For some reason, I feel this need to put my adoption story into writing...I need to describe for myself and for my family and friends what this thing is all about.
Here is how I found out about my birthfamily.
My mom and dad's adoption papers were falsified. My original papers state that my birthparents were 11 or so years apart in age and unmarried. An illegitimate child in Korea has little hope for a good future.
When I was a student in France for a semester, a Korean gentleman approached me at the church I attended with my host family. He asked me in French if I were American. Yes, I said, how did you know? (I expected the usual question: Where are you from? which is always loaded down with meaning.) I don't remember how he answered, but I went on to explain that I was adopted. His response surprised me. He expressed guilt and asked for pardon on behalf of all Korean people for putting me up for adoption. Whoa. Hello! I'm the most BLESSED person in the world! Why would you feel guilty for letting blessing happen to me? And I don't even know you! You do not know my birthparents! I was learning about the intense cultural ties Koreans maintain with one another. I like to say that after living in Europe for one year and Asia for two and a half, that I see Americans and Koreans as being the most ego-centric culturally. Americans almost always hang out with other American expats. The same with Koreans.
In fact, when I was in Albania on a short-term missions trip, I was approached by a group of Koreans encouraging me strongly to stay with them to celebrate the New Year. I had no clue who these people were and I was with my own group! Very surprising.
At any rate...
Over the rest of the semester the gentleman and I met at various times to talk. He offered to find out more about my birthfamily when he got back to Korea, as he was a professor of law in Seoul. I sent him my papers when I returned home and didn't hear from him for a long time. Then during Spring Break my senior year in college, I received a letter from the adoption agency.
***********
I just pulled out the letter. It's right here in front of me. I haven't looked at it in years...and now I see that the agency did indeed give me the names to my birthparents! Wow! All these years I had forgotten that...Maybe I just didn't want to process it...it's funny, though, because when I was living in Korea a few years after receiving this letter (which does, indeed, include an offer to help me find my birthparents!), I asked the agency for my family medical records, which they do not keep. They could only offer to put me on a list of adoptees looking for their birthfamilies. If the birthfamilies come looking for their children, then they can be matched up. But why didn't the agency do more for me, if they had already promised to do so in this letter, written a few years prior? I don't know. Maybe I don't really want to find my birthfamily.
The letter states that my birthfather was 33 years old and had a "meek and gentle personality". I guess he was "attractive". They also include his height (5'5"), which I find amusing. My birthmother, apparently, is 5'4" and has a "very docile personality and a sweet disposition". She was 32 (not 22) at the time of my birth. They were married, and had three daughters already.
The report my mom and dad received when they adopted me stated that my birthparents had "already signed the legal document to relinquish parental rights" at the time of my birth. Now this letter states that "according to the story given by the midwife [my] birthparents decided on an adoption plan due to their serious financial problems after [my] birthfather's business went bankrupt." I wonder when that happened...
Like I said, the birthparents' names are included in the letter! How in the world did I miss that??? And the letter ends with an offer to help with finding my birthfamily! How in the world did I miss that??? The woman who signed the letter is the same woman whom I emailed years later when I lived in country and asked for my medical history. Maybe if I had reminded her of this letter, more than getting my name on a list might have happened.
But would I have wanted something more to happen?
I've read/heard that most adoptees are content seeing pictures of their birthfamilies. Or that when they do meet the birthfamilies, due to language and cultural barriers, the biggest thing they get out of the experience is: whoa, it's weird meeting someone who looks like me. I have three children, and none really look like me. In fact, just the other day, someone commented on how different each child looks. The person went on to say that our son looks more like Hub. Hey, I wanted to protest, you should compare my 2-month pictures with my son's 2-month pictures. We look similar! But yes, he's always compared to Hubby...sigh.
When I lived in Korea and took the subway into or out of Seoul, where I was born, I would search the faces of my fellow passengers, looking for a woman who looked like me. Maybe she would be one of my sisters! I never did see anyone who looked similar.
I guess if I did meet my birthparents, I would try to assuage any guilt they might bear. I would convince them in the strongest terms I know that I grew up blessed, in a loving, Christian home. I would express my thanks to them for giving me a wonderful life in America. I would bring pictures of my happy childhood, of my dear family. I would hug them if they wanted, and listen to their words. Out of curiosity and a love of studying people, I would ask for their stories. How did you meet? What are your parents like? Did you have cravings when you were pregnant with me? Why did you give me up for adoption, again?
**********
Do I have a burning desire to meet my birthfamily?
No, not really.
But I would, if the opportunity presented itself.
I mean, why not? My story reads like a novel. I'm interested myself, in how it'll all turn out! Curiosity - that's why I'd meet them. Resolution? Reconciliation? Two big words, too big ideas. I'm not there. Yet.
