15 Things I Wish I Could Tell My Adoptive Parents

There are so many emotions built up inside of adoptees about their adoptive parents and what they wish they could say to them. Things they wish they would have done, things they wish they would have shared, or things they wish they never did. Problem is, how can you really express yourself to the people that "saved" you without feeling like you are dishonoring them, being ungrateful, or catching a backhand.

I asked adoptees to remain anonymous about what they wish they could say to their adoptive parents:

1. Don't shame or spank me for not telling the truth and being honest when you have continuously been lying to me about my adoption and information for decades.

2. I wish you would have been with me through the whole adoption-reunion process; it made it a lot more difficult having to keep my "two lives" separate after reunion with my adoptive side and biological side. I wish I could've seen them all connect. They were still great parents and I think they thought, especially my father that he was trying to protect me not realizing how much it could have helped me. Rest in Peace Mama 9/23/08 Papa 3/17/08

3. They should have been more forthcoming with information about my adoption. Getting "my papers" at age 36 was crap. They should have openly talked about my mom and dad, "what do you think she's like"? "I wonder if you look like him"?

4. Talk about it, talk about it, talk about it.

5. Be honest and open, and no "special, chosen" crap.

6. Thank God they did not give me any of those pathetic frame poems.

7. Keeping my status as an adoptee as a secret was far more difficult on me than it was on them.

8. Don't shut down when I ask questions about my adoption as if I am dishonoring you by wanting to know who my mother is.

9. Don't think you can make my real family disappear like they do not even exist.

10. Don't think that because you brought me to American you gave me a better life.

11. Thank you.

12. You robbed me of my culture by removing me from my country.

13. Be real and do not lie.

14. You cannot be mad because I did not end up as you anticipated. I have my own genetics and bloodline. Bestowing your ideas on me can only go so far.

15. You should have a talked with your biological children before bringing an "Outsider" into the family. It does not help when your biological children don't accept me, or think I am supposed to bow down to my adoptive parents because you "saved" me.

16. Thank you for being open, you were really good about that.


What would you say to your adoptive parents? Please post your answers in the comment box and I will update the list shortly.


During this discussion their were adoptive mom's that gave their input. A couple of them erased their comments after feeling they were being disrespected by adoptees. I personally know these adoptive mom's, and I believe they are great parents adopting out of foster care. They care to be educated by adoptees on how to raise their children. We (adoptees) are expert witnesses. I have to remind adoptees that yelling, screaming, scolding, disrespecting adoptive parents because they chose to adopt will get us no where. The purpose of these post is to educate adoptive parents, social workers, and mental health counselors how we truly feel. Not everyone is out to hurt us. 

Thank you for sharing this post :o)

An Adoption Reunion at the Grave: Accepting Death and Finding Peace

Jessenia Arias

"Ray. Ray what do you want me to do? How am I supposed to deal with you being gone? You told mom we are to all be strong and not cry for you, but I find myself crying at everything I do. I cry when I cook, I cry when I eat, I cry when I write, I cry when I wake up, go to sleep, workout, I am always crying". 

I know I have to accept Ray is gone. It is the only way. But for some reason in my mind I think I find comfort in thinking that I am still searching for Ray as I had been for all those years that I knew I was adopted till my family found me. Maybe I am still waiting to meet him as I had been for the past year. It is more comforting that way. 

"You are out there somewhere", as I look out my window. 

I did not attend my brother's funeral nor his burial. I could not do it. Looking back, perhaps that is why I am I am floating in the middle between my dreams and reality. This must be why I still think there is a chance he is alive. I did not see him in a casket. He could still be breathing. His heart might still be beating! Maybe there is hope. 

"No, stop playing these games with yourself Muzik. WAKE UP, he is gone", I say to myself. 

Perhaps if I went to the funeral and saw his body or the casket being lowered into the ground I could accept that he is gone. But I do not want to think he is gone.  

"Keep the hope ALIVE!", I boldly shout in my head. 

My sisters that went to the funeral seem to be so strong when we talk online. I wish I could be like them. They tell me to accept that he is in a better place, and that we need to move forward like he would have wanted.  

"Move forward"? 

I am beginning to think I am trapped. 

