My Momma sat in my family room, which was on the back side of our house, in the brown chair rocking back and forth, shaking, crying intermittently, and looking out the doors and windows to the right which led up to the back of her house and to the left, toward the road where the driveway started.

After I finally convinced her to come in and we had called 911, I began trying to help calm her down.  I made her some coffee, which was always relaxing for her.   I asked her if she was injured anywhere.  She showed me her neck which had what appeared to be hand imprints around it and her wrists, which had bruises around them.   I asked her how they got there and she told me my father had grabbed her and tried to choke her and hold her.   I asked her what else had happened to make her run down to our house earlier.   She again told me that my father had the pistol out that he kept by the recliner and was threatening to shoot her with it.  I asked her why she didn’t call us or someone and she said she tried to but he grabbed the phone and ripped the cord out of the wall.  She told me he was cussing and throwing things and tearing stuff up.  Her stuff.

Finally, about a half an hour later, the doorbell rang.   I told her I would get it and I could see that it was the police.  I let them in the front door.   They said they had been at my parent’s house and couldn’t get anyone to answer the door.  They asked if my mother was still here and I said yes, she is in the family room and led them to her.   They asked her if she was all right.  She was still very shaken; however, she showed them the markings around her neck and the bruises around her wrists and told them that her husband tried to shoot her with a pistol.   They asked her how she got away?   She told them he was trying to go fast with his walker and get to her and he fell.  She told them she kicked him back down and ran out their front door and then ran down to our house.  They asked if they had her permission to go into their home since my father hadn’t answered the door?   She told them they could go ahead in.   She told them my father probably had not gotten up, since she wasn’t there to help him.

So the two officers left and Momma asked me what I thought would happen?  I told her I didn’t know for sure, but in my opinion, it seemed like he should be taken in for questioning.   She asked if I thought they would put him in jail?   I told her I didn’t know.  She said that she hoped they did because he really scared her and she was afraid he would try to come down to our house.  I sat with her and we found a game show on television in hopes of getting her mind occupied.  I asked her if she brought anything with her and she said she hadn’t because she said she had to get out really fast when she could.  She didn’t even have on a jacket….and it was still quite chilly out.   She seemed to be calming down a little and was watching television.

About 20 minutes later, I was in the kitchen seeing if I could tell what was going on and saw the two officers coming down the road and turning into our driveway.   Mom was still occupied with the television so I decided to go out and meet them on the porch, hoping not to get her in panic mode again.

They walked up onto the porch and I asked what was going on.  And this is what I was told….”Well, we were able to get into the house and found your father on the floor near his walker.  He had a loaded 9 mm pistol in his back pocket, but he denied having tried to shoot your Mother, and said that he just carries that gun for self-protection.   So, we helped him up and put him back in his recliner, unloaded the gun, gave it back to him, and sat the walker by him.  We did plug the phone back in and picked up the things he had thrown on the floor.”   I am certain, at this point, that my jaw had actually hit the floor of my porch?!   I said,  “You gave him back the gun??”   They affirmed.   I went on “You do realize that he has a boatload of ammo and probably 50 more guns of all shapes and sizes up there in that house…pistols, high-powered rifles with scopes, assorted shot guns, etc.??”  Well, they said they didn’t really know this and told me “we just can’t go around taking people’s guns away!”  I said “Not even if they try to shoot someone??”   They told me “It just isn’t that simple….There are laws.”   Then I asked “So, if you aren’t taking his guns away, are you arresting him?”   To which they said “no”.  I pressed on…”But he allegedly tried to shoot my Momma….she told you this earlier.  And you found him with a loaded weapon in his pocket.  And she showed you the marks around her neck and around her wrists.”  They responded with “He is very weak.   We don’t think he could hurt anyone.”

I said “This is unbelievable!   You aren’t going to arrest him, you didn’t take his guns, and he is right next door to us!   Do you really feel we are safe here??”  They did not really answer.   So I asked that they look up the hill to my parents house that they just left.  I asked them if they saw the window on the northeast end of the house.   They said they did.   I told them that was my father’s bedroom, where several guns and ammo were kept.  I then asked them to look at the southeast end of my house at the window almost directly facing my father’s and they did.  I told them that window belonged to my 16-year old son….that it is where he sleeps and spends time.   And then told them the window next to us, on the porch where we were standing, was our kitchen window, in front of our sink, where we do dishes, get water, cook, etc.   And of course, we were at the front door with the big oval window in it.  So I asked them again…”So, do you believe we are safe here?”

What was said next…by them…was….”Well, do you have somewhere else YOU can go?”   I said “Excuse me?!   You are telling me that my father just reportedly tried to shoot my Mother, and you know he has at least one pistol, on his person, and you think WE should go somewhere else so we will be safe?”  To which they replied “Well, yes ma’am.”   I told them that this was just “unbelievable” to me and that surely there was something that could be done?  One of them then asked me if I knew who my father’s doctor was and I said “yes, of course.”   And so that officer said that if he were me, he would contact my father’s physician tomorrow morning and ask him to write a 72-hour emergency detention order and get the judges signature.  He further explained this would allow them to pick my father up and have him evaluated and observed at a mental health unit.  I told them I worked in a field where we dealt with mental health issues and questioned why they couldn’t just get the 72-hour detention order right now?   To which they reminded me, “Well ma’am, it is Sunday.”   I said “SO?”  They made me feel like I was crazy for asking and said “Well, the Judge and Doctor will be back at work tomorrow.”  I said “There has to be on-call professionals to handle these things 24/7 because emergencies don’t always happen Monday through Friday from 8 am to 4 pm?!”   I told them that I knew of many instances when people had been taken in for 72-hour emergency detention on evenings and weekends, and even on Sundays!   They told me they were not going to bother the Judge with it, and that we could do it in the morning!   I told them I was shocked by this being ignored and this volatile situation not being handled tonight.  They again reiterated that if we didn’t feel safe, WE should go elsewhere.

I don’t know if I could have been any madder at that point, but I pushed it back and went into the house, locking the door behind me.  Momma asked me if that was the police?   I told her it was.  She asked me if they took my father to jail.   And I told her they did not.  She said “What?  So he is still up there??  Next door??”   She then asked if they found the gun and I told her they did and they said it was in his pocket and it was loaded.  She asked me if they took it and the other guns.   I told her that they did not.  I told her they unloaded that gun and gave it back to him.   She started to panic again…She said “He is going to come after me!   He is going to get me!!!”   I told her to calm down and not to worry and that since Brad was away working in Louisville and wouldn’t be home for a while, that we would go to my daughter’s house and take it from there.   She was in agreement.  So I packed up a couple pairs of pajamas, my medicine and told my son to pack a backpack too, since I wasn’t sure if we would be back tonight and he had school tomorrow.  He was pretty shook too, but had sat with his Meme and tried to help her feel calmer.

About 15 minutes later, we were on the road and headed to my daughter’s house.  She lived about 10 miles north of us on the other side of our little town.  She and my three grandson’s welcomed us and the little boys helped Momma get her mind off of what was going on.  We ordered some pizza and I called the local pharmacy to see if we could get a few days worth of Momma’s medications since she was unable to get it to bring it with her after having to flee like she did.   They were very accommodating and we were able to get three days-worth for her.  I was hoping that would get us to the point of being able to get her medication from her house.    When I returned to my daughters after picking up the medication, I found Momma being entertained by the grandsons and seeming much calmer.

