Each of us has a book inside of us and a story to tell. If I ever say we should be thankful I don’t mean we should be thankful just because we were adopted, and we should not be thankful just because society expects us to feel that way. The word “grateful” has become twisted… Continue reading We Must Always Be Thankful
I was born and adopted in Indiana. When I turned eighteen I considered myself an adult. I could buy a pack of cigarettes.I could vote for the President.I could buy a gun. When I turned twenty-one I could go to a bar.I could order a drink.I could get drunk.But I was never allowed to inquire… Continue reading Infant is my name
This is my childhood home in New Albany, Indiana. In the summertime the hot sun would blaze behind the house where I would sit on concrete steps and squint into the sky. Gray paint would always flake off the steps like dried flower petals. As golden rays soaked into my bare chest I would try… Continue reading Concrete Gray Steps
Dear birthmother, I never had the chance to meet you. If I did, I would have thanked you for giving my sister and I what you could not offer, which was the chance to live in a loving home and being able to experience the fullness and richness of life. I know you made… Continue reading Dear birthmother
Inside the womb, the outside arguments of anger and despair were muffled. I didn't see the pain my birthmother must have experienced while I was protected inside her. During non-violent times, I know she sang to me through the walls of flesh that separated us. In the hospital, the sounds were replaced by the shuffling… Continue reading To those Who Love Us
I am Michael Crit Price in this document. My birthmother never officially named me. I was named Michael Crit Watson by my adoptive parents. To this day, I am not supposed to have access to this document. I begged a judge for it and he finally gave this me when I was 22 years old.… Continue reading Adoption Court Summary. PG. 2/3.
4. Second Search In 1977 I turned nineteen. Mother’s Day and my birthday were always times that triggered thoughts of my early existence. On Mother’s Day I bought a nice card for Mom. Grantline United Methodist gave every mother a small pot of marigolds. But I also thought about my other Mom. After all, she… Continue reading Chapter 4. Second Search
Warning: you may find a word here that may be offensive. I apologize in advance, for it is never my aim to hurt anyone's feelings or make anyone feel bad. I also cannot bear to think that I may lose a friend. In fact, this is a word I have always spoken and written with… Continue reading A Beautiful Word
Like the upstairs attic of childhood, I used the downstairs for dreaming also. I thought about my past, my birthmother, and my origins. I never looked like anybody. I never felt connected to anybody. Yet, I never felt completely alone. Maybe that was because Mom told me God was always with me. I wondered what… Continue reading Where Am I Going?
One autumn, Tony Higgins’s family moved southwest to Hopkinsville, Kentucky. I drove down to stay overnight. The next morning Tony took his cousin Steve and me to Pilot Rock, a mountain site that was renowned in his new homeland. Arriving early, we jumped out of the car and raced to the top. Primitive steppingstones were… Continue reading The Mountain to Paradise
This is a picture of my original birth certificate. The only reason the State of Indiana sent me this copy was because I proved to them that my birth mother was dead. (I sent them her death certificate.) Ironically, I never met my birth mother. Even today, adult adoptees in Indiana and many other states… Continue reading Am I Entitled to my Birth Certificate?
For thirty-six years, the State of Indiana kept my record of adoption hidden in a secret and dark place. It was probably buried at the bottom of an old musty file cabinet, and never saw the light of the day. After I discovered my birthmother had died, the State of Indiana said I must send… Continue reading The Record of Adoption
The fear of the adventure almost became too great for me. Mom was not prepared when I told her my decision. I really do not think she could understand why anyone would want to seek answers to such questions if they had wonderful adoptive parents. I decided that maybe a personal letter would be a… Continue reading The Amulet
“Why did my mother give me up?” I asked bravely. “Honey, maybe she couldn’t afford to keep you. Maybe she was unmarried and didn’t have enough money to support you.” My stomach ached. Was adoption good or bad? Should I have been proud or ashamed? I surely didn’t feel that this was a fortunate circumstance,… Continue reading The Postcard
During the previous weeks I had been sent copies of many wedding license applications from different counties, none of which seemed to have any significance with my genesis. But the third envelope with a return address of Putnam County stirred my attention, for the headline read, “Application is hereby made for a License for the… Continue reading The Marriage License Application