If I accept that he is dead he is gone forever, he will not be coming back. If I think that I am still waiting to meet him like we last talked about, there is still a chance. I don't want memories. I do not want to ever forget him or get over it like we do with every other heartache we experience in life. I want to think that somewhere out there Ray is waiting to meet me and hang out with us this summer when I meet my other biological sisters and brothers. 

So do I have to let him go? Do I have to accept that he is dead? Who makes the rules? I do not have to let him go if I do not want to. But it is so hard when everyone else around me has accepted that he is dead. 

Why can't I be like them....

I finally decided to answer my adoptive mom's phone calls. I did not want her asking me any questions about my biological family or ask me how I was feeling. No one knows heartache and death better than my mom though. My adoptive father passed away when I was seven. He was everything to her, and I mean everything. Matter of fact she still cries everyday. Honestly, I do not think my mom ever came to terms with my dad being dead even though she cries all the time. I wonder if I will be that way. Speaking to her meant becoming vulnerable. I held back from every question she asked. She wanted to be there for my birth mom. She told me how she prayed for her and could only imagine the pain my birth mom was enduring. It meant so much to hear my adoptive mom's concern for my birth mom. It is enough that I feel like I am living an emotional double life. My adoptive mom is one of the most beautiful yet fragile people you would ever meet. She makes it so easy for you to talk to even though you do not want to talk. I still held back though from how I was feeling about everything. She told me she was concerned with me. She pleaded that I seek mental health counseling online or at least when I get back to the States. It was a little over a year ago that I heard the most devastating news about my birth family. Long story short my youngest brother was arrested and is serving a long prison sentence. So much for hanging out with him. It was less than a year ago that I found my adoptive mom near death in her home after returning from Japan. If I did not come that day she would have died. I spent everyday pleading for a miracle at the hospital for 3 months as she pulled through and went into recovery. It was six months after, one of my biological brothers was in a tragic accident and in a coma when I met him and my birth mom, and my sister for the first time as we all tirelessly prayed for a miracle. And now I am here, numb, mentally isolated, and fighting from breaking down at every moment, and grieving my little brother Ray's death. 

When I was told Ray died that night, I played Via Dolorosa over and over. The song was sang at my dad's funeral. It was painful to hear. I do not know what I kept playing it torturing myself hour after hour. As they whipped Jesus and dragged him with the cross, all I could think about was how they killed my little brother. They set him up. They hung out with him as if everything was cool and they were riding on their four wheelers. As they drove off they began to open fire, rob him, and left him to die. I sit here and try to replay the scene over and over in my head for some reason with the facts that I know. I see him in pain as he fights to stay alive and call 911 with his phone, the only thing they left him with. I think about all that Jesus had to endure for us. Makes you never want to take Jesus, our faith, loved ones, or our life for granted. 

"Ray, I know you are heaven. That is what I tell myself everyday even though I think you are still alive and I am going to meet you. I know I will get through this in time. I just don't want you to ever become a blurred thought or memory. I want to think that you will be at my wedding. I would have wanted you to walk me down the aisle since I do not have my dad. Speaking to Carlos, helps me so much. When I talk to him I think about you. Carlos seems like such an amazing brother, you did such great job as a big brother raising him. We all miss you and love you so much. Talk to you later bro." 

"Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning" 

-Psalm 30:5

Read more excerpts: An Adoption Reunion at The Grave:

Questioning My Faith in God 

He Could Not Leave Without Meeting Me and Saying Good-Bye

Learning to Forgive Murder and Trust God's Justice

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Learning to Forgive Murder and Trust God's Justice

Jessenia Arias

I try to make sense of my little brother's murder as every day passes to no avail. There is nothing in the world someone can do to cause you to take a life that belongs to a family, a mother. Perhaps that is what makes it difficult to move forward. I log on my computer and check for any recent updates in the news every morning in hopes to find an article that reads that my brother's murderers were arrested. I try to review article after article and build this case myself because I am sure police officials could care less about solving his murder. I finally found a piece of information today that brings about some hope that justice will be served.

But what's justice?

As a Christian woman I cannot say having them murdered just how my brother was killed. I cannot say prison time would be suffice either at this time. After all, they seem to be the ignorant type to think that if they were to get a life sentence they would have earned some military stripes to be proud of in their hood.

Sickening!

Lex talionis principle "eye for an eye" seems fitting; however, I would hate for his family to go through what my family is going through at this time. No one deserves this. Murderers or not, we are all children of God. They belong to a family that I have to believe did not raise murderers. 

