Adoption has always been a significant part of my life. I was originally adopted at almost 4 years of age by my paternal great-aunt and uncle after my birth family fell apart. As a child, I had nurtured memories of the mother I had lost, only to be told by my adopted mother that I was the reason my birth mother had left. The pain and guilt from this accusation followed me throughout my childhood, teen years, and well into my adult life, affecting my relationships and forcing me into an emotional isolation that was hell. I endured silently, fearful of letting others know the dark feelings in my heart.

I never actively searched for my birth mother until both of my adoptive parents died. Some adoptees claim a sense of loyalty to their adoptive parents that keeps them from searching. Fear prevented me. My adoptive father was very intelligent, and I learned to love learning from him. But he was also distant, neither accepting nor rejecting. He did his parental duties without any emotional fluff. My adoptive mother suffered from alcoholism, and the years spent with her were bitter and cold. They both kept love on a string so they could dangle it in front of me and then pull it back every time I didn't meet their expectations. From their example, I learned that love was supposed to be conditional- a powerful instrument of control. My adoptive father died in 1987, and his passing left a hollow hole in my heart. He was a good man, a patient man who never willingly hurt me. The death of my adoptive mother in 1989 left a sadness in my soul, although I grieved not for what I had lost, but for what I had never had. Freed from the fear of rejection, her death allowed me the freedom I needed to search and find the mother I had lost.

I began to search for my birthmother in 1989. I searched in every way I could think of for over a year, all to no avail. As time went by, I began to write poetry to help me deal with all the emotions and frustrations I encountered.

Then one day I happened to notice the Family Adoption and Reunion Center in Cape Coral, Florida. There we met a wonderful woman named Sandy Musser, who was a birth mom and also a searcher. With her guidance, the search went in some new directions, and within a year, a call from her office told me that my birth mother, Carol, was alive and well and living in California.

Her birthday, March 1, was only weeks away, so I decided to wait and send her a letter that would arrive on her birthday. I mailed the letter and a poem I had written to the address I had been given, and the waiting began again. Three weeks passed before I received an answer, and then it was from her husband. In words that reflected the pain he still felt, he explained that Carol had died just two years prior, and that she had never given up hope that we would be reunited some day. She had died on July 15, 1989. Even as she lay in the hospital, he had offered to search for me, but she had told him not to bother, that she would be seeing me soon enough. The years of waiting, the hopes and dreams of having a mother who loved and wanted me, all died as I read that letter. A sadness welled up from the bottom of my soul unlike anything I had ever gone through. I became physically ill with a disease that came straight from my heart, and it took months before I was able to pull myself back from my own personal hell and to accept that which was the cruelest blow of all. For the second time in my life, I had lost my birthmother.

On the day the letter arrived, I was visiting some close friends in Marysville, WA. Unexpectedly, two days later, my friend asked what a yellow rose would mean to me. What an odd question! Yellow roses have always been my favorite, symbolizing joy, peace, and happiness to me. I had placed yellow roses on my great- grandmother's grave, both as symbols of the joy I felt that she was released from the body that no longer served her without pain and suffering, and as an expression of joy that she had gone to be with the Lord. I explained this to my friend and watched as she visibly paled. She in turn explained that she had received a message while in prayer the night before. The message simple said, "Carol wants Angel to have a yellow rose." What a wonderful message! I was filled with such a feeling of love and warmth at those words, and took comfort in them from that day on.

After my search was over, it never occurred to me to search out other adoptees. I was now living in Montana, and before the internet came along, the chance to meet other adoptees in Montana was rather limited. A new world opened on the day I found the newsgroup for adoptees. Mesmerized, I began to read messages from people who had lived through situations similar to mine, who had experienced the same hopes, fears, and disappointments I had. One of the messages reflected the frustration that comes from being denied a copy of an original birth certificate. Even though I've always been very shy, I stepped outside myself and responded by sharing my own frustrations at being denied a copy of my birth certificate, even when I could provide all the information that would be found on that same piece of paper. I was very surprised when I received a reply by email later that day.

The reply was from a woman named Wilma Bonner who offered assistance if I wanted to try again to get a copy of my birth certificate. She also encouraged me to check out her home page, and when I did, the first thing that greeted my eyes was a huge yellow rose! I instantly felt drawn to Wilma, and quickly discovered what special people she and her husband were by reading their home page. Later, I wrote back and thanked her for her offer of help but told her I had searched and found nothing. She responded with a message of consolation, and as we wrote back and forth, I knew that this was someone I would proudly call a friend, although friends have never been very important for me to have. Our letters flowed across the Internet day after day, and I began to find that I craved the next message from her. She had worked her way into my heart in a very big way.

The months rolled by, and I often found myself thanking God for this wonderful addition to my world. Before long, I "met" her husband, Frank, via the Internet, and found he was as warm and wonderful as she was. Frank is also an adoptee, so we have much in common. Each letter made them more precious to me, and finally, in December of 1996, I commented to Wilma that if I had been able to know my birth mother, I would have hoped that she was just as sweet and wonderful as Wilma was. The answer I received later that evening totally took me by surprise.

When Wilma responded, she did so cautiously, indicating that there was something that she and Frank had been discussing and wanted to ask me. She assured me that the decision was mine and mine alone. They would love me no matter what my answer was. She finally wrote: "Frank and I were never able to have children of our own, but our dream was to have a daughter. We talked it over and decided that we would love to make you our daughter, legally, if that would be all right with you." The rest of the letter became a blur as tears came straight from my heart, poured down my face. There was no decision to make. I had found the parents I had always wanted and had always been denied. Finally, I had parents who would love me and be proud of me, no matter what. What a wonderful feeling! What joy went through my soul! As soon as the tears stopped, I wrote back telling them I would be honored to be their daughter. Before long, preparations were underway, and their trip to Montana was planned. Excitement was buzzing on the Internet then! They would arrive in July, and the adoption would be finalized while they were here.

To say that anyone found the situation normal would be a total travesty of the truth! From friends to family, from lawyers to the judge, this adoption was an issue of controversy. After all, it's not often that a couple will adopt a full-grown woman who is a mere decade younger than they are. But we all stood fast in our decision, others-be-damned, and created what may possibly be the first Internet-based adoption in history.

As the time for their arrival drew closer, so many fears and doubts crept into my mind. What if they didn't like me? What if they met me and decided I wasn't worth it? What if? What if? As I stood in the driveway waiting for them to arrive, the tension finally overcame me, and I cried like a baby. Hugh gulps punctuated my tearful words as I voiced all the fears I had kept boxed inside, but the moment they pulled in the driveway and shyly got out of their van, I knew from their smiles and the stars in their eyes, that I had finally come home. How wonderful it was to hold these people who were my new family, and to be held with love in return. What an indescribable feeling that was!

The adoption went through on July 9, 1997 at the Cascade County Courthouse in Great Falls, Montana. The court order didn't change a thing. It only cemented a family that had been established long ago, thanks to the Internet.

The way this family was formed is a pretty incredible story all by itself, but the coincidences don't stop there. The comforting message that Carol wanted me to have a yellow rose took on new meaning after I found Frank and Wilma with the hugh yellow rose on top of their home page. When I found that Wilma and Carol shared the same birthday, I found that was the most coincidental thing possible. But the biggest coincidence was yet to come.