A few months ago I attended my first Operation Identity (O.I.) support group meeting. I tried my best to fade into the background. I listened as men and women poured out their hearts with stories of rejection, anger, frustration, joy, guilt, love, and contentment. I could relate to their stories so well since I am both an adoptee and a birth mother. When their stories hit too close to home, I dug my fingernails into the palm of my hands to try to redirect my attention. I knew that I wanted to speak, but I wasn’t ready yet. and I knew that no one would put me on the spot to speak if I didn’t want to.

I went home feeling a little overwhelmed knowing that the secrets I wanted to let out would take a lot of personal courage. I had been starting, then stopping my search for my birth mother for about ten years. I knew that this time I was strong enough to follow through. I started reading every book I could get a hold of on adoption, researching maps of Arizona (where I was born) and rights of adoptees. I made several phone calls, and through the incredible network of people who are there to help adoptees, managed to get in touch with a man who was able to look up my birth name.

At this point I was flying high. What a thrill when I got the phone call. “Are you sitting down? Your birth name in Christin Diane Mitchell.” WOW!! After 39 years I got my first connection with my birth mother! I felt invincible in my search. This angel sent me every Mitchell currently listed in the State of Arizona. All 2,000 of them. I was ready to send a letter, or jump in my car and drive to Arizona and call each one of them. But what would I say? At this point I didn’t even know if Mitchell was my birth mother’s or father’s name. I knew from everything I had read that it is important to contact people in a delicate way. I know that as adoptees in search that we have a responsibility to be discreet with each and every contact. I also knew that by asking the wrong questions I might close doors that might need to be reopened later. I was terribly stressed. I had all of this energy inside me, but was paralyzed with fear that I might make the wrong move and lose any hope I had of finding her.

I relayed these feelings to a woman named Karen Tinkham with Search Triad, a support group in Arizona. She told me that they have trained search assistants that were available to assist me with my search. At first I was a little skeptical, thinking that no one would be as devoted and meticulous in my search as I, but then I knew that I would go crazy if I didn’t have help. She paired me with a woman named Jackie Moloney, who is a reunited birth mother. She understands the way I feel, and is always there to support me. She gives me ideas on what to do, how to do it, and how to follow up with the next step. She spends countless hours driving, and in libraries and court houses looking through microfilm and old handwritten records. She is just as excited as I am when we find another piece to the puzzle. She is also careful about respecting the privacy of the people I am trying to locate. We have come a long way in the search, and I am positive that we will find my birth mother. I am so thankful to her for her wisdom and support. She assured me several times that it will happen when the time is right.

A month had rolled around and another O.I. meeting had come up. I was on a mission, and I knew that I had to speak, to let some of this roller coaster out. Connie Martin knew that I was having trouble opening up to talk, and she told me that talking about your hurt was a way to begin the healing process. With her gentle encouragement I was able to speak. I blurted out a little of my story, but mostly cried. That was okay though, because the more I opened up, the more the group gave support. Women brought me tissues and hugs. I was still crying when I went home, but in the morning I could feel a lot of the weight of these secrets had been lifted off my shoulders. Opening up in front of the group had jump-started my healing process.

I know that I still have a way to go until I find my birth mother and family, and have a reunion. Then I will start the search for my birth son, Jessie, who will be l8 at the end of this year. I know that, with the support of my family, search assistant, friends, and support group, it will happen.

Support groups are there to offer encouragement when your emotions are running high and low. No one can understand what you are going though like the people in the support group, who have been through it too. Operation identity is a safe place to reveal feelings about your search, reunion, adoptive parents, the whole triangle.