Minivan RV Trip Out West - The Adventure Begins

It all started sitting on the couch the week leading up to Memorial Day weekend. I asked Jason if he wanted to pack up and head to Maine the next day. He agreed to leave in two days. I started putting feelers out to Airbnb hosts as travel bans were still in place. I almost successfully negotiated a deal with a host, but it fell through. So we scrapped the idea, but I still had the itch to travel and use this time I have available while I'm laid off. 

Fast forward and I decide I could build out a minivan to be a self contained camping unit so we could hit the road and have a home base that would allow us to circumvent the need for formal lodging. Lucky for me, the job I'm laid off from is with the best company in the world, Accent Indy. They have a company minivan which they were kind enough to let me borrow and use to build out the bed and storage for our pseudo-RV.

One week later, we picked up our Dodge Grand Caravan at Enterprise, moved all the infrastructure in and left Indy. 

All I can say at this point is we are heading west. We're currently four hours into our journey and somewhere north of Peoria, IL. We have no reservations and no goal destination. The plan is to keep an eye on the weather and base some decisions on that. We'll definitely be hiking a lot. Other than that, we will see what happens. 

My Birth Mother: The Update (or the lack thereof)

Since writing about my birth mother being found, I’ve received countless questions about how the process is coming along.  It’s been remarkable how many people were touched by this development in my life and care enough to remember to ask me about it even months later. 

At the moment, there is nothing much to report on the topic.  I’ve sent two emails to her in addition to the letter I wrote as part of the search process.  Because it appears the paperwork has not been completed and/or processed (it’s a government thing), no identifying information can be exchanged between us.  When I wish to communicate with her, I send the email to the search specialist at the adoption agency, who then forwards it on to my birth mother.  My birth mother has the option to write back to the agency and it would be forwarded to me.  To date I’ve not received any replies.

As I’ve given this update to the many who have asked, it seems the natural reaction is one of feeling bad for me or feeling like they’ve touched a nerve by asking.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  You see, this is something I’ve considered for my whole life and have discussed with the search specialist at the adoption agency for a couple of years.  I have heard the wide variety of stories of how things can go and made sure I was in a place, emotionally, where I was prepared to accept any outcome.  Allow me to elaborate by telling you some of the scenarios I considered and made peace with before consenting to do a search for my birth mother…

• Her response being, “I gave away that baby for a reason, I don’t want anything to do with her.”
• Her response being, “Oh my sweet baby!  I’ll clear a room and she can come stay with me anytime she wants, and she’ll call me when she has problems, and we’ll be mother and daughter!”
• She’s in jail
• She wants to meet me, but then tries to scam me or ask me for money, etc.
• She’s dead
• She has a spouse or kids that she's never told about me
• She’s super successful and maybe even famous
• She’s struggling with finances, health, or some other major life issue
• She’s a reasonable person who I could have a healthy relationship with

And the list goes on and on and on.  What I’m getting at here is that I had peace within myself for anything that could be thrown at me with this situation, including silence.  I reached a point where I knew I could maintain a level of admiration for her for enduring a pregnancy and placing the child for adoption regardless of any other circumstances which may come up. 

It was remarkable to find out that she is alive and to get some history on my adoption and the circumstances surrounding it.  I take comfort in the fact that I have done my part to open the doors of communication and if she chooses to walk through, I’ll gladly be there to meet her.  Otherwise, I’ll continue on with the beautiful life I’ve been given with no regrets for setting out on the adoption search adventure.  I’m better for it, as it stands and for whatever it may become.  

Peace

Relentless Dreamer Adventure to Africa

As some of you know, I have an upcoming business trip to South Africa.  My plane ticket was purchased this week and the reality of it all is setting in. .  There is such a sense of intensity within me for opportunities to see new places and cultures.  The opportunities for fresh experiences abound in this country and I can’t wait to get there and be a part of it.    

I would have loved to be able to include Jason in this (possibly, but hopefully not) once in a lifetime experience.  The funds are simply not available for him to accompany me at this point though.  He has been gracious enough to offer to agree to let me use $200 of “our money” toward my trip, which is incredible.  He has also been the greatest supporter of me taking advantage of the location I will be travelling to and staying a few extra days on my own to have some adventures. 