Brad came over when he got back from Louisville and I filled him in on what all had happened.  He was also in disbelief and shock?!   It was later in the evening by now.  He said he had to return to Louisville the next morning and needed to leave a 430 am.  He said he would go on home and check on everything and take care of our dogs and would feel better if we just stayed here until we got to talk to my father’s physician, as instructed, in the morning.  He said he felt we should be fine here since my father was currently not driving due to restrictions from his surgery.  I agreed and my daughter and her family were fine with it.   My son called a school friend and Brad dropped him off there so he could just go to school with his friend.

My youngest brother called my cell phone and asked what had happened.  I told him and he was livid, but said he wasn’t surprised.  He said that our father had been acting irrationally when he had stopped in to check on Momma earlier, but said he was told to leave by our father.   I told him we were fine and told him we were going to our father’s doctor in the morning, as instructed by police…would he want to go with us?  He said he would meet us there.  I told him we planned to be there at 8 am when they opened.   Brad called when he made it back to our house and said everything was quiet, but did notice that my middle brother’s truck was in my father’s driveway….This was worrisome as this one had been in all sorts of trouble with the law, primarily for drug-related issues, and I was still fearful of him, as was Momma.  She had told me many times that he scared her, but that my father reportedly would not make him leave their property or go elsewhere.  We had seen this for ourselves when we voiced concerns about it.   He had lived with my parents, off and on, between incarcerations over the past several years.

My daughter and her husband and the grandsons tried to make the evening as pleasant and carefree as possible.  We watched a Disney Movie and had a “Campout” in the living room.  Momma slept on the couch and I slept on the air mattress with the grandsons.   Momma got her medications for the evening and I think she was truly mentally and physically exhausted.  She seemed to sleep pretty well.   I, on the other hand, barely slept at all…Replaying all of the events through my mind, over and over, and beating myself up for NOT realizing what had been going on before it came to this?!  I just couldn’t figure out how I could have missed the severity of what was happening?

Monday morning, 8 am, bright and early, my Momma and I were at my father’s physician’s office.   My youngest brother met us there.   The doctor saw us right away and Momma, my brother and I told him what had transpired the day before and the few weeks previous.   He already knew about the behavior in the rehab center because he was my father’s physician and did NOT release him from care, as he did not feel he was ready to go home, but he said my father INSISTED on leaving.   He said he would definitely sign the 72-hour emergency detention order and make the recommendation to the Judge.  He said he didn’t see any reason it wouldn’t be signed and approved, but that he would call me and let me know.   So we left his office feeling somewhat positive.   Momma and I got some breakfast in town and drove out to her friend’s house who had helped with her medication and had been checking on her before this happened.  Momma wanted to tell her what had happened.   Her friend was very supportive and told Momma she could stay with her anytime she wanted, as she is retired.   She also couldn’t believe how this situation had been handled…She told Momma to call her anytime and told me to stay in touch about what was going on.

We then went back to my daughter’s house.   Shortly before noon I received a call from my father’s physician (who also happens to be our family physician) and he said he had signed the order and it had been delivered to the Judge.  I asked him if he felt my father could possibly have a brain tumor or something cancer-related that could have caused this behavior the past month or so, since he had cancer elsewhere previously.   He said anything was possible.   He said he would ask that the hospital run his admission through the ER so that he would get a thorough medical work-up and that if nothing medical showed up, then they could move him on to the mental health ward.  He was planning for my father to go to the hospital that he was affiliated with in a city to the east of us.   He called me back an hour or so later to let me know that the Judge had signed the order, but that unfortunately, they were taking him to the hospital in the city west of us because that is the catchment area for mental health services for the county we lived in.  He said he would make the very same request, but that he didn’t have any rights at that hospital so he wasn’t sure if they would follow his request for the medical work-up or not.  I thanked him for following through with this and told him I had wondered how he was going to get around the catchment area issue, which I was aware of because of my job.  He said the police should be out to transport him shortly.

Momma and I hung out with my daughter and waited a few hours to go home to make sure that my father would have already been picked up.   We drove by their home and there didn’t appear to be anyone there and all looked quiet.  Momma didn’t really say anything.  At least not right then.

So, we went home and it was about time to start some dinner.  She kept looking out the kitchen window up towards her house.   I asked her if she saw something.  She said no, but then asked if we could go up there later since my father was gone from there and get some of her stuff….her purse, her medicine, some clothes, and shoes and a coat.   I told her I didn’t know how we would get in.   She pulled a key out of the front pocket of her jeans.  I asked her if that was to the door and she said “No, it is to the file cabinet where her medicine was.”   I told her I didn’t know how we would get in the house and she said we could get in through the garage door using the code.  So I told her I didn’t see why not, but that I would rather wait until Brad got home so he could go with us.  She agreed that was a good idea.

We got dinner ready and Brad came home and had picked our son up from baseball practice.   We ate together and Momma asked Brad if he would go with us up to the house to get her stuff and he said we would after dinner.  So we got finished eating, cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher.  My youngest brother had called before dinner and we told him that our father had been taken in for the 72-hour emergency detention and we were going to go up to the house and get some of Mom’s stuff.  He said that would be good, as he knew she was worried about her purse and her medicine.

We drove up to my parent’s house and pulled into the driveway, Brad punched the code in and the garage door opened.  We went into the kitchen door from the garage which was always left unlocked.  We walked in and Momma and I went back to her bedroom to gather some clothes and Brad said he would get into the file cabinet and get Momma’s medication and hopefully find her purse too.   As she and I were gathering up some clothes, a coat, some shoes and pajamas, my cell phone rang.   I answered it and it was my youngest brother asking where we were?   I told him we were in our parent’s house with Momma so she could get some of her stuff.   He said “Well, you need to get her and yourselves out of there right now!”   I asked “Why?”   And he said he had just gotten a call from the mental health center and they told him that had put our father in a cab and he was on his way home!!!”   I said okay and hung up.

Momma said “What’s wrong?”   I said “We have to go…They have put dad in a cab and he is on his way home.”   My Momma went to pieces at this point….she dropped to her knees, saying “Oh, he is going to kill me now….He is going to kill me this time!”   I told her we would keep her safe, we just needed to get going.   So we gathered up what we had and headed to the other room where Brad was looking for Momma’s purse in the closet behind the file cabinet.   Momma was hysterical by now, saying “we have to get out of here…he will kill us.”   Brad asked what was going on and he found Momma’s purse under a bunch of other stuff at about that time.   And said “Okay, I have everything we came for…Let’s go.”   At just that very moment, we heard the kitchen door open….And we all just froze….looking at one another.  My youngest brother then hollered out “Are you guys still here?”   So we answered and headed toward the kitchen.   We met him at the end of the hall coming toward us.   As we looked to the right toward their front door, Brad said “Look at this!”   What we saw was the front door handle and lock-set lying in pieces on the floor, right in front of the door!   The door was all dented in.   It appeared that “someone” had taken a sledgehammer or something heavy of that nature to that hardware and knocked it all off of the inside of the door.   This wasn’t lost on us. This was the door Momma had left through when she left and ran to our house.   My brother and Brad both said “Someone was going to make sure no one would ever get out that door from the inside again!”   It was a freakishly scary sight to witness and to imagine it occurring was even scarier.   We hurried on out, closed the garage door, got in the car and drove back to our house.

