His only condition is that they get married right away. Marie agrees. He drives his truck down, picks her up and brings her back to Colorado and within a short time (a couple of weeks?) they are married.
Married life is great for the young, happy couple. Lyle is still gone often because that's what truckers do, but he knows he gets to come home to his gorgeous wife. Then, only two months after they tie the knot Lyle gets the strangest impression that Marie is pregnant. Hmmmm... He knows that's not a nice thing to accuse a woman of. Besides, he's probably wrong. Maries eats hardly anything at all and since they've been married she's only had the very slightest of a bump show. Perhaps if there's something amiss he should give her the opportunity to talk to him when she's ready. So, Lyle says nothing.
Flash forward to a month later. The newlyweds have just enjoyed a great dinner and Marie heads to the bedroom to change for bed. All of a sudden she's back out in the kitchen, crying.

"What's wrong?" asks Lyle.

"My water has broke. We have to go to the hospital. I'm in labor." states Marie.

Without throwing a fit or passing out from shock, Lyle helps his new wife to the hosptial. As soon as they arrive she tells the staff that she is not keeping the baby. The staff ask if she wants to see or hold the baby.

"I don't want to see it. I don't want to even look at it," she says.

By the next morning, my dad makes his entrance into the world. Small, but completely healthy. He is whisked away never to be seen or touched by the woman who carried her secret for so many torturous months, never revealing to the father, to her parents, to even her own husband what she probably couldn't face herself.
As for the rest of the story. That's for me and my family to know. Who is this man Lyle? This man who had this wild and difficult situation thrust upon him as a new husband. This man who stayed with his wife for a week after the baby's birth to care for her. This man who forgave her and never brought it up again. This man who readily spoke with me about intimate details that mean more to me than he'll ever know. It has been life altering. I can't imagine someone who could be as quick to forgive as he was. Someone who is so sweet and kind.
Here he is, nearing 80 years of life and I walk into the picture and he not only provides a story, he provides friendship. Yes, he too wants to meet me and my dad. I can hardly wait to meet this man and give him a huge hug. He's a sweetheart.
This whole experience....It's been hard for me to put into words. Sure, I can tell the story without any problem, but the emotions that come with it are so deep. I don't know if I've ever had feelings like this before. I feel so blessed. I feel so loved. I feel so peaceful.
Oh and one last, tiny detail. Lyle said that I solved a huge problem for him. You see, he has these wedding photos of him and Marie and he didn't know what would become of them when he died. There are no children that would need them, so he figured they'd probably just be thrown away. Instead, he's sending them to me. Yes, I will have a wedding photo of my very own grandma. Amazing. Simply amazing. Call it a coincidence if you like that he's held onto that picture for 50 years and through two other marriages. I call it divine intervention. I can hardly wait. So peaceful? Yes, but still so excited!!!

Finding My Roots

February 6, 1958, a woman delivers a beautiful little boy. He's perfect as most babies are with 10 fingers and 10 toes. He weighs 6 pounds 12 ounces and is 21 inches long. Perhaps his mom holds him gently before signing the paperwork to relinquish her parental rights. Perhaps the pain associated with knowing he's not hers to keep prevents her from daring to even look at his face. And what about the father? Where is he? Does he want to keep this little bundle? Does he wonder if this baby has his talents and vices? These facts I may never know, but I do know that this baby grows up to be my father.


Yes, my father was adopted when he was six months old. Raised in a home with another adopted child. His adoptive mother died from cancer when he was only nine years old. I have the privilege of being honored with her name.


My dad provided me with all of his adoption paperwork about five years ago. I played around on the internet trying to see if I could locate his birth parents, but nothing could be found. I helped my dad to register for every free database that exists for adoptees, but I never felt we'd find anything there and my intutition proved true.


Flash forward to 2008. It was one of those nights where I couldn't sleep. I felt prompted to look through that adoption paperwork one more time. I always tried to read it and let my mind do some thinking to see if I could feel any questions spring to mind. I felt prompted to see if there is anyone out there who would be willing to help me with this quest for free. I know that locating this information can cost thousands of dollars and that's money I don't have. I locate a woman in Denver who emails me back at 5 am--apparently she's an early riser herself--and instructs me on all of the paperwork I need to fill out to make sure that I've done everything I can.


All of this paperwork doesn't bring me any closer to finding either of my biological grandparents. Then, she tells me that I can actually get what's called non-identifying information about my dad's adoption. We send away for the information in April of this year and six weeks later a few more puzzle pieces are revealed.