To that end I’ve decided to stay in country for an additional eight days after my work is complete.  I’ve decided I will leave Cape Town (where I’ll be working) and take a two-hour flight to Durban.  From there I will rent a car and drive up to St. Lucia.  I’ve found wonderful backpacker accommodations there and many opportunities for tours and activities.  There are few elements of travel that cause me concern, however, sitting behind the wheel on the right side of a car and driving in the left lane will be a massive adjustment for me.  It’ll be baptism by fire.  Wish me luck!

Cape Town in the SW and Durban in the NE

The accommodations I will stay in.  Looks like heaven to me!  And only $12 per day!

Some of the opportunities I’m hoping to take advantage of are horseback safaris, driving safaris, kayaking safaris (yes I know hippos are known to eat people… I want to do it anyway), and taking a cultural tour into the local village.  From what I hear, the time of year I will be there (July is their winter) will be an ideal time to see lots of animals and the temperatures will be wonderful. 

   

   

My planning process is only beginning, but I am so excited and thankful for this opportunity.  My world is currently consumed by both planning and working to earn any additional money I can to pay for my trip.  I’m committed to it, so I have to work every angle I can to get the money to pay for it.  I’ve been buying furniture at auctions and spending many hours refinishing it to sell for extra money.  I am taking on odd jobs for friends.  I’m also taking advantage of opportunities to work a few hours for companies in my industry who need extra help.  It’s a lot to take on, but I do it with incredible joy knowing what the end goal is.  Now that more specific plans are falling into place I’ve determined I will need about $1,500 to make all these experiences possible.  It’s quite a small price tag for an 8 day trip, but it’s far more than I have at the moment.  Luckily I travel light with only a backpack and require very modest accommodations. 

I’m looking forward to taking all of you along on this journey via my blog.  I’ve set up a gofundme page if anyone would like to contribute to my trip.  I think it’s actually quite silly to ask others to donate money for such a cause when there are far more worthy opportunities to give money to, but like I said, I have to work every angle to ensure this all comes together.  Click here to donate.

To relentless adventures!  To the Max!

My Birth Mother - From Lost to Found

I feel like I should be shaking.  I just realized my hand is shaking, but not as an involuntary response, I'm making it happen as it seems that should be what is happening.  I am overwhelmed, and yet peaceful, racing, and yet still, confused, and yet certain.  My mouth is wide open and I'm looking all around me as if seeing my surroundings for the first time.  My eyes burn a little from the tears that fell upon first hearing those words, "Ashley, this is Katrina (she is the adoption search specialist I am working with).  Are you sitting down?  I just got off the phone with your birth mother..."

A statement to which I could only respond with a tearful, "Oh My God."

Her name is Linda.  When she was contacted and told what the call was about, she was asked how she felt about it.  Her response, "Scared."  Absolutely!  Can you imagine getting a call, out of the blue, 31 years later?  How do you handle that?  What if you're at work?  Who do you tell?  I imagine "scared" is a massive understatement.

She spoke very little as she took it all in.  Her primary focus was on knowing if I've had a good life.  She was reassured that I have.  She spoke about the sister I have, who is 29, and has a birthday the day before mine.  My sister knows about me.

Linda (it is so baffling to have a name for her) was excited and said she has thought of me often.  I'd written her a letter, which she did not want Katrina to read over the phone.  Katrina told her she would scan it and email it right away, which excited her greatly.

She will take the next steps in registering with the state to allow the process for the release of identifying information to take place.  This will take 4-6 weeks.  In the meantime, I can communicate with her all I want.  I have to write my communication in an email to Katrina and she will copy and paste it in an email to my birth mother.

I'm so glad I stayed home from work today.

The History of Me - The Search For My Birth Mother Begins

I have slept since yesterday's phone call, yet I don't feel like I've processed much yet.  Let me back up.  On December 21, 2015 I went to volunteer at St. Elizabeth Coleman Pregnancy and Adoption Services (SEC), as I have during the Christmas season for the last couple of years.  Back in 1984, I was adopted through their agency. (Back then it was just Coleman.  The two agencies merged later on.)