Momma was a hysterical mess.   She was shaking and crying and continuing to say “He is going to get me now.  He is going to kill me.”   We reassured her that we would keep her safe.  So we got back in the house and sat down at the dining room table as she wanted to look through her purse to make sure everything was there.   Unfortunately, what she found was the opposite.   Her wallet had been emptied except for her AARP card and some receipts.   There was no cash, no ID, no credit card, and no Medicare or other insurance card.   She did have some change in her change purse.   Her cell phone was gone.  Her checkbook was gone.  All that was really left in her purse was her emptied wallet, some Kleenex, and some gum and mints.   She looked up at us and pitifully said “I don’t have anything.   No money.   No checks.  No ID. No Medicare Card. No phone.   I have nothing.”   She was truly devastated by this.   And all of a sudden, we realized her previous obsession with her purse and always having it with her or knowing where it was, was probably due to it being hidden as it was tonight or possibly being emptied of everything that was “hers”.00)

I suggested that maybe she would like to go take a soak in the tub and put on one of her own night gowns that we had gotten while we were at the house.   And she agreed.  She liked a good hot bath.   I helped her draw a bath and got her clean underwear, gown, house-coat and house-slippers for her and told her to just relax and take her time. I got her some good body wash and a clean wash cloth and towel and some lotion for afterward.   I told her to holler if she needed anything.   While she was in there, Brad said he was calling the police department to see what the Hell had happened??  I told him I was going to call the State Police to see if they could offer any assistance.   My youngest brother was at our house, as was my son.

Brad and I met back up in the dining room about 10 minutes later, both madder than hornets!   He said that they told him they were “sorry”, but that they had picked him up and delivered him with the 72-hour emergency detention order and once they did that it was out of their hands.  They said they had no control over what the mental health center did or didn’t do.   He asked if anything could be done and they said that if he bothered Momma or us or tried anything to call them and they would come back out.   I had an equally helpful conversation with the State Police who basically said the same thing…that there wasn’t really anything they could do at this point, but if he bothered us or anything to call them.  I said “So if he tries to or actually shoots one of us, then you will send someone?”   He said “Well, yes.”   I told him that we felt like sitting ducks and explained the proximity of our houses and properties.   And do you know what sage advice he had for me?   He told me we “should probably keep the lights out in the side of the house facing his, keep our doors and windows locked, and stay away from in front of the doors and windows.”  (No, I am not even kidding….I couldn’t make this kind of thing up if I tried?!).  I said “Well, thank you so much…You have been ever so helpful?!”  And hung up the phone.   I literally wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but I knew we had to stay calm for Momma sake.   She was already panicked enough.

Momma came back into the living room in her house-coat and house-slippers and asked if we could make some coffee.   I told her “sure” and suggested she go sit in the recliner and watch some TV.   By this time it was around 9 pm and Brad said he needed to get to bed because he had to get up at 4.  He said to wake him up if we needed him.

My younger brother had gone downstairs into the family room down there and came upstairs a few minutes later and said our other brother had called and wanted to talk to us.   He said he didn’t know exactly what to say to him, but thought he was on his way here.  My son was in the living room too.  The doorbell rang and my youngest brother answered the door.   Our new rescue boxer, Milo, who we had only had a few weeks was in the dining room and for the first time, we heard him bark.  At my other brother who just came in.  And he continued to growl.   My youngest brother sat down on our love seat and my son pulled a footstool up right beside me and sat down.  Momma was in the recliner.

My other brother came in and went directly to Momma and hugged her.  She kind of froze and didn’t hug back.   He then came toward me to hug me to which I said “Uh no, I don’t think so.   Why don’t you have a seat?”   So he sat down on the love seat by my other brother.   He started in asked how we all were doing and some other small talk.  I said “Listen, we are all extremely tired and on-edge, so what is it that you needed to talk to us about?”

I think he was taken aback by my abruptness, but we have been estranged for quite sometime and that was the first time he had been in my house for a long time.   So he said “Well, I wanted to let you know that dad has to have another surgery.”   I said “What kind of surgery?’   He said “Exploratory surgery.”   I said “For what?”   He said “Well there is still some bleeding.”   I said “When did this come about?”   He said “Well he got a postcard in the mail.”   I said “He got a postcard in the mail telling him to come in for Exploratory Surgery?”   He acted like that made him mad and he said “Well yes…He did.”   I said I finfd that really odd.   I then said, “Well, is he going to have it?  Because he told us after he got out of the hospital and rehab last time, that he was NEVER going back to the hospital and that he wasn’t having anything else done.  EVER.

He said “WELL….Under one condition.”   I said “What is that?”  He said “Well, he said he would IF Mom comes home.”   And my Momma, who I wasn’t even sure was paying attention, because she hadn’t said anything, all of a sudden piped in and said “I am NOT going.”   So I said “Well, there you have it.   She isn’t going.”   My youngest brother said “She said no.”   My middle brother then said “Now come on guys, we need to help them work this out!   They have been married 53 years!”   I said “I don’t care if they have been married 153 years, dad tried to shoot her, and in my mind that makes their marriage null and void!”   Momma is starting to get upset and has started rocking.    She said “I don’t have to go back, do I?”   I told her “NO, you do not.  It is your decision.”   So my brother then starts quoting the Bible to me and telling me that marriage is “sacred”.   Momma was starting to panic “You aren’t going to make me go back are you??”  I told her “Absolutely not.  No one can make you go back if you do not want to.”   My middle brother started in again and I told him I thought it was time for him to leave.   So he said “Fine.” And got up and stormed toward the door.   My son was on his heels before I knew what was happening.   He closed the door and locked it behind my middle brother.  He said “Mom, you need to call the police!”   I told him that we had called both the local and State Police and had been told that unless his grandfather did something else, there was nothing they could do.   He said “Well, I am going to call them!”   I told him to go ahead….that maybe they would listen to him.   So he headed to the back of the house with his cell phone and came back about 5 minutes later and said they told him they would send an officer out.

I woke Brad up since I figured he might be needed with the police returning.   Momma was starting to calm back down as we reassured her she did NOT have to go back to their house with my father.   About 10 minutes later, the doorbell rang and my son answered the door.   It was one of the officers from the day before.  He asked if my son had called and he said “yes” and let the officer in.   The officer asked him what was going on?  He said “Well, my Uncle, you know the one that has been in all kinds of legal trouble, just came down here and tried to get my Meme to go back up there to my grandpa who tried to shoot her yesterday.   He made her get upset and that isn’t right.   Something needs to be done.   He shouldn’t be able to threaten and scare her like that.”   (Proud Mom moment…This is my very quiet, soft-spoken son, who is typically shy.)   Anyway, Brad and I chimed in and agreed that this was totally unacceptable and uncalled for.  Brad said “What are we supposed to do about this?  You do realize the record of the brother who was just here?   And now not only do we have Sherri’s father who tried to shoot her Mother and lives next door to worry about,  we now also have him staying there, as well, and coming down here harassing her mother, trying to get her to go back into that volatile situation?”

Momma says from the living room “I don’t want to go back up there.”   He told her she didn’t have to.

