random musings of an adoptee [part 1]

It's been a while since I've written here. It's been a couple of months since I received my birth mom's reply, and I've been unsure how to update this blog since (in the interim, I responded to her email and she replied back, totaling 2 letters we've each sent). Truthfully, I'm not even sure how to respond to her most recent correspondence. Several times I've sat down to respond to her, but I feel a major block preventing me from doing so. Many times I've sat down to blog, but a combination of factors - procrastination, avoidance, protection of her privacy - have held me back. But  I know that writing is therapeutic which is why I started this blog to begin with, so this post is a stream of consciousness filled with several disjointed thoughts.

One thing that came up for me in therapy recently is that I'm in denial about the adoption impacting me [in a negative way]. I think a lot of this has to do with needing to feel/being told to feel grateful for my adoption - more on this in another post. When I first started the process of contacting the adoption agency and initiating a search, I stumbled across an article by an adoptee named Holly McGinnis. I wish I could link it here, but it has since been taken down. Her article was, 10 questions to ask yourself before searching for your birth family, which was a great exercise to work through. One of the questions was, "are you ready to face your adoption?" 

Call it pride or ignorance, but I thought surely I've faced it in the past, as I first went to therapy for adoption healing 10 years ago. But now I have contact with a real human being and I have pictures. Pictures of little Amy with her birth mom, pictures of me before age 3, both things I've never seen before. And the pictures, they make my heart burst with joy and simultaneously shatter my heart into a million pieces. Now I'm facing my adoption squarely in the face, with true images of my birth mom, with hard to read questions and stories in her letters. And it hurts. I've lived a life of suppressing my emotions so consistently that it's second nature, but it is starting to catch up with me with each passing day. The other night my husband was out, and when he came home he found me lying on the living room floor. I had just cried out, "Jesus, my heart hurts," and I had a long, hard cry. 

Forgiveness seems to be a bit of a foreign and elusive concept. I don't think I'm the only one who feels this way. We are told, you can forgive but you [probably] won't forget. Forgiveness is different than reconciliation. Forgiveness is a choice. In her first letter, my birth mom begged for forgiveness, and I told her the truth- I forgave her a long time ago, and I forgive her now. Yet as the correspondence continues, I find myself filled with so much anger towards her, and wow, especially as someone who suppresses [negative] emotions, it is so uncomfortable. So either I suppress it, or I have mental conversations with her where I am filled with expletives. Is my forgiveness still valid?

A friend recently asked, "has it been good for you to find your birth mom? Does it bring a sense of closure or relief, or does it make it more complicated?" ...yes. The real, raw answer is - it's good and it's not good. It opens my eyes to how complicated adoption is. It makes me question some deeply rooted beliefs. It makes me more curious and at the same time makes me want to "run away." It brings more confusion than it does clarity. It's heartwarming and heart breaking. It's less beauty, more ashes (although I believe that one to be temporary). It's watching a movie then realizing I'm the main character...but then realizing it's not fictional. It's somewhat biographical but it's in real time so the ending is unknown, which may be one of the most agonizing parts. It's a little bit of everything...yet, I think that's just how life goes sometimes.

out of office

"Hello...

Our office will be closed from January 31st to February 2nd due to Lunar New Year holidays. Please note that we will be back in the office on Thursday, the 3rd of February. We apologize for any inconvenience and thank you for your understanding."

was the auto-reply I received as soon as I hit "send" on the email to my birth mom. I sent the email on a Friday afternoon, and they wouldn't be back in the office for about a week. My tendency is usually to first find the silver lining so I immediately thought, "well I did my part and I feel good about putting the ball in her court, so now I don't have to think about it for a while." Ha ha. In fact it was all I could really think about, and I found myself sharing what I wrote with several friends, because if I wasn't getting her response yet, at least I was getting A response. With each day that passed someone else would ask me if I'd received a reply yet and I broke it down every time: "well the agency won't even be back in the office until Thursday, then they have to catch up on being out for a week, so then the time it takes for them to translate, and then however long it takes for my birth mom to reply, and then it will have to be translated back. So...probably not for a month or so." Really, I said this so that I could prepare myself for how long it could take, but even so, every morning I found myself tracking the time difference- "if it's 6am here that means it's 8pm there so obviously not getting a response today." But then in the evening hours I'd say, "okay it's 7pm here so 9am there so they are in the office and I could potentially get an email tonight!" 

I was talking to a friend about it and she looked at me and said, "and yet you're so calm." I laughed and said, "well my chocolate consumption has increased, my average bedtime has gone to 1am, and I told my husband I need a punching bag, so..." I employed any means I could to distract myself, while at the same time fixating on the tangible stressors of the situation. I had no control over if/when I would hear from her, but I could worry about things like, I have a lot of food allergies and if I go to Korea will they be able to accommodate them, or will I even be able to communicate to them that I have serious allergies? I spent several months learning about Korea and its culture several years ago, and I don't know if it still holds true but at the time it seemed they held strongly to one beauty standard. In the US, you can walk into a room full of women who all look drastically different and still believe each one to be beautiful. Not so in Korea; in my findings it seemed, they all aspired to basically look the same. 

