Part 2 of my adoption story. This half is long, so go get a snack before you read! :)

Growing up as an adopted child, it’s only natural to wonder about your past. However, I could probably count the number of times I let my mind wander about my past on one hand, because it wasn’t an often occurrence. There were times, sad or happy, where I thought of my birthmother, and the older I got, the more those thoughts seemed to come and go. I learned over time that it was only natural to think of her from time to time, and that it was an OK thing to do. Now that I am in my 20s, those thoughts about my life have come back to the top of my heart. My mind often wanders along the various questions:

Where is my birthmother?

What is her name?

Do I have siblings?

How did I end up in an orphanage?

Does she think about me as I think about her from time to time?

Did she ever come looking and I didn’t know?

I remember the day I decided to look for her. I sat at home thinking about my life in general, all the things I want to pursue and conquer in the future, as well as things I already had mastered. The thought of her came to mind, as it seemed to do more often now. I quietly told myself that this was the time I felt finally ready to know more.

I had finally mustered up the courage to mention something. I was still afraid to speak to my parents, so I found myself going towards someone I knew, or at least hoped, would support me and still love me: my big sister. I had briefly mentioned it to her husband earlier that day, and he told me I should speak to her about it as well. I remember sitting in the car with them and I finally told myself, "Just say it. They love you. What's the worst that could happen?" I looked over and slowly let the words come out of my mouth; "So, I've been thinking of finding my birthmother..." I held my breath waiting for my sister to respond. When they both agreed and offered their help, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. We spoke of our individual thoughts on the topic and eventually moved on to how I would tell my parents. To say the least, I was terrified. The feelings of possibly upsetting them or angering them resurfaced and I was trying to plan it out in a way that I thought would go over well.

One day, I stood in the dining room looking at my mom. A million thoughts ran across my mind and I thought I wouldn't be able to get the words out. Finally, I forced myself to start speaking and the conversation was completely different than I had pictured it in my mind. There was no anger, no hurt, no jealousy, no punishment, etc. I took a huge breath in and my mind calmed. I had felt that at this point in time, my parents and I had reached a peak in our relationship, and a form of understanding in a way. We all knew that the parents I stood there in the living room looking at were my family, and would always be.

Sitting down looking through all the information was brutal. I was eager and hesitant all at the same time. As I opened the first page of the first document and skimmed over it, my life changed. I had finally learned my birthmothers name -- something I had always felt I needed to know, even if that was the only information I would ever have. I learned the reason behind her decision, saw my full name for the first time, learned specific details of both my mother and father's appearance, saw her signature, and just took in an enormous amount of information at one time. I wasn't too sure how I felt yet.

Surprisingly, I felt a lot of anger and confusion. Seeing specific words written on the paper sitting in front of me felt like I had gotten the wind knocked out of me. I found myself emotional because some of the words were heartbreaking in a way, as I expected them to be. I didn't imagine that this new journey would be easy. I had prepared myself for this before I even sat down at the table. After learning all that I know now, I find myself wanting to continue to find more. If I find her one day and look her in the eyes, then I would feel like my life is full. My life is obviously already filled with laughter, love, and happiness, and I owe that all to my adoptive parents and the life they have given me. At the end of the day, there is always still that little empty space in my heart where my birthmother belongs. I learned over the years that she would always be with me, even if I never would have her there in person. So the search began and has continued since the first day I opened those documents a month or so ago. I eventually decided that I wanted to tell the world about my life someday, whether it was writing a book, or being a well known advocate for adoption, starting a blog, etc. I look forward to the day where anyone in the world could pick up a book and read all about my life as an adopted child. They would be able to get helpful tips or advice, or just get an inside glance at how you truly change not only your life, but a child's life, by adopting.

I will always say that adoption was the greatest gift God has given me. I will always say that my family is also the greatest gift God has given me. I will undoubtedly continue to be an advocate for adoption, and I have always wanted to adopt my own daughter from Russia one day. I am proud of where I come from and where I am now. I am proud to have the parents that I do and of who they raised me to be. I am proud of myself for always being tough and withstanding the negativity regarding where I come from during my school years, and coming out on the other side even more proud of my past. I am so thankful to my parents and the rest of my family for supporting me and loving me without hesitation. With the help of my parents over the years, I learned to have respect for myself even if others don't, and that I should be proud of where I come from and of my story. I am eternally grateful for everything my parents have done to give me this life, and for all the things yet to come. They truly have given me the greatest gift, and have shown me so many blessings, and I hope I have returned the favor.