Everything Is Possible

by Jen Bricker

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  My VIPs

  My Lifelong Friend: Kassi Wampler

  I have known Jen since I was about ten months old. Our moms are lifelong friends, so we grew up together. We did all the things “normal” kids do: we swam and played sports, went roller skating, danced. Jen has always been a fun-loving, strong-willed, and independent person. We have so much in common. We are both the baby in the family and were both adopted. We have shared a lot of our lives together, and I know that for me, personally, having a friend like Jen has made my life a little brighter. I may not have been blessed with a sister of my own, but I have the next best thing in a great friend whom I have always thought of as one.

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  But they made the very difficult decision not to say anything—not just yet. They didn’t think it would be fair to either of us. I respect their decision and know it came from the purest of places in their hearts. Do I wonder what would have happened if I had known sooner? Sure. We missed out on a lot of years that we could have been living as sisters. But like I said, on some level I think I did know. I just needed it confirmed, and I needed to be ready to hear it.

  Armed with my new knowledge, I went into detective mode and did some research online. I wanted to understand how I was born in Illinois when Dominique was born in LA. The answer was that my birth family had moved around the United States so that Dominique could train with different coaches. Our younger sister, Christina, was actually born in Tampa. I started to make sense of it all. When I went on Dominique’s website and saw a picture of Christina for the first time, it was like I was looking at a photo of myself. So that’s what I’d look like if I had legs! My dad walked by and quickly glanced at the picture on the screen. “Jen, when did you go skiing?” he asked.

  “I didn’t, Dad. That’s my younger sister.” She could have been my twin—not even my father could tell us apart.

  I knew I had to get in touch with Dominique, but it wasn’t as easy as picking up a phone. It took four years and several failed attempts. First, I asked my uncle Gary, a former private investigator, to find and reach out to my biological parents. He did talk to Dmitry and explained that I wanted to contact my sisters. Dmitry wasn’t very receptive, but he did admit that he and Camelia gave a child up for adoption. After that initial conversation with my uncle, he was silent, making it clear that he wanted to keep the secret (me), and he wasn’t going to help me contact my biological sisters. Failed attempt number one. So I switched my game plan and planned to contact Dominique instead. I subscribed to her website and saw she was on a gymnastics tour—and one of the stops was Indianapolis. That was only two and a half hours away from my home, so I had the genius idea to show up at the meet, get down to the gymnastics floor, find Dominique, and tell her I was her long-lost sister! It was the “perfect” plan in my head, but about two weeks before I was going to buy the tickets, I found out that she was injured and had to pull out of the tour. I was so bummed and discouraged! Failed attempt number two.

  That was a low point. After my high school graduation and my big move to Florida, I was so overwhelmed and distracted that the idea of finding my sisters got put on the back burner for a bit. But toward the end of that year (2007), my thoughts and even my dreams became consumed by the idea of meeting my biological family. It was clearly God telling me to try again! So I gave it one third and final shot. I called my parents and told them I wanted to try again. I needed them to copy all the legal documents from my adoption and send them my way. Then, I called my uncle Gary and asked him to track down Dominique’s address in Ohio for me. I copied pictures of myself from when I was a baby all the way to my current age, then crafted a carefully written letter that took forever to get just right. I made the decision to leave out the detail about me having no legs—maybe that would be a bit much to find out at the same time she was learning she had a long-lost sister. Finally, I packaged up my heart and soul in a big manila envelope and sent it out on a hope and a prayer.

  In retrospect, the scene I made at the post office was pretty hilarious. Because Domi was famous, I was concerned about someone intercepting the package. I asked the postal lady about all of these hypothetical scenarios. “Okay, so if she isn’t there, no one else can sign for her, right? And if someone is there and it’s not her, they can’t take the package, right?” I asked the same thing in different ways over and over again to make sure all my bases were covered and I hadn’t forgotten anything. The lady must have thought I was nuts.

  I waited for two weeks, truly the longest two weeks of my life. I remember I was talking to my neighbor at my front door. “I’m going to go check the mail,” she said. “Do you want me to grab yours too?” I said, “Sure, thanks.” She returned with a Christmas card. When I opened the envelope, a letter signed with Dominique’s signature fell out of the card. In that moment, my heart stopped. I hadn’t been waiting on this for only two weeks; I had been waiting and praying for four years. Then I was seized with fear. What if she and Christina reject me? What if they don’t want to have anything to do with me?

  It was one of life’s true “Band-Aid” moments. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, it’s best to just get it over with. There was no point in hesitating; I just had to get on with it and read the note. I’ll never forget when I got to the middle of the letter and read Dominique’s words: “You’re about to be an auntie!” I knew right then and there that she had accepted me into her family. The next day there was a knock at my door and a delivery guy handed me a flower arrangement. Who would be sending me flowers? Then I read the note: “Love, Dominique and Christina.” I knew Dominique was getting ready to have her first baby and finishing up college, so I decided to give her as much time as she needed. I let her take the lead. And I still have the vase the flowers from my sisters came in next to my bed on a nightstand. It marked the beginning of us finding one another.

