Have you ever wondered what it was like to celebrate your birthday when you didn’t know when or where you were born? I've had almost twenty-one years to know exactly when the emotions linked to these questions will decimate my self-esteem; I've got it down to a science. Exactly seven days before my birthday, I start feeling like I'm living in my personal hell. So it's pretty self-explanatory how I've come to peg this annual period of my life as Hell Week.

Welcome to the life mysteries that most people who are adopted go through on an annual basis.

This one is for all those who are adopted and have gaps in their memory that no one will ever be able to fill for them and who are directly confronted with this loss one day out of the year in particular.

I want you to know you're not the only one who wonders and struggles with the reminders of unanswered questions triggered by the presence of your estimated birthday. I struggle too, especially because I don't have many people who understand from personal experience the struggles that arise during my Hell Week.

I can't tell you how many times I've been in that annoying situation where I can't answer questions related to family history that everyone else seems to know. Most but not all of these questions happen at the doctor's office, during school assignments, related to dietary needs or allergy inquiries. Finally, they appear during those random conversations where everyone discusses those family tree websites where you can track where your ancestors come from.

You need to know the basics to successfully navigate through those websites; basics like your family's (last) name, what your parents do for a living, the maiden name of your mother, where your parents live, and if your family has moved around a lot historically. Believe it or not, many adoptees cannot answer ANY of these questions; not out of ignorance, but because they have no way of finding out.

To be honest, most of the year I don't think much about questions like, "I wonder what my birth mother looks like," or "I wonder what my dad does for a living," or "I wonder if I have an identical twin?" I used to ponder over these daily when I was a child. Unfortunately, it still seems like all these questions (and some less pleasant ones) build up in my subconscious and feel the need to explode right before my birthday.

It's definitely rough having this annual emotional outburst putting a damper on celebratory festivities, but do you know what is even more challenging for me to face during Hell Week?

My reflection. In every shiny surface.

This is especially rough because I'm a girl, and I like feeling good during productive days when I need to get stuff done. It's annoying to get distracted by questions about which one of my biological parents gave me my random freckle when I have to stare intently at my reflection to put makeup on. Let me try to explain.

Whenever I catch a glimpse of my face in a reflective surface similar to the computer monitor I'm staring at right now, I’m confronted with the worst reality; my reflection is a daily reminder of what I will never know about my family history.

I probably think about the same things as other people who are adopted. Most adoptees will probably never know what their parents look like, or if they share more physical features with their birth mother or father.

Or do they look like a combination of the two? When I was younger, I would notice how some of my friends would look like a “carbon copy” of one of their parents. I would always come home to my mom and ask, "Mom, do you think I look more like my biological mom or dad?"

She didn't have an answer either.

These are just a few questions to consider if you ever wondered what it is like for an adoptee to celebrate their birthday. Try to picture yourself with no information of when or where you were born.

Try to reflect on what it would feel like to accept a birth date you've been assigned to by the government based on an estimated guess instead of the actual day you were born. It brings up some hard questions for adoptees that just reiterate the fact that we will never know the basic personal information others take for granted.

I've always wondered what it would be like to know the exact day and time I was born and think, "I entered the world a minute ago." Though I might never be able to know this question, I know for a fact that my children will know exactly when, where, and how they were born.

For now, I'll be content with celebrating my birth on November 15th, the date the police deemed me born when they found me outside a temple in China about a week after I was born.