My entire life I’ve known I was adopted an understood what that meant.  Over the years I’ve considered searching for my birth mother on a number of occasions.  I feel like I have considered it from every possible angle.  From the point of view of my parents, considering my birth mother could be a good or bad person, knowing she may or may not want anything to do with me, knowing it’s possible she has passed away, thinking that it really isn’t overly important because I already have such an amazing family… and the list goes on. 

With all that being said, I started to become more serious about considering the search when I started volunteering with SEC back in 2013.  I got up the nerve to sit down with their Adoption Search Specialist, Katrina, to discuss the process of doing a search and the possible outcomes.  My biggest fear was that my birth mother would turn out to have passed away and that would be the end of the road.  As it turns out, Katrina would be able to reach out to other family members if that was the case and attempt to connect me with them.  Knowing that made such a world of difference to me.  The second item of concern was if the search would be successful.  Once again, good news.  Katrina is a rock star at the whole adoption search game and has almost always succeeded in finding who she is looking for (99%).

I’ve exchanged emails with Katrina a few times since then, usually stating I was going to send in my paperwork to do the search soon.  This consists of an official form, a letter to my birth mother, which Katrina would read to her over the phone when she located her, and a recent picture of myself.   I’ve written that letter over and over for the past couple of years, updating it with new information and rewording it to fit my current state of being.

This past October I, once again, decided it was time to do the search.  I rewrote my letter, printed updated photos, got my form notarized, wrote the check, put it all in an envelope and addressed it to Katrina.  I even emailed her to let her know I’d be putting it in the mail shortly.  That didn’t happen.

Fast forward to December 21.  I was to work a half day in the office and go to SEC to volunteer in the afternoon.  I planned to take my packet in personally.  That morning I couldn’t find the packet for anything.  I got to work without it and took a moment to consider whether this was a sign to let it go or just a result of my terrible housekeeping.  Luckily my letter was saved to the cloud so I was able to access it and review it.  As it turns out, I felt the need to update it even though I had just done so in October.  My pictures were also saved to the cloud so I was able to order new prints.  There was a notary in their office who helped me out with that piece.  All in all, I was able to recreate the packet rather quickly.  I turned it in that day.  Katrina was out for the holidays, but I saw it placed in her mailbox, so there was no question it was there and waiting for her return.

Fast forward again, this time to January 5, 2016 (yesterday as I write this).  I received an email from Katrina telling me she had my file and was ready to go.  She requested to schedule an hour to talk on the phone so she could read me my file.  We scheduled it for 4:00 PM the same day.  The hours of a work day have never dragged on so slowly as they did waiting for 4:00. 

January 5, 2016, 3:55 PM:  I called SEC and asked to speak with Katrina.  She quickly answered and asked if I was ready for this.  I replied I guess I was as ready as I’d ever be.  I had just left work and had to pull my car to a nearby parking lot to take the call so I wouldn’t be disturbed by colleagues coming and going.  I had a notepad and pen ready to take notes on anything she had to tell me. 

At that time she opened what I envision to be a manila folder that has been stored away for a great many years and took out one document/ note at a time and read each one to me over the course of about 40 minutes.  Of course she had to skip over any identifying information like names, companies, cities, etc.  Despite that, I learned details about my birth mother and the circumstances surrounding her pregnancy and adoption plan that I never dreamed would be available. 

Out of respect for my birth mother I won’t reveal all the specifics, but some of the information I was able to obtain included:

• Her family history- including heights, weights, appearance, interests, occupations, ages, and some medical history for all her siblings, and close relatives back to her grandparents. 

• Details of the situation she found herself in and why she chose to make an adoption plan.

• Specific dates of when she first contacted the agency, conversations and meetings she had with her assigned agency worker.  These described several conversations in detail about what was going on in her life, her demeanor with the caseworker, what she was excited about, nervous/ concerned about, where her mindset was, and so much more. 

• One of the specific detail I’d love to share involves the selection process.   My birth mother was given the profiles of three possible families to choose for her child.  They were labeled Family A, Family B, and Family C.  On November 9^th she called the agency to let them know she had selected Family A, which are the wonderful people I call my parents.  The fun fact about this is November 9^th is my mom’s birthday.  She would have been celebrating her special day and having no idea that there was another present she had been selected to receive. She’d just have to wait another month to find out. 