The officer then asked if we would like for him to go next door and serve both of them a “no contact” order?   We asked what that meant?   He said “Well I can serve it and tell them they are not to come down here or talk to you or your Mother anymore.”   I said “Well yes….I don’t understand why that wasn’t already done.”   He said they thought he was having a 72-hour emergency detention, but understood that this didn’t happen.   He said “Well, here’s what I suggest you do.   First thing in the morning, take your Momma and all of you and go to the Courthouse and request protective orders and if I were you, I would ask for the Brady Law to be implemented.   I asked what that meant?   He said “If they agreed to enact the Brady law, all of the firearms could be removed from my father’s residence and he would not be allowed to purchase any more.   However, I will tell you not to get your hopes up because it is rarely ordered here, but it is worth a try.”   So we agreed that we would do this.   He told us he would serve the “no contact orders” now, but encouraged us to do the Protective Orders first thing the next morning.  And said to call if anything else came up tonight.  And he left.

Brad decided to take off work the next day and we all went to the Courthouse at 8 am and asked to complete paperwork for Protective Orders.   Momma, my youngest brother, Brad and I all filled them out.   One of the clerks took our completed paperwork and told us to follow her upstairs to where the Judge’s office was.  We waited in the waiting area while she took them in to be reviewed.  She was back shortly and said the orders were signed and approved and that the police would be notified to go take the weapons out.   This felt like a small victory.

We decided we would rather not be around when this was done, so we went to visit some of our other family.   We were called by one of Momma’s neighbor friends who said there were reportedly 6 or 7 law enforcement vehicles at her home and wanted to make sure she was okay.   We told them she was okay and was with us.   We later got a call letting us know that local law enforcement had taken 42 weapons out of my father’s house.  We were not sure this was all of them as we did not know the exact number of firearms he had.  We felt a little bit more safe about returning to our home so we did, but we remained leery and vigilant.   I had barely slept in three days.

We learned the next day that my father had reportedly called the police to tell them that they had missed one of the weapons.   They returned to get number 43.   We felt sure that he probably had more and, in our opinion, that was just his way of making sure we knew that they didn’t get them all.

So….the nightmare continued.

 

When I started this blog about a month ago, I hinted at some things that caused me to begin my search for biological family members.  It’s a question I get often “Why did you begin your search at age 53, instead of when you were younger?”

It’s an understandable question.  So I will try to explain it from my heart…because that is where the decision came from.

You see, for a little over 50 years, I was fortunate enough to have this amazing, loving, caring Momma who I loved so much.  And more importantly, she loved me and I knew that because she always made it a point to tell me, and most of all, to show me.  At six years old, on a trip to Tampa, FL, I learned I was adopted.  My parents, and my newly adopted brother, along with my Mamaw, and my 7-year old cousin had gone to visit an older cousin on my father’s side of the family (the sister of my 7-year old cousin).   That 7-year-old cousin and I were playing on the beach a few days after we arrived in Florida.  He told me he had “a secret”.  Several times.  Finally, I begged him to tell me what it was.  And just like that, I learned that I was adopted.  Since I didn’t know this, I ran back to my parents and asked if what he said was true?  My father was angry and walked away…leaving my Momma to do the explaining and smoothing over (this was definitely a pattern over the years…Momma handled the hard stuff, the touchy stuff, and the stuff that might make someone hurt or angry…you know, the “unpleasantries”).

Momma sat me down and hugged me tight and told me this was true.   I was confused because we had just recently adopted my new baby brother and everyone seemed privy to that information and it was not a “secret”.   So I questioned why they hadn’t told me already.  She said they were just waiting for the right time…But went on to tell me that I should never feel bad about being adopted because, as she explained it, adopted kids are wanted and chosen by their families to be a part of it, so I should feel extra “special” that I was adopted.   That made sense.  And I was only six years old, so I went back to play on the beach and didn’t think much more about it at the time.  However, when we returned to Indiana…things were very different.  My father was so angry with my Aunt (his sister…the mother of my cousin who told me the secret) that he stopped speaking to her and continued to not speak to here for the next 46 years!   I never really understood exactly what happened and my father would not tell.  But I am sure it broke my sweet Mamaw’s heart…She wound up dying at only 63 years of age in 1971.   I was 9 years old.  A piece of my heart died then too.  Losing her was surreal…It took quite a while for that to soak in.  She lived next door and we spent lots of time together.  She was nothing less than a saint, I am sure of it!

Fast forward to my pre-teen years, and a day when Momma and I were looking for something in her ceder chest.   I came accross her Marriage License to my father, along with many other keepsakes.   As we got closer to the bottom of that chest, I found what appeared to be another Marriage License to my father dated earlier than the one before.  I asked her about why there were two?  And she told me that her and my father were too young when they first got married and so they had split up, but later decided to get back together.  Again, being a pre-teen and my Momma making absolutely NO big deal of it, I just kind of shrugged it off and didn’t really think much more about it.  At least not for many years.

All right, now to the winter of 2014.   By this time, my parents had aged significantly…both of them having some serious health problems, including both of them battling different kinds of cancer.  Momma also had MS and had a mini-stroke and was no longer able to drive, and my father was not feeling well and was having some concerning symptoms, but he was beyond stubborn about going to the doctor, so the symptoms went on for at least 2-4 months.   Brad and I finally talked him into going to the ER to get checked out.  My family and I had lived next door to my parents for the past 14 years, so we pretty much saw them daily.

My father wound up being admitted that day and having a surgery the next day to do some repairs almost immediately.   With his diabetes, healing was not happening nearly as quickly as he would have liked.   He was becoming restless and very adamant about being released from the hospital.  His doctor told him he would only release him to a rehabilitation facility where they could do wound care and physical therapy to help him regain strength.  He chose one a few minutes north of where he and Momma lived and he signed himself in.  The staff there were very kind and treated him very well from any interactions we saw and we saw a lot because it was close enough that visiting was really easy.  And we did so often.

However, within a few short weeks, he again grew impatient and was being very demanding and aggressive with the staff.  He wanted to go home.   This was understandable; however, he still had a large open wound and was still very weak…he could barely transfer from the bed to a bedside chair or toilet.   And since Momma weighed about a hundred pounds soaking wet and was not in great health herself, she was scared to death to bring him home and not be able to care for him properly or for him to fall and be injured further, which was certainly understandable.  While he had been hospitalized and in rehab, she had stayed with us some and then my youngest brother and his kids had stayed with her at her house part of the time.

I did understand what my father was saying about not having any idea when he would be released and feeling “stuck” there at the facility he was in.  I asked him if it would be allright to call a Case Conference and ask for a plan including some goals with completion dates, thinking that might help him feel better and keep him on track with making progress on goals to get out and be able to return home.   He agreed that this was a really good idea.     (Oh just a little detail…he had made Brad and me the first people to contact from the facility if they needed to share information, get permission, etc…so we were privy to all of his info, per his wishes).   So I contacted the Director of Nursing to set up the Conference.   In the meantime, I also talked to a colleague of mine who happens to be a licensed Social Worker and he suggested talking with a facility in Evansville (same city as previous hospital) called Health South…They are an aggressive rehabilitation facility.  Their goal is to get patients back to as much independence as possible and back to their own homes!  Long-term care is not offered there, like it was in the facility he was currently in.  So I  made a call and talked to one of their admissions people and they felt my father was a perfect candidate and felt that getting him admitted would be absolutely no problem, with his physician, Medicare and his other health insurance.  I just kept this under my hat, thinking that if the Case Conference didn’t yield some definitive answers and timelines, this might be an option to throw out.

