Who I Should Have Been

Growing up, I had an image of a face of a young woman looking down at me, sometimes smiling and sometimes crying. When I found my natural mother when I was 18, I realized that it was her face I had remembered for all those years. The time she spent time with me in the hospital and at the infant home, up until the final papers were signed when I was two or three weeks old—it left an imprint on my soul.

Just in the last few years, I remembered my natural father from when I was less than 24 hours old. I recalled him looking down at me, holding me close to him, telling me that he would always love me and would always be my father. There was so much pain in his eyes. He didn’t want to give me up and would not sign the adoption paperwork.

I was born in Washington D.C. A few days after my birth, I was taken to St. Ann's Infant Home, where I spent two months. It was this infant home used by Catholic Charities who arranged my adoption. My adoptive mother was a teacher and dad an engineer. I was adopted in 1977 when I was two months three days old. My new parents also adopted my two younger brothers, twins who were born two years after me.

I was six years old when I was told what adoption was and that I was adopted. Even at this age, I felt a bit out of place; now I knew why. My entire life after learning this, I was a square peg trying to fit into the round hole of my adoptive family. I love them, but I still have that feeling of not fitting in. I came to the conclusion, many years ago, that it would always be that way.

Currently, I do not have a relationship with my natural mother. I’m very close to other maternal family members, but not my mother. There has been too much rejection on her part. 

As for my father, he passed away in 1979—two years after I was born. He never got over my adoption. I’m very close with his family, who I just reunited with in 2011. In getting to know my natural father’s family, I got to know more about who I really am.

Let me back up …

I was adopted in 1977, in the day of typewriters. The paperwork we were given by the caseworker is, I have been told, more than most adoptees receive. There was a letter, written by my natural mother on her personal letterhead that had her initials on it. I knew her first and middle name (along with her mother’s name), courtesy of the paperwork. In that paperwork, there was also information that gave clues as to where she lived. My adoptive father had only to look in our phone book to find someone who had my grandmother’s initials and lived across the street from a place she had mentioned in the paperwork. After that, for years, my dad tracked them in the phone book. When I was 18, it was as simple as a phone call.

Initially, there was a pretty welcoming relationship.

We got together.

She met my son when he was a week old.

I met her mother.

There were holiday and birthday cards.

When Facebook became a thing, we befriended each other early on. 

Eventually, I pressured her to give me my father’s last name and about being open with her kids regarding me. She gave in about my father, but then I didn’t hear from her as often. I believe this was because she knew that truths were coming out and it would be proven that she’d been lying about some things.

The final rejection came when I got tired of waiting for her to tell her kids, my half-brother, and half-sister, about me. I’d kept quiet for 18 years (they were now 24 years old); I told her that they deserved to know about me and that I would tell them if she didn’t. Her sister even read what I was going to send to them and felt what I was saying was very well-written and that I deserved what I was asking.

Since then, I have not heard from her. I am, however, familiar with my two aunts (on her side) and am getting to know my cousins. When I got married, the children of one of my cousins were even in my wedding.

My mother was 15 years old when she made the choice to sign the paperwork giving me up for adoption. I have no idea how the adoption was legal without his signature. Even the paperwork that I have indicates he never signed the form. More than two years after my adoption was finalized and my natural father had passed away, his mother was still receiving the form for him to sign.

When my natural mother gave me my father’s last name, I learned that he’d passed away, but I was able to look up his family. I sent them a letter, connected, and now have a very close relationship.

I’ve had a lifetime of issues as a result of my adoption. I have a hard time forming solid, healthy relationships, as trust is an issue for me. Yet, when I connect with people, I crave a relationship. It has only been in the past few years that I have been self-evaluating and I am proud of the woman I am becoming, now that I am embracing who I should have been.

Larger Family of Life

I am one year shy of thirty years as an adoptee. When I was three years old, I was adopted by the couple that I have called mum (Australian spelling) and dad since the day they picked me up – on my third birthday – from the orphanage in Hong Kong. I turn thirty-two in October of this year.  

My story is a happy one. I was one of the blessed ones who ended up with a happy ending. Though, of course, it isn’t an ending at all. My life is a series of journeys that I share with the people I love. The beginning of my journey I don't remember much of, only what my adoptive parents, and then my birth mother and Paw Paw have told me. 

My birth mother was seventeen when she gave birth to me. From what I've gathered, the “father” was some guy from school that she had a fling with and the pregnancy was not expected. I don't know the full story and I honestly have no interest in finding out any more about him. 

My birth mother and her parents raised me as best as they could for the first few months of my life until I fell seriously ill. They couldn’t afford the hospital fees, so they were convinced to relinquish guardianship to the state. The officials promised them that a family in Hong Kong would adopt me quickly; however, I ended up in Po Leung Kuk for almost three years. 

I have no recollection of my time in the orphanage. I do know that my time there has shaped many of my habits (protectiveness of food, introvert nature, etc.) and my personality. But, I have no true memories of my time there.  I did go back to visit Po Leung Kuk in 1998 with my adoptive parents and there were still a couple of the caregivers from when I was there. I didn't recognize them, but they remembered me, so there were obviously attachments formed at least from their end.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

In October of 1988, a couple from Australia made their way to Hong Kong to pick up a little girl who did not realize she was about to find her forever home. A story has been told that a friend of my parents back in Australia who spoke Cantonese had to explain to me that I wasn't on "holidays," that I wouldn't have to go back to Hong Kong. When mum and dad brought me home to Melbourne, it was my third birthday. We lived there happily for another seven years.

My adoptive parents brought me up in the Presbyterian tradition, taking me to Sunday school and church services. We still talk of God's providence in my life and theirs: their approval for adoption happened on the day I was born, before either party knew the other existed, for example. I'm still a part of the Church today, my larger adoptive family.

In 1994, my parents decided that they should track down my birth mother. The journey probably started prior to that year, but I only realized and understood as planning for the trip to Hong Kong was happening. I have no recollections of how I felt. I'm sure I was excited and perhaps a little nervous, but that first meeting is just an image in my mind...or more to the point, an image of a photo of me sitting with my birth mother and Paw Paw. To be honest, I have no real feelings about any time I met my birth mother in the years since, either (1998, 2005, 2009). Just vague memories...  Sometimes I wonder what I would feel today if I met my birth mother for the first time again, though that's often only a passing thought. Perhaps this is because it was also in 1994 that we adopted my younger brother (not blood-related). Or perhaps nothing would change since I’ve always considered my adoptive parents to be my real parents, as it should be.

