On April 5th, 1998, an incredible woman named Judy became a mother. On this same day, I became a daughter. It is no secret to anyone who knows me that I was adopted, and I am a bit ashamed to admit that when I was younger I was not fully comfortable with it. I used to be embarrassed that my physical appearance did not resemble that of my parents. I did not like the hesitation that came before someone asked if I was my mother’s daughter. Much like most adolescents, I just wanted to fit in and be like everyone else. I wanted to look like my parents and I wanted my relationship to them to be obvious. I dreaded the question, “but who are your real parents?” I always knew was coming after either talking about them or introducing them to someone. It frustrated me that people could be so ignorant to question the validity of my parents, who for the record are my real and only ones.
When my adoption first comes up in conversation with someone, they are usually very shy and it is almost as if they are asking every question they can think of except for the ones to which they seek answers: “How old were you when you were adopted?” “Do you know anything about your birth parents?” “Do you want to meet your birth parents?”, etc. I was 13 months old when my mom adopted me. She always retells me the story of the day we met like it was yesterday.
She entered the hotel where all the babies up for adoption awaiting their new parent/s were lined up. All but one of them were crying. That one was me, and she knew I was for her. The only solid information I know about my “life” before that day was that I was abandoned when I was 2 days old and I lived in the same orphanage for the remaining time. The reason I put the word “life” in quotations is because while technically speaking, I did have a life before April 5th, but I was never given life until the moment I was first handed into my mother’s arms. I have her to thank for everything I have and all that I am—and that is no exaggeration. To pause your life and fly more than 15 hours to an entirely new and different country in order to bring a baby home is something that is so admirable and inspiring. I can only imagine the amount of bravery, trust, motivation, and love it took for my mother to do what she did.
If there is anything I want other people to know, it is that I am a completely open book about my adoption. It is something I am no longer embarrassed by, because it is simply a part of my life and I would not be where I am or who I am without it. I can even go as far to say that I am proud of the fact that I am adopted, and although it is certainly not difficult to find a Chinese-American adopted young woman, each adoptee has a different opinion and feeling towards their adoption. Some people do not feel comfortable discussing this subject for numerous reasons and I attribute my openness to my very young age at adoption and having no memory of my first 13 months in the world. To all of you who are curious about adoption, do not be afraid to ask questions. To all of you adoptees, it is okay to not feel comfortable with your adoption, but I encourage you to learn to accept it and embrace it because (as cheesy as this sounds) it is something to be proud of, it is something that gives life, it will shape who you will be, and it is what has made you, you.
