February 22, 2006

Man talks to birth mother for the first time in his life

By Carol South
Herald contributing writer

      Hearing his mother's voice for the first time in 38 years, Todd Endresen spoke with his biological mother by phone last Wednesday morning.
      The end of a relatively short but fruitful search, he and his twin sister, Randi, are now connected with their biological parents and their relatives. It is a story with a happy ending, for which all parties involved are grateful. Now, two seniors who never had other children have grown children and grandchildren. And two happily adopted siblings have access to family medical history and, most importantly, the people who gave them life.
      "Oh, I've been waiting for this phone call," said Endresen of talking to his mother. "I spoke with her today for probably an hour and she gave me some family history."
      "I think she's very relieved that we were raised well and that her decisions turned our right," he added. "As difficult as that decision was to place us for adoption, in hindsight it was the right one."
      Raised in New Jersey, Endresen and his sister began their quest to find their heritage after their adoptive father died two years ago. They found papers in his effects listing their birth father's name; the unusual Italian surname was easy to track down via the Internet. They made phone contact last fall and later a visit in person at a neutral location.
      They were pleased that this man, who later married but never had children, welcomed them after a short adjustment period.
      "It's been something that's been really positive," said Endresen, who greatly resembles his birth father. "Our birth father's mother is 88 years old and we've been able to speak to her. She learned in one conversation with her son that she had two grown grandchildren and four great-grandchildren."
      Finding their biological mother took more time as the shields and secrecy common in adoptions until only recently did not allow the small, private agency in New Jersey to release her name. With help from agency staff, the twins sent a certified letter to their biological mother via the agency. The anonymity of this process left contact up to her and did not violate the agency's privacy concerns. The day after she received the letter, she phoned Endresen and the families connected after four decades.
      "I've got two cousins and an aunt," said Endresen, a married father of two.
      Endresen and his sister were adopted and raised together, an event not common for twins in the 1960s and rare before that. His biological mother told him last week that she insisted on this, refusing to sign the papers until assured that her twins would stay together.
      In fact, she had considered keeping her baby, a choice almost unheard of 40 years ago by an unmarried woman. But when six months into her pregnancy doctors discovered she was carrying twins, she realized that she could not give them a stable home. The biological father had already refused to marry her but helped financially through the adoption.
      Endresen and his sister knew about being adopted since they were five years old, their parents believing in openness about that fact. They accepted their status and grew up happy and secure, remaining close to their adoptive mother now a widow. She supported their search and is making connections with their birth mother.
      "We are lucky that these contacts have turned out as positive as they have," Endresen said.