The key piece for me was the clue that my dad's birth mom was already married to another man when she gave birth to my dad. When I read that, I got another feeling that perhaps the last name that we'd had for her wasn't really her maiden name at all. However, having this clue still doesn't help me to know her name.


Then, in June another adoptee from Colorado wins his court battle against the state for the right to have access to his adoption file. This case changes the law in Colorado allowing all adopted children whose adoptions were finalized between 1950 and June of 1966 to get their original birth certificates. I am ecstatic. We're going to find her.


That birth certificate arrived at my dad's house on Monday and revealed that my intuition about her name was correct. I now have her maiden name in front of me and my dad is on the phone with me. I'm shaking so hard, I can hardly type; hardly think. I type in her name and the very first hit that google gives me is her obituary.


I have to pay to view her obituary and the next day, after much struggle with learning the hard way that gmail hides your spam folder, I gain password access to the obituary. I can hardly read. My eyes are jumping all over the page: Where are the names of all of her kids? What did she do for a living? Who else is alive that I can talk to about this?


I locate a current phone number for her brother. I dial and I am having heart tremors. What kind of a reception am I going to get from this man? Will he tell me he's not interested in digging up the past? Will he just hang up on me? I don't know if I can let it go with just that.


He doesn't answer his phone.


I call the nursing home where my great grandma is living (Yes she's living! Can you believe that? 92 years old and still very with it) and ask to talk to her. A male voice gets on the phone.


Him: "Hello?"


Me: "Hi. My name is Audrey."


Him: "Who?"


Me: "My name is Audrey. I don't really know how to explain this, but let me try. You had a sister named ______ (I'm choosing to not reveal this information on my blog for privacy reasons)."


Him: "Yes."


Me: "Do you remember that in 1958 she had a baby that she gave up for adoption?"


Him: "Yes."


Me: "That baby is my father."


Him: (excited voice) "Is that right?!"


I breath a huge sigh of relief and my heart rate goes down slightly.


Me: "Yes! I can't tell you how excited I am to meet you. To talk to you! I'm dying to find out some information if you're willing."


Him: "Well, yes, but this is the nursing home phone. Let me call you back in a few hours. When is a good time to call you?"


Me: "ANYtime you want to call is a good time for me."


Perhaps none of the rest of you noticed, but the next couple of hours crawled by. Did anyone feel the earth turn a bit more slowly on Tuesday?


My uncle has a southern drawl that I find adorable and is willing to share all of the information that he has available--which is hardly anything unfortunately.


I find out that my grandma was an extremely private woman who never told a sole she was pregnant until she went into labor--not even the man she was married to knew she was pregnant. She never spoke of the adoption or pregnancy again--at least to her brother or her own mother. She never revealed who the father was either though her own mother deduced the name from remembering back to the man she was dating. She never had any other kids for reasons that no one who is living seems to know. In other words, I know so much and I know so little all at the same time.


Within a few hours after locating her, I was able to locate my dad's biological father as well. He too is deceased. He died less than a year ago. I can't believe he only passed away less than a year ago! The question in this situation is whether or not he even knew that my dad existed. I have no idea if he did. His wife, whom he married the same year my dad was born, is still living, but her phone number is unlisted. I have written a letter and now all I can do is wait. Boy, I hope she knew about this because I can't imagine the shock it would be to find out about a child your husband fathered 51 years ago.


I hope she's kind. I hope she understands I just would like to see a picture...find out about his personality...see if I recognize my own features in him. I certainly am not interested in butting in where I'm not wanted, but my curiosity is insatiable about this situation.


So, even though I'll never be able to meet either one of my biological paternal grandparents, I have gained a sweet uncle and a great grandma. Not to mention all of the family that comes from them. Perhaps I'll get to meet them? I certainly hope so.

My dad with Ryanna.

You Look Just Like...

I was reading in my Parents magazine the other day about genes and traits that may or may not be hereditary. Do you remember hearing about the determination for baldness was reliant on the mother's father? Well, apparently that's been disproved, giving Owen better odds than he had previously given that my dad is baldish (I think that term is hilarious!!! Our Bishop's wife used it to describe the Bishop the other night.)

We've all seen unexpected traits pop up in the physical features of our children, but what about their personalities or attitudes? My daughter absolutely loves to perform whether playing the violin or giving a talk at church. I always point at my husband and proclaim it came from his genes. My little boy already demands ice cream from me whenever he sees it even though he eats it all the while making a face that proclaims, "This is freezing my tongue!!! Give me MORE!" I have to be the one to claim the preference for sweets. So, how much of this is just my desire to see myself or my husband or our family members in our kids?

