Adoptee Pursued Her Past, Star Tribune

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Adoptee pursued her past; it changed her future // Illness intensified search for kin she'll finally meet: [METRO Edition]

Levy, Paul; Staff Writer. Star Tribune; Minneapolis, Minn. [Minneapolis, Minn]09 Mar 1995: 01.A.

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Then in December, the Andover woman's search ended with a series of shocks. Crowe learned that she has six older sisters who knew nothing of her existence; that her birth mother had kept her pregnancy a secret; that her birth certificate mysteriously had been filed with death certificates in Jackson County, Mich.; that she grew up within 15 miles of her birth family and frequented the same mall and stores as her sisters, and that one sister, just 11 months older, could pass for her twin.

Crowe also learned that her oldest birth sister, Nancy, once worked with a lifelong friend of Crowe's adopted mother, and that Nancy worked for nearly 20 years with Crowe's aunt. Crowe also believes that the girl she once passed while entering a mall - the one who "had my eyes" - was indeed one of her sisters. Those blue eyes haunted her for years.

Some of the younger sisters do not recall such desperate times. And none of the sisters remembers her mother being pregnant with Crowe, although Nancy vaguely recalled her mother being in the hospital for about a week in August 1961 when Crowe was born. Their mother may have suggested that she was being treated for gallbladder problems, Crowe said.

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For most of her 33 years, Michelle Chambers Crowe has waited, wished and wondered about her true identity. But tonight a lifetime of fears and fantasies will be put to rest when Crowe, a designer of children's cereal boxes, flies to Michigan and meets six older sisters she never knew existed.

Crowe, who will spend the weekend in Michigan, has become the focal point of an adoption case that has left some experts shaking their heads and others crying for changes in adoption laws.

Crowe knew little about her biological background other than that she had been given up for adoption at birth in Jackson, Mich. Her lifelong search for family history became urgent last year when she suffered a minor stroke four months after having a baby and wondered whether her son might have heart problems.

Then in December, the Andover woman's search ended with a series of shocks. Crowe learned that she has six older sisters who knew nothing of her existence; that her birth mother had kept her pregnancy a secret; that her birth certificate mysteriously had been filed with death certificates in Jackson County, Mich.; that she grew up within 15 miles of her birth family and frequented the same mall and stores as her sisters, and that one sister, just 11 months older, could pass for her twin.

In fact, that sister had been mistaken for Crowe by many acquaintances, including Crowe's adopted brother, who once stared at her for an hour in a bar, but never asked who she was.

Crowe also learned that her oldest birth sister, Nancy, once worked with a lifelong friend of Crowe's adopted mother, and that Nancy worked for nearly 20 years with Crowe's aunt. Crowe also believes that the girl she once passed while entering a mall - the one who "had my eyes" - was indeed one of her sisters. Those blue eyes haunted her for years.

"This morning I was Michelle Chambers Crowe, and tonight I'm just not the same person anymore," she said in December when she discovered her birth family. "It's overwhelming.

"As a young girl, I was told being adopted, `You're special.' You don't know what it's like, your face always searching the crowd. `Is that my mother? Is that my sister going by?' "

But when Crowe's emotional roller coaster lands in Michigan tonight and she searches through the tears and hugs for a lifetime of answers, one question will remain: Why?

"A family of seven with only one being placed for adoption seems unique," said Roger Toogood, who has been involved with child welfare and adoption cases for 35 years and is executive director of the St. Paul-based Children's Home Society of Minnesota.

Other local and national experts said it is much more common for a mother to give up her first child than her last.

Because Crowe's parents are dead, she may never know the reason she was placed for adoption. But Crowe, who works for General Mills, said she was told by a family member that her parents were "extremely poor, and one more mouth to feed would have been the straw that broke the camel's back."

"We were desperately poor; people can't comprehend how bad it was," said Crowe's oldest birth sister, Nancy, in a telephone interview. Nancy and the other birth sisters requested that their last names and family name not be revealed.

"There were truly times when we had no food," Nancy continued. "She {her mother} just gave up. She tried to support the family as a waitress all those years. My father had trouble holding jobs. I'm sure the pressure was just too much."

Some of the younger sisters do not recall such desperate times. And none of the sisters remembers her mother being pregnant with Crowe, although Nancy vaguely recalled her mother being in the hospital for about a week in August 1961 when Crowe was born. Their mother may have suggested that she was being treated for gallbladder problems, Crowe said.

Their mother was petite and may not have gained much weight during the pregnancy. Still, Nancy found it incomprehensible when in mid-December she received a tearful call from a total stranger, asking, "Nancy, do you know who I am? Please, don't you know who I am?"

Days later, after discovering adoption papers with their parents' signatures and Michelle's birth certificate in a county file of death certificates, the sisters realized that their parents had taken this secret of a lifetime with them to their graves.

The photos Crowe sent further erased suspicions of a hoax. The family resemblance was unquestionable. The debate had ended; the eyes had it.

