First, her name was Baby Girl Jane Doe.
A photo of Amber Wankel taken by the Higgins family in 1978 has been in their scrapbook since the time when they tried to adopt her.
It was Aug. 19, 1977. Just a few hours old, she was dropped off at St. Joseph Health Center in St. Charles County by a man who said he was flagged down at mile marker No. 224 on Interstate 70 by a young couple in a gray van. They handed him a 7-pound baby wrapped in a blanket and took off, he said.
Soon, she would have a new name: Baby Hope.
That鈥檚 the name Bob and Nella Higgins gave her when they brought her home. The couple had just become foster parents. They didn鈥檛 plan to take in infants, but when the Division of Family Services called with a placement, they agreed. They fell in love with Hope, and they tried to adopt her.
鈥淎fter one week, I said: 鈥業 want this baby,鈥欌 Nella recalled.
Nella is 78 now. Bob is 84. We were talking in their kitchen this month, flipping through an old photo album of Hope鈥檚 first 10 months of life.
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She is 39 now and lives in Perry, Mo., with her husband and two children.
Her name is Amber Wankel. This is her story.
Search for answers
On June 5, Wankel made a discovery that changed her life.
For some time, she had been engaged in a search for her birth parents. Like many adoptees, she yearned for more information about her past. It wasn鈥檛 like she had a bad childhood 鈥 in fact, it was very good 鈥 but there were unanswered questions.
Wankel was reared in Curryville, Mo., by Lee and Trudie Wankel. She graduated from Bowling Green High School in 1995. She went to college and got a job in the medical field. She knew the Wankels had adopted her when she was less than a year old, and that the foster family who first took care of her went to court to try to keep her. But details were scarce.
鈥淚t was a part of my life that I really didn鈥檛 know a lot about,鈥 Wankel says.
A DNA search hadn鈥檛 helped much in identifying her birth family. Her blond hair and blue eyes give away her German heritage. But the closest relatives she could find through a DNA database were distant cousins. She turned to Google and newspaper archive searches. There, Wankel came across a story headlined: 鈥淐ouple Denied Custody of Foster Child鈥 in the April 26, 1979, edition of the Post-Dispatch. It was written by none other than Joseph Pulitzer IV, scion of the famous newspaper family.
The story recounts how the Missouri Supreme Court the Higginses in an adoption battle with the state of Missouri. A split court decided to keep the former ward of the state with her second foster family, in part because the Wankels had cared for Amber since she was about 10 months old.
The day after Wankel read the newspaper article, she Googled 鈥淩obert and Nella Higgins.鈥 Dozens of possibilities showed up. She got it right on the first call.
Nella answered. She yelled to Bob, who was watching television in the other room.
Hope had been found.
鈥淚 couldn鈥檛 believe it,鈥 Bob said. 鈥淪he never left us.鈥
Indeed, throughout the Higginses鈥 home are pictures of Baby Hope. Wankel would soon find that the couple had looked for her, also. In every home they ever had, pictures of Hope hung next to their own children.
For years, Nella had worn a silver necklace with the word 鈥淗ope.鈥
She鈥檚 wearing it as they sit next to each other in the Higginses鈥 Warren County kitchen. Wankel grabs her hand. All these years, they鈥檝e lived just a couple of hours away.
鈥淚t鈥檚 been 39 years,鈥 Bob says. 鈥淓very year since then she鈥檚 been a part of our life.鈥
They met for the first time in June at Stefanina鈥檚 pizzeria in Wentzville.
The Higginses brought baby pictures. For the first time, Wankel knew that as a baby, she looked just like her own two children, Nealee and Nola, both named without any knowledge of a Nella in her life.
A photo of the Higgins family with baby Amber Wankel from 1978 is in their scrapbook. The family is, from left: Theresa, 17 at the time; baby Amber with Nella; Paul, 14 at the time; and Bob.
鈥淢y kids鈥 names are one of the biggest wows to me,鈥 Wankel says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 like they are named after Nella. God鈥檚 hand in this journey for sure.鈥
Foster families to the rescue
It could have been so much worse.
The police report of the first day of Wankel鈥檚 life describes the too-frequent scene of a young couple realizing they aren鈥檛 ready for parenthood and abandoning their baby. A man who identified himself as Thomas Rogers of Auxvasse, Mo., brought the then-2-hour-old baby to the hospital, saying he was flagged down by a gray van with out-of-state plates bearing white and green letters.
The man calling himself Rogers spoke with a deputy. St. Peters police Officer Kevin Kost found the story suspicious. Eventually, he tracked down a Thomas Rogers in Auxvasse. He didn鈥檛 fit the description of the man who dropped the baby off at the hospital. He knew nothing about a baby .
To this day, Kost believes it was a ruse, that the man might have been the actual father of Baby Jane Doe, or somebody close to the family.
鈥淚鈥檓 glad they didn鈥檛 leave me in a Dumpster,鈥 Wankel said. She agreed to tell her story now, not just because she still holds out a small hope that her biological parents can be found, but because she hopes others in a similar situation will think before abandoning a baby.
Since 2002, Missouri has had a which allows parents to drop off an unwanted newborn baby at a hospital, fire station or police station without fear of prosecution, as long as they haven鈥檛 abused the child. Illinois passed its law in 2001. Experts say such laws each year who otherwise might have been abandoned.
鈥淭here are people out there who want babies,鈥 Wankel says. 鈥淭here are good foster families out there.鈥
Amber Wankel had two of them.
鈥淚 feel like I found something I wasn鈥檛 looking for,鈥 said the woman once known as Baby Hope. 鈥淚 have two good families now.鈥
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