I search for peace everyday I look out my window. I look out to the beautiful mountainous view I have and think how blessed I am to be alive and how many times I have escaped death. I never thought how blessed I was at the time, but as I think of my brother's death I am reminded that I have to be strong and live. My (birth) mom told us that he said for us not to cry but to be happy when we think of him. But how am I supposed to be happy when I think of him when I have nothing to remember of him. However, I want to be strong for him. It is hard grieving because I know at some point I have to move forward. I do not ever want to forget him. I want him to always be alive in my life. Putting him to rest is like it's over. I want to keep the hope alive that I have had over these years as I searched for him.

I look outside my window and I think about life once more. I look at life and death and I tell myself that we have to be strong enough to look at them both in the face and say "I am of great strength and great courage". It was just as my cousin Jackie said, "Jesus looked at death in the face and welcomed it because he knew it was the only way to win. Through his death, we could all be free". I know I have to be strong for myself and my family. I have to set myself free from this and know that God had a purpose when He called my little brother home. For eternal peace is in heaven not on Earth.

^{Matthew 5:43-48 : 43}“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor^[a] and hate your enemy.’⁴⁴ But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you,^[b] 45 that you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. ⁴⁶ For if you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? ⁴⁷ And if you greet your brethren^[c] only, what do you do more than others? Do not even the tax collectors^[d] do so? ⁴⁸ Therefore you shall be perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect.

Fly my beautiful angel....Fly.....

I love you Ray Gonzalez

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An Adoption Reunion at the Grave: Meet Me in My Dreams

[Read part 1]

We could not stop laughing. Ray and I were throwing each other in the pool for what seemed like forever.

"Stop it Rayyyyyy, STOP-IT!!!" He must have been hearing impaired because he would not stop. Brotherly love I swear. I almost drowned I was laughing so hard as we horse played in the water. You would have thought he was my big brother the way he threw me around even though he was only a couple inches taller than me.

His smile and laughter was priceless.

I was lost looking into his beautiful green eyes as I felt like I was staring back at myself for the first time. We looked so much alike except I had brown eyes. I remember when I met my birth family for the first time they were whispering amongst themselves how much Ray and I looked alike. They were anxious for me to take my big black sunglasses off that I was using to hide from them because I was so nervous to make eye contact. They wanted to see if I had green eyes like Ray.

All the screaming and laughing wore us out. We peacefully relaxed in our big yellow tube floats. As we hung off the sides of them talking about life and catching up on lost time, I looked down into the water and saw his legs swaying and kicking under the water creating these ripples that caught my eyes immediately. Instantly the water turned the bluest blue, his leg movements seemed unreal, after all he was in a coma. The ripples in the water reminded me that it was all just a dream...suddenly the subconscious mind became conscious.

I woke up distraught. I knew if I fell asleep he was going to come see me. I just knew it!

I did not know whether to be afraid, whether he would back, or why he ever came by at all. All I knew was that scared or not, I was happy that he was free and he could finally come see me like he told me he wanted to the last time we spoke on the phone. I was happy he was smiling and laughing, it was just the way it was all supposed to be if we only had the chance to meet.

The next couple of days I began to imagine how things would have been, if there was anything I could have done to prevent this, or if he was going to come again. As terrified as I am of spirits and ghosts, it felt so good to see my little brother and us meet each other for the first time in our lives. I began to wonder if this is how things were going to be from here on out. Is this how we are going to start seeing each other?

I started to see him everywhere in my house. At night I have to keep a light on at all times. I'm afraid to get up in the middle of the night and see him in the bathroom where it's dark. Every time I cook or eat I get emotional thinking if he ate today, and then I tell myself, "girl, he is dead how is he gon' eat?". Call me crazy, I know.

Perhaps it all began to make some sense when a cousin of mine told me that my mom was praying for nine days as Catholics do for Novena when someone passes. It is believed that a person is in purgatory waiting to go to heaven or hell, and through nine days of series of prayers it helps the deceased to repent if they hadn't before they died; therefore, allowing them to enter the gates of heaven.

Is that why he has been hanging around here? He hasn't crossed over?

I never heard of a Novena before. I thought he already made it heaven when he died. Never knew death was so complicated.

Regardless, he is in heaven right now and I am sticking to it.