The debate over adoption laws is just rekindling, however. Crowe's quest to find her birth family began in earnest shortly before her move to Minnesota in 1984, when she sent to a social services agency, Child and Family Services of Michigan Inc., her adoption file number and a request to help her find her biological family. The reply stated that because there was no consenting statement on file from the biological parents, the release of such information was not possible under Michigan law.

At the time, Crowe's biological father was dead. Her birth mother was still alive, but Crowe may never know if the agency alerted her mother to her request .

For the next several years, Crowe's search stagnated. Her adopted parents had given her a letter they received concerning her birth, one that described each of her biological parents in a paragraph. Her only hope, Crowe thought, was to pay an agency to help in her search - with no limit to the cost or guarantee of findings. She chose to continue her own search.

Then, in 1992, she experienced chest pains, and her physician requested information concerning her family's medical history. A judge approved the request for nonidentifying information only and appointed an intermediary to handle Crowe's case.

"An adoptive person 18 or over has the right to see a birth certificate," said Cheryl Hall Rock, director of Liberal Education for Adoptive Families, a nonprofit organization based in Stillwater. "While a birth parent can give a child away, the child can't give away the genetic makeup of the birth parents.

"And many of these agencies just assume that because a mother gave a child away years ago, that mother no longer cares. These aren't puppies these women are giving away! Of course they're curious. But when an agency calls your birth parent and says, `Your child wants to find you. Do you want to open that can of worms?' Is that conducive to a reunion?"


Rock accuses adoption agencies of overlooking the needs of

children to appease adoptive parents.

"There certainly is a lot of deception in the adoption practice," said Anthony Vilardi, registrar for the International Soundex Reunion Registry in Carson City, Nev. When Tom Bouchard, director of the Minnesota Center for Twin and Adoption Research, was told that Crowe's birth certificate had been placed in a file with death certificates, he commented, "shenanigans like that have plagued adoptions for years."

The misplacement of Crowe's birth certificate may have been accidental, according to Judy Taylor, Jackson County deputy clerk. She said Crowe's birth certificate and the records of a stillborn child, delivered the same day, were accidentally switched when filed.

However, even if Crowe had known of the mistake, she would not have been allowed to see her birth certificate under Michigan's confidentiality laws.

In fact, when she contacted Michigan court intermediary Julie Carter last November, Carter knew the identity of Crowe's biological parents. But without consent, she could not legally reveal their names.

Had she been born in Minnesota, Crowe could have learned of her family's history; a law passed in 1977 allows for such information to be granted in medical emergencies.

When Crowe learned last December that her father had died 18 years before, Carter suggested that she write her mother a letter, filling it with important questions, and Carter would then contact her mother and read it to her.

Just days before, Crowe had looked into the eyes of her own baby, Hunter, and whispered, "How could anyone give you away?" But in the letter to her mother, Crowe asked what her original name was, if she had brothers and sisters and where her big blue eyes came from.

She express-mailed the letter to Carter and was stunned to learn the next day that a mistake had been made: Her mother had died four years before.

"I was angry," Crowe recalled. "My hopes were so high, then devastated that they were both dead. It's hard enough losing a parent, but at least you're left with memories. I have no memories."

The next step was for Carter to prove to the court that both parents had died, allowing her to reveal to Crowe her identity. She could not wait. She asked her brother to search through old newspaper clippings for obituaries that might match the dates when her biological parents had died.

He found one that matched her father. Finally she had a last name. What shocked her was the list of surviving children - six daughters.

Rather than wait for an intermediary, Crowe contacted her oldest sister herself.

"Although you expect such news to be greeted with disbelief, horror, anger, even shame, she did the right thing in taking the initiative," said Bouchard of the Minnesota Center for Twin and Adoption Research. "Ultimately, these unions go very, very well for the vast majority. They'll get over the hurt. These meetings are very exciting."

Through almost-daily telephone conversations since December, Crowe has learned she shares much in common with her family besides physical appearance.

All love to garden and are creative, although Crowe is the only one to use professionally the artistic talent she inherited from her mother.

"She's one of us," said sister Patty. "It's so strange: I don't know her, but I'm so proud of her and I really love her."

And Crowe wants very much to be accepted as the lucky seventh daughter of a family she has always been a part of, but never known.

"On every birthday or Mother's Day, I'd say a special prayer for my mother," Crowe said. "I wanted her to be proud of me. I never told anybody. Now I have so many things to share . . . with my sisters.

"I feel like I've been reborn. I'll never be the same person again."

Searching for biological parents

Michelle Crowe's husband, Rick, a Minnesota native and an adoptee, also is searching for his biological parents. There are several contacts he and other adoptees can make to hasten their search:

Adoptees can contact Patty O'Gorman of Minnesota Reunion Registry and Support in Scandia, Minn., at (612) 433-5211, or send a self-addressed stamped envelope to the International Soundex Reunion Registry, Box 2312, Carson City, NV 89702.

Parents can contact Sandra Sperrazza at Concerned United Birth parents in Edina at 938-5866.


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Copyright Star Tribune Newspaper of the Twin Cities Mar 9, 1995















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