I can't ever remember not knowing that I was adopted. I remember once in kindergarden, one of my playmate's father was an Obstetrician and we had an argument because she tried to tell me I came from my mommy's belly. I argued with her and, after school, she went to my mom to "tattle" on me and to say I was lying. My mother then proceded to tell her that no, I didn't come from her belly and that I was adopted. Boy was she ever stumped! I bet her parents had a lot of explaining to do when she got home.
In the third grade, I can remember telling my friends that I was an Indian and that I was dropped off at my parents doorstep. Once when I was around ten years old, I answered the phone and someone on the other end said, "this is yo momma, is two brothers there?" I froze, thinking this was my mother and she knew I had two brothers. I came to find out that there was a restaurant in town called "Two Brother's". It took a while for my mom to calm me down. Especially because it was an African-American woman on the phone and I was an olive complected caucasion who was always teased by my brothers that my real mom wasn't white.
My parent's couldn't have children and I was the middle child of three adopted children. I had one older brother and one younger brother. There was three years difference between each one of us. I can remember when I was growing up that all I ever asked to get at Christmas was a baby sister and a cat. Since my mother didn't allow pets, the cat was out of the question and my parents were older when they adopted us so all they could tell me was that they were too old to get me a sister.
Growing up, my parents gave me a lot; piano lessons, voice lessons, pep squad, cheerleader, and they always expected a lot out of me because they said I was smart and could do anything I set my mind to. I can remember every year, on my birthday, my dad would tell me to say a prayer for my biological mother because he said she would be thinking of me and probably saying a prayer for me too. This meant a lot to me because it told me that my parents not only loved me but someday would not be hurt if I decided to find my biological parents. It also told me that they appreciated what my biological mother had done, not only for me, but also for my parents. They were thankful to have me!
Things were going fine for me up until about the fifth grade when all of a sudden I went from a straight A student to really not caring a whole lot about school. My grades dropped and I had begun to become somewhat of a rebel. I started smoking at age 13 and really started to fight a lot with my mom. I can remember getting mad at her and yelling, "you are not my mother", which I am sure hurt her more than I could have ever imagined at that age. By the time high school came around, I was not only smoking, but also drinking along with sneaking out of the house to "party" with my friends. Looking back on these times, I realize that I was starting to have some issues of low self-esteem related to my feeling that I was the only person in the world. I started to obcess on the fact that no one else looked like me, had feelings like me or had the same genes as me.
I would love to know who I looked like, my mother or my father. I don't neccesarily want to know them if this is what they wish. I can respect the fact that they would like to keep me a secret if that is what they wish. My life is good and the last thing I need is more problems. But to have a good reunion would be the completion of my search for who I am and would make my blood line start somewhere besides me.
To my parents that raised me, I say thank you for your unconditional love and complete support. You have always been there for me through thick and thin! To my biological parents, I say thank you for giving me the best gift of all......life.
Jeny
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