Heartbreak and Hope

Sometimes the unexpected happens.

A few weeks ago my Dad told me he had given my phone number to one of mom's former students.  He couldn't quite remember her name but he knew she had visited them, sent them cards at Christmas, and called them several times over the years. Odd, I thought that she would want to talk to me, but ok.  He said he thought she probably wanted to ask how mom was doing. 

Within a few days I discovered a message from a lady named Fern.  She explained in the message that she really wanted me to contact her and that it was really important.  She left her number.  

Honestly, something seemed strange so I put off calling her for over a week.  Then I decided I was acting childish and went ahead and returned her call.  What happened next was unexpected and heartbreaking and I know it will stay with me for a long time to come.  

The conversation started quite normally even though I could sense a nervousness in Fern's voice.  She asked about Mom's health and how long they had been living with me.  She talked about how she had visited my parents and kept up with them over the years.  Then, she asked about my brother. She called him by name and said she remembered that they had adopted him when they lived in Russell Springs.  I thought....oh no....what has he done now.  He is a destructive force, but one of Mom's former students?  I braced myself and about the time I started to say "What has he done now" out loud, the conversation totally changed gears.  Fern said she had better tell me why she had called.  She wanted to tell me her story.


Fern was the youngest of nine children and they grew up in Russell Springs, Kentucky.  They were dirt poor, but her parents had done the best they could to take care of them.  Her mother and father had both passed away young, so really Fern had taken care of herself.  When she was fourteen she was raped by a family member and as a result became pregnant.  This had happened in the spring of 1961 and she went on to explain that back then there weren't a lot of options for poor unwed mothers and so she kept the pregnancy to herself for as long as she could.  That fall she began her freshman year at Russell Springs High School.  This is where my mother came into the picture.  Somehow my mother realized Fern was pregnant.  Fern says from then on my Mom saved her.  Mom encouraged her to stay in school and helped her realize she could give the child up for adoption.  Mom introduced her to the social worker who ended up handling the adoption.  Her baby, a boy, was born in December of 1961.  I suddenly felt pain for this woman because I knew where the conversation was going next. 

Fern explained that she had kept up with my parents and my brother over the years because she felt that Eric was her son.  Now that she was getting on in years and my mother couldn't remember her anymore she wanted to talk to me about Eric.  She thought Eric was her son. 

I had a moment where I realized I could let Fern keep on thinking that Eric was her son to save her the heartache.  I also realized just as quickly how wrong that would be...even if the truth was painful.   

I stopped her story and gently explained that Eric was not hers.  He had been born in April of 1962 in Ashland, Kentucky.  I also explained to her that I had found Eric's mother several years ago and that she lives in Georgia.  Suddenly it was very quiet on the other end of the phone.  I didn't say anything.  I just waited.  

Finally she explained that the reason she had thought that Eric was hers all of these years was because after the social worker would see her at the school, she would often go to Mom's classroom to see Mom. She didn't know why at the time the social worker was visiting with my parents, but after the announcement of my brother's adoption came out, she had made the connection to her baby because of the social worker.  It had never crossed her mind that it could be mere coincidence.

My heart broke for Fern.  Can you imagine?  All these years.  I understood her story more than most would.  I also knew from conversations with my birth mother, how painful the not knowing where I was or if I was safe had been for her over the years.  Fern had spent the last 49 years following from a distance the life of a child she thought was hers.  She had taken comfort in knowing he had a good home and more secure about her choice because of that.  

I felt I had taken the wind out of her sails, but we talked for a bit longer.  In the course of that conversation I told her about my own search for my birth mother and my search for Eric's birth mother. I told her if she wanted she could send me copies of all the information she had and I would see what I could do. I explained not to put a whole lot of hope in my efforts and that while finding Eric's had been quick, my search had taken 17 years. 

I wasn't sure I would hear from her again, but a couple of days ago I got a rather large envelope in the mail from her.  Inside were copies of everything she had about her son, whose name had been Leroy, including the letter she had written to him that was added to her state record many years ago in case he ever searched for her.  There was also a very sweet note thanking me for the conversation even though it was difficult and for offering to help her. 

I am not sure what I have gotten myself into or if I will have any luck at all.  What I do know though, is that if there is the slightest chance I can help mend a stranger's broken heart, I have to try.  

We go through what we go through to help others go through what we went through.
--- Unknown