  A couple of weeks later, I was on my way to work at Disney when I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize. I answered it and heard a soft voice say, “Hello, Jennifer? This is Dominique.” I was so surprised that I didn’t know what to say at first (I know—me, speechless! Shocking!). But really, what do you say when your childhood idol turns out to be your biological, long-lost sister? And then that sister calls you when you’re not expecting it? I took a deep breath, tried to forget the awkwardness of the situation, and just talked like I would to a close friend. The conversation flowed so naturally that before I knew it, we had been on the phone for more than an hour. Toward the end of the conversation, I realized I still hadn’t told her I didn’t have legs. I was hoping that maybe her parents had filled her in about the reason why they gave me up. Maybe, I thought, I’ll just squeeze it in real quick, very casually . . .

  So that’s just what I did. Right before we got off the phone, I said, “Oh, you probably already know, but I was born without legs.” Dominique was pretty quiet on the other end of the phone for a minute. Okay, so she didn’t already know. I could tell she was trying to process and respond in an appropriate way.

  Then she kind of stammered. “Oh, oh . . . wow, no, I really didn’t know that.” She was trying her best to be polite and kind and not sound completely freaked out. I almost felt bad because she had already had one huge surprise (me!), and now she had to cope with another one. It was the reason I had purposefully left it out of my letter; it would have been way too much new information to handle at one time.

  “So,” she continued, “when can we meet? We all have to meet!”

  It was a huge relief knowing that she wanted to get to know me. Four months later, in May 2008, Christina and I both flew to Ohio, and all three of us met for the first time at Dominique’s home. At the time, our father, Dmitry, was still alive. But he died of cancer later that year. He knew the three of us were meeting, and I wondered how he felt about that. I was told that at the end of his life, he made amends with his whole family and even told my sisters he wanted to meet me. Unfortunately, he died before that ever happened. I had
a million questions to ask him, and I think we would have gotten along just fine. Like me, he had a strong personality and was very driven. My sisters say he was proud of me, of “the Moceanu” in me. I think at the end of his life, he realized and regretted the mistakes he’d made. I hope he found peace and took comfort in the fact that God is good and wanted our family to finally be whole.

  Though my sisters and I wanted things to go smoothly and easily, we each needed to go through an adjustment period. I had to figure out how I fit in this family that was so different from the one I grew up with. I was the outsider, the new kid on the block. Domi and Christina had a rough childhood during which they learned to rely on each other. As a result, they’re always going to be closer, and I have to be okay with that. I’ll admit I was a little jealous at first. They had inside jokes. They had memories. Christina struggled as well—she had always been the little sister, and now she had to share that role and let someone else in. The only way to grow our relationship was to invest time in it—talk things through, be open and honest with our feelings.

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  My VIPs

  My Sister: Dominique Moceanu

  Within minutes of meeting Jen, you get a great sense of who she is. She has a personality bigger than life: very bubbly, very outgoing, a great sense of humor—we can always joke, always laugh. I appreciate her drive because I had a lot of that when I was growing up—and still do today. She has set her mind on a goal, and she’s working toward all her big dreams. I see that while growing up she got to be a child and blossom and become the person she is today. It’s amazing what that kind of childhood can do for a person, what love can do.

  She’s gotten much stronger and closer to God in the time I’ve known her. We talked about that a lot at our last visit; it is great to have reached such a comfort level that we can talk about anything. I’m much more private with my faith. I’m proud of my faith, but I’ve chosen to be more private about it over the years.

  I try to be careful not to be too much of a big sister. Jen’s strong-willed and strong-minded. I’m there for her when she needs guidance. I know she wants to go through and figure things out on her own. I’m always here for her to bounce ideas off of, and I love our conversations. I always want to give her advice, and I want her to feel like she can come to me when she needs it. But I also want to give her space.

  She’s on a path toward her big goals. She’s living her dreams. I’m just excited to be part of the journey. In two more years, we will have known each other a decade, which is crazy when you think of how our relationship began. I’m proud that our relationship has never been forced; it has been a natural process that gets better over time. We’re probably at the best place we’ve ever been as sisters as far as our comfort levels go. There’s been much healing that has taken place over these past eight years, and it’s been a great emotional journey that we’ve both grown from.

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  Time is the key word. After Dominique and I were in contact with each other, another four years passed before we shared the news with anyone beyond our small, intimate circle of family and close friends. We couldn’t talk about it publicly. We waited for many reasons, but most importantly because Dominique felt we needed time to get to know each other before fielding an onslaught of questions and media attention. I was frustrated, but I understood. We each needed to process the situation in our own way. I had to miss Christina’s wedding because people couldn’t know about me yet. Then, in June 2012, Dominique’s book was published, and she and I did an interview that aired on the TV show 20/20.

  It was a bit melodramatic! Some news sources called our story “shocking,” “a dark family secret,” “a sin of omission.” They characterized Domi’s life as “tumultuous” and my letter to her as “the biggest bombshell” of her life. She admitted that rage was her first emotion, then denial. She felt like her life had been a lie.