So the day we were supposed to have the Case Conference, I got a call from the Director of Nursing where my father was, saying that he had cancelled the meeting.  I asked if she could tell me why and she said she was sorry, but she couldn’t.  I told her I didn’t understand.   She said that my father had removed me and my husband from his contact list and they couldn’t share any more information about him with us.

So later that day, I got a frantic call from my Momma.  She said that my father had called her and my younger brother on their way to pick his kids up from school and that he had told them to come and pick him up…He said he was getting of there and going home!   Momma was beside herself and said she didn’t think she could take care of him.  I told her not to worry that the facility was surely getting home health lined up to come in and help with his care.

A little later I got a call from my younger brother saying that our father was now at home with Momma and that he was very worried.  He told me that our father was irate with the facility staff and was cussing and being very aggressive.  He said he got him in the car and started home….He said he was driving and our father was in the front passenger seat.  My Momma and his elementary school aged son were in the backseat.  He said the ride home was beyond tense.   And quiet.  He said he finally said something like “Well, dad, I bet you are glad to be going home.”   At which point he said our father started trying to punch him while he was driving?!   He said Momma was crying and shaking and that his son was screaming and crying.   My younger brother said he stopped the car and told my father he could get out if he was going to be abusive.   So reportedly he stopped and they made it back to their home.   He said as soon as our father made it in the house to his recliner,  he told my brother and his son to “Get the Hell out of my house and don’t ever come back!”  So my brother and his son WALKED back to their house about a 1/2 mile away.   And he called me to give me an update.

As soon as Brad and I got home from work, we stopped by my parents to check on them.  We were especially worried about Momma because we knew she was a nervous wreck.  We were completely ignored by my father, and Momma was obviously shaken.  We had been helping her with her medications for a few months and she asked for an extra “nerve pill”…which was actually an anti-anxiety medication.  We told her to call us if she needed anything and she promised to.   The following Sunday, I called Momma to see if she wanted to come down so I could wash and style her hair and fill her weekly medicine tray (this had kind of become a habit) and she said she did.  I saw her walking across the yard and she stopped at the bottom of the steps.  I told her to come in and she said “I can’t.”  I asked her what she meant?   She said “Your father said I couldn’t come in to your house anymore.”   I asked if she was kidding and she looked away and said “No….I am sorry.”   She went on to say that he told her he would be watching out of his bedroom window to see if she came in to our house.   I told her I couldn’t believe it?!  She said she couldn’t either, but that my father said I could come up to their house and do her hair and fill up her medicine trays.   I told her okay…I could do that for her, but I would have to gather up all of my stuff.   So she walked back to her house and I gathered up what I needed and asked Brad to go with me.   We went in and Brad sat in the living room with my father.  He did actually barely speak to Brad, but put his nose up in the air to me and looked the other way.

I washed Momma’s hair at the kitchen sink.  After I dried, curled and styled it for her, and filled her medicine tray, my father said to come into the living room because he wanted to talk to me.  So I went into the living room where he was in the recliner and sat down on the sofa across the room.

He started by saying that he was very proud of how I had taken care of Momma while he was away, but the conversation quickly turned sour and he started shaking his finger at me and said that he was very disappointed that I had tried to put him away in a nursing home.   I, of course, interrupted and said that I was by no means trying to keep him in a nursing home, as a matter of fact, I understood his frustration with the lack of progress toward getting back home and had consulted with some colleagues and had done some research on a facility called Health South in Evansville and…At this point he was now shaking his fist at me and hollering “Yeah, you and your fucking research!  You were just trying to put me in a nursing home further away?”   He was so angry and so agitated….It was very scary.  I tried to explain to him that Health South was NOT a nursing home at all, that it was very short term rehab hospital and that they had an excellent reputation and patient turn-around time.   He didn’t want to hear any part of it!   He then told me “Get the Hell out of my house and out of my sight!  And DON’T ever come back!”   He told Brad that this didn’t have anything to do with him and Alex, just me, because he knew it was my doing.   At this point I was already up and headed to the door, crying in disbelief, and trying to comfort Momma who was now crying in the kitchen.  My father again told me to “Get my ass back down to my own house!”  Brad was right behind me.  He turned around and told my father “This has everything to do with me and Alex….If you are banning Sherri, then you are banning our whole family.”   Brad asked how my Momma was going to get her medications properly?   My father replied “If she gets them, she gets them.  If she doesn’t, she doesn’t!  It’s really none of your God Damn business!!”   So we went home.   I was in shock and couldn’t believe what had just happened?!

So, a little while later, Brad took all of Momma’s medicines that we were keeping at our house to their house and dropped them off.   He stressed to my father the importance of Momma getting them properly and my father told him it was no longer his concern.

The following Sunday, my Momma’s best friend called me and said she had been asked to fill Momma’s medicine tray for the week and didn’t feel comfortable doing it and wondered if I would do it if she brought everything down to my house.  I agreed.  A few minutes later, the doorbell rang.  To my surprise Momma was with her friend!!!   So they both came in and I hugged and kissed Momma and asked if she was okay?  She said she guessed so, but was sure glad to get to see me and Brad and Alex.  Her friend said I didn’t ask if she could come, I just said “come on” and we left. She said “Your father is sure in a mood.”   So we filled the medicine tray and talked for a few minutes and her friend said she had better take her back, she didn’t want to cause any problems.   She said she would try to stop in and check on Momma as often as she could.  This made me feel a little bit better, but still, at the same time, It made me sick.  Literally sick.  Momma would sneak out of the house and call me on her cell phone occasionally, so that helped a little bit.  At least I knew she was okay.

So the following Sunday, Momma’s friend called again to ask for my help with the medicine tray.  I told her I could do it.  Shortly thereafter, the doorbell rang and it was Momma’s best friend, who this time, was crying.   I told her to come in and asked what was wrong?  She said she tried to bring Momma with her again, but this time my father told her “She isn’t going anywhere.  She doesn’t have any business down there!”   Momma’s friend was visibly shaken by this.  She said she didn’t know how much more my Momma could take, but she didn’t know what to do.   I told her I didn’t either because she won’t stand up for herself or tell anyone what is actually going on.  I told her that I had called Adult Protective Services and they said that unless my Momma herself reported a problem of being mistreated, there wasn’t really anything they could do.  Her friend vowed to try to keep in close contact, but she said she wouldn’t doubt it if my father didn’t ban her next…

So one more week goes by and Saturday night is my son’s first prom.   He was pretty much out all night and still sleeping by the time noon rolled around on Sunday.   I had intended to go get a pedicure on Sunday afternoon, but had started reading a book and was still in my pjs and decided I was pretty happy just hanging out on the sofa.  So by the grace of God, I did NOT leave my house….You will get the importance of this shortly.

About mid-afternoon, I heard my two dogs, Rowdy and Milo, barking up a storm out front.   I went to the door to see my Momma almost “running” down her yard into mine.  I went out on the porch and she hollered “I need help!”   I said “Okay…what is wrong?”  I honestly figured that my father had fallen and Momma was unable to get him up by herself.   However, what she said next, stopped me in my tracks!   She said “I need help.  It’s your father.   He’s tearing things up in the house and he tried to shoot me…He was trying to kill me!”   I said “What??”   She said “He had a pistol and he was trying to shoot me with it!”   I told her to come on in the house and she said “I can’t….I am not allowed in your house remember?”   I said “Well, this is different, we need to get you somewhere safe!”   She said “No I can’t come in, he will shoot me then.”   At that point, I gently took her hand and guided her up the steps of the porch and into the front door of our house and locked it behind us.   She kept saying she wasn’t supposed to come in and I told her I couldn’t leave her out there in an unsafe situation and that we were calling the police.  (Brad was at work in Louisville, KY)   I called 911 and asked them to send officers right away and briefed them on what Momma had told me.  They said they would send officers.   I got Momma into the recliner in the family room.   She was pretty hysterical and was crying and worrying that my father was going to find out she was here.

