What struck you most when you first met your birth family?

Question

Or what was the first thing said?

Answer 1

The midwife's hand!

Answer 2

That I recognized them

Answer 3

I had spoken with my birth mother on the phone.  We had exchanged letters and a few small, grainy (and old) pictures.  

My wife and I parked in the hotel parking lot, and I saw a few people sitting on the bench outside the main door.  I knew it was them immediately.  As we walked up, I got my first really good look at my mom.  My first thought was, "That's her.  It's obviously her.  That's my mom."  I knew it deep down in my bones.  There was no doubt.  

We hugged a very long time before we said anything, and I don't remember what we said.  I just kept thinking, "I've finally found her."

Answer 4

You know, it was so overwhelmingly emotional that I don't remember the first thing I said. But my mother just smiled and said "here she is" and wrapped her arms around me.

What struck me most was just how much I wished I had been raised by her. I mean, I always thought about her and loved her and missed her but it was just all confirmed that I should have been with her when I was sitting there next to her.

Answer 5

Dont have the luxury of meeting my family - sealed records - Gack!

Answer 6

Here is an excerpt from my story -

"About a month after I met my husband (who was still my boyfriend at the time) moved in with me we decided to get a pet. We went to the pet store to look at the kitties and puppies (which we weren’t supposed to have in the apartment but hey, we were already rebels). I was walking down the aisle by the fish tanks when suddenly someone yelled “hey there little girl, what’s your name?” I thought he was some pervert so I answered back “f- you!” He laughed and shouted again “is your name Marsha?”  I stopped. “Is your name Marsha R???” Ahh c**p he knows me. Probably some friend of my grandparents and he’s going to tell them that I cussed at him. Nice. I looked at him and said “uhhh yes…why?” He stares at me for a moment. “Do you know me?”  I hate when people do that. Shamefully I admitted I didn’t. “Okay, then do you know this girl?” he moved and behind him was a woman crying. I started crying. Yes, yes I know her. “Who is she?”  he asked expectantly. “That’s my mother.” I was secretly afraid he’d say no, it’s your aunt you idiot. But I knew. I hadn’t seen her in years, and she hadn’t seen me either, but we knew. My step dad recognized me first. I don’t know how he did it, but he spotted me and told my mom that I was there. We hugged and cried for a long time. I introduced her to my husband, the poor guy I’d only known about a month who was watching this happen in the aquarium supply aisle at the pet store. Yes he’s my boyfriend. Yes we live together. No I am not pregnant. No I don’t have any kids. Yes I smoke. No, I only drink occasionally not often. No, I am not on drugs. Yes, I tried them. No, I am not still in school. I felt really guilty, like I was a poor representation of the way in which my grandparents had raised me. They wanted me to come back to their house, which was surprisingly only about 5 minutes from our apartment and 15 minutes from where I had lived all my life. I was an adult, on my own, and yet suddenly I was terrified at the thought of getting into a car with my own mother. I had always been warned if they tried to get me to go somewhere with them not to go, that they were trying to kidnap me back. Rationally I knew it was okay, that we were just going to talk and get to know each other, but inside I was just a scared kid who was terrified of doing something wrong.

We went to their house and walked inside. Three of my siblings were in the front room, along with a cousin, but my two youngest siblings were in their bedroom. They looked at me funny, as if they should know me but didn’t. Mom asked them if they knew who I was. They said no. She told them this is your sister, this is Marsha. They looked how I felt. My sisters cried. My youngest brothers wouldn’t come out of their bedroom to meet me. One faked a stomach ache. They’d never seen me before, but had heard of me like I was some legend in a storybook. I didn’t know their names. Life was a blur of meeting relatives, getting to know everyone and hearing stories about the past. They wanted me to know the truth about why I had been raised with my grandparents and why they hadn’t come around all of those years. Things I had believed my entire life, things I accepted and dealt with as true, were suddenly being told to me were all a lie."