Which Path Are You Following?

I don't have much time to jot down my feelings, but I felt the need to write a quick blog this morning. I know its been awhile since I've written; I've had a lot of feelings to deal with that I'm still not sure I'm ready to share on this blog. It's hard exposing myself to everyone as I go through emotion after emotion. That being said, I hope those who still read my blog aren't disappointed by my recent lack of exposure.

I have to say, I never believed in fate more than I do now. In Colombia, every time I follow my gut, follow my real feelings and desires, I end up exactly where I feel I should be. The past few days I decided to follow a new path, conquer new fears, and do things I've never done before but have always wondered about. My path lead me to a few people and experiences I will not soon forget. While I don't have time to retell everything, I thought one meeting in particular might be interesting to a few (especially those who know my entire adoption search story). 

The end of the new path I took two nights ago, lead me to a bar last night that I had not been to in several months. It was 3am and the group I was with wanted to hear salsa music. I wanted to show my new friend the view from this bar's window on the 2nd floor. I had taken a picture from that same window exactly a year ago when I came to Cartagena for the first time and that view has always been magical to me. There's just something about the smokey lighting that permeates through the Passageway of the Martyrs and finds its way to the Clock Tower entrance to the Old City that gives me a feeling of peace and happiness. I glanced at a woman sitting right where I was hoping to sit. She yelled something to her mate who was inside the bar and caught my eye. I did a double-take. "No, it couldn't be," I thought. "But maybe...?" I immediately turned to this new friend of mine who already knows more about me than you could imagine, and began to tell him that she looked exactly like this woman I had been communicating with about my adoption last year. I didn't get the whole sentence out though before something within me kicked me forward to just say something to this woman. 

She looked at me, noticing that I had been staring at her, and apologized, asking if I wanted to stand in the area she was in. I shook my head, and bent down to where she was sitting. I said, "No, no...it's just that I thought you were this woman named Alina." Her eyes lit up and said, "I AM Alina!!" I couldn't hold back. The same feelings that I had experienced for the first time last month came rushing back and I couldn't help but cry. For those of you who don't know, Alina is who I am named after. My first name, before I was adopted, was Alina Marin. I got Marin from my birth mother and Alina from a woman who worked at Chiquitines, the orphanage I lived in for 3 months of my life. Alina was around 20 years old when I was born and her position was similar to that of an Office Manager. She was the owner's daughter and spoke the most English of anyone at Chiquitines. Alina communicated with my parents via snail mail about me. 

As I've said in previous posts, my mom saved almost every single letter and piece of information she could from my adoption. Last year at Christmas she gave me a booklet of everything she had saved- pictures, letters, documents, case statements, etc. It was one of the best Christmas gifts I'd ever gotten. :) I started picking through the details and decided to try to find Alina Hleap by Googling her. I found out through Google that she is a movie producer and I even found her email address. I emailed her, hoping it was the same Alina Hleap, and I lucked out. We almost met a year ago because she was in Cartagena for the International Film Festival (an annual Festival that's in Cartagena now) while I was visiting for the first time. We never did find a moment to meet, which was disappointing at the time, but maybe it was for a reason. 

Alina, as she herself told me last night, held me in her arms the first 3 months of my life. She explained to my friend that she felt like she had been my mother those 3 months. Finding her meant a lot to me. I couldn't stop thanking her for all that she did for me as a baby. Without a place like Chiquitines, I don't know where I'd be or if I'd even be alive. Meeting her was like meeting my birth mom again. It was very emotional for both of us. She kept asking how I knew it was her. While I've seen her main Facebook photo, I really didn't know her face well. I don't know how to explain it, but it was the same feeling I got when I saw my birth mother for the first time- I just knew. 

The night couldn't have ended any better. Things just keep coming in full circles. I don't know where this path started or where it might end, but I'm fully enjoying this journey and I hope I continue to really listen to myself since it seems that I'm finding my way.
(Pic above of yellow brick road from Wizard of Oz) 

Together Again

As soon as we heard that they had found my birth mom, I rushed to Raul's wife to thank and hug her for all her help. George, the taxi driver, had already started the car, and Monica and I hopped in before we realized we hadn't paid our internet bill. We jumped out to pay them the $3,000 COP ($1.50 US), which I don't think they were expecting, and piled back in the car. Raul and another man, who seemed to come out of nowhere, hopped on a motorcycle to lead us up the insanely steep hill to my mom. Within the first few minutes, their motorcycle stopped and Raul talked briefly to a woman who had been walking briskly down the hill in our direction. The motorcycle continued up the hill, but this lady waved us to stop. George, again, asked the question of the day, "Do you know Teodora Marin Cabezas?" And for the first time, we received a positive response. "Yeah, she lives up the street...but who's looking," she asked as she peered in our cab? She was holding a cell phone, and I had a strong feeling she had my birth mom on the phone at that moment. Monica was sitting in the seat nearest her, so she quickly replied, "a family member."


