What did previous generations ever do without the internets? Need to know the actual lyrics to Blinded by the Light because “wrapped up like a douche” isn’t exactly rock song-y? Ask Jeeves. Have to know where Suriname is located because your friend is assigned to spend the next 27-months there for her Peace Corps stint? Yahoo! has the answer. Subconsciously feel the urge to unravel your marriage by innocently typing in the name of a former lover? Google guarantees success in launching that endeavor. (Note to anyone thinking of doing this: DON’T. I mean it. Just don’t.)

My point is, by plunking out an intentional string of letters on your keyboard, you might find what you’re looking for even when you’re not ready for it. And this is what happened to me last week when I typed out the letters of Ruby’s birthmother’s name. I was totally expecting to find absolutely nothing. So, when there were two hits, I paused for a moment, my cursor unmoving between them as I decided which one to click on first.

After a not very long amount of time, curiosity moved the mouse and I clicked on the first link.

Right there, on my screen, for my viewing pleasure, was an image of the woman who has Ruby’s crackling eyes. For almost three years, I’ve wondered what C looks like, whether Ruby resembles her and if so, how much. Now I know. The connection was undeniable and this woman, Ruby’s biological mother, was no longer an idea or concept. Putting a face with all of the stories I’ve told myself was like reading a novel, creating a physical image of a character in my head and then seeing a director’s interpretation in the movie version. It was quite surreal and yet the reality was surprisingly accurate with respect to the amalgam I’d invented. C was stunning and I was stunned.

But as I sat staring at the image, I felt not only strangely elated but strangely guilty as well, like I’d violated C’s privacy in some way. After all, Sam and I had asked for a photo from the beginning; if she’d wanted us to have a picture of her, surely she would have given us one. Instead we’ve gone without, accepting all of the many things that we—that Ruby—may never know. This is excruciating for someone like myself, a person who can’t shut off even the worst Lifetime Television for Women movie starring Valerie Bertanelli, because I won’t sleep not knowing how it ends. It’s been an important lesson on giving in to, and letting go of, things I cannot control. Whiiiiiiich, is pretty much everything except my craving for peanut butter cups and even that is beyond my mastery most of the time.

Ultimately, we live in the age of technology and if we put ourselves out there (out here?), we should expect to be found. Or, at least expect that this is a possibility. Though I wish for more openness in Ruby’s adoption, I’m not aiming to invade C’s privacy and wouldn’t ever think to contact her through her Email me! icon. Things are as they are, because C is functioning within her comfort zone. I can hardly blame her for operating in self-preservation mode and I am more than happy to respect that. But I’m also happy to have her photo and with it, the weighted decision about when it will be appropriate to show it to Ruby.

For now, we’re keeping it under wraps and letting some experts weigh in as we figure out what is best for our child. And as for future online searches, they’ll center around how to deal with public temper tantrums and  uncovering misunderstood song lyrics.