Rose's Page
About me
I'm a 55 year old woman. I have 3 adult daughters, and 3 teenage grandkids. I grew up in upstate NY, near the Canadian border. When I was 14, we moved to Denver, Colorado. I also have lived in PA, TX, IA, NE, and WA. I first moved here to MN in 1981 with my husband, but we left here in 1987. We moved back to Minnesota in 1993.
I’ve had a lot of different jobs through the years, and I’m a certified Human Services Technician, and I also took a year of Business Courses in 1990. I’m currently disabled, so I no longer work outside the home.
I write poetry, and have had 2 poems published, and another is going to be. I design and make my own necklaces and denim purses. I also make my own greeting cards. I make them to give away, although I have sold a few of my necklaces. I’m also in the process of teaching myself how to make signatures for emails and profiles. I’ve made some, and they’ve turned out pretty nice. I spend a lot of time on the internet. I belong to a few different social network sites. I'm recently widowed (6/25/07).
Don and me, 2 months before he died from lung cancer.
A Bit Of History
I moved to Denver in 1966, and went to Morey Jr. High School. I met Frank Garcia in Art Class in 9th grade. We were a couple from 9th grade until I left him in 1972.
Me, at 15 years old.
When I left Frank, I
didn't know I was expecting his child. When I found out, I was already living
in TX, and I was too ashamed and guilty to locate Frank and tell him. I was
forced to give our child up for adoption. There's a reason why I say forced,
but it's a long story, and it sounds unbelievable. I have a hard time
believing it myself sometimes.
I came from a very dysfunctional family. Alcohol, family secrets, and running away when things got rough were what my family did.
I was 17 when Frank went into the army. I lived with his family until I turned 18, then I left. I got a job as a live-in babysitter. Frank got into some trouble when he was still in the army, and wrote me a letter telling me in so many words to get lost.
I was hurt, but instead of trying to find out what the problem was, I met someone named John and went out with him out of spite. Then I started living with him. I got pregnant with John’s child. We moved to Texas, then we moved to Nebraska. John was very controlling, and abusive.
Kim around 8 months old, and me.
After Kimberli was born, I moved back to Denver. I somehow found Frank, and we started living together. That was the beginning of my cycles of going from Frank to John, and back again to Frank. When Kim was a few months old, I was back again with Frank, and John showed up, and I left Frank, and went to Texas with John. I didn’t know I was pregnant with Frank’s baby when I left. John was not interested in sex, and didn’t touch me, so I knew the baby was Frank’s.
My Personal Adoption Experience
By the time I realized I was pregnant, I was already in Texas again. I was too ashamed and scared to let Frank know about the baby. The more I started showing, the more resentful John became. In about my 8th month, John started talking to me about a couple that wanted to adopt a baby. He convinced me that it would be better for the baby, because he intended to marry me, and make a home for the two of us and Kimberli. He said he wouldn’t be able to treat the baby fairly. So I agreed to meet the people wanting to adopt. They seemed very nice, and they had other children as well, that were theirs.
I don’t remember how it happened, but Kimberli and I moved in with them. They had an attorney. I didn’t. I didn’t even have counseling. I was being pressured to give up my baby by them and by John. I was promised by the couple that wanted to adopt, that they would keep in contact with me, and that they would tell the baby it were adopted, if it were to ask.
So, even before open adoptions were considered, I was supposed to have a semi-open adoption. They also said that if I were to change my mind, that Kim I could live with them with my baby until I got my own place. We even picked out the name Tonya if it was a girl. They decided on Tonya Gail (Gale was the adopted father’s first name).
On March 19, 1973, I went into the hospital to be induced. I don’t remember why that day was chosen, and I don’t know the reason for inducement. I have blocked a lot of things out.
Anyway, I had a baby girl. I didn’t want to go through with the adoption. I changed my mind. I wanted my baby. I told John that I changed my mind. He told me that if I didn’t go through with it, that he would go get Kim and disappear, and I’d never see her again. I believed him. I knew the things he was capable of. By then, Kim was 16 months old. I had to make the ‘decision’ of keeping the child I already had and knew, who knew me, and lose her, or lose the child I just had that hadn’t bonded with me. I was being blackmailed, basically. There was no choice. I forced the nurses to go get her because I wanted to at least see her. I didn’t know that I had rights. I didn’t know that I could have held her. I hadn’t signed papers yet, but I was so controlled and naïve, that I let them call all the shots. Except for making them let me see her. I did ask to hold her, and they said I couldn’t.
I vaguely remember signing the papers. I do, however, remember filling out a paper that stated who the father was, who I was, my birthplace, etc. I thought all that information was going to be put on the original birth certificate.
After The Papers Were Signed
After the papers were signed, I got dressed and left the hospital with
Kimberli and John, and we went to Seattle, WA from Texas. The first song I
heard on the radio that day was ‘Take Good Care of My Baby’ by Bobby Vee.
That’s when my tears started flowing. That’s when reality hit me, and my
heart was ripped open.