I asked her how she got away from my father.  She said that he was pointing the gun at her and holding onto his walker and that he fell.   She said when he fell, she kicked him back down as he was trying to get up, and she then ran out of the front door and down to my house.  I asked her why she didn’t call for help and she said he had ripped the phone cord out of the wall and was throwing her things all around the living room.   I tried to reassure her and tell her everything was going to be all right, but she was shook.  And to be honest…so was I!   This was pretty scary stuff!!

So…This was just the beginning of the nightmare that ensued.   I can’t really write any more about it tonight because it is emotionally draining, but I will continue the story in my next blog.   I am sorry this one is so long, but there is a lot of detail to this story that will hopefully allow you to see AND to feel the fear and other raw emotions in this situation and the magnitude of what all eventually happened….And how it all ties in to the decision I made to search for my biological family.

 

Here I am doing my Sunday night blog at 1:58 am on Monday morning…Why you ask?  Because it is my last night in California…And they are three hours behind!  So technically it is still Sunday night here!  I head out tomorrow to go back home to Indiana.

You may be wondering what in the world I am doing in Cali?  Someone who has become very important to me lives here and invited me to come for a visit.  She actually asked me last summer, and I was still doing quite a bit of traveling meeting biological family members that I had just leaned about, so I just couldn’t fit the trip into my schedule.  But this year…This year, I decided she needed me and I just needed to make it work.  And so, here I am…close to the end of my first trip to California.

Jacqui Woods Ochoa…Is truly my “soul sister”.   We may not have the same DNA, but the similarities we share, the commonalities we continue to discover, the understanding of each others’ feelings about being Foundlings, as well as Adoptees who both pretty recently lost the only Mothers we ever knew…Has made for quite a unique bond?!    Jacqui and I connected through a Facebook Group called “Foundling Finders” that CeCe Moore suggested I become part of, as I mentioned in my previous blogs.  How was I to know or even begin to fathom that one of the best parts of my DNA testing and my journey and search for my biological family would lead me to an amazing friendship like the one we have developed?!

This lovely woman (and one of her sons) picked me up from LAX on Thursday,  welcomed me into her home, introduced me to both of her sons, showed me around Huntington Beach and Newport Beach areas.  We spent Friday at the beach…my happy place.  And hers.  On Saturday we not only went on a 2-hour cruise looking for dolphins, whales, and sea lions, we also headed out to Crystal Cove State Park to check out a different kind of beach and to see and explore the tide pools for various sea life.  Today, we headed back to downtown Huntington Beach to do a little shopping and then wound up back at the beach for the afternoon.  One of the things we discovered is that we both equally LOVE the beach!   She gets it when I am excited about finding a particular color and type of sea shell, or when the water is that perfect shade of turquoise, and when the waves are coming in perfectly to make that beautiful crashing sound.   She appreciates the heavenly rays of sun and the classic smell of Coppertone Suntan Lotion.

Jacqui and I had never actually “met” until last Thursday…But we have spent so much time on Messenger, and then texting, and talking of the phone, and occasionally doing FaceTime, that I felt like I had always known her.  There was no “awkward” silence, or feeling “uncomfortable” or “unnatural” or “forced”…There was only familiarity, and hospitality, and laughter, and a little crying, and questions, and more questions?  And answers.  And hopes.  And dreams.  We shared some deeply protected information that was held very close to our hearts.  Things you can’t share with just anyone…”Foundling stuff”, like disappointment, and rejection, and hurt, and fear, and pain, and how we coped with all of those different emotions and situations and remained somewhat sane.  And finally, the realization of how strong we really are and how we still keep the faith and the hope and have a desire to help other Foundlings and be supportive of them…Just as they were to us.

So if you are searching for your family or for answers about your past, don’t get so focused on the end result that you forget to enjoy the journey…Friendships like this don’t come along every day!   I will treasure this friendship and the memories of the first time we met forever in my heart.   And I will already be looking forward to a return trip to visit one of my Search Angels!

#kindnessreallydoesmatter

 

 

 

This weekend, my older sister, Patty, and I went to see the movie “Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again”.   We had both wanted to see it and since she only lives a few hours away and we had Saturday free, it seemed like the perfect time!  I admit it is sort of a “chick flick”…you know, lots of singing, and dancing, and lovey dovey stuff.  However, I was not prepared for the last part of the movie, which was a scene in a beautiful country church where the daughter of the main character was getting ready to dedicate her new little one to Jesus.   You see, her mother had dedicated her in the very same church many years ago and had gone through her pregnancy, as well as childbirth alone, and had basically raised her daughter on her own to be a beautiful, smart, loving young lady.

These babies were everything to them…even the mother who did it all alone.   It was her most important role…to raise this beautiful daughter she had been given.  Even though she knew it wasn’t going to be easy, she saw it as her greatest adventure…And she had LOTS of adventures!

There weren’t too many dry eyes in the theater during this part of the movie, as it was very touching; however, for my sister and me, it probably hit closer to home than it did for most.  We were both abandoned by our birth mother when we were just tiny girls…I was only a few months old and Patty was a few years old.  Being abandoned by the one person who is supposed to love you the most, and nurture you, and take care of you, is not something you just “get over” and “forget about”.  It is always there…in the back of your mind.  Underlying.  Waiting for an opportunity to remind you that you weren’t wanted…by the one person who should want you the most.

I was too young to remember actually being left by our biological mother, but my sister says she remembers it even though she was only about 2 1/2 years old, as incredible as it seems!  She has had skeptics who say that she couldn’t possibly remember something from when she was that young.  But I definitely believe her!  I have talked to two different therapists about how far back one can have memories and they both say that it is possible to have the ability to recall memories from a very, very young age (even 2 years old), particularly if there was a traumatic experience.  My sister told me once, that for several years following her abandonment, if she was out in public with a babysitter or someone looking after her, she would panic if she lost sight of them for fear that she had been “left” once again.   She grew up without a mother in her life and while her father was good to her when he was around, he often wasn’t.   He was also estranged from his family, so they were not in the picture.  Patty had basically no extended family from her birth mother’s side either,  because no one knew exactly what happened to her …Until now.   Boy, has that made for some happy reunions??

I was blessed with being placed with my adoptive parents at 10 months of age, so I don’t really remember my life before them.  I do know one thing I have learned is that simply carrying a baby and the act of giving birth, does NOT, alone, make someone a Mother.  My adoptive Mother, MY Momma, did not give birth to me, but I don’t think she could have possibly loved me any more if she had?!

