“My dad is American. It’s a Jewish last name.”
“Oh, so you’re mixed? That’s cool!”
“Nope, I’m adopted.”
Why are you sorry? There is no need to apologize for asking. It’s not a taboo subject. You nor I should feel ashamed to talk about it. Yes, I understand, to some people it’s a touchy subject. They don’t want to talk about it, or they have the mentality like It’s-None-Of-Your-Business. But, the way I see it is this: if I were not comfortable with it, I would not tell you, period. Simple.
So, there we have it. I’m adopted. Everyone’s story is different, but here’s mine: my birth mother had me out of wedlock at age 20 in Taiwan. Where she is now, I have no idea, but I hope she’s happy--and no, there is no sarcasm interlaced in those words. I hope that she’s genuinely happy, and of course, I’d like to think that she thinks of me from time to time, like I occasionally do. From my understanding, the “boyfriend” was no longer in the picture and as a mother, she made the decision that it would be best, for me, to be under the care of someone who can provide a happy, healthy life.
Enter stage center, my mother, a woman who cannot bear children of her own. She adopted me from birth and raised me as her own in New York. I have been blessed with such a caring, selfless individual that came from nothing and did her best to provide me with everything.
I was introduced to my being adopted around the age of five. I was in the taking a bath when I popped the thorny question, “Mommy, where do babies come from?” She told me from mothers' bellies and then she dropped on me that I didn’t come from her belly. In a baby explanation, she said that her tummy has a booboo and I came from another woman’s belly. She told me that I cried, saying how I wanted to be from her belly and that basically sparked the whole floodgates of adoption, what it was, and how it applied to me.
Fast forward to the future, I don’t hold resentment for my birth mother. If I were in her shoes, I’d probably do the same thing. I’d love to meet her someday, just to see our characteristics and how our lives are different, or similar. I’d want to learn her story and then share my own. But in Asian cultures, contacting her could possibly “ruin her life”. Having a child out of wedlock is frowned upon. My mom supports my decision and would help me every step of the way. I can never forget the one day she asked me, “If your birth mother wants you back, will you go live with her?” It almost broke my heart. My response was a clear, “I would never leave you because you are and always will be my mom.” Even if she’s my birth mother, she’s a mere stranger. Maybe one day our paths will cross, but for now, I’m more than content with where I am. My mom will always be my mother and I wouldn’t ask for anything to change.