An Adoption Story

Part.1 - I’m not entirely sure how to start this or how it will go because there’s so much I want to say and so much I am processing.

I was adopted in the late 80's when I was 4 months old from South Korea. My adoptive parents were told. I was born at home and my birth mom ran away 2 weeks after I was born and my birth father tried to care for me . Due to money and my grandmother who was selling small items on the roadside he thought adoption would be best. I was placed in a foster family as I awaited a family of my own here in the U.S.

As a young child, I was told I was adopted and told of my story. I knew of my culture and where I came from. My adoptive parents wanted me to have that connection and to know where I came from. Adoption comes with a lot of challenges. One question I always wanted to know was, why didn’t my birth parents want me? Its this deep sense of abandonment you don’t understand as a child. Yet you know you have a life and parents, a family who loves you. A part is missing.

I’m autistic and so I could never express to my parents how I felt or expressed my thoughts in words that made any real sense to them. It just created more confusion, for myself and for them. I NEEDED to know the why’s of life. As a child, even a near teen, I didn’t feel connected to other adoptees or even to Korean culture. I just wanted to know why. I knew my story, I knew I was in the U.S because of it, but I needed to know why. I felt betrayed because of this, but I felt unseen too.

Every year we went to a camp for Korean adoptees and their families. Don’t get me wrong, it’s amazing to meet others who are also adopted. And to see similar like people and families who can relate to you. For me, I could never connect. I felt out of place there. I knew I had the expectation to behave like all the others and follow a long. I didn’t see myself in the other kids running around. Or the crafts we did, and learning about the culture wasn’t interesting. I didn’t like the music, its noisy and chaotic, I just didn’t want to go. I had to. I had to because my parents thought this was good for me. Their intentions were good and I understand now. At the time no one knew what was helpful and what wasn’t. I was struggling, that was very evident.

Skipping a head because those years weren’t so relevant to my adoptions story.

I attempted to locate my birth father in 2008/2009. I was told I would have to wait till he gets a phone because the agency would have to reach out to him first.

I decided I was better off not ever knowing the man. My decision to even try and meet him was impulsive and not thought out. What if I disliked him or him me, I don’t like strangers. Plus I’m just weird. My family had always been my family and I viewed them that way. It seemed odd to contact this stranger so randomly. I liked how my life was, how predictable it was, and I didn’t like the uncertainty of things. So I never contacted the agency again.

I think there’s this process of grieving your birth family and accepting it as a loss. Which allowed me to move on. They are and will forever be my birth parents, but not the parents who raised and shaped me into who I am today. I healed a lot of wounds.

I still don’t understand adoption fully. Logically I do know why it happens, I think for me its understanding and processing why a mother or father chooses it. Maybe it takes knowing a birth mom and being able to know her story and ask questions I may not be able to ask my own birth mom. Then I can have a better idea of what goes through their minds, and feelings, and how they decide.

There’s so much more to add to this…. I am going to end this here as a Part 1. otherwise I will make this into a book. There’s just that much going on!!!

I know this is much different then my usual posts, but I know the world is less lonely if there's at least one person out there you can relate to.