My history was a long story. It's one of betrayal, illness, plot twists, death and vikings. Are you read for a read? Here it is:
Colleen Stafford, born in Bellingham, Washington in the 50's, twice divorced, mother of one, was diagnosed in the 80's with one of the worst cases of MS seen by Washington doctors. Every specialist she saw gave her a short life expectancy but offered trial medications. She lost the ability to feel her lower extremities and with a grim diagnosis she found comfort at the bars and in the arms of strange men. She began an affair with the married neighbor across the street and soon found herself pregnant with me. She and her sister asked the man to be involved but he turn them away and told them to stop calling on him because they were going to ruin his family.
The doctors advised my mother to have an abortion. Her medical state and the medications she had to take had the doctors convinced that there was no chance I'd be born healthy and would likely die in the womb. They also advised that pregnancy would most definitely paralyze her and worsen her symptoms. She fought the pain and had me anyway... healthy against all odds. Her condition DID get worse and I was eventually placed in foster care with her brother (my uncle) while my older sister was placed in the care of her biological father. I was eventually adopted right before I turned 8, but I rarely ever saw my sister after the age of 3 and longed desperately for her, sending cards, letters and eventually emails without ever receiving a response.
Fast forward to 2000, my biological aunt gave me a newspaper clipping of a man's obituary
and told me that the man in photo was my father and that he had just died in a motorcycle accident. I never new him, I felt no emotion for him and filed the clipping away with my adoption paperwork and few cherished photos.
2004, Married and looking at my newborn son, I started to reminisce about family and wonder about my own parentage. I dug out my old box of keepsakes and really looked at the obituary for the first time. I began to wonder about his next of kin listed. Did he ever tell them about me? Was he really my dad? I am certain there was a possibility I wasn't his. How would his kids react if I looked them up and asked for a DNA test so I could have closure. The dread of potentially ruining someone's idea of their dad was worse than not having my answers (especially if a DNA test proved that we weren't related and it was all for nothing), so I closed the chapter in my life and moved on.
2013. Newly divorced and unpacking my new apartment, I ran across my paperwork. My biological mother lost her mind when I was little and took her final rest in 2011, so it's not like I could ask her for more information about it. I was finally ready to take the chance. The pain of rejection from my potential siblings wouldn't have been anything compared to the pain of my husband's betrayal that I had just started to grow from. I figured I'd have a better chance at a less emotional conversation with a man, so I looked up this deceased man's son on facebook and found him. I creeped on his profile a little to see what he was like, if we had similar features, and most importantly that he seemed mentally stable. It took longer than it should have to write up a draft, spilling my guts to a stranger. I sighed and convinced myself to hit "send", then I waited. Days went by. Weeks went by... Months went by, I figured he just thought I was a scam artist and decided not to respond.
Nearly a year to the day later, I received a reply, only to find out that my potential brother was not my sperm donor's biological son.
BUMMER!!!
That huge let down was quickly followed by more hope as he explained that his dad had adopted him, but had two daughters from a previous marriage. He was still close with one so he'd explain the situation to her and get us in touch! A few days later I was getting to know this awesome lady who happily entertained the idea of having another sister and she consented to a DNA test. We took one and had enough alleles in common to be able to say that we're half sisters. I got my answer and now I could start the process of looking up our genealogy.
NEXT PROBLEM:
Bio dad was secretly adopted! Seriously? How many road blocks was I going to encounter with my paternal family quest!!! Luckily, my siblings knew he had been adopted and knew his biological parent's real names so I could continue on to find that my sisters and I are the 33rd-great grandchildren of Rollo.... Yup, Viking Rollo (Here's the genetic line to see how that works out.)
In the show Vikings, Rollo is the brother of Ragnar Lothbrok, however, Ragnar is a legendary Norseman based off of 4-5 other, very real warriors. Rollo is however, very much real and awesomely badass. I am also a direct descendant of Constantine, Marcus Aurelius, and can trace a line all the way to Abraham... Yeah... Of the bible. I waited so long for answers and now, I have an abundance.