According to this article which is citing other recent studies (so mind you this is a watered down version of some crazy, scientific study) it says, "Families tend to have similar facial expressions when they're happy, sad, angry, disgusted, surprised, or thinking hard. And kids don't just pick up these reactions from watching us; Blind members of 21 families in the study also grimaces, smiled, and scowled like their relatives 80 percent of the time."

Another crazy fact cited by the article: "Kids who have a taste gene that's associated with a sensitivity to bitterness are less likely to pick milk as their favorite drink and more likely to love sugary soft drinks and cereals." Ahhhh, so I'm not a sugar addict, I just have a more delicate, refined palate! I KNEW IT!

One more interesting fact for those of you out there determining when to start your children's music lessons: "Most people with perfect pitch started taking music lessons before age 6, and that only 3 percent of people who started voice lessons after age 9 have perfect pitch--suggesting that both genetics and training affect one's singing voice."

I was disappointed for my husband when I read that, "The impact of genes for height can be modified by the foods you eat." Ah-ha! My 5'7" husband was fed the scraps from the table while his 6' tall youngest brother was feasting on roast beef! He'll love having an explanation for why he's the shortest man in his family. Surely food played more of a part in that than the fact that all of his mom's brothers max out at 5'7".

I think this is part of the reason I love to do family history and find out details about these people whose genetics have helped make me who I am. Where did these big lips of mine come from other than my big-lipped mom? What about my mom's crazy, course hair? My fingers that are kinky and won't point straight, what's that about? Wouldn't you love to know?

I think that everyone enjoys playing this game as you always hear people proclaim, "Your daughter/son looks just like you!!!" I can't tell you how many people have told me that my daughter with her dark skin, brown eyes, petite build and brown hair looks just like me with my light skin, green eyes, very blonde hair when I was her age, and medium-large build. Uh, yeah, a perfect match...

I still love to hear the similarities mentioned between me and anyone else though. I think it provides me with a sense of belonging. Really, no matter whether we have our dad's meticulous ability for detail or our mom's big lips we just want to be loved.

Night of Surprises

So, I am a bit of a family history addict. My mom got me started when I first moved to Arizona. She's had incredible luck and definitely been blessed to find a lot of information that has lead to amazing discoveries. I wanted to do some family history work at the time because I am named after my dad's mom. I thought it would be cool to find out something about her family.

Well, after finding a lot of information about my grandma Audrey, I decided to also trace the Roy line as well. I also hit the jackpot on information there and even attended a Roy family reunion a couple of summers ago. I did reach a point though where I felt stuck.

My grandma did a lot of genealogical research many years ago before the days of the internet. You know, when you had to order in a census and go through every stinkin' page and hope you could read the census taker's handwriting. I thought I would at least enter her information into my computer database and see if I could find anything beyond what she had listed.

Well, I actually found lots and lots. This internet thing, it's amazing!!!! I found old wills and photos and connected with many people who wanted to share loads of helpful information with me. It was all quite exciting. If you haven't done family history work, you won't understand how exciting it all is.

I got a bit obsessed with this one particular branch with the last name of Swick. I felt really strongly that there was information I needed to find. I kept looking through postings on this message board and never located anything connected with my branch, but I still felt like I was missing something. I decided to delve into the siblings of my direct branch and see what information I could locate. Well, after I had flushed out information on the siblings, I went back to the message board and located a message that was directly connected to my family!!!! I contacted the man and bought a photo album full of photos of my great, great, great, great, great aunts and uncles. It was an amazing find. But stilll...

I felt like I was supposed to keep looking. I had the line all the way back to 1809. I just couldn't find anything prior to that because census information before that doesn't have the names of the family members, only the male heads of families and I didn't have any money to hire a researcher. So, I spoke with my Uncle Mickey. He agreed that if I would send him all of the information I had, he would pay for a researcher to find out who was the generation back from where I was stuck.

Last night I received news that through mine, my mom's and my grandma's work as well as the researcher, we found him. His name is Anderew AND we know two more generations past that. Wow!!!! How exciting. If you want to get started, let me know, I'm happy to help. It really is so fun.

Here are a couple of websites that are great for getting started:

http://www.familysearch.org/ (provides a free database where you can begin entering your info)

http://www.rootsweb.com/ (it's free and you can play around with tons of options)

http://www.usgenweb.com/ (is a great free resource once you know location for your ancestors)