As we continued our ascent up the rocky, dirt road, my heart was racing, and I was trying every means possible to calm myself down. I fought the fear and I fought the urge to cry, but I welcomed the excitement. For those 5 minutes it took the climb the hill, our cab's wheels worked as hard as they could to grip the road below, and I worked as hard as I could to remember what I was going to say to her. It seemed as if everything I had thought of before had slipped out of my memory; I couldn't remember anything. I decided to focus on the first sentence I'd say to her and how to say it without crying.


The motorcycle finally parked on the curve of the road at what seemed to be the top of the hill. I looked out the window and saw a woman walking down stone stairs. Even though she was quite far away, I knew it was my birth mom. I didn't have a clear view of her face, but I could just sense it. I felt the tears pushing their hardest, trying to be set free, but I wouldn't let them out. I kept repeating the first sentence in my head, but it was getting harder and harder to concentrate.


Finally, my birth mom was right in front of me and without a second's delay, I blurted out (while crying-doh!), "Hi,myname'sAlicia,Iwasborn28yearsagoandwasadoptedfromanorphanagenamedChiquitines.IthinkI'myyourdaughter!" She looked at me with a bewildered expression, but placed her hand on my arm me as if trying to comfort a stranger. Soooo...didn't go quite the way I had imagined. Trying to stop from crying seemed impossible, so I turned to Monica, who only had a few tears in her eyes, for help. Monica asked her, "Did you give a child up for adoption 28 years ago?" Looking around at the people who were with me, she immediately replied, "Come up to my house so I can tell you my story, and you can tell me yours." Monica mumbled that maybe we had the wrong person, but I was certain that we didn't. My birth mom, Monica, and I walked up several stone steps, out of sight from the others, and she turned around and asked, "Now, tell me again what you said?" This time I was able to get it all out clearly. She hesitated, and Monica asked her again if she had given up a child 28 years ago. She finally nodded that yes, she had and turned to look me in the eyes. Then, as if it suddenly hit her, she grabbed me and hugged me saying something like, "Oh, my dear child..." I felt like I didn't want to let go. I really couldn't believe that I had finally found her. She asked me to come up to her house so she could explain her side of the story and tell me about my family.


My mom lives on a steep mountain-side in San Agustín, a neighborhood next to La Sirena. She owns a good chunk of land, but says her health has kept her from taking good care of it. I invited George to come up with us as I knew we might be there for awhile. George had to catch his breath from the walk up to her house. It's quite steep and my mom is 63, yet had no problem striding up the steps. She's living quite poorly, but is surrounded by beautiful scenery. Her yard is full of fruit trees and tropical and exotic plants. She has plátano, coffee, and guanábana trees (an exotic fruit- one of my personal favorites), and there were several chickens and two dogs around the side of her house. There are only three rooms- she has a large bedroom with two beds, a cozy kitchen, and a storage area along back of the house. My brother, apparently, built half of her house.

While filling me in on why she gave me up for adoption (will have to save most of these conversations for another blog...or maybe, the book??), she began telling me about the other children she already had at the time of my birth- my brothers and sisters. Turns out, I still have 5 half-brothers and sisters. Last year during my visit to the orphanage, the director had told my mom and I that as of 28 years ago, I had 5 half-brothers and sisters, but I didn't know if they were still alive. My birth mom confirmed that they were all alive. Three live in Cali (2 brothers and 1 sister), one sister lives in the Canary Islands, and my other brother lives in Tolima.

Within the first 10 minutes of being at my mom's place, my sister just happened to call from the Canary Islands. While on the phone, my mom interrupted her and said, "I have a huge surprise to tell you. Do you remember the daughter I told you about who i had to give up for adoption?" She broke down in tears and added, "Well, she's here at my side." I was able to talk to my sister for the first time and we were both so excited that we kept interrupting each other with questions. After I got off the phone with her, my mom pulled out a bunch photos of all my brothers and sisters. One of my sisters and I look a lot alike (see girl on left side of pic)- it's so crazy seeing people who have similar body types and facial features. I had a hard time focusing on everything that was being said because I felt like I was absorbing everything around me, so it was hard to keep up. I was super lucky to have George with us because he speaks English fluently. He was able to translate if I got lost, and trust me, it happened a lot.