A couple of years later we moved to North Queensland, where I completed my high school years. I probably faced racism in school, but it wasn't something that ever fazed me any; to me, it was just part of the ingrained culture of high school.  In hindsight, it really only highlights that children can be cruel and ignorant. I never let it get to me, though. I even had to have a teacher point out to me that another student was bullying me...weird, right?  I'm a reserved person, and even if something is going on that is challenging me, or that is upsetting me, I often don't ask for help. Whether that stems from my days in the orphanage or something that happened after that...I'm not sure, but who I am is informed by those early days.

In 1998 we visited Po Leung Kuk, where I was placed when I was a baby. As I mentioned before, there were workers there who still remembered me. This same trip, we met my birth mother and Paw Paw again and we also met my brother's birth mother, as well.

We moved to Perth, Western Australia in 2006, and the next chapter of my life began. I became stronger in my faith as a follower of Christ and I made some lasting friendships within church circles. I completed a teaching degree and, in 2010, began working in childcare/early learning, which I am still doing today.

And then, in 2015, I met Mark: my wonderful husband. And what are the odds? He was adopted too, from England. In fact, I married into a family of adopted people. His sister and brother-in-law were adopted as well. 

For me, the biggest messages I’ve received from these relationships are these: 

Adoption can be special. Adoption is the family that is chosen. Adoption is about love. 

I am blessed to have been adopted into this larger family of life. 

Being adopted has afforded me opportunities in life that I may have never had if I hadn't been; I am forever grateful for that fact.

Conflicted

My birth name was Theresa Anne Bailly.

For 22 years, I fought to meet my biological family and be included in their lives.

Finally, at age 25, I was able to reconnect with them.

Both my biological parents were from wealthy families. I was given away for adoption because my parents weren't married: My 22-year-old father was fighting the war in Vietnam, and my 20-year-old mother was a college student when they learned she was pregnant. This was before the 1972 Title IX protections were enacted to prevent discrimination against women for pregnancy in school.

My paternal side was all from California. My great grandfather was a renowned Hollywood film editor who worked for Selznick Studios, the biggest film studio in Hollywood’s early days. He won an Oscar as Chief Editor of one of the most famous movies of all time: Gone With The Wind, and was nominated for two more films: Rebecca and Since You Went Away.

Meanwhile, I was raised on a farm in central New Jersey by mentally ill hoarders who died penniless with their house in foreclosure. My parents meant well, but were neglectful. My siblings and I went unattended, did drugs in our teens, and my oldest adopted sibling became an abusive alcoholic. He was depressed and self-destructive. He eventually died at age 47, a victim of his own vices.  

My experience with adoption in the 1960s was awful. I saw adoption as child trafficking, gross control of women, forced abduction of their babies as a means of social and moral control.

Thou shalt not fornicate before marriage! And if you do? Repent by relinquishing the child to good Christians who are more deserving of it. Birth control and abortion were nonexistent. Women were held hostage by the government’s control over their reproduction. 

How to survive all that manipulation? One day at a time. Take control of it. Understand it. Fight for rights. Educate others. Stand with others who are marginalized and discriminated against. Work to stay healthy and whole, spiritually and physically. Practice gratitude. Give to others.

Adoption is complicated. It is life-long and misunderstood as always being positive.

In some cases, adoption is the cause of family separation, while in others it is a cure for it.

Whatever the adoptee's reflections and experiences with adoption may be, it stems from losses and this needs to be validated.

Proud

I was born in Zhanjiang, China.

Because I was born a girl during the one child policy, I was also abandoned in Zhanjiang, China. I was then placed in foster care.

Thankfully, I have no memories of this, as my foster mother did not feed me, bathe me, or take me out of my crib. My adoptive mom tells me that, when I was younger, I told her it was "dark in China" before she came.

In June 1997, I was adopted at 11 months and raised in Canada by the only family I’ve ever known. I had a happy childhood and parents who were very open to any questions I had about my adoption once I was old enough to want to know more.

As a child, being adopted never bothered me. When I hit my teen years, I started to question who I was:

Why was I abandoned?

Where did I come from?

Who were my parents?

Did they still think of me at all?

I felt like I didn't belong.

I was angry at my birth parents.

Then, I read a book by a Chinese woman named Xinran called Message from an Unknown Chinese Mother. The stories collected in this book moved and helped me to think of my birth mother—who I will likely never meet— in a completely different light. Because it is technically illegal to abandon children in China, parents who do this must hide anything that might identify them. The topics of abandonment and the one child policy in China is sort of taboo. While many people are aware of this history (until just recently), they don't know how it affected the lives of baby girls like me. I’m one of the lucky ones.

Adoption has had a great impact on how I want to start my own family. When I was adopted, I was shocked to find out that I was diagnosed with scoliosis, which made me even more curious about my medical history.

A fear of what I could unknowingly pass on to my children is the primary reason why I have decided to not want biological children.

Instead, I want to adopt. I want to help other children who are like me.

In the future, I see myself running a successful day home, with only my personal fears to hold me back, because today I am proud to be adopted and proud of the life I have made despite a rough beginning.

Someone Like Me

I was born in Seoul, South Korea to a family with four other children, one of whom who was my twin. Two weeks later, I was placed in an orphanage through Korean Social Service. On April 27th, 1977, at three months old, I was adopted via Danadopt in Denmark and began my new—dysfunctional—life as an only child.

I was adopted into a defective family that sexually abused me.

My dad was narcissistic or psychopathic, and my mother suffered from a personality disorder, likely borderline personality. They not only were unable to take care of an infant, they abused me. The abuse was instantly present all the time, mixed together with ordinary family-life stuff like having dinners.

In school, I was the natural underdog, the neglected child who had problems connecting with other human beings. I had not learned how to mirror others or that emotions were ok to have…that it was ok to cry if I fell and hurt my knee, for instance.  Because of this, I was an easy target and was bullied in kindergarten.

I've used most of my grown-up life recovering from the damage that was done.

Today, I'm not functioning in an ordinary job. The consequences after years of emotional and sexual abuse in my adoptive family requires a great deal of therapy, but I’m proud of my coping skills and ability to go on after decades where life stopped every time I was abused.

In 2009, I found my birth parents and subsequently lost contact again for 8 years. Culture and language barriers make it very difficult to maintain a relationship.

Just two months ago, I communicated with my sister—and am at an impasse with her as well. I made of the mistake of asking about her husband, and there has been no response back. (I have notion that she might be divorced.) I don't know how to break the silence to resume a conversation again.

Someday, I’d like to live abroad, though I don’t know where. I’d love to study something, but I don’t know what. This year, I hope to go to Korea. Or maybe next year. It doesn't feel like the right time just yet to do it, and there are no open opportunities for me to make it real.

