2 FEB 2022 · I stared at the big brown envelope sitting on my kitchen counter. After 10 minutes I gingerly gathered it to me and sat down at the dining room table. I cautiously slid out the contents. Five days previously, I had made contact with my birth family for the first time. One of my new sisters had sent me this package. Its contents were as precious to me as pure gold: photographs of birth family spanning over 100 years. As I looked into their faces, something changed within me. I felt a connection that I had never felt until then. Tears bubbled up from deep inside. I looked like these people. I saw my mother's hands. They were identical to mine. I felt like they were mine. This was the reconnection I needed to begin the search to finding myself. That paragraph is definitely personal. The more factual part (although it is all personal!) would be that I was born in Oakland, CA at the Salvation Army hospital for unwed mothers, August 13, 1945. I was relinquished two months later and three months after that I was adopted by a very wonderful family. However, in my mind, January 4, 1946 was the day my life began. I never thought about another mother or what my life was like the days before. But in my unspoken heart, I was feeling a growing sense of dissatisfaction and malaise. I didn't know myself. I very easily felt rejected. I married in 1970 and was very co-dependent most of those years. By 1996, I had no sense of my identity or sense of direction. I needed control. I went to Therapy. I wanted to look at my adoption as a possible reason for the huge hole I was feeling. Fast forward, I began the search for my Birth Mother. I learned from the investigator that my mother, Lucille, had died of cancer in April 1995, but they had located my Birth Family, 3 sisters. On March 12, 2000 I made the call that would change my life forever. It was as if I was wandering, lost. I was now connected to my roots and I felt like I was home. I may also want to talk about my search for my Original Birth Certificate. California adoption records are sealed. I petitioned Alameda County Courts 3 times only to be denied. I can't even get them now even though my Birth Family knows me. If my petition had been approved, I would have met my mother, and found myself.

19 JAN 2022 · Birthmother, Jennifer Krauth, joins us to share her story of the ups and downs of open adoption.

5 JAN 2022 · For the last decade, we have been a foster and adoptive family. We have had close to 20 kids come through our home and legally adopted 4 of them. We understand the power of stories and the connection that can be made when we can relate to one another's stories. Our endeavor is to use those stories to build connections between kids and caring adults so that no child is left without a place to feel like they have found a "home." This belonging is often the one thing that can lead a heart to create a meaningful life and mitigate future problems that often arise in youth populations that do not have those strong connections.

22 DEC 2021 · Shanyce Henley is a Chicago Native HR professional who has recently moved to Washington State. She is also an Assistant Caseworker for On Your Feet Foundation. She is described as a carefree, nerdy, creative, goofy, and kind person in a large box. She is a birth mother to fraternal twins in a very open interracial adoption. She currently has a blog with her twins’ adoptive mom. Please visit ouramazingforeverfamily.com to know more about her story and her adoption story.

8 DEC 2021 · I stared at the big brown envelope sitting on my kitchen counter. After 10 minutes I gingerly gathered it to me and sat down at the dining room table. I cautiously slid out the contents. Five days previously, I had made contact with my birth family for the first time. One of my new sisters had sent me this package. Its contents were as precious to me as pure gold: photographs of birth family spanning over 100 years. As I looked into their faces, something changed within me. I felt a connection that I had never felt until then. Tears bubbled up from deep inside. I looked like these people. I saw my mother's hands. They were identical to mine. I felt like they were mine. This was the reconnection I needed to begin the search to finding myself. That paragraph is definitely personal. The more factual part (although it is all personal!) would be that I was born in Oakland, CA at the Salvation Army hospital for unwed mothers, August 13, 1945. I was relinquished two months later and three months after that I was adopted by a very wonderful family. However, in my mind, January 4, 1946 was the day my life began. I never thought about another mother or what my life was like the days before. But in my unspoken heart, I was feeling a growing sense of dissatisfaction and malaise. I didn't know myself. I very easily felt rejected. I married in 1970 and was very co-dependent most of those years. By 1996, I had no sense of my identity or sense of direction. I needed control. I went to Therapy. I wanted to look at my adoption as a possible reason for the huge hole I was feeling. Fast forward, I began the search for my Birth Mother. I learned from the investigator that my mother, Lucille, had died of cancer in April 1995, but they had located my Birth Family, 3 sisters. On March 12, 2000 I made the call that would change my life forever. It was as if I was wandering, lost. I was now connected to my roots and I felt like I was home. I may also want to talk about my search for my Original Birth Certificate. California adoption records are sealed. I petitioned Alameda County Courts 3 times only to be denied. I can't even get them now even though my Birth Family knows me. If my petition had been approved, I would have met my mother, and found myself.