About 30 minutes after being there, I heard children's voices coming from down the hill. I looked up to catch the eyes of a male version of me! It was my brother, Medardo, and his children. Turns out my sister from the Canary Islands had called all of my brothers and my sister and told them that I was at our mom's house. I had an instant connection with Medardo and he was all smiles my entire stay. He introduced me to his children and it quickly dawned on me that I'm an aunt!  ...To ELEVEN nephews and nieces! And you thought you had a lot of Christmas presents to buy! ha! ;) I'm the youngest of 6, and I make our family even- 3 boys and now 3 girls. Medardo is 40 now and was 12 years old when I was born. He remembers my mom being pregnant and has always held a little resentment toward her for giving me up (will talk more about this in another blog). Needless to say, he was extremely happy to see me last weekend and has called several times since I've left. His children are adorable and so beautiful.

A little while later, my youngest brother Jorge came to my mom's house with his son and daughters. He's taller, like me, but has a different father than the rest of our siblings. He and I may have the same father (again, will need to save details for another blog), but that's up for debate right now. Unfortunately, my mom could not give me much information on my father. I'm not sure how upset I am about that. From what I know, it seems that he left my mom after hearing she got pregnant in the first 3 months of their dating. I'm lucky to have a fantastic, loving dad already who has been there for me since day 1. Jorge and I also got along really well. His ex-girlfriend, believe it or not, was the one who heard the loudspeaker message in San Agustín and pointed us up the hill to my mom. There's a connection between my brothers and I that I can honestly say I've never felt before with a complete stranger. I can't wait to learn more about them and their girlfriends/wives. That night, even though I was feeling extremely sick, Monica and I went out to celebrate in Cali. I felt like I was walking on air.

The next day, we went to Medardo's house for lunch and I got to hang out with 5 of my nephews and nieces. I'll spare you the details on how I threw up over their balcony- I was pretty sick by then even though I worked as hard as I could to fight it. There, I also got to meet Medardo's wife and his youngest son who I hadn't met the day before. I really enjoyed getting to know a little bit about everyone and I can't wait for another family reunion! My oldest niece, Daniela, is turning 15 on May 13th, 5 days before my b-day, so I may try to come back to Cali for her quinceañera (we also look alike! hehe). 

My new family has welcomed me with open arms and hearts. Every one of them has called me since I left Cali last Monday...several times.  I've been so happy and stress-free since I found them. I can't wait to share more about my family, but I know the last few blogs have been extremely long. I'm seriously contemplating writing a book about this journey because one of my favorite things to do now is convince other adoptees to search for their families. I can't tell you how blessed I feel to have two loving families now. This may just be the beginning of what I see as a happy ending. :o) 
{Below, i've posted more pics from Cali of my brother's ex girlfriend who heard the loudspeaker message in San Agustín, my brothers Jorge and Medardo, Medardo's wife, and my new nieces and nephews. I also posted a pic of me at the ER just for fun- 1st IV I've ever had! wahoo...}

Toma Aliento (Deep Breath)

Things dont always turn out quite the way you expect. This past weekend may take awhile to retell, so please bear with me.

Friday, Monica and i arrived in Cali and did a little sight-seeing. I had felt a little sick on Wednesday night and was steadily getting worse so we couldn't do much. While we were heading to a Salsateca, I decided to ask our random taxi driver if he knew the neighborhood La Sirena and if he thought it was dangerous. He hesitated for a moment, glanced through his rearview mirror, and said "more or less¨ in a guarded manner. I laughed and said, ¨So, yes.¨ I had expected that answer as everyone had been saying the same thing. He then said there are guerillas in the area...now that got my attention. I immediately told Monica that she didn't need to go with me if she was scared. She laughed and told me she was more worried about me. She told me not to say a word while we were looking around the neighborhood so people wouldn't hear my accent. Fine by me!

Saturday morning, our faithful cab driver, George, took us into La Sirena. When I came to Cali the first time with my mom, we had the pleasure of meeting George through our hotel. He was so nice, helpful, and trustworthy that my mom suggested I call him and ask him to take us to La Sirena. This neighborhood really didn't look bad- it didn't seem any worse than neighborhoods I had been to around Cartagena.We drove in a bit up this rocky road and soon saw the street name that we were looking for. The only problem was that the street numbers were not matching up. Instead of the houses having two numbers -like i had for my birth mom's house (12-26), there was only one number. So, we started with number 26. Nope, they had never heard of her, but they told us to try number 12, which was around the circular block. We arived at a cute house and got the attention of an elderly woman living there. She said she had been the landlord at that house for 32 years and had never heard of a Teodora Marin Cabezas. I immediately thought of the letter i had sent and we asked if she had gotten any mail recently. She shook her head apologetically and said that there were addresses at the top of the hill that often get confused with her's.