For now, I’d settle for finding someone like me.

“Dad is Dad, and Mom is Mom”

I was adopted from China when I was ten months old.

I was two weeks old when I was found abandoned at a train station. After a quick hospital check-up, I was placed in an orphanage.

I stayed there for ten months.

Prior to being adopted, I wasn't able to form words, much less know what they meant. Being adopted didn't mean much to a baby, but being with a family that loved me - that meant a lot.

I grew up in a wonderful home with great parents, and an adopted sister from China.

I have been told that I got along quite well with my adoptive family and I’m proud of the name chosen by my adoptive parents.

I'm also proud of the life I was given despite being abandoned.

To me, maintaining relationships is important. In fact, that is my focus this year: to maintain a great relationship with my friends and family.

As for my future, I would love to see myself touring the world on book tours with my family and friends by my side, as well as have an idea of who my biological family is.

Sometimes, I do wonder, think, and ask myself why I was abandoned.

It's just a passing thought that I don't tend to dwell over because I'm reminded of the happiness I have gained by being abandoned.

Sharing my story is important because I want people to know that being adopted is not necessarily a bad thing.

Too Young To Be Adopted

Most people know the exact place, day, and minute they were born.

But my age? It’s only an estimate.

I was found in a rural town in China as an infant before being taken to an orphanage. The people who found me could only guess that I was around two weeks old. I have no memories of this, though I suppose no one can remember what their life was like when they were a brand-new soul in the universe. The difference is, adoptees don’t have the luxury of hearing their story from their parents. During those two weeks I was with my birthmother, I like to imagine that she cuddled me and sang me lullabies. I imagine her picking me up in the middle of the night and whispering, “I love you”, as she rocked me back to sleep.

To my knowledge, I was only in the orphanage for a couple of weeks, but was lucky enough to be transferred to a foster family. My adoptive parents adopted me when I was nine months old. I’ve lived in the United States ever since. The first few years I lived with my adoptive family were pretty good—at least all the home videos would say so. I vaguely remember when I started walking and being able to play with my sister, who is my parents biological daughter. My whole family was thrilled to have me.

In China, I was destined to grow up in a poor, rural city, marry a farmer, and spend the rest of my life raising a family. My life in the United States has afforded me a comfortable, middle-class lifestyle where I was able to attend a great public school and get a college education from a world-class university. I now live on my own and am so happy to be able to visit my adoptive family as often as I’d like.

But, the problem with being adopted so young is that you don’t have the autonomy yet, or the ability to understand abstract concepts such as “adoption” or “emotions”. You can’t speak for yourself. And though I don’t have any concrete memories from my days in foster care, my initial feelings about life, feeling abandoned, lonely, and fearful have stayed with me for a long time.  Questions such as, “Why did my mother abandon me?”, and, “Am I unlovable forever?” have been something I’ve had to learn to emote and speak about as a “regular person” (i.e. non-adoptee). It’s been a long learning and growing process because these feeling have been at the center of my unconsciousness for most of my life.

I’m proud to report; however, that despite my trauma, I’ve built a strong, healthy relationship with another human being. My adoption instilled a sense of self-worthlessness and distrust of others. Finding someone I could open up to and completely trust, while feeling confident about myself, has been an amazing experience. We’re even taking the next step and moving in together! It’s a huge milestone for me.

I do want to go back and find my birthparents one day. I wish I had something from my past—a note from them, a piece of quilt my mother made, just something that I could find them with. But, the odds of locating them in rural China are extremely thin: records aren’t well kept, and most parents abandoned their kids instead of surrendering them to an orphanage due to the political climate.

I will return one day, once my financials are in order. I see myself in contact with them, but I don’t get my hopes up too high.

I plan on moving forward, with my relationship, with my blog, with MY life. My blog’s purpose is to share my story. Yes, I’m adopted, and I hope my story will change the way non-adoptees respond to someone telling them they’re adopted: “Oh, I’m sorry”.

Don’t be sorry. Ask me about it.

Each adoptee has a different story, so don’t lump us together.

Let me tell you the great opportunities I’ve been given, let me speak before putting your assumptions on me. Because I’ve got an awesome story, and it’s better than you, or I, could imagine!  

Opening Up

I was born in Arad, Romania.

20 days after my birth, I was placed in an orphanage and stayed there for a year until I was adopted.

I was too young to realize whether I wanted to get adopted or not.

We are still unclear about how or why my sister and I ended up in orphanage.

Based on what I’ve been told, my birth family was poor.

Despite all of that, I am thankful for being a part of a middle class family who made sure I had access to quality education and support groups.

Our adoptive parents adopted us because they could not have kids of their own.

My adoption has always been a difficult topic for me to talk about. It is something I have never been able to openly discuss with anyone - partially because I didn't want people to think I was different.

Today, I am a little more open about it. I tell some of my closest friends and relatives.

To me, advocating for that is important.

Since being adopted, I have had countless opportunities that I would not have had in Romania. I have obtained a university-level education, which would have been very unlikely in Romania.

I am proud of the journey I’ve been through. I am proud of accepting myself for who I am as an adoptee.

However, I wish I had known more about my birth family and Romania as a country.

I want to find my birth family.

One day, I will.

I’m sharing my story in order to help other adoptees to overcome some of their struggles.

Girl From St. Petersburg

I was born in St. Petersburg.

As I recall, I grew up in a very open and loving family.

Shortly after my birth, I was placed in an orphanage. It was a dark, cold and lonely place. Every day, you heard babies crying. I stayed there for four years.

I have tried to reconnect with my birth family. My birth mother doesn't speak with me, but I have spoken with my father. When it comes to that relationship, it’s a bumpy road.

We have definitely had our ups and downs, but what family doesn't? I remember I used to always tell my adoptive mom that I wanted to run away and go back to see my birth mom, and that I knew she always wanted me back with her.

I still have relationship and trust issues, as well as anxiety and depression, but I have been able to deal with it.

Today, I’m proud to have a loving family and support system.

I’m sharing my story because I want people to know that adoption is a great way to start a family!

Sisters

There are people who think all adoption stories are horrible and sad. Elena and Lara Hall are grateful that theirs is one blessed with extreme happiness.

At the ages of 18 months and one year, Elena and Lara Hall left the orphan wing of a hospital in Russia behind. Their adoptive parents contacted an adoption agency through what would become the family’s church, legally adopted Elena in the United States, flew to Russia to get her, and repeated the process for Lara. Although babies when adopted, everything changed. Their new country, new language, new culture, and values became their own. Neither girl has any memory of their life prior to being adopted.