*Disclaimer - I am fully aware of how ignorant I am in making such a statement, but it was what I gathered from various videos and conversations I'd had at the time.* 

From a gal who spent her entire life trying to fit in with the crowd and be accepted, I began to worry that I would not fit their standard and not feel accepted again. I don't know how to explain this well, but for several years after my adoption, I vehemently rejected the idea of ever visiting Korea. We have a home video of my 5th birthday, and after all the guests have gone home there's footage of me riding a tricycle (with my dolls and stuffed animals in the backseat) on the sidewalk. In the video my brother asks me, "are you going to Korea?!" and immediately I brake, markedly turn the tricycle around, and pedal back towards home as fast as my little legs can go. In 3rd grade my class was given the writing prompt of, "if you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?" I wrote about how I would get in an airplane, fly *right* past Korea, visit my sister in college (which was 2 hours away from where we lived), then visit my brother in college (which was halfway across the US). Not only did that flight path not make any sense, but I clearly went out of my way to convey how much I did not want to visit that country.

Somewhere in my mind I felt that being placed for adoption meant that I was rejected by Korea, and I would do everything I could to reject Korea back. With the now real possibility of going back in the somewhat foreseeable future, those fears of rejection were stirring again. While I no longer needed to make it a point to say that I won't go back, I could feel the self-preservation tactics activated, and I began to subconsciously voice the reasons [mentally] that I might be rejected by Korea once again.

whiplash

On a Wednesday evening in January, I told my husband I needed to organize and purge all the baby clothing, and that I was going to stay up late to get it done. I knew I'd regret the lack of sleep the next morning, I told him, but I was sick of looking at the clothes piled everywhere. As I walked up the stairs a little after 1am, I glanced at my phone and noticed an email had come in. It was from the adoption agency.

"I've checked your documents, attached is your file, here is the process to do a birth parent search... I'm afraid we have no identifying information about your birth father for the search and for this reason it would not be possible to initiate a search.

On the other hand, I have great news about your birth mother search." 

At this point, I really just thought she was going to tell me that they had all the necessary information to begin, and I half expected her to request further information from my end.

"She has tried to find you since 2007," the email said instead. "She wants to get in touch with you to develop a closer relationship...she wants to meet you in person if you come to Korea in the future." The next step, I was told, was to email a letter and include pictures, and they would translate it for me and send it to her. Wait, what?? I couldn't believe they'd found her so quickly. What was supposed to take months instead took days, and as my brain fumbled to make sense of what I'd just read, I went into the bedroom and gently shook my husband's arm. "They found her...they found her and she wants to meet me." He sat straight up and we made our way to the couch in the living room where we half sat, half slouched, as we both stared up at the ceiling in a daze.

"This is shocking." "It only took a week." "I feel like I'm in a movie." "It feels like a movie." "Whoa."

It took me a few hours to fall asleep as I tried to wrap my head around this news, all the while pondering such questions as, do I have other siblings/nieces/nephews? How does one reconnect with a stranger? What do I even say? How do I begin? Is it okay to ask her questions? Is there anything I might ask that would be unwittingly offensive or disrespectful in Korean culture? I didn't have a name for her, so how would I address her? Was I ready to call her "Mom"?

In the days to come, the questions continued to circulate, but as I started formulating the email mentally, I found myself gravitating towards telling her about my accomplishments, which is not usually my personality type. I realized I was trying to impress her, but also realized that would make for a dry email, so I kept writing until something felt right (some details edited for privacy)...

Hello,

It is so good to be writing you and reconnecting. I think about you so often and pray for you, too. There is so much to catch up on, but I thought I would start with some highlights...

I was adopted in March 1987 by a Catholic, American family. My Dad was an Officer in the US Army, and my family was stationed in Seoul at the time of my adoption. We moved to Virginia when I was 4, and I lived there until I was 25. I've lived in several places since then, but recently moved back to Virginia. In 2013 I married a wonderful man, and we have a beautiful family of our own.

I am so curious to know you and learn more about you. Do you still live in JeonJu City? Have you ever traveled outside of Korea, and more specifically, have you ever traveled to the United States? Do you have other children? What are some of your hobbies? I grew up playing piano and flute, and music is very special to me. I've always wondered if you are musical, if that is something I received from you. My family tells me that when I was first adopted, I used to get out of my bed and stand by the window, singing Silent Night (in Korean). A friend once pointed out that you must have taught me that song. Did we sing it together?

There is so much more to say, but I think this is a good start. I hope you are well, and I hope that you and your loved ones have been able to stay healthy during this pandemic.

