Today I tried to track down more information about my adoption. I went over the records I got from our state capital, the ones that my birth mother says don't exist. Great. I talked to my Mom, (I'll refer to my adoptive mother as my mother and my birth mother as my BMom or Loretta), about it and we hashed over the various stories we've been told by different people about who my father could have been. We've got the official story from the state, which is supposedly what Loretta gave them at the time of my birth;
Birth father (Source: Birth Mother)
The birth father was described as a Caucasian, 27, of Irish and Italian descent. He was Catholic, born in Pennsylvania. He completed four years of college. He was 5 feet, 11 inches tall, weighed 155 to 160 pounds, with brown eyes, dark brown hair and a medium dark complexion. He worked as a hotel manager. He was single at the time of the baby's birth but married one month later. He was reported to be in good health, with no known unfavorable health history.
Circumstances of Placement: Your birth mother was single at the time of your birth. She came to California to stay with her cousin during her pregnancy. She did not want her parents to know of the pregnancy. The birth father was married and did not offer any help in supporting you. Because of her desire to keep the pregnancy hidden from her parents and her inability to support you, she felt adoption was the best choice for you. She made the adoption arrangements through her cousin's doctor.
Were Birth parents married to Each Other?: No
Marriages of Birth Mother: The birth mother stated that she had been married and obtained an annulment of the marriage.
Okay. And then we've got the statement of the nurse and my mother who say that Loretta had a newspaper article she was carrying in her purse that she showed her. It was a wedding announcement that someone had sent to her from back home, knowing that she had been involved with this man. She was reported to have been crying and said that it was so hurtful that here he was getting married while she was here having his child. The nurse showed the article to my mother and my mother remembers everything about it, even the placement of the announcement on the page and the photograph but not the name of the man.
Then we have my BMother's cousin Mary's story. When I spoke to Loretta on the phone for the first time, she as very nervous and said that I should speak to her cousin Mary in California who would fill me in on all the details until she could call me herself. One of the first things that Mary said to me was, "Do you know who your father is?" I remember how enthusiastic she was about telling me. She definitely believed what she was saying and was excited to tell that his name was Tommy Fadigan and that he came from a very wealthy family, (I think she may have confirmed the part about Pennsylvania but I'm not certain.) She said that Loretta had been very much in love with him, that she wanted to be part of his "crowd" and that he didn't think she was really good enough for him, because she was from "the toolies." I wrote everything down as she said it because I knew it would be important. I specifically remember the word toolies, because I didn't know what it meant, and had never heard it before.
Loretta's story is that she was raped by someone she never knew or saw or can remember anything about. She doesn't know or want to tell me where it happened. At first she said she was just raped by some horrible stranger. Then after I wrote a letter begging her to tell me the truth she amended it to a date rape at a party. She also said that my father was a horrible, horrible man and I should never try to find him. She also was very upset when I told her Mary had said his name was Tommy Fadigan. She said she and Mary had made everything up.
Then there's Tommy Fadigan, oddly enough there actually was a Tommy Fadigan, whose age wasn't exactly the same, but who came from Pennsylvania, and was in New Jersey around the time I was conceived and whose sister in law even went to the same church as my BMother's parents. He was an alcoholic. He died penniless. He had a stoma in his throat, from having had throat cancer from smoking. His nickname was Tommy the Salami, because he liked salami so much, and he was a favorite of the sisters because he was so helpful at the soup kitchen. He also died some time ago.
So, today I was talking to my mother, who of course would rather believe that my father is some mysterious man, from a wealthy family, who spurned Loretta. Rather than my salami loving, booze swilling, possible father Tommy, the aforementioned homeless gentleman. Then it occurred to me that I could call Mrs. M. later Mrs. R., the wife of the doctor who delivered me. Her husband, the doctor passed away. (Her current husband was very involved in the Watergate scandal but that's another story.) They were responsible for hooking Loretta up with my mother. Mrs. R. had known the whole story, she was the one who told my mother everything about it. She might even know what happened to the nurse.
So I tracked down her number and called. Mrs. R. answered the phone and instead of having to remind her, or explain anything to her she said, "Of course I know you Jacqui, I've been following you all my life. How are you? How is your son? Are you divorced now, I heard your husband left, etc., etc." It was a bit odd. I don't think I've ever met her, but she was friends with my mother, and they are in the same social circle. Unfortunately she was off for some important party and couldn't speak, but I did manage to ask her if she knew anything about my birth, and she said she knew everything and would be glad to tell me. I told her a little bit about what I knew, and she said that it sounded like a completely different story than the one she had always known. But she had to go and asked that I call her in Solvang, where she will be staying until October. These women are in their eighties now, so this may be my very last chance to try to piece anything about my father, or the true circumstances of my birth, together.
So I'm either the daughter of some random drunk date rapist who my BMother never saw and can't remember a thing about. Or I'm the daughter of some hotel managing jerk from Pennsylvania who fooled around with my mother for a summer knowing that he would soon be marrying someone else. Or I'm the daughter of poor Tommy Fadigan. Your guess on this is as good as mine. I don't have a clue at this point. I'm thinking one way to rule out Tommy would be to have a DMA test performed with his either of his two sisters who I'm sure would be willing to help. But the whole thing would be costly emotionally whatever the outcome. I also considered looking up society columns from newspapers from New Jersey, beginning about one month prior to my birth. Or I could start looking up hotels and their managers from 1962.
All I know truly is that I find it hard to understand or forgive my BMother for being so incredibly cold and insensitive. Why won't she have the smallest amount of compassion and at least tell me something about why she won't tell me anything? I find it hard not to hate her. I can't imagine doing the same thing to a child of my own. I can't imagine finding out I had a sister and not wanting to know everything about her or wanting to meet her. It's just mind boggling.
I spent all of my therapy hour today talking about the loss of my oldest friend L. So between the two I'm totally wrung out.
Thanks as always for reading.
Love you guys,