Elena and Lara’s relationship with their adoptive parents is and has always been filled with compassion and support…so much so that Lara currently lives at home again as she transitions out of college.  And, even though Elena isn’t living with her parents post-college, her home is only twenty minutes away. Their childhood was one filled with a lot of sports, dance, summer camps—and love—where their parents were highly involved and the girls were always encouraged to do their best.

Both girls graduated high school and then college. Lara excelled in sports, particularly volleyball, and Elena had the opportunity to study the Russian language. While on a mission trip to Russia, Elena was not only able to travel to the birth town of she and her adopted sister, she had the surreal experience of seeing the building where they were both born. 

Because their adoptions were international and closed, neither girl has sought out her family of origin. The sisters overcome this with the strength of their bond with each other and their faith. Faith in Jesus has been a strong value in their adoptive family and helped provide comfort to Elena and Lara. When they think of their birth parents with sadness, they find joy again when they remember their faith in Jesus and how God gave them the perfect family.

Elena and Lara can confidently say that they are not sad about their adoption experience. They’re both proud to talk about adoption and their story. Throughout their lives, strangers thought they were twins (something the girls found both cool and hilarious, as they do not look alike). Upon learning that these sisters are not blood relatives and were adopted from Russia, intrigue allowed the entire Hall family to share about the beauty of adoption. This constant “adoption talk” along with the open line of communication that their parents provided helped Elena and Lara to see that adoption is not about their birth parents potentially not wanting them but, rather, a gift.

Elena's immediate goal is to gain acceptance into graduate school for Social Work. She hopes to eventually have a family of her own while positively influencing others in her career.

Lara's current goal is to get into graduate school for Psychology. She hopes to marry her high school sweetheart, have children, and build a career as a child psychologist. 

These next steps are part of a journey for which Elena and Lara are entirely grateful. Had they not been adopted, who knows what they would be doing?

Accepting Myself

I was born in Seoul and adopted when I was about four months old.

I am very fortunate to have two amazing parents and an older sister who’s also adopted from Korea.

During my first few years in the U.S., we moved around quite a bit because my father was in the military.

I remember as a kid I would throw temper tantrums and say things like, “You’re not even my real family.” I had no idea what that meant at the time, I just used it as a way to express myself. Only now do I realize how hurtful that must have been to my parents.

At 28, I’m starting to feel as if I should search for my long lost birth parents. But, I'm not too sure where to start and am afraid of failing or being rejected.

There were many challenges I had to overcome once I got adopted. It was a constant battle to get in touch with my feelings, to fight my insecurities of rejection, to not feel like I had to validate my existence to my family or friends, and to get in touch with my Korean roots.

I’m still trying to overcome some of them.

I’ve been told that my birth family had four older brothers and sisters. I wish I knew why having one more child was too much.

But I would not be the person I am today, if I wasn’t adopted.

I am proud of being able to attend a Korean culture camp where other Korean adoptees get to spend a week learning about the culture. It was hard opening up to young girls about some of my struggles, but I knew it had to be done.

I’m sharing my story because I want people to know they are not alone.

When I was growing up I had no one to talk to about this.

Not that my parents weren't open to talking, but I had no one who could empathize.

The Internet wasn't a thing when I was a kid, and lot of adoptees weren't coming forward to talk about these hard feelings.

Things are very different now. If I can share my story to validate other adoptees’ feelings, then it was well worth the vulnerability.

Different, Not Deficient

I was born in Uijeongbu, South Korea. I came to the U.S. at six months and moved to a small, rural town in Tennessee.

My dad was a pastor from an even smaller farming town in the state. My mother was an advocate for people with special needs from Memphis. My older brother was a blonde-hair, blue-eyed domestic adoptee three years older than me. My younger brother would be adopted seven years later from Hong Kong.

We were the only Asians for a few counties, minus the small Chinese family who ran a local restaurant in the next town.

My family was pretty conservative in thought and beliefs.

Growing up, there never seemed to be room for error in academics, morals, or our public actions. Not only did I stand out because of my ethnicity, but also because I was the daughter of the main Southern Baptist church's pastor.

All I really cared about doing was pleasing my dad and representing the family well. I never wanted to acknowledge that I was different.

To me, different was deficient. I never talked about it.

Occasionally, though, someone would tell me to go back where I came from or ask me how much I cost, and the thought of being different just kept coming back.

Adoptees are masters of balance and fluidity. We learn how to move in and out of situations like chameleons, constantly shifting. For me, I stopped caring what others thought when I realized I didn't care. It's been rough between my entire adoptive family and I for about five years now.

During my sophomore year of college, I started becoming more and more interested in my adoptive parents. As I hung out with my Korean friends and their families, a deep longing for something stirred.

December of junior year, I began the search for my biological family. By that August, I had heard about the death of my birth mother ten years ago. My father didn't want any contact, and my mother's younger sister had been looking for me since.

The grieving process has been long, and I want to just call it quits. Right now, it's the only connection I have to my birth family.

I try to compartmentalize a lot of my life, and it has hurt a lot of people. As much as I want everything to flow together like a lot of people's, I don't know if people are as ready as they think to make room. I'm also just growing up, and I need some kind of space to call my own. That is such a luxury that I have been able to afford the past four years. I live in a town about an hour away from my adoptive family and I’m working to move across the country one day.

I'm proud of the fact I'm still here and thriving.

I'm proud of the fact that things haven't turned out as well as I wanted, but I am still hopeful that everything will be okay.

My story isn't the only one out here, and perspective is more beautiful when it comes full circle.

I just want people to find their voice and share their story.

We are all like a body. We need each other to survive. Sure, a limb can be severed. It will die on its own and the rest of the body will not function at 100%, but the body will still function.

I'm not proud of everything I've said or done concerning my adoption experience, but we haven't seen a lot of open international transracial adoption experiences that went well. I know that we are strong people who have gone through more than we let on.

 

I know that we work hard to be known and know the culture that let us go so many years ago.

I think it's a harder situation when it's an infant being adopted.

I wish adoptive parents were better prepared. There's not an excuse anymore like there might have been in the 90s.

My goal is to let myself breathe since I'm done with college. I wasn't sure how to handle all of this while working on a B.A., but I'm taking a gap year before grad school to relax.

Hopefully, I will go to graduate school in a year to get my master's in Family Systems and then a Mediator's license.

I want to work to create a space for adoptees, adoptive families, and agencies to improve this paradox through critical dialogue. I hope to be on better terms with my adoptive parents and to find peace with my biological family.