Tonya at 5 days old
John and I split up in May of 1973 (2 months after I had Tonya). That was also the month that I was told by the a-family not to contact them again. I was no longer allowed to write to them or anything. John left me for a woman that lived next to us, that had 5 kids….none of them were his. He got his revenge on me. That’s what he really wanted. He wanted to win the game.
I met another man in 1975, in Denver, named Don. I told Don from the very beginning, about Tonya. He was very supportive and understanding about what I’d gone through.
I had Don’s child in December of 1976. Every year, we checked the Texas phone books to try to find the adoptive parents. Every year on her birthday, I wrote her a letter in a notebook that I kept for her. Not a day went by that I didn’t think of her. My parenting towards my other daughter’s was affected because I felt guilty that they were with me and Tonya wasn’t. I hated myself for what I’d done to Tonya. I hated myself for what I’d done to Frank. He didn’t know about her. I wanted to make amends. I wanted to fix things, but there was, nor is, anything I can do.
Dannielle at 2 weeks old.
Finding My Beloved Daughter
I finally found Tonya on 8/10/05. They moved from Texas and moved to Virginia when Tonya was young. She is my obsession. She is the one I would do anything for if I could. Not that I don’t love my other daughters, because I love them dearly. But I know they love me. I know there’s nothing that will come between us. It’s different with Tonya. I know that she could change her mind about contact if she wants. I always feel like I'm the one in the wrong...the bad guy...the one that 'gave her away', so I'm always walking on eggshells. Those stages seem (in my life) to alternate, and I never know where I stand. I've been really consistent with my relationship with her, so she knows where she stands. I haven't left the honeymoon stage yet, and it's been over 2 years now. I know I can lose her again. What I don’t know, is if I could survive it again. I suppose I would physically survive it. Mentally surviving is another story.
Meeting Tonya In Person
In October of 2007, my youngest daughter Dannielle, and I took a road trip to Virginia to meet Tonya and my grandson. We stayed there for 2 weeks. I love her SO much! My grandson Billy turned 16 while we were there, so we were honored to celebrate it with them. He's a very sweet boy. Before bed, he makes the rounds and gives everyone a kiss and hug, and tells them he loves them. He included Dannielle and me in his nightly rounds! The day we left was really hard emotionally. It was just as hard to leave her this time as it was the 1st time.
Tonya at age 34.
My grandson Billy just before he turned 16.
I see a therapist. He says I have a form of PTSD, that a lot of 1st mothers suffer from this. Even after they reunite, we still have problems. Tonya calls me about 3 or 4 times a month, and occasionally emails me. I get scared if I don’t hear from her when I think I should. I don’t like being called a birth-mom. I am her 1st mother. I nourished her in MY womb, I gave birth to her. As far as I’m concerned she was stolen from me. I was deceived by John, and also by the a-parents. I found out that the original birth certificate doesn’t have Frank’s name on it, and that they put BABY GIRL _____ ( John’s last name) on it. I don’t understand why I filled papers out with information about him if they weren’t going to document it. I don’t understand why the name Tonya wasn’t on it.
A Little Info About Frank
Frank is a Mexican-American, second generation. He was about 5’ 4 or 5” tall when I last saw him. He had thick, almost black hair, long eyelashes that a woman would kill for, and a terrific build. He was into body-building before it became popular.
I was 15 and Frank had just turned 16 when we met. He was such a flirt. He carried my books for me the first time he walked me home from school (Morey Jr. High School, in Denver, CO). When we got to my door, he gave me my first kiss. A REAL kiss. I swear I could still feel his lips on mine an hour later. Frank was my first real love, my first sexual experience, and the father of my first child. When I was 15, I became pregnant with his baby, but I miscarried.
He liked Jethro Tull, the Beatles, the Moody Blues, Janice Joplin, and a lot of the underground music that was popular. He was interested in mythology and philosophy. He was on the wrestling team in high school, and he played chess.
He also had a black belt in Karate. He was an awesome artist. When I first met him, he was drawing a picture of Paul McCartney from memory. The likeness was amazing. Frank could draw anything! He drew portrait drawings, sketched things he saw around him, and also drew psychedelic-pop art (very popular in the 60s). He was a hard worker. He was friendly, compassionate, and warm. Frank was popular, but not conceited. He had a sweet and goofy sense of humor. He used to make up silly little songs and sing them to me. He always treated me like a lady.
So, why did I leave him, you ask? Simple: I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it. I didn’t appreciate him. I was an immature and self-centered brat. I regret leaving him. Not only because I (actually we) lost our daughter, but because I never got over him. Even when I met Don, I still loved Frank. I loved Don, too, but not as deeply, but I had to go on with my life.
I started trying to find Frank in 2005 right after I found Tonya. I wrote to him in care of his mother several times, but my letters were sent back. I’d just about given up when I received a letter on February 12, 2008 from him. So now he knows about her, and I’m sure he’ll contact her soon.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story!!