Due to certain circumstances I cannot disclose at this time, it was not safe for me to travel to his funeral. Besides, I think I would have flipped over the casket trying to wake him up if I were to see him for the first time like that.

I buried him in Japan deep in my heart and prayed for him at a place I call The Peace River and released a rose in memory of an angel, my brother, Ray Gonzalez.


Rest in Peace Ray Gonzalez


“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” (Psalm 56:8)

(The burial and memorial of Ray Gonzalez in next post)


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An Adoption Reunion at the Grave: Questioning My Faith

Upon arrival to the hospital after suffering multiple gun shot wounds on March 10, it was moments later that my little brother slipped into a coma. His body was too fragile from the gunshots to operate and remove the bullets. His brain was beginning to swell. The doctors attempted to remove the tubes from his nose and throat, and touch his wounds in hopes to agitate him and see if he would respond to it.

No response.

We prayed tirelessly for a miracle day after day, night after night. As days passed reality began to set in. I knew that the longer he was in a coma it would increase the likelihood of him being brain dead. I was beginning to lose faith as days passed. I started questioning God. I became angry at myself for questioning His work, and I became angry with God that I am dealing with such a tragedy. God knew how much being with my brother meant to me. He knew!

People began sharing testimonies that they too had loved ones once before in a coma that were on life support for months and are alive and healthy today. I began to find some hope. However, as the days went on things got worse.

I no longer wanted to pray to God.

Thank God people were praying for my little brother and myself. Thank God for my boyfriend that did all he could to comfort me at a time most would never understand how to comfort such pain. He held my hands and prayed when I did not even want to think about God. Thank God for my great friend Kelli in Japan that got on her knees and prayed for me, and for Ty that was up around the clock checking on me and praying for me. I was truly beginning to lose my mind. I was having unthinkable thoughts. 

I kept reminding myself, you have to have faith to survive. 

After about a week of him being in a coma and my family awaiting the results from the test to come back to determine whether he was brain dead or not, I began to wonder what if my faith and prayers depended on his miracle. I began to pray even though at this point I believed he was gone already. It was just a feeling I had in my spirit; I just knew. Some of my family members told me to continue to have faith, we still had a chance for God to perform a miracle. However, by this point I already began the grieving process once I was told that he may be brain dead. I did not want this pain to continue to linger on everyday. I was a zombie for over a week at this point. I just wanted to know right now if he was going to make it through or not.

I visited a temple in Japan a couple times to pray and meditate. I needed a place to release my tears and feel some kind of comfort that I knew despite my anger, only God could provide me. As I entered the temple, I began to pray. I did not pray for a miracle as strange as it seemed to me. I only prayed for God's will to be done and for my brother to not suffer but be in peace. I wanted him to know the war was over. Little did I know it was far from over. 

Just as I thought I was getting stronger the next day, I received a phone call from my little sister. I could not decipher exactly what she was trying to tell me over Skype. However, I knew there was something important she had to say to me and it was nothing she wanted to be the one to have to do. She mumbled a few words in Spanish. I believe she asked me if I was alone. She spoke a few more words, but I could not understand her. For those that do not know, my little sister knows or speaks very little English and my Spanish is the reciprocation of that. Moments later I heard another voice on the line and it was my oldest biological sister. She too asked me if I was alone or of someone was with me.

Something is terribly wrong. I knew it!

All I could say to myself pacing up and down my house alone was, "no, no, no, no, no....".

I feared the worst.

I began to cry.

My eyes swelled up with tears instantly. Soft "no, no's" turned into wailing "NOOOOO NOOOOOOO NO THIS CAN'T BE NOOOOOOO".

All I could hear was my sister yelling over the phone, "Muzik, I need you to be strong right now....Muzik".

I could not respond, all I could do was cry.

By this time I believe every one of my siblings were on the phone and trying to deliver the news to each other and console each other.

I was on the ground screaming and hitting the ground with my fist surrounded by a puddle of tears. If I kept this up I would be swimming in my living room. I could not think straight. A part of me was like, "why are you crying you knew he was gone already", and the other part of me was I guess still hoping for a miracle.

"Muzik, Muzik, I need you to be strong. Muzik come to the phone", my oldest sister kept  repeating.

