The song that I am listening to while writing this post:
When I was a few months old, I was placed in a foster home with a little boy and his parents, shortly afterwards, those parents had adopted me as their own child. My birth mother, not only was she young, was not able to take care of me aswel as my birth father.
I do not remember how old I was when I was told that I was adopted. I also don’t remember how I reacted on the spot, whether I actually understood what being adopted meant or if I just acted like I understood because as I grew older, maybe around 6 or 7 years old I remember being really angry.
I threw tantrums almost all the time over the littlest things and I remember asking people to call me by the name I was given at birth even though my name had been changed. I assume it was one of the many ways I used to cope with knowing that I had been adopted.
These parents, who are still my parents, who are the only people who actually were there for me through everything and are still here for me, still love me to this very day.
I’ve gone through some hard obstacles in my life, maybe not as ‘bad’ or as worse as some people’s struggles, but I’ve been delt with a very mix and matched sort of hand.
The reason as to why I am writing about being adopted is because even though I had a loving family and still do, I had always wondered what it would be like to meet my birth parents. See if I actually looked like someone instead of just having the same hair colour as one of my brothers, although I didn’t grow up with blood, I inherited similar traits as my adoptive parents. I knew that I didn’t need to know any of my blood relatives. I had met one blood sister who’m I went through phases of denying her as my sister and not. I always wanted a sister growing up, but I just didn’t like her for some reason.
I didn’t want to have to put my name on an adoptive registry just to find my birth mother so I just decided to stop looking. Until one day, I found a picture with my birth sister’s last name from when she was born. We looked our birht mother up on facebook and to both of our surprises, we found her.
I mean anyone can have a dopple ganger, I think that’s what they’re referred to as. So that woman could have been anyone, even now how can one be so sure that the family they get close to and believe are related to them, aren’t you know? The birth sister I knew for the majority of my life not only looked like our birth mother, but her other children looked like the both of us. One of my sisblings I had met actually could pass as my twin sometimes. It’s actually pretty neat.
Now that I’ve grown to know part of my birth family, the mystery of what happened to my birth father still lingers.
Another reason as to why I’m writing this, is because my Niece is getting adopted and as much as it’s going to hurt her mother, (the sister who looks like myself and I look like her), it’s going to hurt me as well. I remember the time I received a phone call about her being brought into this world. The first time I held her, I will never forget.
I haven’t been able to see her often due to many different obstacles, but I get to see her next week hopefully for the last time for the next while because she’s actually getting adopted and although it hurts to see her go, she really won’t be gone, just physically, but taken in by a loving family. She’s grown so much since the time she was brought into this mess of a world, that it amazes me and comforts me at the same time knowing that she’s being placed in th arms of people who will be able to give her everything she needs, on top of that extending the love she has been given by her blood relatives.
I hope to be able to hold a place in her heart and have her be reminded of a part I’ve played in her little life.
I love her so much.