I have two mothers, two fathers, four sets of grandparents, and many aunts and uncles. I was adopted, and I have yet to meet my birthparents. I am sixteen years old and only recently gone back and taken an interest in where I come from. Through my search I’ve faced trials, but through my experiences I have begun to figure out who I am, and what I was put on this earth for. Because of my adoption, I believe in being proud of where you come from.
In 1990 there were strict rules in the adoption process. Regarded as “closed”, there was no contact between the birth parents and adoptive parents. No names were disclosed, and only sheets of paper with vague medical histories and short backgrounds on each birthparent were included. In my case I was lucky: my mom had found my mother’s name inadvertently through a nurse; and my father wrote my parents and me separate letters. He told my parents how brave they were adopting in me, and they were my parents- not he and my birthmother.
In my letter he wrote how much better a future I would have with my adoptive parents, and how incredibly special I was to be adopted. He, himself, was adopted, and had grown to love his parents for all they had sacrificed to get him. He told me to love my parents for all they had done, and that I was truly blessed to be in my situation. He hoped I would understand how special my life is. It is exactly that truth I had concluded myself.
My “adoptive” parents are two of the most beautiful people I know. My mom is the strongest woman I have had the honor of knowing, and my dad is my role model and best friend. I will always love them unconditionally, knowing they are my parents, but there has always been something in me that longs for information about my birth parents. I have very little information about them- something I wish I could change- and the little I do know barely scratches the surface of who they were and how I am like them.
In some strange circumstance in which I will stand face-to-face with my birthparents, I want them to be proud of who their “daughter” is, and know how much I had come to appreciate how much they had done for me.
In my father’s letter, he said December 7 (my birthday) would be a day everyone concerned would always remember, and a day I will always regard with equal appreciation because of where I came from. It makes my birthday even more special knowing my parents remember me.
I am proud of my heritage- of my two mothers, two fathers, and countless other relatives. I believe our experiences make us stronger, and through learning of my heritage I have grown to love my life even more, knowing I am loved by so many people.
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