24 NOV 2021 · I was a lost 18-year-old girl who went to California and then met a cute boy who was a few years older. When some family matters came up a very short time afterward, this boy proposed that he move with me back to Indiana. At that point in my life I didn't make logical decisions, all I knew right then and there was that I thought I was in love with this guy and he was willing to move across the country with me, so that must mean that he loved me too. But everything changed when we arrived in Indiana and his true colors started to show. He was an alcoholic and a drug addict who was using me to finance his addictions as well as take care of him with housing, food, gas, cigarettes, etc. while I worked 40+ hours a week at the local Starbucks. As time passed, he became more and more physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive towards me. One night he snapped, but luckily my brother who was two years younger than me was home and came to my rescue. I had been so beaten down in all ways from him that I didn't know how to stand up for myself or have the strength to walk away. I don't know what would have happened that night if my brother hadn't kicked him out of our condo. That didn't last long though. Like most people in an abusive relationship, it is hard to completely cut ties as the abuser holds a strong grip on you and is a master manipulator. Now the already complicated situation was about to get even messier. At 18 years old, I had regular periods and January was two weeks late. I went to the drug store to buy a pregnancy test praying this was just a false alarm. But those two pink lines appeared. He was back living in our house for a night or two at this point when I told him I was pregnant. He reacted pretty well, didn't freak out or say anything to lead me to believe what would happen next. I had to leave to go work a closing shift and we said we would talk about it later when I returned home. Upon coming home, he was gone. Not only was he MIA, he also emptied my bank account on his way out of town. What was I to do now? It took me a week to be able to tell anyone that I was pregnant. My mom's boyfriend upon hearing the news mentioned that I should look into adoption. Boy was I pissed that he could even say that to me! The next day, I couldn't shake what he said. I went to visit an adoption agency just to gather some information. On my way home, I needed to stop by the bank to try to see what I could do about the money that was "stolen" from me. I say that in parentheses because he was able to convince me that he needed access to my account for his basic necessities. He had me brainwashed. I didn't fully comprehend the consequences of doing that, I was young and naive. I had known the teller at the bank for a while, and during my visit that day, I broke down crying. I told her I had just found out that I was pregnant, that his guy had disappeared and taken my money with him. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to help me, with the money part at least. She called me later and told me that she had a daughter that would be interested in adopting my baby. I realize that this sounds like a totally bizarre way to go about this, but for whatever reason, I was not weirded out and told her she could pass along my contact information. On Valentine's Day, I met Kim and Brad (Colin's now adoptive parents) at the Starbucks where I worked. We sat there and talked for hours. I told them that night that I wanted them to adopt my baby. They being hesitant of a hormonal pregnant teenager told me to sit with it a bit before making a decision. But I knew walking away from that conversation that this was what I was supposed to do and they were the couple that was meant to raise my child. Now let's skip the details of the remainder of the pregnancy and the first 5 years of Colin's life where I did not physically get to see him outside of a few times the first 6 months after he was born. On Colin's 5th birthday, we got to re-meet. I was a nervous wreck to say the least. I wanted him to like me and I wanted everything to go smoothly so not to jeopardize any future meet ups with him. Over the past 4 1/2 years since that first reunion, I've now lost count of the times I have got to see him and his family. We have grown into what we like to call our weird adoption family. I no longer live in Indiana where I can easily meet up with them on a weekend, but anytime I come home, they are always on the top of my list to visit. Anytime I have a tour that comes through town or even a short drive away, they make their way out to see me (sometimes even without the kids!).

10 NOV 2021 · I was born and adopted in the District of Columbia in 1965. I am currently an attorney and the founder of Adoptee Rights Law Center, where I represent adult adopted people on issues related to birth records, identity documents, and U.S. citizenship. I am also the president of Adoptees United Inc., a national non-profit organization dedicated to education and advocacy for all adopted people on issues of identity, citizenship, and equality.

