“Mom, can I talk to you about something?” he asked, looking down.
“Of course. Sit down and tell me.” I gave him an assuring look, and we sat at the kitchen table.
I obviously couldn’t say no to him, although I worried about it. “There’s a chance we might not find them because we had almost no information about them. The police couldn’t find them 13 years ago, but I will do my best. However, they also could refuse to meet you. Do you think you can handle that?” I asked him carefully.
Tom thought for a few minutes and finally nodded. “I think so. If not, we can work through it with Dr. Bernstein,” he answered, grinning slightly.
“Ok. I’m proud of you, son. Let’s get the laptop and see how we can find them,” I told him, and we went to his room.
We started searching about reunification, and I even called the shelter to see if they had any helpful information. Apparently, some organizations were dedicated to reuniting birth parents with the kids they sent for adoption, but the adults had to sign up for it.
Still, we tried every avenue. I created a post on Facebook and shared it on Twitter, detailing what happened the night I found Tom and how he was interested in seeing his parents. I also asked our neighbors to share the post because the incident had happened in our neighborhood, after all.
However, our search was fruitless for a long time.
One day, I was at Ellie’s house, complaining about the entire situation. “Tom is so sad about it. I don’t think we’ll ever find any leads.” I sighed, drinking tea with my friend.
“Why does he want to find his birth parents?” she asked, her eyes concerned.
“Poor Jack,” she commented unexpectedly and sipped her tea.
“Jack?” I asked, turning back to her and frowning at the sudden widening of her eyes.
“Uh, well… Ehh, I –”
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