Growing up, holidays usually meant just dinner for the three of us: my mom, dad and me. Our family simply lacked numbers. My mom was an only child and my dad was estranged from his brothers, both fairly older than him.
Not a day went by without us talking, though the calls were rarely longer than two minutes β just enough time to check in and find out what he had for dinner. A month after his passing in , I received a message on X asking if I was related to Joan and Wally. My parents? I thought. Of course. We arranged a phone call that lasted an awkward 20 minutes, agreeing to keep in touch. Not exactly the long-lost reunion I was hoping for. The conversation did spark some interest for me, though: Perhaps I had additional family out there I would feel more of a connection to.
On 23AndMe. But something immediately looked strange: None of the names were familiar, not even the last names. My mind raced. My parents had a secretive side to them. We always had an unlisted phone number. I had always chalked it up to their eccentricities, but now I wondered if it hid something deeper. I chose my words very carefully in a draft that stayed open a few days. The response came within just a few hours.
Her name was Anna. My wheels started turning with the possibilities. I was sure I had solved the riddle and that Anna was my niece. Then one day Anna told me a story about how her mother, who had died when Anna was just 11, had given up a baby for adoption years before she was born. As I started to reply, I stopped and read what she wrote a second time.
And a third time. Over and over again as my imagination ran. What if I was the child her mother gave up for adoption?!? Anna confirmed her mother, Kathi, had a boy, and speculated he was born around January of I was born in March of that year. Or the lab made a mistake somewhere. Anna was already on Ancestry. A few more weeks of messaging back and forth while awaiting the results allowed us to learn even more about each other. Absent were any records of a possible adoption. Also conspicuously missing were any photos of me as a newborn.
