My parents had gone to an adoption agency and had found a couple from Poland who were pregnant. The mother, Mary, was 16 years old and didn't speak a drop of English. She had lied to her dad about her pregnancy because she was terrified of what he would do to her. My parents had Mike and Mary come stay with them for a few months before she was to give birth, in Southern California.
My mom, an OBGYN at Kaiser Permanente, had the birth arranged so that she was able to make sure things went smoothly and a coworker of hers delivered Mary's child. Then, when the baby was born, my mom and dad had adopted her thus giving them their second child.
Me.
I was born on January 21, 1996. I was adopted on January 21, 1996.
Growing up and into my teenage years, I was well aware that being adopted was the butt of many jokes; in day to day middle school and high school life and in popular tv shows. I became accustomed to the seemingly popular fact that being adopted was not something good, it meant that you had to be adopted because you were an unloved child or the mistake. The accident. The oops!
For years I kept the secret that I was adopted from everyone I knew because I knew what would come out of their mouths if I did tell them. For years it made me feel like a circus animal, with people's eyes growing wide and spitting out every question they could think of in a span of five seconds. I felt like when I would become close with people, it wasn't all truthful on my end because I would keep this whole part of me from them.
I remember one time when I was a sophomore in high school, I came to school one morning to find that someone had put Post-It Notes on random people's lockers saying "you're adopted." Coincidentally, one of those notes was on my locker. I can only remember going home that day after school and crying and sitting in my room with a giant file labeled "Adoption" reading through all of my files that contained my existence. I knew that this person didn't put these notes on everyone's locker that was adopted, but the fact that someone my age had the notion, the mindset, to think that something like that would be something that would not affect someone and that it was funny... That was what got to me that day.
Everyone's hurtful words and preconceived notions had got to me that day, and they broke me. From then on, being adopted wasn't a positive part of me, it was something I wish wasn't me. I desperately wanted to be normal.
Once I decided to get in contact with my biological father, I realized that it was a fantasy of having a fun relationship that was not going to be true for me. I didn't feel comfortable talking to someone who I was half of. It was weird and uncomfortable and I feel like I let him down and broke his heart after reaching out 18 years later and then suddenly stopping, like disappearing off the face of the earth once more for him. I didn't take his feelings into account and I rushed into talking to him because I thought I was ready. I wasn't.
After that, I came to terms with my adoption. I realized I wasn't the butt of cruel Post-It Note jokes and hurtful TV episodes. I answered people's incessant questions with ease because I told people that I was adopted, without fearing their wide eyed, question spitting frenzy. I've accepted that I am a minority with my adoption and that people's inquiries are a part of life. We question what we don't know and who am I to restrict people's knowledge? Maybe I can be the strong one that can take their nonstop questions so that they don't come across someone later who hasn't become one with their situation.
I wasn't adopted because I was unloved, but actually far from it. I was adopted because I was loved enough by Mike and Mary for them to know that I would have a better life with two adults who were married and had successful careers. With my mom and dad, I would have a chance at life, the way Mike and Mary would not be able to give me. I admire their strength and selflessness to be able to give their child to two people whom they didn't even share the same language.
I wish I had been stronger in my early years and not cared what people said about being adopted, but what matters right now is that it no longer affects me in a negative way. I am who I am, and I am that way because I was adopted. If you were or are in my shoes, stay positive, because you are unique, beautiful, special, and most importantly you are loved. People may not and will not understand what you have dealt with but you have knowledge beyond them and take your life and do something positive with it. You will come across people who accept you for the person you are and if people don't? You definitely don't need them in your life.
Embrace who you are and you will go far in life with your strength, that I can promise you.
