My mom had begrudgingly given me the name of the adoption agency after several rounds of ‘You’ll always be my mom no matter what I find.’ But the first time I called, the agency turned out to be a dead end. Since it had been a closed adoption they couldn’t legally give me any more information than I already had. My records were sealed and the chances of obtaining my original birth certificate were slim. They’d told me the adoption laws in New York City were some of the most restrictive in the country. I’d reached out to them repeatedly, by both phone and email, but kept getting the same result. I’d made one last effort, asking them to escalate my case to upper management, but it was clear that hadn’t worked. My frustration mounted at all the roadblocks I kept hitting as I re-read the latest correspondence.

Ms Catalano,

As I mentioned to you on the phone during our last call, the only way we are able to release your original birth certificate is with a court order. This is usually only granted for medical purposes in life or death circumstances. I understand this is a difficult situation for you and your family and I am sorry I cannot be of more help. While we cannot assist you in your request, you may wish to look into the Adoption Information Registry. The Registry can share non-identifying information, like religion, general appearance, and occupation of biological parents who have adopted out their children. I hope this is of some help and comfort to you.

Best wishes,

Darla Kinney

I sighed, leaning back heavily in my seat. I had submitted my form into the Adoption Information Registry website after one of my previous conversations with the adoption agency, hoping to at least get a little more information on my biological parents. Unfortunately, the confirmation email said it could take up to six months. I knew it wasn’t likely to help me much in finding my biological parents anyway, but I wanted to explore every avenue.

Not able to concentrate on work anymore after taking this hit on my search for answers, I logged off and grabbed my purse.

‘Hey girls, I’m heading out, I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I said quickly to Lilli and Megan, the other two women on my team who sat next to me in our corner. They called out goodbyes as I hustled out the door, riding the elevator down and pushing into the wall of humidity outside. Ignoring the sweat building under my silk blouse, I jogged down the subway stairs and felt a wave of relief at the cooler gust of air as the train whooshed into the station just as I hit the platform.