With love,

Amy (Yoon Joo)

the search begins

One of the most frequently asked questions I receive as an adoptee is, will I search for my birth mom? The answer was always no, "unless I had a medical crisis." Then the answer changed to no, "because I think I have all the answers to the questions most adoptees have and I don't feel like I need to." When I started therapy with my current counselor last Spring, the words no sooner came out of my mouth when I realized, well actually that's the nice, neat answer I can tie up with a pretty bow; it's safe, it's concise, and it's not messy. For the first time in my life I wasn't sure if it was still true, but it is similar to when you ask someone, "how are you?" and you hope they just say, "I'm well," so you can both move on with your day.

Fast forward several months, throw in some healing and an Instagram post (how 2021), and wouldn't you know, that answer is indeed different. Not only is it no longer, "I don't think I need to," the answer is, "actually, I think I want to do this." What a massive shift. What about Instagram specifically ignited the shift, you may wonder. Writing out my thoughts that day was the first time I truly reflected on what my adoption could have felt like for my birth mom. Approaching it through the lens of now being a mother myself, one of whom is older than I was when I was "relinquished," gave me pause for thought. I considered what I might feel like if one of my children was gone from my life, knowing he or she was most likely still alive. Wouldn't I want to know how life turned out for that child? Allowing myself that reflection in turn gave me permission to wonder about my birth mom, in a new way I hadn't before. How did life turn out for her? What are her hobbies and interests? One question that perhaps most adoptees wonder: what does she look like?! I'm told often that my daughter is my mini. Am I my birth mom's?

I sat with this newfound desire for a few days before taking the plunge. Oftentimes I suffer through analysis paralysis, but in this case I decided that since the birth family search can take some time (months, maybe even a year or more), I would take the first step and that would still give me time to work through all of the thoughts and emotions that were brewing. I did also let my parents and siblings know that I would begin this search, as a way to include them in the process. And exactly a week after I submitted my paperwork I received a reply, and I assumed they were letting me know they received my email. 

Instead, they told me they found my birth mother.

it all started with... Instagram?

There are many factors behind the origins of this journey (specifically, searching for my birth mom and as such, starting this blog), but perhaps the biggest catalyst was, of all things, an Instagram post.

As my Adoption Day was approaching last December, I felt a prompting to write about it on Instagram, which felt so strange. I'm not one to post very often, and when I do the contents are certainly not out of the depths of my heart. Nevertheless, I followed through on the prompting and worked out what I thought the post should say. First I thought it would be an angsty, put you in your place, this is what you shouldn't say to adoptees, message. But I considered that what one person may find upsetting or comforting might be completely different for me, and vice versa. So the post morphed into (still angsty), adoptees need to have a voice! I always hear the birth mom story, rightfully so, and I always hear the biological mom story, also rightfully so. But it's not very often we hear from the adoptee. GIVE US A VOICE! I thought I would say. But as I began to write the words changed shape into something different, and while I didn't write it for the response, the response I received was overwhelming, unexpected, and humbling. It wasn't about the volume of responses so much as the stories and connections shared, and I was reminded how many people I know who have a connection to adoption. It also set the rest of this journey into motion, so without any further introduction, I present to you the infamous post:

It's so wild how one event, one day, can change the entire trajectory of your life. If today hadn't happened 35 years ago, I wouldn't know any of you. My adoption was the answer to many prayers- 10 years of prayer to be exact. My mom prayed for 10 years to adopt a 3 year old girl. 3 years before I was even born she journaled, asking God if He would choose a daughter for her to adopt, and then she wrote out my name, "Amy Elizabeth." What faith! How specific were her desires! And she was relentless in her dream. Her part of the story is truly incredible and I'll have to share it with you someday.

I recently started reflecting on what today must mean to my birth mom. Also an answer to her prayers: a family for her daughter who could give her what she couldn't. But what heartache and emptiness she must have felt, too. Adoption hits a lot different when you become a mom. To walk away from my children at any age, but in particular at 3, is unthinkable...unbearable. What faith, what strength, what love my birth mom had. As the story goes, I used to look out my bedroom window at night and sing Silent Night in Korean. Probably wondering where she was, maybe wondering where I was, too. I wonder if she thinks of me when she hears it now.

And here I am, 35 years later, and truthfully- struggling with my adoption more than I ever have before. Grateful for this life, grateful for my family, grateful for my moms. But like many things in life, adoption is beautiful and hard and messy. I used to think I should only be grateful, and not give credence to any of the sad emotions that came along. I'm slowly allowing myself to embrace it all, sadness and anger and messiness included. And it is hard. But I have to believe that there is purpose and redemption to come, and maybe some of that has already been fulfilled. And I believe there will be more to come; this isn't the end of the story. So I trudge forward, clinging to what hope I have, staying as present as I can to this beautiful life before me. Grateful to know all of you.

"Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6

In the end I realized that the best way to give adoptees a voice was to speak up and share my own story, so here I am. Welcome to my life, welcome to my story. I'm so glad you're here.