For A Better World

I wish I had been aware of what adoption really meant for my life when I was younger. Knowing how it affected me and the reasons behind it would have made a huge difference in my understanding and perspective while growing up.

Two days after I was born in Yuba City, California I was placed into foster care. And a year later, I was adopted and raised by a middle-class family. My parents wound up getting a divorce, and I spent the majority of my childhood feeling very lonely and missing my family.

The way I was adopted was that my birth and adoptive mothers both went to the same gynecologist, who set up the adoption. The paperwork was all done by a neighbor who happened to also be a lawyer. Despite these close connections, my birth and adoptive mothers never even met face-to-face.

If I could remember being in my mother’s belly, I’m sure it would be my worst memory. I don’t know a lot about it, but what I do know is that she was not at all happy about my existence. My birth father has passed on, but my birth mother and I have been struggling to adjust to a relationship ever since being reunited. It takes quite a toll on me so I blog about it as a form of therapy.

Society needs to take a good look at the reasons for mothers abandoning their children. Those of us who’ve been affected by this, need to stand up and speak up about how their actions affected us in order to bring greater awareness to the emotional pain that follows a child who should have been a gift for their mother, but wound up being regifted instead.

Being adopted had been a challenge my entire life. It has affected my mental state, my physical health, and my relationships. When I least expect it, I get hit with a sucker punch of emotion that stems from deep-seeded feelings of abandonment and loneliness.

It shouldn’t be like this. The bond between a mother and her child is so strong for a reason and that reason is not to give up your child to someone else. I wish I just had a simple life where I could always look up to one mother, who raised and loved me from when I was born to when I became an adult and beyond.

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Even as a young child, I could feel the placidness of my relationship with my family. I could tell there was something missing and I always had an implicit urge to search for more as I grew up.

Now, I’m am a grown adult who is glad to have simply survived the whole ordeal. I’ve committed to speaking my truth and becoming a part of the positive and educational force for adoptee rights. Displaced children have many more needs that are currently tended to, and deserve to live in a safer, more comforting world. The right way is out there but so far the administration has gone in other directions.

Sharing my story as an adoptee is important because we all matter. Every story matters and they all add up to a cultural narrative that represents millions of people. Our voices must be heard in order to bring the change we know needs to happen for the sake of creating a more informed and accessible world for people like you and me.