Family is family.
What makes us family?
Is it the immediate unit we’re born into and grow up with? Our blood relatives with whom we share DNA? Or does family include our friends, roommates, and support networks? Do you even know who your real family is?
A movie plot for some and a reality for others, adoption is a subject gaining more visibility and protection in countries across the world, with numbers increasing in the US every year.
According to 2015 statistics from the Adoption and Foster Care Analysis and Reporting System (AFCARS), there has been a steady increase over the past several years of the number of children in foster care, the number of children waiting to be adopted, and the total number of adoptees in the United States.
While we all may know a family who adopted a baby, do you ever think about what happens to them along the way or later in life? Some people may never know the full truth of their origin whereas others may grow up with the fact, even reconnecting with their parents or blood relatives at some point.
Although family is what we make of it, our birth parents often remain an important part of who we are, and the question of our identity is very much a journey that never wholly ends. People were asked to share the stories of how they found out about their adoption, and these are truly inspiring.
I have always known. I was adopted when I was three days old. My mom would read ‘Why Was I Adopted?’ a lot as I grew up. It’s a really good book. I’ve never felt resentful to my parents.
I did try to locate my birth parents when I turned 18. Through the state law, I got the records which were incomplete except for my birth mother’s name. I contacted her through the appropriate method of sending a letter to the state records office (or something, this was over a decade ago) and she responded with a letter saying that she didn’t want to meet me. That’s the point at which I felt betrayed. (NoStupidQuestion)
A Birthday to Remember
Around my 5th birthday when my brother came out as my dad, and visted my real mom’s tomb stone.
Edit Story: When i was 9 months old my mom died in a car wreck, and my Grandparents on my father side adopted me, My Father at the time of my birth was only 16. So he was like an older brother to me up until that time. My dad been in my life and been good to me, but my grandparents raised me. (I call my grandma mom due to this). When i was 5 my Dad took me to my mom’s grave stone, and told me the truth. (AbaddonSF)
Like Father Like Son
Might be little late to the party but I was adopted, told so at 8 years of age. There are 5 kids in all, while I am the middle kid (in age) I was the first child my parents had, so I was named after my adopted father. They later adopted my 2 older brothers, then had my two younger siblings who are their natural children.
Was adopted at birth, so I never knew any better. All my parents knew about my birth parents was that they were quite young, high school age, which is why I was put up for adoption.
When I turned 21 I did receive a “care package” thing, basically a sealed envelope with a letter from my birth mother inside. I held onto for a few days before deciding not to open it. I burned it. Not out of contempt, but because my birth mother had her reasons for putting me up for adoption, and because of that I have a loving family, and had a happy, stable upbringing. My parents are my parents and I couldn’t have designed a better family to be a part of. That was enough for me, I needed no closure from my birth parents. I’m 38 now and never have I regretted getting rid of that letter.
Coincidentally, I resemble my adopted father quite a bit, to the point that when I meet their friends and stuff they say things like, “my gosh I could tell you were his son right away you guys you look so much alike”. I resemble him even more than my adopted father’s natural son. Sorta the family joke. (Escapism_Master)
Sadly, people don’t always find out in the best way. Keep reading.