I used to not be able to look in the mirror without being disappointed or somewhat annoyed that I wasn't something better.

I didn't think it mattered who I was since there seemed to only be room for certain people in my town.

It's been painful to go through this process of disillusionment as a young pioneer on a subject that most grown, educated people would never approach.

The reality is that we have to form movements, organizations, panel talks, and yell just for people to hear that there is a downside to their savior complex.

There is something lost when 'forever families' form out of paperwork, money, and plane rides.

Adoption isn't wrong or bad, but it hasn't been done well. It has been in the favor of the adoptive parents and agencies in most cases.

The suicides occurring due to mental health issues have gone unnoticed.

We learn how to survive instead of thrive with the people who paid $40,000 for us to have the 'better' life.

At the end of this, I still believe there is hope. There is something between my parents and I that is still there after so many tears shed at 3 AM in a lonely apartment. I have the luxury of faith in a bigger God who ordains all and knows all.

I'm fighting the desire to become too drunk on grief and forget about what has kept me alive all this time.

I'm sharing my story because who else will? I'm sharing my story because life has to be about more than just surviving as one of the marginalized.

We are different, not deficient.

Always Looking For Answers

I was found abandoned at birth on the streets of Ahmednagar, Maharashtra, India, severely malnourished, miasmic, and suffering from dysentery.

I wish my birth family could have kept me longer, so that I could at least have a memory of them.

The hospital was my “home,” until I was placed in an orphanage, Bharatiya Samaj Seva Kendra.

Based on what I was told, multiple inquiries were made by the local police in an attempt to find my legal guardians.

However, no one came forward.

After so much time in the foster care system, I was declared available for adoption.

At 11 months old, a family from the United States adopted me.

My adoptive family was very religious, but that didn’t bother me. They also valued diversity. In fact, diversity is something we’ve celebrated often. We had our fair share of trials and tribulations growing up, but what family doesn’t?

If there was one thing that I could be thankful for, it was their openness regarding my adoption. I was grateful to be adopted, but I still felt sad when I thought of my biological family. I still have many unanswered questions such as, “What would my life be, if my birth mother had kept me?”

Adoption has given me opportunities that I would not have had if I stayed in India. I will never know what my life would have been if I stayed. Who knows? Maybe it would've been the same. Not worse - just different.

I have faced many challenges since being adopted: Connecting and bonding with people, fear of rejection or abandonment. For me, it is a daily battle to open myself up and allow people in.

It has taken me a long time to be able to share my story.

I am proud to be an American.

I am proud to be Indian, something I always will be.

Someday, I will go back to India, and maybe it will feel like home again.

But, no matter where I am a citizen of, I will never truly fit in.

In India, although they may look like me, it is obvious that I don't act like an Indian. I lack the culture I was born into. And in America, I look different from everyone else, but I’m an American at heart.

There is a part of me that’s missing anywhere I go. 

Currently, I wish to attend school for nursing, but am held back due to my desire to go back to India, and see the country and culture I was born into.

We are not alone.

It's perfectly acceptable to love the life you were given through adoption, while still grieving the one that was taken away.

This realization has given me the courage to share my story in order to encourage other adoptees to share theirs.

Miracle Out Of A Mistake

I was born in Seoul, South Korea in 1989 and immediately placed with a foster mom for four months. The Korean adoption agency was able to find me a family in Denver, Colorado. My childhood was great. I have two older brothers, a very loving mother and father.

My parents are now divorced, but we’re all very close. I was extremely lucky to land a spot in this family. 

I have been back to Korea twice to meet my biological mom. The first time was in 2000. I was only 11 years old, but I was dying to meet a blood relative. My whole family traveled to Seoul - dark haired dad, blonde mom, and two red-headed brothers. On the day of our meeting, my biological mom said she could only talk for one hour. We had traveled 14 hours to meet for one, but it was still worth it. A translator met her in a coffee shop where she had to spend the first twenty minutes convincing her not to get cold feet.

She was incredibly nervous and ashamed to face us. She wanted to meet in secret, so we waited in a white van in the alley behind the shop. No one in her family knew about me at this time. She had married a man and had three kids - all my younger half siblings. We spent a short, but emotional forty minutes together. When I asked about my father, she avoided the subject – only saying, “he was a bad man.” I had always been told by the adoption agency growing up that my parents went on a few dates. When she got pregnant, he left her.

Fast forward to 2011 - I had just graduated from University of Southern California. I got a plane ticket to Seoul as a graduation gift from my parents. There, I would spend a month by myself. I asked the adoption agency to get in touch with my biological mom, but she had moved three times. They called over and over, but (due to secrecy) could not leave a name/number with the strange man who answered the phone. Turns out it was the wrong house the entire time.

Two weeks into stay, the agency miraculously found her. An aunt on my mom’s side had come looking for me (a few years before) and the agency found her phone number buried somewhere in my adoption papers. I reunited with almost everyone on my mom's side of the family: three half-siblings, five of my seven cousins, aunts, uncles, and even my biological grandmother. My grandfather passed away years ago.

It was an emotional roller coaster for the last two weeks of my trip. I spent many days with the family - even some without translators. My family wanted to hold me, eat with me, go to amusement parks, even sleep next to me even if we couldn’t talk. A lot of communication was through hand signals, pointing, Google translate. Despite being an adult, my biological mom continually bought milk for me, since in her eyes, I was still a baby.

Eventually, we had to talk about my birth father. The translator, my mom, my grandmother, and I were able to sneak away from the rest of the family, so we could talk in private. In 1988, my mom met some new so-called,“friends.” She begged my grandparents to let her go camping for the weekend. They had a bad feeling about it, but they agreed because she had a hard time being social and they wanted her to meet some good people.

Her "friends" drove her a day outside of Seoul to a camp where she was raped. She had no car, no license, no way to get home. The man did not even tell her his name. The only thing she overheard was that he was getting married the next day. A million thoughts crossed my mind: What kind of camp was this? Was it some sick labor camp? Or was it a sort-of bachelor party where everyone was getting wasted? Were there other girls experiencing this, too? Or was she the only one? My birth mom explained how it was “staged.” A horrible plot to lure her out to this campground - wherever it was. These people (not her friends at all) were in it for something... most likely money. To this day, I still do not know my birth father’s name.

The translator and I cried the entire train ride back to the guest house. I’ve lost a lot of sleep over the years - having bad nightmares and visions of this place where my biological mom was taken. I was angry and upset FOR her, for a very long time. On the bright side, she says I was the only reason she got through the pain of it all. She had me inside her when she had no one. She couldn’t tell her family at the time since unwed pregnancies were taboo in Korea. A secret like this could've gotten her disowned. She lied to her parents about a job in the city, spent nine months at an unwed mother’s home and came home after giving birth. The doctors wouldn't even let her hold me the day I was born, for fear of a bond being created.

