There Are No Mistakes

Life is not simple. Life is intricately connected with people, memories, choices, rules, expectations and experiences and many circumstances. Life is anything but simple.

Nineteen years ago, I was 10 years old. I returned from school one afternoon, running to my mother and informing her that my teacher had told my class that babies who are being placed for adoption are placed in a basket and put aside, to be found by whomever and then given to the proper parents. Being adopted myself, I had already concocted many stories in my head of how I was placed for adoption and none of these fantasies included a basket. My mother quickly denied the story and booked an appointment to visit the adoption home I was placed through and where I spent the first three weeks of my life.

I remember the entire visit. Since I was first told I was adopted (and I cannot remember specifically being told I was adopted) it was always on my mind. That is how I identified myself. I wasn’t just simply ‘Laurel’. I was ‘adopted’ before I was Laurel. Walking into the Home, I saw it as my chance of getting as close as possible to my birthmother who I yearned to find and connect with.

We met with a social worker/counsellor who I will refer to as Sally. I adored her. I memorized her name, eyes and every detail she shared with me. She showed me the nursery I stayed in during the precious first weeks of my life. It held many bassinettes and a rocking chair. She then took me through the house where birthmothers could stay before they gave birth to their babies. I knew my birthmother had stayed in the house for the few weeks prior to my birth and I tried to picture her there. The visit was short, but I often relived the visit in my mind for many years.

This past week I travelled to an out of town conference for work, which just happened to be in the town where my birthfamily is from. As I sat at a table, the other tables filled up around me. No one sat with me. I wasn’t particularly bothered by this, but I did think to myself that this was odd. As the keynote speaker began the conference, a woman walked in and took a seat at my table. I looked over to see her name tag and where she was from and in a mixture of shock and complete disbelief, I read her tag. Surely, I thought to myself, that it couldn’t be right...that I must be dreaming or be imagining things. I turned away, blinked hard and turned back. My eyes weren’t lying. Nineteen years after my visit to the Home, here she was again. It was Sally.

After my initial nervousness settled down, I told her who I was and how I knew her. And, we talked and talked. I don’t think I’ve ever talked so quickly (and honestly) in my entire life. Over the past eight months, I’ve been working towards contacting my birthmother to meet with her and, to me; this wasn’t just a coincidence that Sally was there at my table on this particular day. Connecting with her – at this point in my life – is an amazing gift.

Life is not simple. BUT – there are moments in life when circumstances come about that make the journey a little less difficult and a bit clearer and bring hope. There are blessings and answers that will come, if you’re patient, that will help to push you in the right direction.

I’ve created this blog to share my journey through all of this. So, here goes...