• I have always known I was given a name before I was placed with my parents.  However, I never knew if it was given to me by my birth mother, the hospital, or during the 10 days I spent in foster care.  There is still not a conclusive verdict on this, but it seems likely that name was given to me by my birth mother.  It was Holly Noel.  

• My birth mother followed up with the agency a few times over the next few years.  The final update was in 1987 when she informed them that she gave birth to a baby girl who, it seems, she chose to parent.  I have a sister.  I’ve always been an only child.  I don’t really comprehend this concept of a sister.  That one will take a bit to process and absorb.  Well, everything will. 

That phone call was quite a roller coaster.  I went from giggles to tears to all out bawling and back over and over.  I feel like I know a ton and yet I know nothing at all. 

As a result of some very early (and promising) developments in the search, it is expected to be a very quick process of getting in touch with my birth mother.  Once Katrina locates her and is able to contact her, I will be notified.  It will be my birth mother's choice on how she wishes to proceed at that point.  After the years of consideration of all the ways this could go, I can say with certainty I am prepared for any type of response and have no expectations.  For now, I’ll be working on processing all the new information I have. 

Wow.  Damn.  Crazy.  

The Courage to be a Dreamer

Zig Ziglar said, “A lot of people have gone farther than they thought they could because someone else thought they could.” 

Grampa was that “someone” for me.  He taught me to have the courage to believe I can accomplish anything I can dream up. 

I made note of that Zig Ziglar quote and how it related to my relationship with my grampa many months ago and came across it as I was searching for things to share with you today.  It’s as fitting now as it has ever been as speaking to you today may be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. 

One day back in November of last year, grampa told me about a man he met who was travelling from somewhere farther towards the east coast and going all the way to Missouri on horseback.  Knowing my love and passion for both travel and riding, he had worked out a complete plan on how I could do the same thing.  Travel on horseback, find farm houses or people in towns who would let me stay with them each night, or even sleep under the stars.  There was no question in his mind that I could do it.  The only detail he forgot was I have no way to get the horse. 

That’s just the thing though.  He believed in me.  Always.  He thought I could do anything.  In every adventure, goal, dream, or crazy scheme I came up with, he was always proud and always behind me. 

He was like that with everyone.  He would invest himself in anyone who was willing to learn.  If there’s something you wanted to do or learn, but didn’t know how, he would never turn down the opportunity to work with you.

He taught me to drive the backhoe, blow out the lines in trailers, work on the engine of my old boat, pack wheel bearings, and even redirect a sewer line.  That was the great thing about him.  Even though I was a girl, he never denied me the opportunity to try anything.  He let me try everything I was willing to try.  Truth be told, I never cared about how to move a sewer line and really didn’t care to cut into that nasty thing.  It was more about the opportunity to be with him.

One of the most important nuggets of wisdom grampa ever shared with me was, “You just have to keep on dreaming.”

Grampa had a lot of dreams and adventures in his life.  Those were my favorite stories to hear. 

I think he really enjoyed the fact that I have a kind of wild and free spirit about me and am always up for a new adventure.  The last couple of years, I’ve been extra jam-packing my world with adventures to come back and report to him. 

I’ve flown across the country, gone on backpacking trips, gone hang gliding, ridden horses across the desert, ties sleds to four wheelers, completed a triathlon, and even built a log cabin in my living room.  And through all of it, all I could think was… “I can’t wait to tell grampa about this!”  And in times when I wasn’t sure I could do it, I’d always remind myself that grampa would believe I could.

Over the past few years, because of grampa, I’ve learned the value of having dreams and focusing on making those dreams come true. 

He bought the campground where he and grama have made their home for the past 39 years when it was an absolute pit.  From what I hear, it was a cluttered, filthy disaster.  But he saw so much more.  It took all they had to buy that property and a great deal of struggle at times to keep it, but that was his dream.  He took such great pride in keeping the property beautiful.  Kassidy mentioned the pride they both had in beautifully mowed grass.  She wasn’t kidding.  There was a right way to mow that grass and everyone was aware of it. 

