When my dad was dying, he handed me the key to my past. But how long would it take for me to unlock it? By Mary Arbuthnot, 59
My dad Richy pushed a brown envelope towards me, then squeezed my hand.
When I opened it, there was a note from him inside that read, Hiya Queen, any information you need to find your birth family is here.
Queen was the nickname Dad had given me when I was a girl.
I’d been just 10 weeks old when he and my mum Joan had adopted me. They’d never hidden the fact from me, and had given me a blissfully happy childhood.
At seven, they’d sat me down to explain a bit more about what it meant to be adopted. They told me I was special because I’d been chosen.
Being so young, I didn’t really understand. But they were such loving, fantastic parents, I didn’t feel the need to ask any questions.
As I got older, however, I sometimes wondered why my birth mother had given me up. Was she young and unable to cope?
Despite that, I hadn’t seriously thought about trying to find her.
But now, Dad, who was poorly with cancer, had handed me all the paperwork he had about my adoption, including the original court documents, and the name and number of the agency who’d arranged it.
He didn’t have long left, and
I knew he was trying to get things in order.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said, hugging him.
A few days later, I contacted the adoption agency and gave them the information I had. And a week later, they called, urging me to meet with one of the adoption counsellors.
But when I sat
in front of her, I wasn’t prepared for what
she told me.
‘You have two full siblings, Bridget and George,’ she said.
‘Wow!’ I gasped.
They’d both been adopted too, and by different families, so we’d all grown up apart.
Then, she delivered more astounding news.
Instead of the naive teenage mum I’d imagined, my mother had been 35 when she’d had me.
She was from Ireland and so was my birth father, but they’d met in London. They weren’t married and, back in the 1960s when I’d been born, having children out of wedlock would’ve been frowned upon.
So, she’d had me in a mother and baby home in Liverpool, then after leaving me there, she’d returned to London.
What happened to my brother and sister? I wondered.
'It feels like the right time'
But with Dad so poorly, and with so much to take in, it didn’t feel like the right time to dig deeper, so I put what I’d discovered to one side.
Just 18 months later, Dad passed away, leaving us heartbroken. And while Mum was still with us, I was too worried about upsetting her to resume my search.
But I often thought about my siblings, and wondered if they were searching for me too.
They remained in my thoughts as the years passed and I got married and had my own kids, Stephanie and Richard.
However, it was only after Mum passed away
17 years later, of dementia, that I started thinking seriously about finding my brother and sister.
One evening, we were watching ITV’s Long Lost Family on TV, and I turned to Stephanie and said, ‘I’d love to find my birth family, but I have no idea where to start.’
When the show ended, she emailed the producers to ask for their help, giving them the few details I had.
‘Thanks, love, it feels like the right time,’ I said.
Then, I put it to the back of my mind, telling myself that if
I was lucky enough for the show to take on my case, I’d be delighted. But if not, I’d have tried.
Six months later, a producer called me to ask me for more information.
There was a lot of paperwork that needed to be scanned, such as birth certificates.
But once the ball started rolling, I felt my anticipation building.
Over the next two years, I kept in regular contact with the producers, until one day, they told me they were coming to meet me to start filming my story.
That must mean they’ve found something, I thought.
Although I tried not to get my hopes up too much.
On the first day, the cameras were
set up at the Albert Docks, near the mother and baby home where my birth mum left me.
There, they asked me about my family history.
Then, a couple of days later, the producer Alex came to talk to me.
‘We’ve got some bad news,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid we’ve found out that your birth mum has died.’
‘I’m sorry she’s passed away,’ I said. ‘But I didn’t know her.’
Then he told me that presenter Davina McCall would be coming to meet me next day.
That night, I couldn’t sleep, thinking about whether they’d found my siblings, and if we’d get to finally meet.
When Davina arrived, we sat down at my dining table, and she told me she had some news.
‘We’ve found your brother and sister,’ she said.
I started shaking, as she explained that George lived in Essex, while Bridget – whose name had been changed to Andrea by her adoptive parents – lived just 40 miles from him
in Kent.
The sense of euphoria that
swept over me was
like nothing I’d experienced before, especially when she handed me photos of them.
‘I’ve never seen anyone who looks like me before,’ I said, drinking in every detail.
Best of all, I was going to get to meet them the very next day, in a hotel in Liverpool.
When I walked in, nerves jangling, I saw Andrea sitting at a table waiting for me.
She got up as I walked towards her and we hugged, both of us in tears.
‘I’ve finally got a sister,’ I said.
‘Oh my God, you look just like me!’ she replied, as we gazed at each other in awe.
She was stunned, because
she hadn’t known she had
two long-lost siblings until the production team called her.
Then, moments later, George joined us and wrapped his arms around us both.
It had been 20 years since I’d found out they existed, and now we were together
at last.
‘I’ve been looking for my sisters since I found out four years ago,’ he said. ‘And here you are.’
When George asked me
why I’d left it 20 years to track them down, I told him the time hadn’t been right. But now we were together, I wished I’d done it sooner.
'You look just like me'
We swapped numbers,
and when it was time to say goodbye, we set up a WhatsApp group, so we could keep in touch.
Since our reunion, I’ve been down to London to spend time with them both. I’ve also met George’s family, including his son – my nephew.
‘No one can believe I’ve gone from being an only child to having lots of siblings!’ George said, laughing.
We have so much to catch up on, and we’re determined to make up for all that lost time.
I don’t think I’ll ever truly know why we were given up, but it doesn’t really matter.
While I was lucky to have a brilliant upbringing, there was always a piece missing. Now,
I definitely feel complete.
Through no fault of our own, my brother, sister and I were separated for years.
But now I’ve found them,
I’m not letting them go!