29 OCT 2021 · My story begins in the fall of 2007 when I rediscover a shoebox in my closet. It lead me back to the ‘70s, my first love and the baby I surrendered to adoption in 1978. What I uncovered, totally transformed my life. My first love and I marry after finding one another after 27 years, search and find our daughter on Father's Day 2008 and she and her children come to live with us and we begin to heal our broken family. The next ten years would prove to be challenging and heartbreaking, as we all come to terms with our loss. In 2017 our story made global news when we legally adopted our daughter, changed her name to her birth name, and terminated her adoption. She was thirty-nine years old. (this was her birthday present!) I harnessed my anger and decided to write my state senator, start my own not for profit., get a bill on the floor for Indiana and advocate for adoption reform. Over the course of nine years, Hoosiers for Equal Access to Records now has access to records for those born from 1941-1993. Our sister organization, Indiana Adoptee Network, our educational non-profit, outgrew its name and is now The National Association of Adoptees and Parents Inc. Today, I am the President of the National Association of Adoptees and Parents and host a Friday night virtual event called Adoption Happy Hour where we elevate the voices of all members of the adoption constellation. Our attendance has gone global and we have an average of 60-75 every Friday night. In addition, I have co-written a children's book, Frankie and Friends Talk Adoption, and am currently working with the amazing Nancy Verrier on a parental guide for adoptive parents. I am also the author of The ShoeBox Effect, Transforming Pain Into Fortitude and Purpose, guiding others on how to unpack loss and find acceptance and peace with the past and was recently appointed to the board of directors for Women's Writes Publishing and Author Services, dedicated to enhancing the societal status of women by providing a platform for the female voice.

13 OCT 2021 · Lydia is an adult transracial adoptee that was privately adopted as an infant. For much of her childhood, Lydia struggled with feeling like she belonged and feeling confident in her blackness. Lydia works full time as a child welfare caseworker and in her personal time works as a fierce advocate to amplify the voices and experiences of transracial adoptees. Lydia seeks to empower transracial adoptees in the development of their racial identity. She also aims to educate White Adoptive Parents on the complexities of adoption and the importance of racial mirrors and celebrating racial differences. I also have mentorship programs that I offer for transracial adoptees and transracial families.

29 SEP 2021 · I got pregnant at 21 back in 1989 and figured I’d parent, but my scared boyfriend convinced me to attend crisis pregnancy counseling. I thought it might help him stick around. Instead, the program forced me to address my history of abuse and emphasized my incompetence to parent, so when he left, I chose adoption. I have mixed feeling about the counseling – both helpful yet coercive and preying on my innocence. Navigating the aftermath of placement proved infinitely more traumatic than I’d imagined, but I got yearly updates so with hopes of one day reuniting took advantage of my second chance. I attended college and got a decent job, but when my son, Michael, turned eight, the updates ceased. After discovering I had no recourse, I resorted to blocking him out. Then, on the day before Michael’s 18th birthday, a letter arrived from the adoption agency. A big stack of photos and a thick letter. This is when I discovered that the adoptive mother committed suicide when our son was ten. I took this information as further evidence that I was a bad mother for choosing a poor replacement. I feared Michael would hate me and struggled with the complex emotional nature of reunification. I wanted to throw myself into a relationship with him, but I listened to the advice of professionals and loved ones and let him set the pace. His sporadic texts and emails were emotionally excruciating. It was two years before he finally asked to meet face-to-face. After a whirlwind, hours-long meeting, I hoped for more but was disappointed when his communiques` dwindled again. Assured by my husband there was plenty of time, I sat back, albeit impatiently, to wait. Then, in the early hours of the Fourth of July 2013, I received the news that my twenty-three-year-old son had died in his sleep. The shock of his sudden death was tempered by the unexpected compassion I received from his adoptive family at the funeral. They welcomed me and introduced me to everyone as his birth mother, contradicting years of negative internal messages. In the years since our son’s passing, we’ve built a mutually caring relationship. I've written a memoir about the experience of loosing my son twice. As I struggled in the aftermath of losing my son a second time, I discovered I could not heal one loss without also addressing the other, and that the losses were strikingly similar.