My Adoption

In 1984 my mother received a heart transplant at the age of 20 years old. Chronic medication was a must to prevent her body from rejecting her new heart. She had a new chance at life and got married 9 years later, 1993.

My parents wanted to start their own family, but the medication wasn’t good for pregnancies. After some time, they started looking into adoption.

 

In September of 1996 I was born to a 15-year-old girl. Not coming from much and not being in the ideal situation to raise a child, she started looking to give me up for adoption. She lived with a woman and 2 men in a caravan, filled with smoke and very little to provide a child.

 

In February 1997, I was placed into foster care and that’s how I came to know my parents. After 4 months in foster care, I was temporarily sent back to my biological mother while the adoption process was put into motion.

 

In June 1997, in the middle of winter my parents received a call that the adoption went through and that they can go pick me up. My father and uncle (he was a policeman) made the drive while my mom and aunt waited at my aunt’s house for us to return.

Now obviously, I was a baby so I don’t remember all these details personally, but I am sharing the stories my father told me as a child.

 

When my father got to the caravan, he knocked and then opened the door. A cloud of smoke blew right into his face and following the smoke there was me, sitting in the doorway in a dirty nappy and a vest. It was the middle of winter. Dad opened his jacket and then proceeded to pick me up and snuggling me inside his jacket to get warm.

 

They left and went to my aunt’s house. The adoption went through a lot quicker than expected so they were not prepared. My aunt gave me clothing from when my cousins were little and some extra to take home. That next day, my parents woke up to people knocking on the door and handing them baby items.

 

People they have never seen before were bringing necessities for raising a baby. News traveled. Our PO Box address was given to my biological mother if she ever wanted to send me letters or contact me, but nothing. Not even one. She was sent to a school for troubled girls and that was the last we heard of her.

 

When I was 6 years old, my parents started telling me about my adoption. As simple as a 6-year-old can understand. As a child I had many questions. Who was my mom? Why didn’t she keep me? Has she ever looked for me? How did her life turn out?  As I got older though, I was no longer interested in knowing or meeting her. I knew who my parents were, and I wasn’t fazed about adding members to the family.

 

My mom passed away in July 2017 at only 53 years old. October 2017 I received a Facebook message from my biological mother. I wasn’t interested so I didn’t answer her. My father however felt that I should meet her, even if it is only once. Eventually I agreed and I responded to her in December 2017.

 

I learnt that I have a half-brother and a half-sister. They were living in huts, not too far from the town I was raised in. My brother is a little troublemaker, and my sister is the sweetest little girl. I still had no interest in getting to know her better or making her a part of my life. I made it clear that I have nothing against her and that my adoption was probably the best choice she has ever made. I thanked her for giving me up, but I still don’t want to insert myself into that family dynamic. Besides, I have my own family to take care of.

 

I feel that I ended up where I belonged, I got the life that a lot of kids would dream of thanks to her selfless decision from 25 years ago.

 

My name was Mari-Loo, which was changed after the adoption. I am both people, but I decide who and what I am and will become.