I consider myself a fairly normal guy; average height and weight, average looks (maybe slightly better than average), average intelligence, and average income. There are two things about me that clearly aren't average; 1) I married "up" in some ways since my wife Janice is extraordinarily good looking, and 2) I have an obsession. My obsession is "somewhat" with Janice, but there is another area that is way beyond "somewhat." The way beyond "somewhat" obsession? I want to find my birth family.
My adoptive parents were straight with me about most things, including telling me when I was five that I was adopted. The way they put it was "Most people have to take and care for any child that is born to them. We were lucky to get to pick who our child was, and it was you Ryan; you're special." Sweet, huh.
The one thing that they were not straight with me about was who my birth family was. When I became a teenager I started being interested in finding out who they were – I wasn't necessarily interested in re-connecting with them, at least not at first. I just had this burning desire to know who they were. My adoptive parents were thoroughly unhelpful, and acted hurt if I ever brought the subject up. I was their only child, and they were committed to me. I never had any intention of treating them any differently if I found my birth family, I just wanted to know.
The only information I ever found out about my birth family was because of a tragedy. When I was eighteen my adoptive parents got into a car wreck. My father was killed instantly. My mother hung on for about ten days, fluctuating between lucid and confused. I think that about three days before she died she realized that she was going to. After she and I exchanged our words of love for each other she made sure that the nurse was out of the room and motioned to me to sit in a chair directly next to her head. While the tubes sticking out of her made her hard to understand, I didn't miss a word.
"Ryan, I know that you've had an interest in finding your birth family. For a while it hurt me, but I came to realize that it was only natural and didn't detract from your love for me and Dad."
I smiled at her and kissed her hand, avoiding the IV needle.
"I do know some things about them and I want to tell you now in case I don't make it."
"You'll make it Mom..." I started to say, but she hushed me up.
"Your birth mother had three other kids and was poor and her husband had recently left her – while she was pregnant with you – and she had to put you up for adoption or she never would have been able to make it. I could tell that it was a really hard decision for her, the one time that we met."
Mom teared up a little, and I wiped her eyes. She smiled and continued.
"You have a brother a year older than you are, and two sisters about three and five years older than you are. I remember that your mother's name was 'Doris,' I think, and the oldest girl's name was 'Samantha' or something like that, but I don't remember anything else; oh, except for the fact that they were from the same metropolitan area that we live in, although I got the impression that they lived about as far away as from us as possible while still being in the area. I'm sorry, but that's all that I know – I hope that you can find them."
While I was grateful for any shred of information, what she told me wasn't too helpful. There were well over a million people in our metropolitan area, they may have moved to find a cheaper place to live, and Mom may not even have remembered Doris' name properly – and there had to be thousands of women with the name Doris. But I was grateful and told Mom so – and then changed the subject.
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I met Janice as I was finishing up my associate's degree in biology at the local community college about two years after my parents' deaths. While my parents weren't wealthy, they owned their house (which I inherited) free and clear, and left me enough money so that I could go to school to get my associate's degree without having to also work full time. I didn't think that I was University material, but realized that I needed more than a High School degree to qualify for what I wanted to be – a lab technician. Janice worked as a waitress in a local restaurant and was a year older than I was.
The details of how Janice and I got together and all of our physical features aren't important. Maybe what was important that I didn't focus on was that Janice probably has below average intelligence, and has a tendency to latch onto a goal and do anything or everything to achieve it regardless of the morality or consequences. I was so blown away that someone who looked like her could be interested in me that I glossed over those concerns.
Plus the sex with Janice was – to use an overworked but applicable word – awesome! She loved oral, loved fucking doggy while I fingered her puckerhole, and was definitely multi-orgasmic. The little squeaky sounds that she made when climaxing were always enough to get me to shoot massive wads of cum into her snug vagina.
Janice and I were married in a simple ceremony when she was twenty two and I was twenty one. The week that I graduated from community college I got a job at a local hospital lab assisting physicians in the diagnosis and treatment of diseases by performing tests on tissue, blood and other body fluids. She didn't like waitressing so she switched to retail sales (a sales clerk at a local department store) which she liked better, even though it paid about $1,500 less a year. Since we owned the house and had no debt, and since my pay as a lab technician was more than a living wage, that wasn't an issue.
While I can't say that Janice encouraged my continuing search for my birth family, she didn't discourage it either, and didn't object when I spent money on the search. I probably spent about $5,000 over the first five years of our marriage looking for them, and also devoted at least about ten hours a week to the search – although I was far from efficient. I had a dozen promising leads that just never panned out, but I didn't get discouraged. I had a feeling that at some point serendipity would strike and I would eventually succeed.
While my time commitment didn't change, my ability and willingness to spend money on my search ceased when Janice got pregnant with our daughter Macy, who was born almost five years to the day after Janice and I had wed.
Janice started to really get the motherhood bug after we had been married about three and a half years. On our fourth year anniversary she went off birth control, and although she wasn't much of a reader, read all sorts of non-scholarly works (mostly magazines and cheap books) about how to get pregnant and motherhood. Janice was more than a little squirrely in the time leading up to her pregnancy, and while she was pregnant. I was certain that that was due to the fact that after she went off birth control and we had ourselves tested – easy to do in my lab – that while she was fertile I had a very low sperm count so conception could take some time and effort, and she desperately wanted a child; it was one of her "goals" that she would do anything to achieve.
Fortunately, conception did not take as long as we feared – in my mind the fear contributed to her squirreliness – since she found out that she was pregnant a little more than three months after she went off birth control. Despite her squirreliness during this time it was fun for me because she was constantly horny and wanted to fuck every night and two or three times each weekend day, and obviously put her all into it, believing (although there is not any real proof of it) that the more we fucked and the more energetic she was when we did the sooner she would conceive and the healthier the baby would be.
Macy is a real joy. While she had some features that clearly favor me, she looks very much like Janice – beautiful. Plus she is bubbly and kind.
When she was four Macy started preschool. At that point Janice was pregnant with our second child – and again acting squirrely in the lead up to and during pregnancy – and we thought it best to give Janice some free time while socializing Macy and starting her on the path to serious learning. The private preschool that we wanted to enroll Macy in insisted that they have blood type information – as well as other types of medically related information – before Macy started school; so we went to the school as a family one Saturday morning to provide the school with information and look around and be introduced to the teacher and staff.
Since my lab did blood typing all of the time, I had the school nurse draw a little blood from Macy and give it to me for testing. I knew that my blood type was B and during Janice's previous pregnancy her blood had of course been typed and as I recalled it was B too. Allowing me to do the typing would save the school a little money so they were more than willing to cooperate.
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After I dealt with all of the emergencies that arise in a hospital lab over the weekend and on Monday morning, just before quitting time Monday afternoon I finally got to test Macy's blood. It doesn't take long to get the initial results of a blood type test. However, I got the shock of my life – and had to sit down – when her blood type turned up as A.