Colleen Stafford, born in Bellingham, Washington in the 50's, twice divorced, mother of one, was diagnosed in the 80's with one of the worst cases of MS seen by Washington doctors. Every specialist she saw gave her a short life expectancy but offered trial medications. She lost the ability to feel her lower extremities and with a grim diagnosis she found comfort at the bars and in the arms of strange men. She began an affair with the married neighbor across the street and soon found herself pregnant with me. She and her sister asked the man to be involved but he turn them away and told them to stop calling on him because they were going to ruin his family.
The doctors advised my mother to have an abortion. Her medical state and the medications she had to take had the doctors convinced that there was no chance I'd be born healthy and would likely die in the womb. They also advised that pregnancy would most definitely paralyze her and worsen her symptoms. She fought the pain and had me anyway... healthy against all odds. Her condition DID get worse and I was eventually placed in foster care with her brother (my uncle) while my older sister was placed in the care of her biological father. I was eventually adopted right before I turned 8, but I rarely ever saw my sister after the age of 3 and longed desperately for her, sending cards, letters and eventually emails without ever receiving a response.
Fast forward to 2000, my biological aunt gave me a newspaper clipping of a man's obituary
and told me that the man in photo was my father and that he had just died in a motorcycle accident. I never new him, I felt no emotion for him and filed the clipping away with my adoption paperwork and few cherished photos.
2004, Married and looking at my newborn son, I started to reminisce about family and wonder about my own parentage. I dug out my old box of keepsakes and really looked at the obituary for the first time. I began to wonder about his next of kin listed. Did he ever tell them about me? Was he really my dad? I am certain there was a possibility I wasn't his. How would his kids react if I looked them up and asked for a DNA test so I could have closure. The dread of potentially ruining someone's idea of their dad was worse than not having my answers (especially if a DNA test proved that we weren't related and it was all for nothing), so I closed the chapter in my life and moved on.
2013. Newly divorced and unpacking my new apartment, I ran across my paperwork. My biological mother lost her mind when I was little and took her final rest in 2011, so it's not like I could ask her for more information about it. I was finally ready to take the chance. The pain of rejection from my potential siblings wouldn't have been anything compared to the pain of my husband's betrayal that I had just started to grow from. I figured I'd have a better chance at a less emotional conversation with a man, so I looked up this deceased man's son on facebook and found him. I creeped on his profile a little to see what he was like, if we had similar features, and most importantly that he seemed mentally stable. It took longer than it should have to write up a draft, spilling my guts to a stranger. I sighed and convinced myself to hit "send", then I waited. Days went by. Weeks went by... Months went by, I figured he just thought I was a scam artist and decided not to respond.
BUMMER!!!
That huge let down was quickly followed by more hope as he explained that his dad had adopted him, but had two daughters from a previous marriage. He was still close with one so he'd explain the situation to her and get us in touch! A few days later I was getting to know this awesome lady who happily entertained the idea of having another sister and she consented to a DNA test. We took one and had enough alleles in common to be able to say that we're half sisters. I got my answer and now I could start the process of looking up our genealogy.
NEXT PROBLEM:Bio dad was secretly adopted! Seriously? How many road blocks was I going to encounter with my paternal family quest!!! Luckily, my siblings knew he had been adopted and knew his biological parent's real names so I could continue on to find that my sisters and I are the 33rd-great grandchildren of Rollo.... Yup, Viking Rollo (Here's the genetic line to see how that works out.)
In the show Vikings, Rollo is the brother of Ragnar Lothbrok, however, Ragnar is a legendary Norseman based off of 4-5 other, very real warriors. Rollo is however, very much real and awesomely badass. I am also a direct descendant of Constantine, Marcus Aurelius, and can trace a line all the way to Abraham... Yeah... Of the bible. I waited so long for answers and now, I have an abundance.
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