Forgiveness is one thing when it's between you and God. It's another thing when you're face-to-face with the other person.
And like I said, I'm not there yet.
But now that I have names, I can pray for them. Yes, I can pray. The Lord calls me to pray, draws me to His heart to pray for my birthparents. That I can do.
Showing posts with label forgiveness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label forgiveness. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
My Adoption Story - Forgiveness
Last night I met a college student from Taiwan. She asked me this question I get often, in various forms. She chose to ask it this way: Do your children only speak English?
The underlying question is: Are you forsaking your ethnic culture? Sometimes it's asked in an accusatory tone; sometimes it's asked purely out of curiosity. But it inevitably comes up when I meet any Asian or Asian-American person.
My response was: yes, they only speak English, since that is the only language Hub and I speak fluently. The student also asked where I was from. Now, I know she's not looking for the "real" answer, which is: upstate New York. The answer she's looking for is: I was born in Korea and adopted as an infant. So, that's what I say. Then, I have to explain my hub's background: his parents are full Koreans, but he was born and raised in the States. I usually add that his family stopped speaking Korean to him and his sisters when he was four, so they would be ready for school, though his parents are both hard to understand when they speak in English!
I weakly tried to explain that I'm American, not Asian..but somehow the words just faded on my lips...the student gave a half-hearted nod, and we moved on to bigger and better topics, like the cuteness of my children, a fave topic of mine.
It's hard to explain, but if I'm Asian, then my next door neighbor is African!
Another Korean-American friend of mine explained to her mother that I was just "very Americanized". I had to correct her and say, I am not Americanized, I'm American! This, I believe, is the difference between the Korean-American and the Korean adoptee.
When asked on a questionnaire what ethnicity I am, I check the American/Caucasian block if it's a social/psychological-type survey; however, if it's a medical/physical survey, I check the Asian block.
And that is the extent of my Asian-ness.
**********
This morning I woke up extremely happy. It was spring-like outside; my hub had taken my kids to Dunkin' D's to pick up our traditional Sunday breakfast. They were due back any minute with the donuts, and I was just lying in bed, grateful for the sunshine streaming in my window.
I suddenly had a thought, brought on by the conversation I'd had with the student last night. It might have also stemmed from the World magazine articles I'd been reading lately about abortion. But I realized that my birthparents just might have loved me...They must have! Surely! I mean, I was the fourth girl, born into a culture that advocates 2 children, 3 max. (In fact, Hub's father told me half-jokingly, half-seriously that we couldn't have any more children!) But in Korea, it is customary to abort extra girl babies or any over the fourth child...I was both: the fourth girl. I had never thought about my birthparents in the light of love. My birthmother had to make the decision to go through with the pregnancy, probably with pressure from her parents and in-laws to abort. Korean parents pressure/harrass their children for many things. Hub's mom was harrassed by her in-laws for producing two girls and no boys. Good thing Hub was born shortly thereafter! The ironic thing, is, of course, that it's the man's contribution - the x or y chromosome - that determines the gender! But somehow it's the woman's fault!
Anyways, my birthmother decided to go through the labor and delivery, though she most likely knew she'd be giving me up immediately after. Maybe they were hoping for a boy? If I had been a boy, would they have kept me?
I met Hub in Korea (ironically enough; I'll share that story later). We married and got pregnant there, too! I had my ultrasound done at a Korean clinic and fully expected to find out the gender of our child, especially since our white American friends who had gone in right before us were told the gender of their baby. But the doctor refused to tell us the gender of ours. It's illegal to reveal the gender, she said, because so many parents abort girl babies. I started crying because I had to try to explain to her that Hub and I weren't Korean!!! You told our American friends!!! Why not us? She asked, semi-accusingly, why we would want to know. I don't remember how I answered; I just remember convincing her I was American and therefore had the right to know. She semi-relented and hinted at the baby being a boy.
I met a Korean woman at Bible study recently. Her family had moved to America when she was 16. She has 6 or 7 brothers; she's the only female born to the family. Her mom had been obsessive about having boys (from pressure from her mother) and resented her only daughter.
The gender issue is still very real in Korea.
But back to this morning:
I saw my birthparents in a new light. Though I may never meet them, I feel that I can forgive them.
Actually, a year or so ago, I prayed with Hub's sister, forgiving my birthparents. I believe at the moment, I let go. But I still have struggles, like last night, that will never stop popping up. Forgiveness is a one-time deal, in a sense, and in another sense, it's a recurring struggle, never to be fully resolved. Each time it recurs, I have to choose all over again. Either I will believe in the power of forgiveness and let go of bad thoughts or I will give in to sin and let bitterness grow in my heart toward my birthparents. It's tough and not cut-n-dried...
**********
Am I forsaking my ethnic culture?
No, it forsook me.
