In my last column, I talked about being adopted as an infant and my search for my biological family.

A couple of weeks ago I finally met my biological sister. We met at a local water park. I instantly started to look for similarities between us. This sister of mine had similar cheekbones. She showed me pictures of my other siblings — three sisters and two brothers — and we pretty much all have those cheekbones. I was told that a niece of mine could also pass as my daughter. In addition to the physical similarities, we also discovered we share the same warped sense of humor.

I had never before had a burning desire to find my biological family, because my adoptive parents we so wonderful to me, but I enjoyed being able to compare the similarities with my bloodline.   

Although my parents were wonderful and treated me as though I had been born to them, there was always a bit of curiosity about what happened before I was born and why I was given up.

I recently spoke with my biological mother on the phone, who explained that when she was pregnant with me, she would rub her stomach and tell me that she loved me, but she knew she would never be able to take care of me the way she would have liked to.  She wanted me to have things she knew she couldn't provide at the time, so she found me a loving family that could. For that gift, I will forever thank her.

Honestly, I was one of the lucky ones.  From the moment my letter arrived to my biological family, I was embraced as a long-lost sister. My biological mother told me that her only wish was to meet me or at least get a glimpse of me before she died. My biological sister has e-mailed me nearly every day to stay in touch and to continue to welcome me into their family.

But there are people I've talked to who have been rejected by their biological families. As an adoptee, I know that it's normal to have the curiosity to look for and find biological information, but to also be content with who you are no matter who raised  you. If I had been rejected, I'm just glad I can still say that I have a family who raised me, put up with me and still loves me.

My biological mother has read my Mommy Talk columns before. Now she can read them and know that I am the daughter she gave birth to all those years ago. She also likes to write. Now I know where I get that from.