Although we didn't quite understand what she meant, we drove further up the hill to ask a few more people if they knew my birth mom or any family members with the same last name. No, no, and no. One man said he knew of a family that ran a hair cuttery with the last name Cabezas. We drove to his address and asked if anyone knew a José Cabezas. The lively chatter at his shop stopped suddenly as if i had cut the salsa music playing in the background off. The man cutting hair asked, ¨who's looking?¨ George explained what we were doing and the same man replied that he was, in fact, José, but he had never heard of a Teodora Marin Cabezas. A few of these men suggested we ask the water control office since just about everyone in the neighborhood had running water and they'd probably have her address, but we soon learned it was closed for the day. While driving, George explained to us that many people in small neighborhoods like this one are terrified of guerillas and are hesitant to give their names or family's whereabouts to strangers.

Next, George stopped at an elderly person's home to ask the landowner there if he knew a Teodora. While he didn't, he suggested we ask a man named Raul. ¨Raul knows everything about La Sirena¨ he said, convincingly. Raul and his family are in charge of the cable for La Sirena. We stopped at Raul's house, which looked like an old plantation house surrounded by lush trees and plants and was significantly bigger and nicer than the other houses in the area, but his daughter told us that he wasn't home.

George asked me what I wanted to do. ¨Let's try the police station,¨ I shrugged. George warned me that the police wouldn't do anything for me, but i argued that I wanted to try anyway because I was running out of options. At first we couldn't even get through the front gate, but we finally convinced the guards to let Monica and I talk to a few more guards closer to the entrance of the building; George had to stay put. Monica and I pleaded with them to let us talk to a few officers to see if they could help us. After 10 minutes of arguing back and forth (them telling me that i should go on the radio or TV to announce that i was looking for my mom and me telling them I only had one day left in Cali and another police officer in Cartagena had gotten me an address, so it should be easier for them), one of these guards said he knew a few officers who may be able to help. He led us to a windowless office with two computers sharing the same desk pushed up against one of the 4 white walls. The officers we were talking to were detectives who specialized in homocides. The three officers began to search online for information, but this I soon realized, was nothing different than i had done in Cartagena a few months ago. Their internet dropped and one of the officers told me to come back in 2 hours. The other officer, who may have had a small crush on Monica, took us aside and said he may be able to help us, but we'd have to go to another building. Off we went to another police building. This one looked more like a normal office with cubicles and windows. The officers in this building specialized in kidnapping and extortion cases. Our friendly detective began asking his co-workers for their help, but everything was done quietly behind cubicle walls. Monica and I waited and waited for an answer of some sort. The detective finally came back and said he had good and bad news. They had matched Teodora's cedula number to her name, but they had found out that she didn't own any property, didn't have a car, and didn't own a landline nor cell phone. These are all things I knew or could've guessed, but I thanked them for their time and help. The detective told me he'd be in contact if he found out any more info and suggested I go back to La Sirena to ask as many people as possible if they knew her.

I had come all this way, I was not about to give up easily. One of the first people we talked to back in La Sirena suggested we ask the water plant owner (whose office had been closed earlier) and was able to give us her home address. Her daughter told us she was sleeping, but once she heard why we were asking, she went into her mother's bedroom and came out with a negative response- they had never heard of my birth mother. Her family suggested we speak with Raul, the cable owner. We drove back to Raul's and although he still wasn't home, his wife was. She invited us to their office around the side of their house and called her husband to tell him to come home. We explained who we were looking for and why, and Raul replied that he didn't recognize the name, but knew of a few Marin's in the neighborhood. While Raul went to ask a few neighbors in the area, his wife got out their cable records and began calling all the Marin's and Cabezas in La Sirena. Raul's wife also called the people who run the loudspeaker, which is audible throughout the entire neighborhood, and had Raul run a message asking if anyone knew a Teodora Marin Cabezas. She even got permission to make the announcement over the loudspeakers in the adjoining neighborhood, San Agustin. I couldn't help but smile when I heard Teodora's name radiate throughout the streets. A few minutes later, several people came to Raul's house and I rose with excitement thinking they may know something about my birth mom, but, of course, they were just coming to pay their cable bill.

