To my sister’s biological mother,
November is National Adoption Month here in the U.S. My sister Maya was born on April 4 in Pusan, South Korea and, on Dec. 16 of that same year, my family and I drove to JFK in New York City and drove home with a new baby sister. It was completely bizarre. And completely perfect.
I think about you sometimes and I admire your bravery and determination and endless love you must have had, and probably still do, for my sister. You were 17, unmarried and living in a country that, while very Westernized, still has extreme cultural taboos for unmarried teenage mothers. You made the bravest decision of your life by making an adoption plan for your baby, instead of other alternatives: You chose life and, in doing so, completed my family.
Maya and I are very similar. She is sassy and can be very moody; she loves to cuddle with our cat, Bella and fight with our brother, Frankie; she is a daddy’s girl but also needs quality time with her mom and is already showing signs of being the petulant preteen I was. If you ask us about our cultural background, we’ll proudly inform you we’re Italian.
We’re very different, too. Maya refuses to wear anything with a bright color or glitter, opting for basketball shorts and T-shirts when I prefer dresses and jeans; she likes to work on tech elements of theatrical productions, while I prefer to be onstage. She’s sporty and runs cross country and I can’t even run a mile without some serious complaining and my knees aching!
People ask if I was ever uncomfortable or confused when I was 9, and looking back, maybe I should have been, but something always felt so perfectly right about Maya becoming part of our family. My parents had really wanted a third child and I just remembering them telling us that Mommy couldn’t have another baby in her belly, so God had to let another woman carry her until it was time for her to come home. My mom also knew from the time she was 15 she wanted to adopt, and now was the time He called her. I remember meeting with social workers and baby-proofing the house, and getting the first picture of Maya that her foster family sent us through the adoption agency. She was smiling, and when she smiled her eyes disappeared; I used her baby photo as my bookmark all through fourth grade.
Adoption is something that people on a very base level understand, but still nonetheless fully don’t. People often ask who Maya’s “real” parents are; that would be my mom and dad, Frank and Dana--Maya’s biological parents were Korean, her “real” parents and “real” siblings are my family. We didn’t “pay” for her, or treat her any differently than my brother or I are treated and she feels so resentment towards us for “taking her away” from her family. She isn’t any less loved because she’s isn’t blood related--in all honesty, I think she’s my parent’s favorite child. Most days, I forget Maya is even adopted. When I look at her, I don’t see our physical differences, I see my little sister.
I thank God every day for the beautiful gift that is adoption. So many families, like mine, have been completed and made more fulfilled. Family can be far more than just blood.
I love my little sister beyond words: I was a precocious 9-year-old and getting to play mini-mom to Maya was a perfect role for me. And as much as my and my family love her, I know you must, too. Thank you for your bravery, thank you for bringing my sister into this world.
Love,
Madalaina
