March 12--Both retired professors, Julia Gagne, 67, and her older half-brother, Douglass Fiero, 75, share passions including classic literature. ("He has me rereading 'David Copperfield,'" Gagne said.) They talk. They email. They text. They have a lot of catching up to do. Until recently, they didn't know the other existed.
"I always knew I was adopted," said Gagne, of Orlando, Fla. But she knew nothing about her birth family.
"Douglass remembers when he and his sister were sent to Chicago to stay with relatives when he was 7," said Gagne of Fiero, who lives in Portland, Ore. "That must have been when (my birth mother) had me."
In 2014, Gagne registered her name on www.23andme.org, a genealogy website. That triggered an email from Fiero's son that read, "I think I'm your nephew."
Although her birth mom died in 1977 and her half-sister in 2001, Gagne is relieved, she said, "to know my backstory. Finally, I can tell my doctor my medical history instead of saying, 'I don't know.'"
More birth relatives are finding one another with the help of social media, genealogy websites and open records laws that give adoptees access to their birth certificates.
"No one keeps track of the number of reunions, but many more people can now get the information they need to find each other," said Adam Pertman, president of the National Center on Adoption and Permanency.
Many closed adoptions, such as Gagne's, took place in the U.S. between 1930 and 1980. Before 1930, adoption was not always recorded and not every baby had a birth certificate, explained Pertman. Adoptive parents often "took in" children who needed homes, he said.
Early birth certificates were stamped "illegitimate" if the baby's parents were unmarried. States issued new certificates with the adoptive parents listed as mother and father.
"It was deemed best for there to be a complete and early break between mother and relinquished child for the sakes of both," according to Bastard Nation, a site that champions open records.
Then came stacks of studies by social scientists showing what the adoptee, birth family and adoptive family knew intuitively -- open adoptions benefit all parties. After 1980, open adoptions became the norm.
"We encourage honesty," said Brian DeVos, senior vice president of Bethany Christian Services, an international adoption agency based in Grand Rapids, Mich.
In the past few decades, activists have persuaded many states to open some or all of their sealed adoption records. Kansas and Alaska never sealed their records.
Some states require mutual consent from the adoptee and birth mother, but "only a minuscule percentage of birth moms say, 'no contact wanted,'" said Pertman.
In mutual-consent states, "confidential intermediaries," such as Lake Havasu City, Ariz.-based Debra Allen, are authorized to open sealed records if both parties consent.
Why search?
Short of reunions with birth relatives, many just want simple answers, said DeVos. "For adoptees, it's, 'Where did I get my curly hair?'" he said. "For birth parents, it's, 'I just want to know if he's OK.'"
Some adoptees only want their medical histories, said Allen. One of her clients had an elective mastectomy after learning she had inherited a BRCA gene, which made her likely to get breast cancer.
The biggest obstacle, said adoption gurus, is fear.
"My brother -- also adopted -- had found his birth mom, and she didn't want anything to do with him," said Tony Mercer, 32, who also used www.23andme.org. "I was afraid of being rejected too."
Fortunately, Mercer's search had a happy ending. "We both realized what a missing piece the other person was," said Mercer of his birth mom. "I'm so proud of her. She's a cancer survivor. She's caring and balanced, despite having three kids before she was 20."
The bonus was learning where he'd gotten his height (6 feet 5 inches), short thumbs and musical ability, added Mercer, a Lakeland, Fla., pianist.
"No one can write a 'Reunion 101' how-to book because every case is so different," said Susan Friel-Williams, a Cape Coral, Fla., private investigator and coordinator of reunionregistry.org. But, there is no shortage of help.
The Internet is rife with people who link adoptive family members. They include for-profit private investigators, unpaid "search angels" and thousands of people with successful searches.
Thanks to social media, you can start by being your own detective. Plug your name into adoption registries such as Adoptees' Liberty Movement Association (almasociety.org), adoption.com, ISRR.org and reunionregistry.org.
Online communities including the American Adoption Congress (americanadoptioncongress.org), Bastard Nation (bastards.org), Binti (binti.com), Concerned United Birthparents (cubirthparents.org) and the National Center on Adoption and Permanency (ncap-us.org) also are valuable resources.
"Dedicate a special email address and Facebook page to your search, so you can weed out solicitors," said Priscilla Sharp, a State College, Pa., retired paralegal who became an adoption angel after locating her birth daughter.
Adoptees, ask the agency that handled your adoption if it can give you information. If your adoption was private or the records were lost or destroyed years ago, you can use DNA to help with the search at sites including ancestry.com, ancestrydna.com, familytreedna.com and www.23andme.org.
To find out if birth certificates are open in your state, see the updated list at americanadoptioncongress.org.
Birth certificates can mislead you, though, warned Allen. "Often, a birth mother was encouraged to omit the birth father's name," she said. "Then, the court didn't have to get his permission for the adoption to go through."
Before you call your newfound relative, send a letter. "Be thoughtful and considerate," advised Pertman, because you don't know the circumstances.
In addition to linking parent and child, many searches result in friendships unique to adoptive families. After Laura Merryman, 41, reunited with her birth son, Andrew, 24, in 2012, she became friends with his adoptive mom. "We talk and text several times a week," she said.
Merryman and her birth son consider each other members of their extended families. "I'm his friend, while his parents are his parents," said Merryman, a Chapel Hill, Tenn., lien analyst for a hospital system. "He came to my 40th birthday party. I went to his college graduation."
Gagne and Fiero made a similar connection. "His family has welcomed me, even though I came out of nowhere," said Gagne.
On Mercer's birthday, his "new" half-brother posted "Happy birthday, bro" on Facebook. "That," said Mercer, "was pretty cool."
Leslie Mann is a freelance writer.
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