As I sat on this kind family's paved backyard watching Raul and his wife play with her newborn girl while calling at least 30 people, a wave of fear and disappointment came over me. What if my parents were right? Should I have waited until I confirmed her address? It had already been 4 hours since we first came to La Sirena and my optimism was deflating as time passed. I took out this little Peruvian angel figure that a good family friend had given me for luck and safety only a a few weeks before and even though I tried to hold back, I couldn't help but shed a few tears. I was overcome with frustration and couldn't believe I was going to go back to Cartagena with nothing. I kept thinking that I had followed all the signs and took all the risks I could to be right here, in this moment, and I just couldn't believe that this long road that I had journeyed along led to nothing. Monica told me later that day that she had seen me holding the angel and had felt a pain in her chest, so she closed her eyes and began to pray for answers.

George called for me to come inside to where he was searching the internet because he said he had found Teodora's Ficha number (a number I had already found, but i had forgotten that the webpage wasn't working in the past so we were unable to do anything with it before). This number can link you to family members and their cedula numbers. While we were scambling to do that, I heard a lot of commotion outside and Raul's wife was shouting my name...I dropped everything and looked out the door. She shouted, ¨Les encontramos (we found them)!!!¨ I looked at Monica in disbelief asking with my eyes to repeat what they had said, and she confirmed it...they had found my birth mom.

{As this entry is super long, I'll save the next entry for how it went... My computer charger gave out on me over the weekend, so I apologize for the delay!}

Where Does Your Family Tree Begin?

I had the chance to get to know one of the couples staying in our hotel this afternoon. This couple is extremely nice- the lady is from Michigan and her boyfriend is from England. We talked for nearly an hour this morning, during which they asked me why I was here. As I said in previous posts, I welcome the chance to tell people about my search for my birth mother now, unlike before. I shared my stress, anxiety, and excitement- it's really quite therapeutic for me. I told them how important it was to me to find a blood relative of mine. I've never had that connection before. I've never stared into the eyes of someone who looked like me, who had the same blood running through their veins. It's a hard feeling to describe to someone who has blood relatives, but I know other adoptees feel me. Anyway, after I had gone through what seemed to be my entire story, the woman shared hers.

Turns out, this guest of ours had to give up her new-born when she was 18. I was shocked. I stared at her like she was a gold mine of information. I had so many questions for her, but didn't want to pry into her personal life if she wasn't ready. I did, however, ask the one question that has been on my mind ever since I can remember- do you remember your child's birthday? Her demeanor changed, she looked me straight in the eye and told me the exact date, year, and time that he was born. She told me she NEVER stops thinking about him and that mothers never forget their children, no matter how long its been. Relief...a little piece of my soul healed.

Her situation is a little different than mine, obviously. Firstly, she said hers was an open adoption, so her son can get ahold of her if he wants to. Secondly, he gets access to all medical records, which (trust me) would've been nice to have. Thirdly, they both live in the US. It does make it more difficult for her, though. She still hasn't heard from him, but is thinking about contacting him this year. You see, he just turned 18 so it's completely legal now for her to search for him. She's just not sure if he wants to hear from her. I felt her anxiety through her words because it's such a familiar feeling. Fourthly, she told me she had written him a letter when she was 18 to explain what had happened and how much it hurt her. I would've killed for a letter- any kind of contact...just to see something of my mother's would've given me more confidence in her love for me. I didn't receive any such thing until I went to the orphanage 9 months ago and saw her case statement.

As I've said in past posts, some adoptees harbor hatred and anger toward their birth mother for giving them up. Some just don't understand how a mother could leave them. Others get stuck with adoptive parents that abuse them or never end up with parents at all. I understand adoptees who never want to meet their birth parents (it's a hard and sometimes uncomfortable feeling & what do you do with the relationship once you find out?), but to hear this woman talk about her struggle and what she's gone through, has really helped me understand what it must be like for my birth mother.

I no longer feel forgotten. This conversation brought me confidence. I am somehow on the right path. I feel like I was supposed to have met this guest, talked to her in depth, and shared my story so she could feel comfortable enough to share hers. My words brought her comfort and confidence to go ahead with her plan. She seemed to have made her decision- she was going to contact her son by the end of this year. Her boyfriend looked pleasantly surprised and extremely happy for her. We then went out to explore Cartagena and they treated me to my favorite sushi restaurant (Tabetai!), which brought us all peace and happiness! :o)

Keep trying, keep pushing, keep searching...I'm not going to let fear get in the way this time. I'm already here in Colombia, and I'm so close to finding her...I'm so close to finding my roots.