She truly is without a doubt one of the strongest women I have ever met although I have yet to meet her or my other older sister in person unfortunately due to the distance. As a matter of fact all of my sisters are so strong. The way they were handling the death of my brother gave me the strength throughout the day to get it together. Whatever "get it together" means.

I wanted to speak to my birth mom. I needed to know that she was okay. I knew she was not going to be O-K, but I needed her to know that I was there for her. I did not want her to feel that she was alone. I could not imagine being a mother and losing a son. After all, she lost me years ago to adoption, and from what I heard she had a hard time forgiving herself for that. In that sense I am glad she has me back in her life. I could not bear for her or anyone to hurt if I could help it. I asked my oldest sister to ask my little sister if I could speak to my mom even though I knew she was not speaking to anyone because she locked herself in her room away from the world crying hysterically day after day. She told me she could not come to the phone right now. I told her to tell my mom that I love her so much. My mom replied that she loved me too.

Ever since my reunion in November 2012, I have yet to speak to my mom on the phone. I do not have an answer for that. It is too difficult speaking to her or letting her in at times because I want to be there with her and I cannot. I think that is the reason anyway. I am afraid to get close with everything that has been going on since they found me. I am afraid of loss as inevitable as we see it is. However, as all this progresses and we are all grieving, all I can think about is that even though she lost a son, she gained a daughter. I can never replace Ray to her, but I want her to feel and know that she is my mom and I am her daughter. I do not want her to feel alone.

I could not sleep all night thinking about Ray. I was dead to the world at this point all over again. I was so angry at God. LIVID. I hardly ever ask God for anything. Instead I am always giving thanks for everything, even the little ants and the birds in the sky everyday. I ask for one thing, ONE THING, the one thing I wanted the most out of life and He took him away from me.

I was home alone for a couple days. I could not squeeze a prayer out to save my life. As the night grew darker I was afraid to sleep. All I could think was that Ray was going to come see me that night in my sleep or in my house. As much as I wanted to see him, I did not want to see him as a spirit. It was scary thinking about it. I tried to pray to God to please not let him come to me as a nightmare or a spirit. I tried to ask God to not let me visualize his brutal murder.

It was about 3am and I was losing the battle of staying awake. I feared sleep. Every time I would close my eyes I would see was a bloody crime scene.

"Must-stay-awake', I kept saying.

I finally fell asleep.

"Ahhhhhh stop it Ray! Rayyyyyyyy!" The water was so blue we could not stop laughing....


Rest in Peace Ray Gonzalez



And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away - Revelations 21:4

Thank you Alisha Brooks


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An Adoption Reunion at the Grave

A couple weeks ago my biological brother was shot multiple times leaving him fighting for his life in the hospital while we held onto God for yet another miracle. It has only been four months that my other little brother was in a coma at the same hospital. So many of you prayed and united for my family, and I just wanted to  take this time to say thank you. 

After finding out I was adopted, he was the only sibling I ever knew I had. I carried him close to my heart praying for the day him and I would meet. I used to dream about what he looked liked and how much fun we would have once we were together. I dreamed about us being inseparable. If any of you remember, I did a Youtube video thinking I found my brother...turned out I was wrong, but you can see my excitement in meeting him. I always told myself even if I did not meet my biological mom I would be fine, my heart was set on meeting my little brother. I still cannot believe he is gone. I am waiting for someone to tell me this is a joke. How could they take him away from me....  

This is so much more than just losing a sibling. I've literally waited all my life for him to meet him at his grave?! This cannot be real to me. The way he was killed kills me inside that someone I loved so much was brutally murdered and left for dead. I was anxiously awaiting to meet him. The last words he said to me on the phone was, "I cannot wait to see you, I love you too!". What I would give to stop time and rewind time to hear him say "I love you too" one more time. I do not have the memories to hold onto like most people do. No pictures. Nothing. It's not fair. All I have is the same dream I've had since I can remember. All I will ever have is a dream...  

How do you go on with knowing how terrible this world is? How do you forgive people for doing something like this? How do you go on fearing that something may happen to your family, and all you can do is pray and keep your faith in God? How do you go on knowing that the little brother you waited on all your life you will never get to meet till you get to heaven....

Please continue to pray for my family.  

