Sitting across a Baker's Square table from my birth-brother, sipping coffee and eating pie grateful slowly turned to guilt. I first met my birth brother, 5 years younger than me, 20 years ago. We met when the State agreed to open my closed adoption record to help me learn more about my medical history. I met him, my birth sister, and birth mom at a restaurant outside of Chicago- a middle point for us to meet as we lived in different states. When I walked into the restaurant I almost ran into...