Here’s how great his pride was in maintaining the campground dream and a true testament to how hard of a worker he was.  After one of many stays in the hospital and nursing home, (actually, he might have been living at the nursing home and just at the campground for the day, I can’t really remember)… Anyway, he could barely walk, but he was out with Tyler, Randy and me.  He was telling us how to blow out the lines on the trailers and at one point, Randy had to go down into a wellhouse or something underground.  Grampa was determined to give him directions on how to do whatever it was he was doing so he got down on his knees and leaned deep into the hole Randy was down in.  I remember Tyler and I just looking wide eyed at each other and shrugging our shoulders.  There was nothing anyone was going to do to stop him and I certainly wasn’t about to be the one to try. 

My favorite thing about my grampa was that he never stopped dreaming.  Even in the late part of last year, as his health was continuing to decline, we sat down one day and he was telling me about all sorts of things he would like to do or have done.  Things like having a barn closer to the house, buying a golf cart, gosh I can’t even begin to remember all the things he rattled off.  Even knowing his time was short, he kept thinking about new dreams. 

Grampa was my greatest inspiration and one of the people I love and respect most in my life.  Nothing gave me greater joy than to hear him say he was proud of me.  There are hundreds of little nuggets of wisdom and special memories of precious moments I shared with him that will live forever in my heart.  In every dream I ever have come true, I will be thankful to him for inspiring me to have the courage to be a dreamer. 

Precious Final Moments With Grampa

There is a room in grampa and grama’s house that we call the “fireplace room.”  It is on the lower level of the house and has a fantastic wood burning fireplace.  We have had a lot of family get-togethers, cook-outs, holidays and all sorts of good times in that room.  Grampa built it as an addition to the house quite a few years back (maybe 15ish years ago).  That’s where I’m writing from today.

 

Yesterday morning, my grampa, one of the most special people I will ever have the pleasure of knowing, passed away.  He had been in bad health for over two years and it was finally his time to be at peace.  I got the call the day before that I really needed to come and see him.  That was on Friday around noon.  I immediately packed up at the office, got in the car and headed out towards the nursing home.  It is an hour-long drive so I had some time to send out some texts and make some calls to a couple of close friends. 

I arrived and was the only one there with him which I knew would be a really nice one on one time with him.  My uncle had just left shortly before I got there and would return later on.  The nurses brought in a cart with lemonade, iced tea and some snacks for any visitors who came.  I knew then that this was definitely not a promising sign.  A few nurses came in and talked with me, telling me this was the end this time.  They had no way of saying how long it would be, but almost definitely not more than a few days. 

He woke up briefly when I came in and said, “Hi Ashley.  Turn that heat down.”  So I quickly complied and turned the heat down and cracked the window to get some fresh, cool air in the room.  It was an odd request since he is normally chilly, but I didn’t question it. 

I sat a wheelchair next to grampa’s bed and grabbed a pillow from the couch.  I put the pillow on the bed rail, held his hand and fell asleep there by his side.

I’m not sure how long I slept, but a couple of nurses woke me up when they came in to give him his medicine and change the dressings on his legs.  It was then that we found out we couldn’t get him to wake up.  He was still breathing and his vitals were relatively stable, but nothing would get him to come around. 

A hospice nurse who had taken care of him in the past came by to visit and talked me through what I could expect and also gave me a booklet with a section circled that was labeled, “Hours to one – two days.”  I didn’t think I needed or wanted to read it, but I did eventually read it and was glad I did.

After a while, my uncle and cousin came in.  Shortly after, grama came in.  She didn’t know what was going on yet, but she sure knew when she walked into the room and looked at all of us.

We had a few other visitors as the afternoon wore on including more of my cousins and my aunt.  Around 7:00, grama left to go home and get some rest.  I (in true Ashley fashion) refused to leave.  One of my wonderful friends went to my house, packed me a bag with three days’ worth of clothing and stuff and drove it all the way out to the nursing home for me.  I had absolutely no intention of leaving that nursing home until grampa took his last breath.  My friend who brought my things said, “I pity the person who tries to get you to leave.”

I sat up with grampa for a while, just holding his hand and talking to him now and then even though he couldn’t respond, telling him that I loved him and wouldn’t leave him.

