Okay, so last night my wife and I get the kids to bed fairly early and have some time to relax. We have 4 or 5 episodes of Private Practice on the DVR. We like Grey's Anatomy, this is the spinoff. She has always liked this show, for me it's been just okay. Until last night. We actually watched three episodes and they were all very good. One of those episodes dealt with a pregnant woman who has decided to give up her baby, the parents who are going to adopt the baby, and of course.. the baby. This show last night hit me deep in the gut and I haven't been able to shake it since. Prepare for lots of rambling. This is going to be a long read so grab some coffee or get out while you can. This is therapy for me today.

A little history...I am adopted. Most of you, if not all of you, know this. I have always known that I was adopted. When I was a kid I told stories of "life living in the home". If you asked me then I would have told you life in the home was great... I even had my own horse that I rode every day... mind you I was adopted when I was 8 months old! And prior to that another family had taken me in as a foster child, named me Andy and tried to adopt me but something made that fall through. That is when my mom and dad came into my life and saved the day! Those of you that went to the McCurdy school workcamp know, maybe too well, the story of how they chose me over the other kids. Long story short.... they (mom and dad) walked into the room full of baby boys and I crawled right to my dad and put my arms up to be held. Well, he's a big softy so that's all it took. Sucker!

Not long after my parents finalized everything... I went home with them, the greatest people on earth to possibly the greatest place on earth. 100 Elm St, Anywhere USA . There I met my 3 older sisters. Linda, Donna, and Nancy. When I was a little boy and would get scared at night... I didn't crawl into bed with my parents. I crawled into bed with my big sisters! Yeah, yeah... here come the jokes.. I can take it. Let me say here before I go on... I would not change who my parents are. I love them and my sisters with all my heart. My mother and father have taught me the best things in life... unconditional love, honesty, integrity, respectfulness, and so many other things. Not to say I've always follwed through.. we've all made mistakes. I owe who I am to my mom and dad.

My whole life I have wondered... the big question that I'm sure most adopted kids wonder.. WHY?! Never in my life did I ever have ill feelings toward my birthmother. I went through every possible scenario and reason as to why she put me up...she was very young and her parents made her.... she was very young and decided that I would have a better life with someone else....maybe she was too old to start over again...maybe she had been raped (I know that's not pretty, but it went through my mind)... maybe she just didn't want me (but, c'mon who could believe THAT?!ha) ... maybe she was completely broke and knew she couldn't provide for me.. the list goes on and on. I never knew anything about her for most of my life. Of course, I always wanted to meet her. Without question, this was high on my to-do list.

More history. Again, many of you know that as a baby I had many surguries on my throat.. 36 to be exact. At one point in time my prognosis was fairly dim. In order to continue to live I needed an antibody that could only be found in the blood of and provided by... yep, guess who. My birth mother! I'm still here.. but hold onto that thought.

I'm a procrastinator by nature. I never got anywhere in my searching.. never knew where to start. However, one day I got the courage to talk to mom and dad. Believe it or not.. they had some info given to them during the adoption process. WOW! It told me very little, but something nonetheless. My birthmother was at the time of my birth.. 40 years old and worked as a secretary... it said her "ethnicity" was french, spanish, italian, and irish... Irish? What the hell? Clearly, the irish in me shines through like a beacon in the night. That's all it said.. except that my birthfather was 26 at the time of my birth. That is as far as I got with it... like I said.. I'm a procrastinator. I'll have plenty of time to do this all later in life.

Enter my wife. Once she knew how deeply I wanted to "find" my birthmother she was like a dog with a bone. She even got her private investigators license to help in the process. She searched and searched. Made phone calls and did the things that I never could find the time to do. After 2 or 3 years of digging.. a break. A P.I. had a connection with someone in the Dept of Child Services (or some other agency I forget which one) that would "acquire" the confidential info that we were missing. For a price.. this is Louisiana after all. We got it. Jean Ina Bonnecarre Cruise! I'll for the rest of my life be eternally grateful and will never be able to repay my wife for all that she did. In this regard and many others. The next step...

Now, we had a name but still couldn't find her. We found old stomping grounds and residences but nothing current. Finally and unfortunately, we found a death certificate. Died of cancer in 1987. This was my one biggest fear, more than knowing why she did it, fear of her not being alive haunted me. It still does. On the birth certificate.. next of kin... Franny Cruise McDonald, daughter! Enter cold feet. What do you do? Call or not call. Lynn (my wife) is much more bold than I.. she called. After indroducing herself Lynn asks Franny if her mom was Jean Cruise.. yes she was. There was really no other way of saying what needed to be said... "do you know that your mom had a son in 1971 that she put up for adoption?" She had no clue and was understandably shocked. I can't imagine the blow that must have been to Franny. And, I know it seems so very selfish of me to drop that in her lap. She handled it well.. still didn't quite believe.. yet.

