Christina Romo once said, “My birth mother brought me into this world, but it was my adoptive parents who gave me life.” I can’t help but second that statement — my adoptive parents saved my life. From the time I was a little girl tragedy and heartbreak was the only thing I had known. My days were consistent of lies and broken promises, and learning how to grow up and raise my sister alone. I was exposed to situations that to this day I could never wish upon on my own worst enemy.
From wandering the streets of Torrington, CT looking for loose change that would help feed my sister and I to shivering nights in a cold apartment days on end because the heat bill was cut for the month, I never knew there was a better life coming my way. Everyday brought forth a new battle for my younger sister and me to tackle, but we always managed to make the best from the worst. We taught ourselves how to get dressed, clean our laundry, make our meals, and wake up on our own for school by the time we were five- and six-years-old.
There were countless nights I found myself waiting up for our mom to come home, and she’d never show. After a while, I knew what her words “I’ll be back by the time you wake up” really meant — broken promises. We learned to assume everyone was going to break their promises. Trust never existed to us, and we never believed anyone. After being bounced between multiple foster homes, one day God found us the right one.
He led us to two incredibly inspiring, strong and loving individuals that I now call my Mom and Dad. They are my heroes, and they continue to inspire me every day. No matter what trouble I have caused or wrong doings I have done, they never stop letting me know how much they love me and will continue to guide me through life no matter the stress and pain I have caused them. Without them, I would be lost.
I was so angry when I found out I was getting adopted. There were so many thoughts and questions racing through my mind every day leading up to the big one. I questioned when I would ever see my biological family as my adoption was ruled as closed without contact to my real parents until I turned 18. I wondered what people in the sixth grade would think about the new girl that transferred middle schools, and then randomly changed her last name. How would I explain why my last name suddenly changed, or what it was like being away from my real parents? I was so confused.
It took talking to many therapists and DCF case workers to understand what was in store for my new life and I. Adjusting was painful. The first few nights I woke up crying from nightmares and always confused as to where I was. Of all the professionals I’ve had the pleasure of knowing and talking to, one in particular showed me that it is okay to be an adopted child, it is okay to not be like everybody else, and it is okay to talk about it.
So for those that are adopted, I am, too. It doesn't matter how old we were when it happened, it just happened. For those that are like me and have not really told people, here I am now sharing my story with the world, because it’s okay. We are loved, we are blessed, and we have people that we now know will never let us down. Talk about it — it helped me realize how many of my friends were actually adopted like I am, and it will help you, too. Being adopted is cool.