Currently we have a great relationship. We talk via text/social media and I consider her a very close friend. Her whole side of the family knows about me now. They found out about me when I was already in my late teens. I am in contact with my half siblings and some extended family. A few speak pretty good English.

I am not in contact with my birth father. Most of me, 95%, never wants to meet this person in my entire life. The other 5% is slightly curious about my other half. After all, he did give me life. I have a lot of questions. “Is he a better person now? Did he learn his lesson? Did karma come back to him in some way? Does he have a big family? Are they good people?” I have forgiven him in my heart, hoping he’s become a better person. It’s not worth holding on to anger...it only makes things worse.

My family is very important to me. Some people refer to them as my “American” family... or “American” parents. To me they are just my mom, my dad and my brothers. They are the main thing I have. They are the ones that pushed me, supported me and raised me to be who I am today. My parents provided me a life that I never would've gotten in Korea and I will always thank them for that. They helped me get music and dance lessons, get into sports later, do all the normal things a child would do.

The main challenge I had growing up was dealing with feelings of abandonment and loss. Regardless of your story, every adopted child feels abandonment and loss. In some ways, they need even more attention. As I grew up, it turned into wanting a lot of friends. Eventually it turned into boyfriends; I wanted to feel loved. There's always a void you are trying to fill in some way or another.

However, the main thing that kept me going was my music. It has been the greatest outlet for me. I've found that the more I immerse myself in my songwriting and lifelong career goals, the more I find out who I am. I can just be me - I don't have to try as hard to fill the void.

If I have one piece of advice for parents looking to adopt... it’s to be transparent. No secrets. Growing up, I was always told I was adopted. It was always a very open topic of discussion with my parents. It's OK that you're not blood related, you’re still family. It's OK that you don't look like your family. You hear these stories about kids who didn't know they were adopted because their parents never told them until they were fifteen. That, to me, is astonishing; a huge no-no. The kid already knows deep down they’re different. I’m sure it comes from a good place, but it is far more detrimental to a child’s identity than helpful. Encourage your child to visit his/her homeland, because nothing will change (even meeting biological relatives) the family bond they have created with you.

Adoption means the world to me. It's a very beautiful thing that I wish more people would do. There are too many babies without homes. I plan on doing it when I have the career and funds to take care of someone else. I'm always open to getting involved with more organizations. I love giving back and answering any questions if it helps adoptees and/or their parents.

I’m sharing my story because I want other adoptees to know they’re not alone. Everyone's story is important. I don't think anyone's situation (prior to being adopted) is ideal; that's why we are where we are now. I hope adoptees can look at the good and not dwell on the bad. I also hope they have - or can find - a passion or a dream.

My personal goal is to become a successful songwriter. I would like to be a ghost writer for other artists and get into commercial jingles. If I can touch one person with my music, it’s good enough for me. I hope my music makes it’s way around the world - especially South Korea. I want my birth family to hear my song and know automatically it’s me. Music is truly the universal language - it’s the best way I know to breakdown the language barrier and reconnect with my roots.

My Dream

It was during Economics class in my senior year of high school that my life completely changed. While most people don’t have such an occurrence happen to them in such a dull setting, I somehow did. I was simply browsing the internet, looking at universities and their respective programs. Like any soon-to-be college student, I was picturing how I wanted my life to turn out; what my dreams would be. Particularly, I was looking for universities that offered an International Relations program that had an emphasis on the region I’m from: Kazakhstan.

I came across this one university that offered an International Studies program that had an entire program devoted to Kazakhstan.

As I sat in my chair in shock, I even noticed that they had courses in the very language of my nation and people. I kept searching for more details and information about the program and eventually came across a former professor at the institution. She was listed as a professor of the Kazakh language. The site even provided an email address. Little did I know, meeting this professor would be the beginning of a journey that would lead me to where I am today.

Being an adoptee, there was always bound to be some difficulties in understanding my background. 

Growing up, I would go through different stages in my life where I would either accept or reject it. Like any adolescent, I simply wanted to grow up like everybody else. Also, being in the United States, not many people knew where Kazakhstan was - let alone what a Kazakh person was. Adding to the misconceptions, I also grew up in the era that “Borat” was released. With the only depiction of Kazakh people in the media being “Borat,” it was hard to find a hero that would help me embrace my ethnicity and race. Sure, there were a few Asian Americans in the media, but most were stereotypical, not uplifting. I also didn’t have any Kazakhs that I knew outside of the adoptees I would see at occasional reunions for other Kazakh adoptees. However, as we grew apart and went on to live our separate lives, I began feeling more and more isolated.

Growing up without an understanding of who I was as a Kazakh was not easy, even though I was still living with a loving family who embraced my Kazakh roots, and wanted me to do the same. Nevertheless, I became really close with people from families of immigrants. I saw how they would create these communities with each other that embraced who they were. It didn’t matter that they didn’t have anyone but themselves. I saw and envied their happiness and contentment.

The second I started down that path was the moment that I started loving. I became enthralled with the land that I was now so proud to be from. The longstanding history. The rich culture. The amazingly beautiful people that I eventually realized were always my own even though I had been living apart from them. I began to really become obsessed with the place that I had once suppressed.

Seeing how great Kazakhstan could be and how far it has come truly inspired me to do something with my life, especially considering my particular situation with my background as an adoptee. I was given everything when I had nothing. No matter what I would eventually decide to do with my life, I wanted (and needed) to prove to myself that I deserved the opportunity to be where I was.

Now you may at this point be wondering: How did this all stem from an email that on a website of a university in the middle of the state of Indiana in the United States of America? While she no longer taught at that university, this professor was actually a teacher at an NIS school in Southern Kazakhstan now. I proceeded to email her stating my personal dilemma and desire for reconnection. Within a day she responded with heartfelt support and a shared adoration for our people and nation. When I had revealed that she was the only Kazakh person that I was in communication with, she would go on to introduce me to her students and other colleagues via social media. I would eventually meet Kazakhs from all over the world and from all different walks of life through friends of friends and work colleagues.

My journey led me through different media personalities, professors, and students across the entire world. In the midst of this exhilarating time, I was able to start reconnecting with my motherland and finally start realizing how much reconnection meant to me personally.

