Tear-filled reunion for Baby Jessica, now 20

[StoneMtn]

A bond that spans 20 years

Tear-filled reunion for Baby Jessica, now 20, and men who saved her

Louise Dickson

Times Colonist

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Glen O'Keefe wrapped Adriana Jessica Kelly in his arms, hugging her as if he'd never let her go.

Twenty years ago, those arms pulled a shivering newborn from a pink Adidas bag in a cold stream on Triangle Mountain. Twenty years ago, those arms held the fragile infant with her umbilical cord still attached, warming her so she would live.

On Wednesday, the girl once known as Baby Jessica stood hand-in-hand with O'Keefe and Ray Wightman by the ditch on Walfred Road in Colwood.

"That hug just felt like I was holding her as a baby 20 years ago," O'Keefe said. "I just lost it."

Kelly's eyes filled with tears as she looked at the ditch and thought about the person who left her there.

"I'm just wondering why ... this ditch," she whispered. "It hurts a little."

Every year for the last two decades, O'Keefe and Wightman have got together to celebrate the birthday of the baby they saved -- and whose fate became a mystery after she was adopted. This year on her 20th birthday, April 14, they told the Times Colonist about how much they would love to meet her, how much they hoped she had a good life.

Meanwhile, in northern B.C., unaware of the newspaper article, Kelly contacted the provincial adoption registry. A week ago, her caseworker told her about the newspaper articles written about Baby Jessica.

Kelly phoned the Times Colonist. "I'm Baby Jessica," she said.

On Wednesday, Kelly flew to Victoria with her fiance, Dave Pow, to meet O'Keefe and Wightman.

"I'm so glad you're here," said an emotional Wightman.

Her rescuers, now 35, married, and with children of their own, talked about the day they found her, the day that changed their lives. They talked about their friend Chris Johnson, who helped save Baby Jessica. Johnson, an assistant professor at the University of Northern B.C., lives in Prince George and couldn't make the trip to Victoria to meet her.

"I talked to Chris this morning," O'Keefe said. "He wanted to be here so badly."

O'Keefe reached out his right hand to her. Wightman took Kelly's other hand. Together, they showed Kelly where they crossed the road to talk to a group of younger kids who were playing near the ditch on the afternoon of April 14, 1986.

"The creek was rocky and there were little ponds forming everywhere and there was water running down here and you were just there," Wightman said. He started to cry.

"But it all worked out for good," said O'Keefe, his voice breaking.

"When we came here last month, we relived it, but it's harder with you here," Wightman said. "I feel bad and overwhelmed right now.

"It's a lot to take in," O'Keefe said.

"All these memories that the mother could have had with this child, raising her ... it was all thrown away," Wightman said.

Kelly sank into Pow's arms.

"She's dealing with the idea that someone left her here to die. She was fine with it until we got to the bottom of the hill and it started to sink in, this is what she's here for," Wightman said.

"You know, we could be driving by a roadside grave. There could be a cross on that telephone pole. But for us to be able to come back here with her and relive this right now, instead of driving by a cross ..."

Turning away from the ditch, Kelly said she still wants to meet her birth mother, that she forgives her.

What will her life be like now with friends like O'Keefe and Wightman?

"It's great to have them," she said. A big smile broke across her face.

© Times Colonist (Victoria) 2006

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