I met my birth mother in January 2017.
It was hard.
Based on what I was told, she was raped at 15 and never wanted to give me away.
She was worried that what had happened to her, would also happen to me.
Before knowing this, rejection was my biggest challenge. I always thought that my mother could have kept me. I always questioned, “Was it truly that hard to keep me?”
This is what I thought as I grew up in a Christian household in Charlotte, North Carolina.
I was adopted through foster care one month after my birth.
Every Wednesday and Sunday, we would attend Christian church and school. In fact, all of my friends went to one of two places: Christian school or church.
Dad woke me up every morning singing, "Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory."
We prayed before every meal—even at restaurants.
My mom had an odd strict side. I wasn't allowed to wear a two-piece swimsuit until my freshman year of high school. PG-13 movies came way after my 17th birthday. She was always the one that put down the law.
I was surprised when I found out that my adoptive mom and birth mom wrote letters back and forth to each other. Supposedly, they couldn’t mail them directly to each other, so The Children's Home Society would pass them along.
Sharing my story is important, as it’s a constant reminder that we are not alone. I never realized how many of us there are. There is a community that is being developed.
No man is an island.