Franny, lives in Arkansas . She called brother Jerry.. who lives in St. Francisville . He is also stunned. When I was born he would have been about 6 years old. He does not remember his mom preggo back then.. Joe (who is least thrilled and unbelieving for now would have been 10 and says he would have remembered if his mom was preggo) stays uninvolved. Jerry calls me and we set up a meeting in Zachary.. THAT NIGHT. I believe he wanted to meet to prove that we were not brothers at all. Lynn and I get there before they do.. and sit and wait in the front of the restaurant. The door opens.. in walks Terry (Jerry's wife). She looks at me and looks back at Jerry who hasn't come in yet and with now-believing eyes.."that's gotta be him".

Now, a moment I have craved most of my life. In walks Jerry Cruise. Even through a heavy beard of a little salt and lots of pepper.. it is clear. No question about it. Undeniable. This man is my brother! Finally, I look into the eyes and upon the face of another and see myself. Where I come from. He has my unmanagable hair, my body type, my crow's feet, my nose and my eyes. At this point, Jerry abandons all and any thoughts that I am not who I say I am. His eyes have proven what words could not. We have dinner. We talk. Well.. Lynn and Terry talk. Jerry and I are both in shock. Not much is accomplished because we don't know where to go from here.

By the next weekend, Franny had made it down to Jerry's house. Where we all learn a few things.

For most of her life, Jean and her three children, Joe, Jerry, and Franny lived in Clinton.. Guess what? That is just northeast of Zachary.. like maybe 10 miles. Francis was born in.. yep Zachary. Jerry lives with his wife Terry in St. Francisville, La... just a few miles north of Zachary. Joe live in Monroe . All of my siblings have dark hair and olive skin. All of them played in their school's band..imagine that. Just a few coincedences that I find remarkable.

We spend a lot of time talking. Franny says we should visit mom's grave. I'm unable to use the word mom to describe her. When talking to Lynn I use Jean. In the presence of Jerry and Franny, I do not address her at all. I have a mom and feel guilty refering to Jean as mom. I thougth I could handle visiting the grave. I have never been so wrong in all my life. This woman gave me life! She sacrificed (more on that later) for me. She gave me life a second time with a blood transfusion (again.. later). She was my mom! The emotions of that graveyard visit cannot be put into words.

Back at Jerry's we begin to unravel 30 years of secrecy. Jean, still have trouble wih mom, never signed her name the same way. Franny could never understand why. Soemtimes she signed "Bonnecarre" sometimes "Cruise". She also mixed up using Jean and Ina. We believe she was trying to get her name out there all kinds of ways so her long lost son may one day see it and know who she was. She was very religious and church-going, another coincedence. Her treasured Bible had many notes in the margin... most pertaining to children and losing loved ones. It even had the phone number to " The Lost" in the back. The Lost is/was an organization that found missing children.. I think. Franny and Jerry also remember not enjoying Christmas as much as other kids. Jean became very moody and depressed during the Christmas season... my birthday is Dec. 21. Mystery solved! Franny, who got pregnant at an early age told her mother that she was considering putting the baby up for adoption. Jean did all she could to dissuade her of the idea. It worked... Crystal is in her 20's and is a great person and mom.

Told you this was going to be long.

The linchpin for Joe came next. I mentioned the blood transfusion that Joice had to give me when I was a baby. Memories flooded Jerry's and Franny's minds. They remember being told as children that mommy had to go away for the weekend. "There is a little boy that is very sick and there is something in her blood that no one else has that will make him better." Whatever doubt was left in their minds was no longer. When told of this, Joe believes my story.

The one question that remains is why? The only thing we could come up with is this. Jean had remarried when the kids were young. Apparantly, he was abusive to Joe and Jerry. They both hate this man with a passion and would relish the thought of seeing him now that they are grown men. We surmise that maybe I was not his son. And can only imagine the beatings that would have come my way... a bastard son. Jean, we think... went away to a cousin's house in NOLA to have me. She had to put me up in order to protect me. That is the best we could come up with.

My brothers and sister have given me some of her keepsakes. And I treasure them. I've seen photos of her.. not many, but a few. I now know when I get to heaven I'll be able to recognize her. I wish I could have known her in life but it wasn't meant to be. I feel my life would have been more complete having met her. But, as I and Donna, Nancy, and Linda are my parents legacy, so are Franny, Jerry, and Joe; Jean's legacy. To know them is to know her... I need to know them better. I am envious of the time they had with her.

Some people who read this may be on one side of the other of this adoption thing. For those of you who are adopted.. I know, I know. I have a tremendous respect for the moms out there that made the incredibly difficult choice to do what my mom, yes I said mom, did. If you know anyone who has made this sacrifice, please for me... tell them to write a letter to their child and seal it away in a safety deposit box or something. In case they pass and their child finds them too late, they can have the answers they so crave.