She always made me feel loved.  She hugged me.  And kissed me.  And occasionally, she scolded me, or spanked me, or put me in time out, or later grounded me, when I needed it.  She rocked me to sleep and sang me lullabies.   She read me story books.  She helped me learn to read story books.  She made me a special birthday cake every year, even though my birthday was only 2 days after Christmas.  She always made sure I got the doll I wanted for Christmas.  She made sure my dolls had clothes and blankets and a bed and a baby buggy and bottles and diapers…Everything I would need to take good care of them.  She combed and brushed, and later curled my hair on those little pink rollers (which I did hate by the way.  LOL!).  She painstakingly cut out patterns and sewed clothes for me…sometimes, she made us matching dresses!!  Later she took me shopping for clothes and shoes.  She worried over me when I was sick or didn’t feel well.  She took me to Sunday School and Church and Bible School and Youth Group.  She was a room mother at my school and all the kids loved it when she baked cookies for our parties.   She later taught me how to bake cookies and how to cook other good food.   She taught me how to wash dishes, and do laundry, and clean house.  And later she helped me learn to drive.  She loved taking care of me.  And spending time with me.  And teaching me to do things for myself.  And encouraging me to do whatever I wanted to do.  And she loved my friends and when they came over to visit.  And later on she loved my husband.  And she loved my kids.  And their kids.  And she NEVER stopped…Until she passed away 4 years ago.

So those are the things that make someone a Mother…or in my case a “Momma”.

Now, back to that DNA, I wrote about last week.  While I have found many family members through DNA, including my birth mother, there are these two ladies, Aunt Nan and Aunt Carol,  who are definitely “Mothers”, regardless of what the biological relationship is, they have both welcomed and accepted me and my sister, Patty, into their lives and into their hearts and I am pretty sure they are never letting go!   And even though they both already have kids and grandkids and great grandkids of their own, they had room for some more “kids” (big kids) who needed them in their lives!  They have done the same for our brother, Michael, who was also abandoned by our biological mother as a young boy and grew up in the foster care system.

You see, Aunt Nan and Aunt Carol didn’t HAVE to do this.   It wasn’t their responsibility, but they are MOTHERS…They know how to love unconditionally.  And how to make those of us who have been abandoned and rejected, feel accepted, and welcome, and cherished.   So to my Aunt Nan and Aunt Carol who have “adopted” Patty and me and our brother,  even though we are just a little bit old for that, THANK YOU!!   Thank you both from the bottom of my heart (and I feel pretty safe speaking for Patty and my younger brother, Michael).  All children, no matter how old we are, still like to feel a Momma’s love!

So, I determined I was a Foundling and I ordered an Ancestry DNA Test as suggested by CeCe Moore, Genetic Genealogist, who asked me if I would allow her to work my case?!  Would I ever??  I was so excited about her offer of help because, you see, I knew next to nothing about DNA?!  And it looked so complicated to me.   As I had been reading stories and accounts on DNA Detectives and Foundling Finders Facebook pages, there were many successes, but there were plenty of people who searched for years and never really found a close enough DNA match to truly find what they were looking for.  So while I was excited about doing the test, I was also trying not to get my hopes up.  I honestly figured I would be one of the people who did the test and only had 5th and 6th cousin matches show up?  I felt that if this was my expectation, I wouldn’t be disappointed?!

The DNA Test came the first week of January in 2017.  I read the instructions and all kinds of tips that I googled on doing the sample properly so you don’t have a test that can’t be processed.  Nothing to eat or drink or teeth-brushing AT LEAST 1/2 hour prior to giving the sample.  “Be sure you give the proper amount of saliva in the tube…Not too much and not too little.”  It sounded simple enough?!  But being one to always err on the side of caution, I decided to do mine first thing the next morning when I woke up.

So, I start doing my sample and quickly learn that one’s mouth is particularly dry first thing in the morning?!   You were supposed to complete it within a half and hour, I believe, so I was racing against the clock to conjure up enough spit to fill that little vial, which no longer looked so little?!   I finally got what I thought was enough, but then I couldn’t tell if it was all saliva up to the fill-line or if part of that was foam?   I even had my glasses on and looked at it in different lights, in different rooms of our house…Still not sure?!   So I woke up my husband, Brad, and my son, Alex, to look at my spit in this tube.  They thought I was crazy?!  But they humored me and looked at my spit anyway.   They agreed that I had saliva up to the line.  So I went with it.  I registered my kit and followed the rest of the instructions, sealed it up and drove it to the post office, took it inside, and handed it to the clerk….I wanted to make sure that sucker made it into the mail!  And just like that…It was on its way!!!

Now the waiting began.   Standard processing time said 4 to 6 weeks; however, evidently right after Christmas is a super busy time for DNA processing because people were giving and getting tests as gifts.   Anyway, I checked my email daily!!   And CeCe messaged me a couple times a week, asking if I have heard anything.  I continued to be active in the Foundling Finders group.   I also met a Foundling about my age who lived in California and we started messaging back and forth. Her name was Jacqui and we quickly became very good friends!  We were also talking to one another by phone every few days.   She was also on a search for her biological family.   She had been abandoned on the steps of a church parsonage at approximately 3 days old.  She was taken to a local hospital and a search ensued for who had left her there with no answers.  She was placed in a foster care home and the family immediately wanted to adopt her!   So they did.  And she had a good life, until the past few years as she lost both her father and then her mother to illness.  And she also felt somewhat alone in the world…Our common bond.   She really only had her two boys and was raising them on her own.  She was a school teacher.  We had so many feelings and questions in common?!  And we felt comfortable to talk about them with each other.  I don’t think anyone really understands how “abandonment” feels unless they have truly experienced it.  She was great support for me and she seemed to appreciate my support, as well.

By the time 6 weeks from the date I sent my test in rolled around, CeCe was pretty much messaging me DAILY…Sometimes, 2 or 3 times a day.   I am not sure who was more impatient??  Me or her?  She was chomping at the bit to get my DNA results!!   Another week passed.   And then another.

AND THEN IT HAPPENED!!!  I was actually having a very busy day on March 10, 2017 helping my son with his FASFA so he could take some college classes the next semester, when I saw a missed message from CeCe later in the afternoon That said “Hi Sherri, your results are in and they are VERY good!”  “You have close matches to both sides of your family!”  “I can’t wait until you see this!!!!”  “Go look^^”  “Also, log into your account and see if any of them sent you messages.”  “Nancy Kalman Bell is either your maternal half-sister or your aunt.”  “Or maybe niece, but she is older than you are so unlikely.”  So I logged into my Ancestry Account…And low and behold, she was right!!!   First match I saw was Nancy Kalman Bell and underneath it, it said “Close Family”!  CeCe had found Nancy’s Facebook page and sent me the link.  I clicked on it and I guess took a little while to answer and I got another message from CeCe asking “Are you okay?”  I told her I had been looking at the photos and that I was a little “shell-shocked” because of the resemblances I was seeing?!  I sent her some pics of a younger me and a comparison to Nancy’s daughter, Missy, who I found a photo of on her page.  CeCe said “Wow!  Well there is no doubt this is your family.” She said “I am building Nancy’s tree right now.”  She also told me her husband was searching, as were some other Search Angels, specifically Michelle and Steve Edsel!  For me?!  Such a wonderful feeling to have that kind of support!!  I could also immediately see that I favored Nancy.  Of course, there were not only pics of her Daughters, but also their kids.  And upon looking closer, I could see resemblances in her Daughter, Missy’s son and my son…uncanny resemblances?!   So by 7:01 pm that night, CeCe encouraged me to send Nancy a message through Ancestry’s messaging tool because she was, indeed, MY AUNT!!!  I was not prepared for all of that to happen so quickly, so I was a little nervous!   I said “Just like that?   Just message her out of the blue?!”  And she so calmly said “Well, I thought you wanted to find your family?”   I said “Of course I do.”  She then said “Then what are you waiting for?”   I couldn’t argue with that, so I got some advice on what to say in the message and I sent it!!  WOW!  How exciting?!  She told me “I have been especially focused on your case for some reason, so I am every more excited about your matches.”