  Hearing our story told was surreal. We all knew the story, but seeing it on national television was an entirely different experience. Once the story aired, my phone blew up with people asking me, “Why didn’t you say something?” So many people in my life didn’t know. I remember driving in LA the night the 20/20 piece aired and feeling like a huge weight had been lifted. And being able to post that first picture of all three of us on Facebook was a huge moment.

  Meeting My Biological Mother

  I met my biological mother for the first time in 2009 in Dominique’s home in Ohio. I remember the phone rang and my heart did a backflip: Camelia and her husband were about five minutes away. It felt like the scene was happening in slow motion. I heard her come through the door, speaking words in Romanian I couldn’t understand, and then she entered the living room. She had on this huge fur hat and walked toward me slowly. I held my breath.

  She hugged me and kept speaking in Romanian, so Dominique had to translate. She said how much I looked like Christina and Dmitry. Over the course of the afternoon, I showed her videos of me performing with Britney Spears and pictures of my acrobatic and aerial routines. She was proud of all the great things happening in my life. She told me she knew she never could have given me any of them. I sensed a great deal of sadness even when she smiled. She seemed haunted by a past that she had little to do with and that I don’t hold her responsible for. But no matter how much I assured her that I was fine, that my life was happy and I was healthy and everything was good, she couldn’t forgive herself. It’s something I can’t do for her, and I know it will take time. But I also know she’s a woman of faith and that will get her through. She believes in God, and He’ll help her realize she’s not to blame and this was always part of His plan for me.

  My parents came the next day to meet her as well and brought a shoe box full of old baby pictures. I have always wondered if they felt uncomfortable during those early reunions, but they supported me 110 percent. If they were nervous or worried, they didn’t let that get in the way. They put my needs above all else and trusted that although I was getting closer to my biological family, they wouldn’t lose me. Our bond is way too strong.

  We all had dinner together that night at Dominique’s. As I looked around, I realized that both my worlds were coming together at one dinner table. Isaiah 55:8 says, “‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the LORD.” God’s plans are so much bigger and more impressive than ours. His goal for your life is more rewarding, more fulfilling, more spectacular than you’ve ever dreamed possible. The trick is staying open to those possibilities. Let God in and let Him work His wonders.

  BELIEVE IT!

  Life Isn’t Always Black and White

  Sometimes life can be really colorful and complicated, and things you never could have seen coming in a million years just happen. What then? You have to adapt. My pastor said something one Sunday at church that has stuck with me: never put anything past yourself, and never say “never.” You may think to yourself, I would never do this or I would never do that. But the fact is, we are human and we make mistakes. This is why we need to show grace, compassion, empathy, and forgiveness. Everyone’s path is different. Everyone has different struggles, challenges, childhoods, joys, triumphs, defeats. We cannot fully relate to one another because we will never walk another’s exact path. I’ve made mistakes, I’m not perfect, and I’ve done things I’m not proud of. But I’ve also shown forgiveness. I know life isn’t always simple and clear-cut, and we can’t judge someone for doing what they do. That’s between them and God. The only person you can hold accountable is yourself.

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  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sky High

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  I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.

  —Ephesians 4:1–2

  I was working in operations at Disney World in 2007 when I first saw The Lion King show at Animal Kingdom. I was obsessed and would sneak back in to watch it at least once
a week. The dancers, the colors, the movements—the show was intoxicating. And it put an idea in my head.

  Up until this point, I had wanted to be only an athlete. But something about seeing this show lit a fire in me. I thought, I want to perform like that. And once I set my mind to something, I get fixated on making it happen. Through a friend, I met Nate Crawford, a seasoned acrobat, gymnast, and coach who performed at Disney. We met up at a gym and started bouncing around together on a trampoline. He was enamored with all the possibilities of what I could do—and what we could do together.

  “We should team up,” he said, just like that. “Put together an act.”

  I agreed, but most of his friends warned him against partnering with me. They said it was “career suicide.” He didn’t tell me any of this right away. Frankly, he didn’t care what people said. He went with his gut.

  My gut, however, turned out to be one of our biggest problems: I was so out of shape! I hadn’t competed in gymnastics in about five years and had virtually no strength, stamina, or definition. I had abs of flab instead of abs of steel! I needed to tone up, lose twenty pounds, and mentally prepare to perform. But exercising, especially cardiovascular exercise, is not easy for someone who doesn’t have legs. I did it mostly through circuit training, kayaking, and jumping on a trampoline with Nate.

  Nate was open-minded from the very beginning and confident he could teach me. He had traveled around the country performing with a professional troupe for ten years, so he knew what he was doing. He was full-on ready to take the “challenge” of teaching me to do what he did. He introduced me to the silks, red flowing fabrics straight out of a Cirque du Soleil production. I was totally enthralled by their beauty and fluidity, and also by the physical demands of working with them. Almost every trick Nate had ever learned was dependent on using his legs. He really had to get creative and figure out how to teach me everything he knew—without depending on his legs.