I was adopted. California should help more people like me find their birth parents | Opinion

I was adopted when I was 6 days old. That was the day I won the lottery: Two fabulous people took me into their home and provided a loving environment in which I never longed for anything.

I ultimately built a successful life and started my own family. But like a lot of adopted people, I was curious about my birth parents.

In the beginning, my reasons for seeking them out were largely practical. I wanted to learn whether I had a genetic risk of cancer, heart disease or other health problems. I also wanted to know whether I had passed any such risk on to my children.

So, about eight years ago, I hired a private investigator to help me find my birth mother and, eventually, my birth father.

I learned I had been adopted in Evanston, Illinois. (When I was 6 months old, my adoptive family moved to Woodland, in Yolo County, where I went on to become an elected supervisor.) I was able to find my birth mother relatively easily because Illinois allows public records of birth certificates to include birth parents’ names.

My wife, Jenn, and I flew to New Orleans to meet my birth mother, Susan. I have to admit that I was stunned upon meeting her; I struggled to find words. I was lucky Jenn was there because they struck up a conversation as I sat there with very little to say.

Susan eventually told me who my birth father was, and I was able to get in touch with him, too. The stories my birth parents told me don’t exactly match up, but I was born 54 years ago, so that’s OK.

I found a careful way to approach each of them but was prepared to have the door slammed in my face. Luckily, that didn’t happen.

Over the next several years, Susan and I wrote to each other almost daily on Facebook. We covered personal finance, her hatred of Donald Trump, elections, taxes and much else.

Susan passed away suddenly on Oct. 10. She was a smoker and a cancer survivor, and she had lived a long life. I’m so thankful that I was able to know her, and I would encourage anyone with a long-lost relative to find them.

Once, after my son, Adam, and I visited Susan in Florida, he told me something like: “Some people only have two grandmas. I have five, and it is pretty cool.”

Susan put me up for adoption for selfless reasons. It is quite possible that it worked out better for both of us.

My wife pointed out to me that my biological grandfather was a prominent pastor, and it is very likely that Susan and her parents were praying for me the entire time. I don’t believe that all of this is just random.

California should consider providing more information to adoptees as Illinois does. The resulting health information can save lives. Even if a birth parent wants to maintain his or her privacy, letting adopted people know their genetic risks is good public policy.

I know taking the chance to find a long-lost relative will not work out for everyone. But it can have wonderful and unexpected benefits.