Nearly every time someone finds out I am adopted, they ask me the same set of questions: "How old were you?" "Why were you given up?" "Would you ever want to find your real parents?" I have the same responses:
I was sixth months of age when I was adopted from South Korea.
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My birthparents couldn't take care of me because they were both young teens when I was born.
My "real parents" have already found me; they picked me out themselves.
Actually, it is commonly misconceived that the parents I have right now are illegitimate, all because they simply signed some papers. I've heard people refer to them as my "step-parents", "adoptive parents", and "fake parents". None of these titles can classify who my parents are. Beyond people's knowledge, they went through an extensive waiting process and acute legal measures in order to become parents to my brother and I. Although my mother did not have the physical experience of bearing a child, she went through substantial lengths to become a mom. Both of my parents went through the background checks, the interviews, the fingerprinting, and all the rest of the tiny details. They've been through the exhaustive process more than once, as they also adopted my older brother who is from South Korea as well. They are not anything but my mom and dad. They serve the exact same purpose in my life as parents would in anyone else's and I love and appreciate them just the same.
"How did you know you were adopted" is another question I am often asked. It wasn't hard to figure out that my parents are of caucasian descent, while I come from Asia. In fact, I never had to be told I was adopted. I am sure my parents reminded me in my younger years, yet I feel as if I've always known. After all, being adopted is such a major part of my identity that I could not imagine not being aware of. I was clearly made aware in grocery stores, when I would cut in line to stand next to my mother and people could not tell whether I was with her not. And sometimes, when taking a friend out to eat people would mistake my friend as her daughter. It was also apparent when I had my first job and people of my descent would try to talk to me in their language which I could not understand a stitch of. Even deeper into my memories, I can vaguely remember crying when I had to leave my foster mom, hiding under a blanket on a plane, getting off the plane and being surrounded by people who shoved cameras in my face and wanted to hold me. Many people will deny that I could even remember anything from my infancy stage, but that day was so familiar that I still get flashbacks. The point is, there have been no awkward conversations revealing the news to me because I am well aware of my adoption and have never felt ashamed of it.
While being adopted is a casual aspect of my life, I sometimes ponder how my life works differently than those who know who their birthparents are. There are times where I will feel the urge to uncover more about my blood family, as any adopted person does. Being internationally adopted means having no general idea of family medical history, no idea of what your immediate parents looked like, and having no idea what personality traits you might've adapted from them. I've always been a little unique from the family I know which is perfectly okay, but it would be interesting to find out the reason I am different. Was my mother quirky like I am? Was my father stubborn like I am?
I would occasionally stay up late hours into the night, reading my medical records and information about my birth family. It was an activity that reminded me I truly have blood relatives whom I resemble and share multiple traits with. I learned that my mother was the baby of her family, and she had two older sisters all majoring in traditional Korean dance and music. She worked at the family restaurant with her mother. Her father was often away on business. In the paperwork, she was described as "oval-faced and petite" with a happy nature. The paperwork said that she was 17 years old when she had me. My mother was hesitant to comment on my birth father, but she explained him as caring and handsome. The small bit of information I read made it feel more realistic to me that I was came from a woman who lives over 6000 miles away from me. Some people wonder if I ever feel anger towards my birth mother. I could never possibly feel any contempt for her because she introduced me to a better life so that she could be more successful in her own. I hope that she has a family of her own that she was able to start at the right time in her life, or I at least hope that she is happy and at peace.
Never in my life have I felt wished for something different, as this is what God has given me and He knows what is best for me as an individual. I have been blessed with perfectly imperfect parents that love me unconditionally, and an extended family that loves me to the same degree. I am passionate about reading, writing, art, and music. I enjoy making my friends laugh. I love dogs. I have an adoration for school and building up knowledge. I am aware of my strengths and my weaknesses. If there is an alternate universe where I am somehow meant to still be living in Korea, I could not imagine it being a good one, for I am full of love for this beautiful life I live. My full name is Mary McKenzie Wurtz and my Korean name is Cho Hyun-Ah. Being adopted is a significant blessing in my life and it has navigated the course of my life in ways unimaginable.