It was this culmination of my passion of reconnection and realization of my dream that has led me to where I am today and where I hope to be. While I was not raised in Kazakhstan, it has and always will be with me in my life. It’s a part of my identity that I am proud to call my own. While my life is here in the US, a part of soul has stayed where I was born. In my life, I hope that my passions and dreams are able to come to fruition. I aspire to not only create a good life for myself (one in which I would not have had otherwise) but also to give back in some capacity to my nation (no matter how big or how small it may be).

Now or Never

When I think of words to describe who I am (mom, domestic goddess, charmingly lazy, hilarious, etc.), I can't escape one in particular that defines me deeply: Adoptee.

I grew up in an amazing family with a sister who’s ten years older than me, and my parents’ biological child. She was born premature and spent several weeks in an incubator before she was allowed to come home.

A few years after her birth, our mom had another daughter, but there were complications and she was stillborn. The doctor warned my parents that if a third pregnancy was attempted, it might not be just the baby who didn't make it. My parents took him at his word, and decided to adopt.

They decided to adopt me.

I was born to an unwed mother who had three other children from her previous marriage. I suppose that the idea of feeding and clothing another little one played a major role in her decision to place me for adoption after my birth, and at no time in my life did it ever occur to me to be angry or sad about her decision. I was told from the time I was able to understand words that I had been 'chosen' to come into the family that adopted me, and I always wore it as a badge of pride. 

It's probably the part of what developed my undeniable ego, and some might silently wish my parents hadn't hammered home the "chosen" thing quite so much.

In any case, my parents are loving and kind people who taught me much about what being a parent means. My sister and I, despite our difference in age, grew up as best friends. She was almost a second mother to me. She was the person I would confide in when I felt our mom just wouldn't understand. Aside from not looking like any of my family members, I never felt I didn't "belong.” My parents always let me know that, if the day came when I wanted to find my biological parents, they would support me in any way possible. 

As a teenager, I occasionally wondered what my birth mother looked like. Like many adoptees, I sometimes wondered if my birth parents were secretly rich or famous. Don’t ask: It's apparently a coping mechanism for when our "adoptive" families weren't being cool enough. I honestly never gave my birth father much thought, aside from wondering if I looked like him. Maybe I worried more about how my birth mom was coping with losing a child, and men didn't seem as 'connected' to children. To this day, I'm not even certain he knows I exist. 

When I became an adult and had my first child, I was surprised that, as I held my newborn son, one of my first thoughts was of my birth mother. I pictured this poor woman having to say goodbye to a child she had carried for nine months and, as I looked at my new baby, it hurt me to think of all the years that she had spent worrying about me. I decided at that moment that I must find her. I absolutely had to let this woman know that I was okay, and to stop her suffering. 

As expected, my parents were hugely supportive of my decision to search, and although my first attempts were minimal and fruitless, I was eventually able to locate my birth mother when I turned thirty through a Confidential Intermediary.

he intermediary told me that we would communicate by sending letters back and forth to each other then, after a set amount of time, we would be able to meet up.

About five months in to our correspondence, I received a phone call one day from the intermediary. She seemed to fumble over her words as she spoke to me and finally admitted that she had failed to let my birth mother and I know, at the beginning of this process, that we only had six months to write to each other through her.

After the allotted six months time, we would either need to sign documents allowing her to release our information to each other - and be free to continue our communication at our own leisure - or the case would be closed and we would no longer have access to each other.

The news took both of us by surprise, but my birth mother was blindsided and angered by the new "stipulations" and felt like she had been unfairly backed into a corner.

I don't know what experiences she had faced in life that caused her to feel like she needed to fight back so fiercely about being given this sort of ultimatum, but in a final letter to me, she explained that she had not stood up for herself other times in her life, and had regretted it. She was not going to let someone dictate to her what the timetable of our relationship was and she was not currently able to reveal her identity to me. She would refuse to sign the papers.

The following day, I received another call from the intermediary, telling me that my birth mom (at this point I had grown weary of calling her that so I had given her the nickname, 'Sue') had asked her if there was a way for her to preserve her anonymity but to receive my information, thereby enabling her to write me letters directly and she would just get a PO Box. For a moment I hesitated; I wasn't sure how I felt about giving her all my information and still having NONE of hers, but I knew that if I wanted our communication to continue - and I did - this was the only option.

It would be a long time before I would have the money to reopen the case, and from everything she had shared with me, her financial situation was no better. I had been given the opportunity to tell her thank you for giving me such a wonderful chance at life and I could walk away now. But, I wanted her to be a part of my life and I wanted to know so much more about her and my heritage still. I made the decision to sign the papers, releasing all my identifying information to her. And then I waited for letters that would never come.

Eventually the intermediary agency contacted me and apologized for their error in not informing me of the six month cut-off. I sent another letter to my birth mother, pouring my feelings out in hopes that it would help me “heal.”

My birth mother sent me a letter telling me that she never wanted to purse a relationship with me.

There are a lot of "adoption reunion" stories that present a "fairy tale" ending, and I think it sometimes sets people up for disappointment when reunions don't go as planned.

I want others to know that sometimes reunions aren't happy. Sometimes they can be painful. But, there is still hope for resolution, and sometimes, the outcome can be better than you originally thought.

A Life-Saving Measure

I was born Irina-Maria Moldovan.

At the time of my birth, the doctor told my biological family that I had muscular dystrophy and a heart condition, and my chances of survival were small.

My biological family was poor and couldn't afford the medication.

That’s why I was put up for adoption.

Still, one of the biggest challenges of my life was trying to understand why I was given up for adoption. Once I knew that it was a life-saving measure, it became much easier.

But, I do struggle at times. I have had anxiety and depression for many years and it wasn't until I met my biological family that I realized that my conditions were hereditary.

Drugs and alcohol were also big factors in my depression. I have been clean for quite a few years now and only drink occasionally.

On the bright side, I had a wonderful childhood! I am so grateful for my adoptive parents. They put me in every sport and dance class I wanted to be in. I played soccer for 12 years. I played for city teams and travelled all over Ontario for games and tournaments.

And, when it comes to my adoption, I think my quality of life probably changed significantly. I don't remember what it was like in Romania but, from the stories I have heard and the research I have done, I understand that it was an impoverished country and I would have never had the opportunities I had in Canada if I hadn’t been adopted.

I finally met my biological family when Ileana Cunniffe contacted a local newspaper in Romania who put my story in the paper and my biological family reached out to her. They connected us over a Skype call where I was able to see and speak to my mother for the first time.

I am sharing my story because it may change someone's mind when it comes to adoption.

If I can help save a life just by telling my story, then I feel like I've helped someone.

All I've wanted to do is take care of people my whole life, to help others.