But the waiting part…Oh so stressful.

I was checking my Ancestry at least 10 times a day for messages.   I sent a second on a few days later because I thought maybe I did something wrong.  And then I waited.   Two days later, still nothing.  So I sent a third one.  A few more days passed and no answer.  And I noticed that Nancy had logged in…which I figured meant she saw my message but didn’t choose to answer.   So I messaged CeCe, sort of in a panic, to let her know this.  She told me that didn’t mean she necessarily saw the message.  But she had a suggestion for me….”Why don’t you just send her a Facebook message…You have her Facebook page right?”  I had not thought of doing that.  I didn’t know if she would get it because I had sent a Friend Request and she had not accepted.  And she didn’t appear to be on Facebook a lot.  CeCe said “What do you have to lose?”  So, I decided to send Nancy a message that evening which was March 26th.

I checked Messenger first thing upon waking the next morning.  No reply.  I had to go to work and had a super busy day, so it was easy not to really dwell on it.  As I was finishing up my day and getting on Facebook to post a story for my work, I noticed that I had a “1” in the messenger box!!!   I thought to myself…This is the message I have been waiting for.   Somehow, I knew it was from Nancy!!  But my hands were shaking as I opened Messenger.  Sure enough…I was right.  And the message was so friendly and so kind!  She told me she had done the test a couple of years ago and had been meaning to reach out to her matches, but due to some personal loss, she had not done it.  She said that her youngest daughter, Missy, was having a medical test scare and she was heading to be with her a few hours away.  However, she said “Please feel free to email me or text me” and she gave me her email address and her phone number.  And she asked me if I was a Christian to please pray for her daughter.  And by this time, I was bawling like a baby?!

I replied and told her that I would definitely pray and also told her that my daughter, Ashleigh, had a similar scare about a year before and had a biopsy and it was negative and I hoped her daughter’s would be too.

I then received the following message from Nancy:  “Thank you for that bit of positive news…and because we are related somehow even better.”

I told her I agreed!  And asked if her daughter was close by and she said a few hours from her in another part of … FLORIDA!!!   I said “Wow!  You guys live in Florida?!  My very favorite place to spend time is the beach!!”  And she just replied “Well..now you have family here.  I so feel like your message is a GOD thing!!!”   And that was the beginning of our connection.   That messaging continued for the rest of the evening and we made plans to FaceTime the next day.   So just like that, I had this beautiful, wonderful woman in my life.  And she had been through some major loss and hurt and so had I…It was clear to me that we needed one another.   So the stars aligned and I believe God smiled down and saw both of us struggling and helped us find one another.

I messaged CeCe to tell her that I got a reply!  She said “WOOHOOOOOOO!!!! It is about time!”  I told her I was crying and had goosebumps all over.  And she said “Of course you are crying.” “You are getting close to an answer.” She then said “I am glad she asked you to pray for her.  That seems very intimate.”

So…That was March 27, 2017 and just the very beginning of what would become a journey that has been going on for a year and four months and continues today, as more and more information continues to come to light….Secrets that were well-kept are becoming known.  Puzzle pieces are starting to fit together….

And I continue to be blown away by the magnitude of how many people were impacted by the actions of a few people, many years ago.

My name is Sherri Ann Tredway, and a year and a half ago, I thought I was a just another woman who had been abandoned by a parent or parents and then adopted around 13 months of age by the only parents I had ever known.  I had been privy to this information since I was six years old thanks to my seven-year old cousin, who couldn’t keep a secret.   Anyway, my adoptive momma confirmed that it was true, and it didn’t really seem like a big deal.  She told me that they really wanted a baby and she couldn’t have one, so they were able to choose me.  I honestly felt lucky to have a family who “chose” me to be part of theirs.  I grew up in the country, on a farm in the Midwest, with close and extended family and lots of friends from our small town and county.  We weren’t rich, but we certainly had everything we needed.  I had my own room, we had plenty of food, clothing, we went to church, had pets, and later I got a car.   I finished high school, met my husband my Junior year and we got married right after I graduated.  Typical midwestern country life.

However, the tragic loss of my adoptive momma 4 years ago brought me to my knees, and then some.  That horrible event was the catalyst for my desire to find my own biological family…although I didn’t start searching right away.

If anyone had told me back then that I would be where I am today, I would have thought they had lost their ever-loving minds?!

I did therapy, grief counseling and more therapy.   Moving on…or whatever you want to call it, has been extremely difficult for me.  I avoided.  I hid.  I traveled.  I stayed excessively and increasingly busy.  I started new projects.  And I floated along…until I didn’t.

In the fall of 2016, after the end of a legal battle I will write about another time, I decided to try to find my biological family….I was most interested in learning if I had any siblings out there.  I attempted to get my adoption records from vital statistics…That was next to impossible if your records are sealed.  And mine were.  All I could get without the involvement of attorneys and more legal fees was Non-Identifiying information which basically tells you NOTHING!

So in December of that year, around Christmas time, a digital ad for DNA Detectives caught my eye while I was looking at Facebook.  I asked to be accepted into the group and was approved.  I started reading about these people who had used DNA Tests to find their families, many with good success.  After my birthday, which was as difficult as ever, I decided to post something on their page about surviving another birthday.  How again, no one came or called to tell me they had beeen wondering about me or thinking about me or just hoping I was alright.  I mentioned something in the post about being abandoned.  I almost immediately got a private message from CeCe Moore, Genetic Genealogist, who is a pretty big deal these days, but I had no idea of this at the time.  She messaged me to tell me that I needed to request to be included in another Facebook group called “Foundling Finders”.  I didn’t want to appear unknowledgable, so I told her I would make the request.

But first things first….I needed to know exactly what a Foundling was?  The definition I googled said it was “an infant that had been abandoned by its parents and is discovered and cared for by others.  (waif, stray, orphan, outcast)”.   Wow!  I didn’t want to be one of those…that sounded dreadful, but I guess I am.  So I requested to be part of the Foundling Finders group and was almost immediately approved and welcomed in a post by CeCe Moore herself.  She encouraged me to read other foundlings’ stories and to feel free to tell my own if and when I felt comfortable.

What I couldn’t believe, was the extremely warm welcome I was getting from these other group members (there were only around 420 people in the group world-wide, so it was a pretty select group).   They seemed interested in me and were open and sharing information about themselves.  It seemed to be a very “safe” place to talk about your own abandonment story.  There were some beautiful success stories of searches that brought families together and then there were some really sad and even dark stories.   But what I noticed most was the support and kindness no matter how the story went.  The other members were there to lift one another up.  The empathy and understanding was over-the-top.

So after a few days of reading and watching the page, I shared my own story including what had happened to my adoptive momma (that’s another story for another day) that caused me to start my search!  I was literally blown away by the people who commented, gave advice, offered support, assistance, whatever I needed.  But doing a DNA test was the first step.   So I ordered an ancestry kit and the rest is history!

I hope you will return so I can tell you how much this has changed my life…and how it has changed me!!   And the many things that I have learned in the process.  It has definitely been the most adventurous journey I have been on…and it still continues today.

Sherri