October 8, 1998.

To most people this would be another ordinary day, nothing special. But for four people, this would be the day that their lives changed in the most amazing way possible. Meet Tom and Carol and their 10-year-old daughter Kristen. The stereotypical American family, happy and healthy. Now travel about 3,200 miles south, to a young girl at the time known as Yoselin, a happy and healthy five-and-a-half-month old-baby from Guatemala. Up until this date, these four people have never met and little did they know that when they do finally meet, their lives would be changed forever. You guessed right, Tom and Carol and Kristen were going to adopt Alyssa into their family, and October 8 would be the day that the family could finally be united as one. As I’m sure you have all figured out by now, I somehow have to be related to this story, and that's right. The little girl, Yoselin, was me, but my name after adoption is now Alyssa. Naturally, being so young, I cannot remember anything of this day, but I have the pictures to show for it.

Of what my family knows from my life before I came into their family is little. I do know my birth mother's name, Reina, and that she was 28 when she gave birth to me. If anyone knows anything about Guatemalan history, they would know that during this time, the country was at a civil war and the average family was very poor. One thing I do know about my birth mother is that she could not afford to raise me herself, so she made the smart, but difficult, decision to put me up for adoption in hopes that an amazing and loving family would welcome me and take care of me in the ways she could not. My birth mother’s dream came true because my family now is all I could have ever dreamed for.

From my earliest memories, I always knew that I was adopted, and I remember how every year we we would celebrate my adoption date with cake, gifts and music. This day will forever be special to my family, and every year we make sure to take the time to celebrate my being a part of it. Each year, I can remember my parents giving me gifts from Guatemala, such as jewelry, books and clothes so we could celebrate my heritage, making sure I do not forget the amazing country that I am from. One of the earliest memories of the annual celebration would be this John McCutcheon song playing. As the lyrics to “Happy Adoption Day” would play, I would blow the candles out on my cake and and tell my parents I love them.

Looking back now and through hearing others’ stories, I realize how lucky I am to have never been bullied for the uniqueness of my family or for the fact that my skin is dark while everyone else in my family is Caucasian. Growing up, I never felt embarrassed for being who I was or of my family because there is nothing unusual about us at all; two parents, two children and pet cats. Since I was a baby, my mom has been working on this scrapbook that she calls my “Lifebook” and I remember filling out my own pages on what I thought my parents looked like or what characteristics I thought I got from each parent. I think that through this book, and the strength of my family bond, I never questioned my place because family is not defined by blood, but by love. This is what has kept me strong over the years. I am proud to say that, yes, I am adopted and do not look like my parents and sister. However, just because we do not look the same or share the same DNA, doesn't mean anything changes. We still love each other the just as much, if not more. No matter what anyone says about my family, it will never tear me down because I am proud to be who I am, and to live the life I live today.