But maybe, just maybe, my birthparents didn't forsake me and did what they believed best for me, considering the pressures and contraints of the culture. (At any rate, I wouldn't have it any other way. I love the life God granted me!)
You know, I had never before separated my birthparents from my birth culture...another step toward forgiveness.
The underlying question is: Are you forsaking your ethnic culture? Sometimes it's asked in an accusatory tone; sometimes it's asked purely out of curiosity. But it inevitably comes up when I meet any Asian or Asian-American person.
My response was: yes, they only speak English, since that is the only language Hub and I speak fluently. The student also asked where I was from. Now, I know she's not looking for the "real" answer, which is: upstate New York. The answer she's looking for is: I was born in Korea and adopted as an infant. So, that's what I say. Then, I have to explain my hub's background: his parents are full Koreans, but he was born and raised in the States. I usually add that his family stopped speaking Korean to him and his sisters when he was four, so they would be ready for school, though his parents are both hard to understand when they speak in English!
I weakly tried to explain that I'm American, not Asian..but somehow the words just faded on my lips...the student gave a half-hearted nod, and we moved on to bigger and better topics, like the cuteness of my children, a fave topic of mine.
It's hard to explain, but if I'm Asian, then my next door neighbor is African!
Another Korean-American friend of mine explained to her mother that I was just "very Americanized". I had to correct her and say, I am not Americanized, I'm American! This, I believe, is the difference between the Korean-American and the Korean adoptee.
When asked on a questionnaire what ethnicity I am, I check the American/Caucasian block if it's a social/psychological-type survey; however, if it's a medical/physical survey, I check the Asian block.
And that is the extent of my Asian-ness.
**********
This morning I woke up extremely happy. It was spring-like outside; my hub had taken my kids to Dunkin' D's to pick up our traditional Sunday breakfast. They were due back any minute with the donuts, and I was just lying in bed, grateful for the sunshine streaming in my window.
I suddenly had a thought, brought on by the conversation I'd had with the student last night. It might have also stemmed from the World magazine articles I'd been reading lately about abortion. But I realized that my birthparents just might have loved me...They must have! Surely! I mean, I was the fourth girl, born into a culture that advocates 2 children, 3 max. (In fact, Hub's father told me half-jokingly, half-seriously that we couldn't have any more children!) But in Korea, it is customary to abort extra girl babies or any over the fourth child...I was both: the fourth girl. I had never thought about my birthparents in the light of love. My birthmother had to make the decision to go through with the pregnancy, probably with pressure from her parents and in-laws to abort. Korean parents pressure/harrass their children for many things. Hub's mom was harrassed by her in-laws for producing two girls and no boys. Good thing Hub was born shortly thereafter! The ironic thing, is, of course, that it's the man's contribution - the x or y chromosome - that determines the gender! But somehow it's the woman's fault!
Anyways, my birthmother decided to go through the labor and delivery, though she most likely knew she'd be giving me up immediately after. Maybe they were hoping for a boy? If I had been a boy, would they have kept me?
I met Hub in Korea (ironically enough; I'll share that story later). We married and got pregnant there, too! I had my ultrasound done at a Korean clinic and fully expected to find out the gender of our child, especially since our white American friends who had gone in right before us were told the gender of their baby. But the doctor refused to tell us the gender of ours. It's illegal to reveal the gender, she said, because so many parents abort girl babies. I started crying because I had to try to explain to her that Hub and I weren't Korean!!! You told our American friends!!! Why not us? She asked, semi-accusingly, why we would want to know. I don't remember how I answered; I just remember convincing her I was American and therefore had the right to know. She semi-relented and hinted at the baby being a boy.
I met a Korean woman at Bible study recently. Her family had moved to America when she was 16. She has 6 or 7 brothers; she's the only female born to the family. Her mom had been obsessive about having boys (from pressure from her mother) and resented her only daughter.
The gender issue is still very real in Korea.
But back to this morning:
I saw my birthparents in a new light. Though I may never meet them, I feel that I can forgive them.
Actually, a year or so ago, I prayed with Hub's sister, forgiving my birthparents. I believe at the moment, I let go. But I still have struggles, like last night, that will never stop popping up. Forgiveness is a one-time deal, in a sense, and in another sense, it's a recurring struggle, never to be fully resolved. Each time it recurs, I have to choose all over again. Either I will believe in the power of forgiveness and let go of bad thoughts or I will give in to sin and let bitterness grow in my heart toward my birthparents. It's tough and not cut-n-dried...
**********
Am I forsaking my ethnic culture?
No, it forsook me.
But maybe, just maybe, my birthparents didn't forsake me and did what they believed best for me, considering the pressures and contraints of the culture. (At any rate, I wouldn't have it any other way. I love the life God granted me!)
You know, I had never before separated my birthparents from my birth culture...another step toward forgiveness.
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