I spent most of the weekend with a knot in my tummy. Whilst I do not know for sure, I think the letter about my adoption went out on Friday. This means that today, if it is them at the same address, my grandparents might be receiving the first contact from their adopted granddaughter in well, over 30 years.

My counsellor has told me that on average it takes 6 weeks for a birth family to get in touch after first contact is made. 6 weeks of waiting, 6 weeks of wondering, it is a frightening prospect for me; the chance of rejection from a family I have never known is very high.

Maybe they will read the letter, rip it up and forget it ever happened.

Maybe they will shudder in horror that a family secret could come to light.

Maybe they will leave me hanging, not knowing any more information that my mother liked shopping and dancing.

Maybe they will not want me to know for sure what I have found out by searching the records of birth, marriages and deaths is correct.

Up to now, I have been a little blasé, a little cold hearted about the whole process. It was always one day I shall find out if I have another family out there, but when finally the chance to find out is in front of me, that the step has actually been taken, a part of me wants to take it back, to run away and hide from the chance that no one has thought about me for all that time.

But to be really honest however shaken up I feel today, whatever happens next, even if nothing happens, I am still confident I have done the right thing. I have decided that I can’t go through life not knowing if I could find someone out there willing or wanting to know me.

I keep going back to the first post I ever wrote about adoption, 3 years ago.  I called the post ‘search search survive’, after the Tricky song, as the next line of the song goes: say you’re lucky alive.

I am lucky. Whatever happens next.

Miss S x