Facebook helped me find my family!

I was born to a 16-year-old, but I was raised by a revolutionary. My young mother got on drugs sometime after I was born. July of 1986, must have been an interesting year for her. She had just given birth to me, and was about to celebrate her son's first birthday. Despite the drug addiction, our young mother still tried to hold onto us. They didn't call the 80's the "crack era" for no reason. Drugs took precedent over everything. Everyone in the house was on drugs. Before I reached the age of three, I had been hospitalized a few times, because of dehydration. Due to a tip to CPS, we were all taken from the house. I was put into the system at 18 months. Both parents had signed over their parental rights. I went to an emergency foster care until I was placed with an elderly couple that ran a more stable foster home. My earliest memory was of this couple. They were elderly and strict, but they loved me with every inch of themselves. This was my first warm memory. I recall a woman coming to visit me. She played with me, read me stories, and made me feel safe. She was lovely. The next thing I remembered was skipping up a hill with her. I was so excited. This was first time I had got to leave with this nice lady. I was ecstatic! I recall her explaining to me that she was my mother, and that I had a big sister. She also explained that I would be living with them, from then on out. That was the start of my life. No, it was the start of my stable life. Sometime after that, my mom took me to meet my new family. There were so many people in one house, waiting to meet me. Just shy of four, I was of the rambunctious sort. At the foster home, I was surrounded by other kids from various backgrounds. With that being said, I might have picked up some of their habits. When I met my family that day, I acted out a little. Ok, maybe I fought and cursed like a sailor. The environment that I had come from was wild, but despite what I had been through the first three years of my life, I finally had a family. Over the years changes took place. My mom gave birth to a baby girl when I was six, we struggled while mom finished up her bachelor's degree, and I put her through hell my teen age years. Despite everything, she never gave me back. I know it sounds silly, but sometimes in my youthful thinking, I would think that my horrible behavior would cause my mother to give me back. I would actually act up, and push my mom to the limits. All of this was because I struggled with internal issues. My mom was awesome though. She had been a part of a group that branched out from the black panthers. She taught me how to love myself and others around me. My mother exposed me and my siblings to so much. From math and science summer programs, to pow wow's in the mountains of California. I remember when we hosted our first Kwanzaa celebration. Living with my mother and two sisters in our quiet neighborhood, shaped who I am today. She worked like crazy to make sure we had what we needed. I used to wonder why she never got married. She told us that she didn't want to bring a man around, for fear that he would hurt one of us and her not know it. My mom never hid anything from me. I always knew I was adopted. I knew that my young mother had been on drugs, and that I had an older sibling. At some point I found out that we were both put into the system. My brother didn't stay there long. We had different fathers, and when we were taken away, his father's mother came and got him. She tried to get me, but couldn't because her and I weren't blood related. This was the extent of my mother's knowledge about my biological mother. I had so many questions, and nowhere to turn for answers. At 16, I read through all the information my mom had on my adoption. Reading my birth parents name, made everything so real. I immediately started looking through a phone book. The phone book had similar names, but none of them led to anything. I let it rest for a few years. Within that time I finished high school, started college, and ended up transferring to a school in North Carolina. The year I had my daughter and graduated from college, my family had their first family reunion. It was beautiful. I never knew how big my family was. As I sat around with my infant, participating in festivities, I felt something. I felt a small sadness inside of me. Out of all of these people in this room, my daughter was my only blood relative. It was deep. I tried not to care, but every reunion after that was the same. Finally during the reunion this year, I decided to do a Facebook search for my biological mother. I had done Internet searches in the past, but I had not had any luck. I typed her name in, and to my surprise a picture popped up. A woman with the same name, age-range, and living in the Sacramento area caught my attention. I immediately messaged her. As I continued to snoop through her page, I saw a boy I went to school with in one of her pictures. I messaged him as well. Finally, I saw a woman that appeared to be her sister. I sent out one last message to this woman. Then, I waited. The waiting game was nerve racking. I kept thinking, "maybe they won't respond", or "maybe they will not like me". As so many thoughts ran through my head, almost an entire day went by. I must of checked by phone a million times. Finally, when I was not paying attention to it, I received a message. It was from the boy I went to summer school with. Within three short messages he told me that the woman in the picture with him was his mother. I quickly told him who I was, and to please call me. He did. The next few moments were chaos. People were screaming in the background of his phone, "we've been looking for you!" The phone was passed around, and people were called on three-way. Apparently after my brother and I were taken away, other family members tried to get me out of the system. At the time, none of them had a stable enough home for me to go to. When my mother adopted me, the adoption records were sealed, and my name was changed. My brother never stopped looking for me. Tearfully he explained that he had gone to several different agencies over the years trying to find me. Unfortunately, nobody could do anything because the adoption records were sealed. As we talked on the phone he explained to me the family dynamics. My biological mother had five of us – three girls and two boys. After going into detail about how they all were raised he says, "you were lucky to get adopted, you are the only one who made it." This stunned me. It weighed on me as well. I had to meet my family. About a month later we touched down in California. Stepping off the plane, I started feeling extremely nervous. After speaking to my biological aunt, we decided to meet for a BBQ at her house. Though this meeting was a week away, I couldn't help but feel some type of way. "Would they like me?" or "what if they didn't want any more contact after this visit?" After speaking to my brother, I had kept in contact with all my siblings over the phone. I was hoping since we had been texting and such, our first meeting wouldn't be awkward. It wasn't. I couldn't knock on the door. As I stood in front of my Aunt's house, I was terrified. With my daughter, boyfriend, and little sister by my side, we knocked on the door. It was like a scene from a movie. Everybody was hugging, kissing, and crying. "We never stopped looking for you," they exclaimed. With cameras flashing everywhere, I was pulled in every direction. Being introduced to everyone, I truly felt overwhelmed. My siblings couldn't stop wiping their eyes. My biological mom wanted to be in every picture with me. I was cordial to everyone. I didn't know how else to be. The rest of the evening was awesome. We ate and did fireworks. It was crazy looking up at my aunt's family pictures and thinking, "I am supposed to be on that wall". I had one more week in California, and I was supposed to meet up with them for my birthday for dinner. This time, there was no nervousness. I spent time with my siblings and sister in law. I had a blast. At the end of my visit they asked me, "do you want to meet your father's side?" I simply replied,"one-emotional family encounter per summer".