It’s A Girl

“It’s a girl” can be a deadly statement in some countries. For me, that one sentence made my birth parents abandon me in front of my orphanage when I was only two days old.

For most of my childhood and young adult life I held to the belief that I was unwanted and not worthy of love. All around me I heard or saw: “you’re lucky to be adopted,” “I wish I was,” or “be thankful you were chosen.” These statements just made me more uncomfortable with the fact that I was adopted. I was so angry with my birth parents that they were able to give up their daughter. I hated that I wasn’t with a family who looked like me. I hated that I was different. I felt abandoned: my own birth parents didn’t want me, so why would my adoptive parents?

My hatred prevented me from having relationships with my family.

But here’s the thing: adoption doesn’t have to be related to bitterness. So many adoptees focus on the negative points of adoption rather than the positive. We are no longer orphans, wards of the state, or alone. We are surrounded by friends and family who love us and want to know how we feel. 

Yet so many cling to the belief that they are alone.

I am sad that some of my adopted friends are unable to see adoption as something more than a painful event. Yes, I do cry and mourn the loss of a life with my birth parents. Yes, there are days when I wish I was not adopted, but the days that I celebrate my adoption far outweigh the bad days.

My adoption brought me into a wonderful family, a family who loves me and wants to help me with how I feel. A family who helped me overcome my bitterness and change it into something different. A family who introduced me to God. While my family had a lot to do with how my thoughts towards adoption have changed, God made the biggest change by taking away my pain. Once I opened up and allowed God into my life, my feelings of abandonment, loneliness, bitter, and anger all went away.

So, to those struggling with bitterness toward their adoption, you are not alone.

We all struggle with the same feelings, but you do not need to let those feelings dominate your life. The people around you do not know what you are feeling, but that does not mean they don’t want to know. To change how adoption makes you feel, you - as an adoptee with a voice - need to tell others how you feel. It is okay to express those feelings of sadness, jealousy, or anger.

Without sharing those feelings, they become bottled up.

Tell others what you feel and I promise that you will have the support and love you want.

Adoption should not be sugar-coated. It is more than just a one-time event, it defines adoptees’ lives. But, adoption should NOT be associated with bitterness. It is a joyful event that brings those who were once alone into families that want to love you. My bitterness was taken away and replaced with love and understanding because of God.

While I still sometimes have trouble with my past, I’m choosing to speak up.

As adoptees, we are each other’s only advocates.

When we speak up we show other adoptees and non-adoptees our thoughts and feelings.

This is my story and I wouldn’t change a thing about it.

If you would like to learn more, please visit my blog.

Change Is Inevitable

I was born in Kazakhstan.

I was very sick as a little girl, which is why we had to move to a different place, so that I could get better.

However, after our move, my parents got into some trouble because they didn’t have enough money to buy the house we wanted.

So, one day my dad left for work and never came back.

After he left, my mom started drinking and doing whatever she wanted, ultimately leaving all of us on our own.

I was left with taking care of my sister and then my brother, after he was born.

It was hard trying to look after three people, myself included. So, I started searching for my mother again, but couldn't find her.

I was then placed in an orphanage.

My first trip to United States was in January of 2005.

I still remember my first meeting with my adoptive mother, who later on decided to adopt us (my siblings and I).

My adoptive mother gave us a second chance in life, and I’m very grateful for that.

Her and I got along very well, but not my sisters. My sisters were teenagers and wanted to do as they pleased.

I definitely had some struggles when I got here.

At the beginning, it was difficult to adjust because we had to go to church every Sunday. I was a believer, but you have to go to church out of your own free will. Now, I go to church when I have time.

Sharing my story is important because we all have our own unique experiences, so it’s important to learn from each one.

Unnoticed

I was born in Leningrad (now St. Petersburg), Russia.

I was adopted when I was two. I grew up for a short while in Michigan and then in Florida. My family was very loving; however, I lost my father when I was six. I guess my family was like any other family in the ‘80s: I played a lot with my siblings and we had a lot of fun going on motorcycle trips around the local church parking lot.

Before that, though, I was in an orphanage, “Neurological Baby House #12,” I believe. It was part of a university in St. Petersburg. I was twelve months old at the time, and I think I was only there for one year.

All I can remember is that the room I was in had a lot of cribs, and there was a fuzzy glowing orange light over mine.

My favorite memory was the faint figures of the nurses talking to me in Russian. The voices were muffled and my vision was blurry, just like a dream.

My relationship with my parents was pretty good. It had its ups and downs, but my mom was trying to care for three small kids when my dad passed. I’m sure it was difficult for her. They did tell me I was adopted from as long as I could remember, but they never really gave me any details.

I was adopted through an agency in Hawaii. They had just opened up international adoptions, especially to the USSR so, from what I was told, I was one of the first from my orphanage to be adopted.

It was pleasant. I knew my mother couldn't have kids (for medical reasons) so, naturally, she was very excited to adopt me. I played a lot with my siblings.

One memory that sticks out is riding the lawn mower with my father in Michigan. 

I currently live with my wife and my 10-month-old son. My mom is about an hour away. When I moved out of her house, we had a short falling out, but over the years it seemed to mellow out. We get along fine now.

I am proud that despite a lot of setbacks I’ve had in my life, I was always able to overcome. I’m also proud of my biological mother, because I’m sure it wasn't easy for her to give me up.  

My goal for this year is to visit my biological family. I recently found them on Facebook. They were very excited and shocked that I found them, and now we talk almost every day. There is a language barrier, of course, so I’m learning Russian, so I can communicate better. Honestly, I’m very glad that our relationship is so healthy because I’ve struggled with never knowing who my family was for such a long time. It truly is a remarkable achievement.

In ten years I see myself in the same house with a stable job. I also want to stay in contact with my biological family. I would also like for them to visit America; however, my biological mother is not getting any younger, so that would take a lot out of her.

Right now only money is holding me back. That and time. Even if I just had a couple weeks to go visit my family in Russia, it would be the puzzle piece I have been missing for such a long time. One thing my dad did when he first adopted me from Russia was journal his travels day-by- day. A few years ago I wrote a book, called Kommunarov St., combining his journals and my own thoughts about my beginnings.

Sharing my story is important because people need to hear these sides of people. I believe adoptees and their stories often go unnoticed just because not enough attention is given to them. I understand some people may not ever want to know who their biological family is, but I am incredibly lucky to have found where my roots are. I think every adoptee should speak up, tell their story, and be confident in themselves for doing so because, even if the adoption didn't go well or it wasn't to their expectations, it still defines you as a person more than people realize.