I found out I was adopted when I was very young.

My sister and I were sitting on the couch with my mom and asked, “Did we come from your tummy?” My mom replied truthfully with, “No, you guys came from other people’s tummies, you’re adopted.”

I remember that I was so excited about this that I ran down to my neighbor’s house and to my friends, “I’m adopted!” I excitedly announced.

Instant laughter followed.

I ran back home as fast as my feet could take me, tears streaming down my face. I went up to my room and slammed the door; crying until I had cried myself out. Why was I being laughed at? Was it because I came from someone else’s tummy rather than my mom’s? It didn’t make sense to me.

Flash forward to elementary school. I never once tried to hide the fact that I was adopted. Anyone who would listen knew that I was adopted.

“Wait, so do you call the woman who gave birth to you ‘Mom,’ or the one you live with?”

“My mom is my mom, and then my birth mom is my birth mom.”

“Oohh…”

Most kids grasped this concept rather quickly, nodding and smiling, but there was also a large majority who didn't nod or smile.

“So, your birth mom didn’t want you, so she gave you away?”

“No, she did what’s best for me.”

“No, she never loved you. She just gave you away. She didn’t want you.”

I was bullied for years because I was adopted. Kids have this idea that if you are different than them, then you must be made fun of for that difference. Every day I was told that I was just given away because I wasn’t wanted, that I wasn’t loved or needed.

For my birthday in the 5^th grade, I got a card with tickets to Cedar Point and a note from my birth mom, “I can’t wait to meet you this summer.” I looked at my mom and she smiled. I was finally going to meet my birth mom!

There are two types of adoption, open and closed. Closed adoption cuts off all communication and ties to the birth mom. The files are sealed and that’s that. Open adopt allows for contact to the birth mom and family.

My sister and I both came to be through open adoptions. My sister met her birth family a few years before I did, and it was finally my turn. I’d talk to my birth mom and family through letters, Christmas and birthday presents, and text messages, but I was actually going to meet her in person!

The night before I was petrified. I came into my sister’s bedroom and talked to her about why I was scared. She comforted me and told me over and over that my birth mom would love me, and that there was no reason to be afraid. And she kept reminding me of that the entire 45-minute drive to Cedar Point.

We walked in the front gates, and my eyes fell on hers. It was like something out of a movie, we sprinted to each other and hugged each other so tight that I thought my lungs would collapse. She was crying, I was crying, my parents were crying, my birth grandma was crying. I was finally hugging my birth mom.

We had an amazing day that day, and I left with a smile plastered on my face. Arielle, my birth mom, and I spent some one and one time together. We got to know each other, shared cheesy fries, and talked for hours.

Middle school was not kind to me. The bullying over me being adopted only grew, and I spent countless days in the counselor’s office crying because of what the other kids said to me. It got so bad that it lead to a kid being suspended.

But everyday Arielle would text me and tell me that she loves me, and every night my mom would kiss my head and tell me that she loves me. I knew that Arielle did what was best for the both of us and I am thankful for that. No matter what the other kids said, I knew that I was loved.

Now I’m a freshman in college. I see my birth family almost every month. I have a beautiful half-sister, three handsome baby cousins, four strong female cousins, three awesome aunts, two brilliant uncles, two amazing grandmas, a grandpa that has to be the best cook in the universe, my kick-ass birth mom, and the amazing man named Dave, who stepped up to be birth dad to me when my actual birth dad wouldn’t.

Every holiday and birthday I am surrounded by love. Letters and cards are sent to me at school, sometimes people just show up at my dorm to make me feel better. Whenever I doubt myself, I have the whole Ohlemacher family backing me up and reminding me that I can do anything.

When I tell people that I’m adopted, their faces almost always drop, “Oh… I’m sorry,” but there’s nothing to be sorry for. I have twice the family most people have, double the love! I will never be ashamed of being adopted, no one ever should. It’s time to stop assuming adoption is such a horrible thing because for most of us, it was the best thing that could have ever happened.

I love my family… ALL of my family.