Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, April 27, 1995 TAG: 9505030005
SECTION: NEIGHBORS PAGE: S-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: STACY JONES STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
"At the time, I thought it was normal," said Mary Novarese (her married name) 31 years later.
By approximately 3:20 p.m. she had given birth. By 3:30 p.m. she was being wheeled out of the delivery room - without her baby. Forbidden from seeing or touching her child, Novarese would have to wait more than three decades before that wish was granted.
"I didn't even know if it was a girl or boy," she said.
Pregnant, unmarried and still in high school, Novarese's parents decided she would give her baby up for adoption. This, despite the fact that the baby's father wanted to marry her, and that various family members offered to raise the newborn.
"In their hearts they probably thought it was the best thing for both of us, myself and the baby," said Novarese.
The years after were hard on Novarese emotionally. Her parents refused to talk about the birth and acted "like it didn't happen." With no one to share her loss, Novarese slowly settled into a depression and in 1973 had a nervous breakdown and was hospitalized for two weeks.
"I held everything in for so long," she remembered. "I tried to deal with it myself."
Despite her suffering, Novarese long ago reconciled, somewhat, with her parents, who are now deceased.
"I never had hatred or bitterness, I just wanted to know why," she said. "I knew they loved me. I just couldn't understand why they were doing this to me."
The day after her birth, Marcia Mejia (her current name) was adopted by the Rev. Paul Alwine and his wife, Kay. When she was 2, the family left Phoenix and settled in Roanoke. Here, in the northwest part of the city, Mejia enjoyed all the benefits a loving, middle-class family brings.
"I never felt like I was adopted," said Mejia. "I never wanted for anything." Still, she wondered about the woman who gave her life.
The older she got, the more intense her curiosity became. Finally, in 1994 after more than a decade of wondering, Mejia began to actively search for her biological mother.
"I think I waited so long because I was trying to prepare myself to be ready for anything," said Mejia, who is a senior at Roanoke College, married and the mother of three. "You never know what can of worms you're going to open up."
But, she continued, "The pieces of my puzzle weren't fitting together. I had to know to be complete, and my biological parents were the only ones who could answer."
Her first step was to register with the Adoptees Liberty Movement Association in New York, an organization established to help biological parents and adopted children find each other. As Mejia tackled the four-page application, she became disheartened. With so little information about her birth, Mejia could complete only one page. "I had no information," she said. "I really thought it was a long shot."
As luck, or fate would have it, Mejia's chances were quite good.
Novarese, six years earlier in 1988, also had filed an application with ALMA.
On Dec.13, two months after Mejia had sent her application to ALMA, she received a message to "call Mary at ALMA."
She called back, unaware that she was actually calling Novarese, her biological mother.
"She [Novarese] told me there had been a match on my application and that we were mother and daughter," said Mejia.
"I couldn't have been anymore shocked or surprised than if I had won the lottery," she said. "Of all the scenarios planned in my head, I never expected this."
The pair talked for nearly four hours, discussing the circumstances surrounding Mejia's conception, her biological father and her eventual adoption.
"I found out all of these people wanted me," said Mejia.
The biological father, his uncle and his parents all offered to take Mejia in when she was born. "But my grandfather [Novarese's father] wanted me as far away as possible," she said. "I felt angry."
After the emotional purge, a decision was made to meet. Mejia went back to her birthplace, Phoenix, to visit Novarese.
"It was beautiful, like we knew each other forever," said Novarese, who has three other children. "We had a real connection."
That bond attracted the producers of the "Leeza" talk show in California and soon the duo were on stage, sharing their tale with the country.
During that trip Mejia was bemused about their similar traits.
"We stand the same, walk the same and play with our hair the same," she said. "The whole time we were crossing our legs at the same time. In every picture, we have the same expression."
Phoenix also would produce another player from their past - Richard Lucero, the biological father.
While touring the city, they came upon the house where Lucero lived as a youngster.
The duo had hit pay dirt and after much debate, contacted Lucero.
"The poor man was in shock," she said. "Someone in my mother's family had told him that I had died as an infant."
Mejia and her father agreed to keep in touch. When she returned to Roanoke, she sent Lucero a letter and pictures. She has yet to hear back.
"I'm a little disappointed, but I don't force myself on anyone," said Mejia. "I don't want him to feel he has to make up for all of those years."
Although the father-daughter reunion fizzled, Mejia speaks to Novarese every week and regrets nothing.
"Even if I would have come out of this with only a picture and total rejection, it would have been worth it," she said.
She emphasized that "nothing has changed" in her relationship with her adoptive parents, who have two other children - Doug, 34, and Mike, 40 - also by adoption.
thick and thin of it."
As Kay Alwine put it, "We've had all the pleasures of childbirth without the pain.
"Life has gone on the same as it's always been," said Kay Alwine. "I still do her washing just like before."
For her part, Novarese said she still would have liked to have kept her baby, but knows Mejia "was very fortunate to get the parents she got."
by CNB