I made a bed on the little loveseat in the room and slept well for three hours at a time.   He was to have a dose of morphine for the immense pain he was in every three hours.  I set alarms on my phone to go off every three hours to make sure the nurses didn’t forget.  They wouldn’t have forgotten, but I was determined to be on top of making sure he was as comfortable as possible. 

During one medicine wake up, he roused a bit, which made me clumsily jump up from my makeshift bed to get by his bedside.  I said, “Hi grampa.”  And he replied, “Hi Ashley.”  Throughout the night, he had a few more moments like this where he could get out a word or two.  It was obvious he wanted to speak more, but he just couldn’t. 

I woke up for his 6:00am dose of morphine and only lightly dozed after that.  By 7:30am I started wondering if I should get up or go back to sleep until 9:00.  I knew it would be a long day regardless of what happened so I reasoned that sleeping until 9:00 was a good idea.  Of course, my heart overruled my reason and I felt like I should get up and clean up the room in case any visitors began to come around 9:00. So I did.  I busied myself with cleaning the room up and the nursing home brought by a nice breakfast around 8:00.

Grampa was pretty active in the morning.  He spoke a few full sentences.  Not about anything in particular, but he spoke and was fairly aware.  In the book the hospice nurse had given me, it said that often times a person will have a surge of energy just before they pass.  I knew this must be it.  I texted my uncle and let him know.  I didn’t know if this meant there were minutes or a day or what, but I recognized this was a change.

I started to sit down in the recliner next to the bed and read, but something prompted me to go sit next to grampa and pay attention to him.  I don’t know if he awakened a bit or if he was coughing or what it was.  I really have no idea.  I was still only half awake, but I went to sit by him.  I sat by his side and held his hand and once again told him how much I loved him and that I wouldn’t leave him.  As minutes went by, it crossed my mind to say that over and over, but my heart told me to just be quiet and treasure the moment.  He already knew. 

As I watched him, there came a moment that I knew was going to be his last.  I had a brief moment of denial and question, but as I listened to his slowing breath and watched his face, I was certain.  I felt the tears begin to fall down my face and the feeling of sorrow creep in as I watched his chest rise and fall for the last time and his eyes completely close.  I sat for a few moments in sheer amazement before putting my head on his chest and checking for a pulse for confirmation.  When I knew for sure there was nothing, I looked at the clock and noted the time, 8:43am. 

I remember sobbing and gasping and continuing to hold his hand.  I remember my tears soaking in to his hospital gown as I cried with my head on his chest.  I remember standing up and pacing back and forth while running my fingers through my hair, then pulling my hair.  I remember grabbing hold of the chair and bed to get myself to stand still.  I remember simply not knowing what do or how to handle so many emotions all at once.  Most of all, I remember how thankful I felt and I remember saying it out loud in between sobs.  Ever since he has been in bad health, I’ve known that I wanted more than anything in the world to be there with him when he passed away.  I was so thankful I was there, holding his hand and watching him as he let go of life. 

I finally sat down beside him once more and stilled my body.  I took hold of his hand and quickly realized that his body had such little relevance to me.  It was an incredible and unexpected revelation.  I really thought I would want to remain close to his body for a long time, but it must be because I watched him let go that my heart knew with absolute certainty, he was far more with me in my heart than physically in that room.  It was a surprise, but a relief.  Everything suddenly felt so peaceful, so ok.  I was still hurting and sad, but much more calm and just truly ok. 

So now, 37 hours have passed without my grampa, but I’ve found a moment of solitude here in grampa’s favorite room, the fireplace room.  It has been snowing for a couple of hours and there was no firewood, so I picked up almost every fallen branch in the yard and broke them down into pieces that would fit in the fireplace to heat the room.  As I was picking up the branches and slamming my foot down on some of the bigger ones, essentially just making a fool of myself trying to break branches that were far too big for my strength and I realized that if grampa was watching me from heaven right then, he was probably laughing at me.  I’ve had to get up a few times while writing this and bring armloads of branches in just to keep it going, but like so much else, it just feels ok.  I’m sure grampa’s awfully happy I’m staying warm by a fire on this snowy evening, here in his room, the one he built with so much love.