I love you Ray

Rest in Peace my handsome angel 

[Read Part 2]

**I will be posting a Youtube video in memory of my brother and speaking a bit about him and my reunion as soon as I can get myself to talk about it all without breaking down in tears. Please be sure to check out my Youtube channel and subscribe

I Found My Birthmother In Chile

By JaySoLe

I remember wanting to search.  It was like a project for me.  Like starting a band with friends, learning to paint, modeling school, ice skating lessons, etc.   You name it; I started it. But just like those other projects, I started searching with utmost passion and determination and then I stopped. I stopped each time for a different reason.  My life had so many other things going on: School, Friends, Family, Relationships, and of course, those other projects.  I filled my life with distractions and then when I was so overwhelmed, I would shut down, unable to understand how a life so filled with drama could feel so empty.

I graduated with my Master’s in Social Work on May 16, 2011; exactly one year after graduating with my Bachelor’s in Social Work.  I had spent that year of grad school interning in an adoption agency and I was hired at the end of my internship to continue as a full time Adoption Social Worker.  It was my dream job, the reason I wanted to be a social worker in the first place.  

Just as I had during my internship, I continued working with children in the foster care system.  Some wanting to be adopted, some who did not understand the meaning of adoption, and some rejecting adoption and just wanting to find and be reunified with their biological family.  In addition, I worked on the other end with the families trying to adopt.  Some were the grandparents of children they were trying to “save” from a life in the system, some were the 5th, 6th, 7th, or more “parental figure” these children had since coming into foster care, and some were the only “parents” these children had ever known.  

Then one hot summer workday, my secret came out.  The entire internship and start of my full time job I had never told my supervisor, or anyone at work, that I was adopted.   And just like that, the link between my work with these kids and my personal life was connected, not only for my supervisor, but also for myself.  Here I was in a job trying to help children and teens find their identity and sense of belonging.  Here I was trying to help them make connections between their past, present, and future.  What about my own connections? My supervisor must have thought this too because then she asked the inevitable question,  “Have you tried finding YOUR biological parents?” Without much hesitation, I answered as I always did before,  “yeah…well I mean…I want to but… it’s just so complicated…”

This answer no longer seemed acceptable, as my job was to help others do this same thing.  I had to believe that being complicated and difficult did NOT mean impossible.  Not for them and not for me.

Maybe it was being finished with school that allowed me to start my search again.  Maybe it was breaking up with a boyfriend or ending negative friendships in my life.  Maybe I just got rid of enough of the distractions.   Whatever it was, something led me to start that project one more time.  I pulled out all my adoption paperwork as I had done so many times before.  The legal sized papers lay in a stack, pages bent and torn around the edges.  Only a small amount of the papers were in English but it the midst of the Spanish words I had never learned in high school, my eyes quickly found her name.  Lidia. I wondered then, as I tried to organize the paperwork, who is Lidia?  

“My birth mother.” I answered myself quickly, as I had grown up hearing this answer. But WHO is she? I read the words on the page over and over, translating everything I could.  As I read, the details I had always known became more real to me.  Maybe because I was now an adult, in fact the same age she was when I was conceived.  Maybe it was also because I worked with families in the system.  But this time I was really trying to understand the woman behind the name on these pages.  My whole life I had tried to imagine her face, her eyes, and her smile. Now I wanted to know more.  What was her story?

I took this project to my mom and asked her opinion.  She was always willing to help me search and she suggested I start looking online.  I had already facebooked her name but the one woman with her name did not match the information I knew.  I Googled Chilean Adoptee searches.  I Googled everything.  I found some leads including a yahoo group for Chilean Adoptees.  I sent messages to adoptees that had found their biological family.  I read blogs from other adoptees and learned their stories. Maybe it was because this was the first time (thanks to the internet and social media) that I was connecting with people who had succeeded.  I smiled and I cried each time I read a new story as I realized they had found their biological families from thousands of miles away.  Some had less information than I did and they succeeded.  I could too.  Some were still out there searching.  I could be one of them.  But I realized I wasn’t alone in this process.  There were others just like me.  I got excited.  And this time, I did not stop.

My mom then suggested that I try emailing the Ties Program, a program that plans trips to adoptees’ homelands.  We figured they might know something as they used to take Chilean adoptees to Chile and some of those children must have tried to search too.

So I did and within days I received the news that Chile has a government run organization, SENAME, which helps adoptees find their birth parents.  I could not believe that people were out there to help me accomplish my dream.

Now, the rest of the story is one of hurry up and wait.  And boy, did I hurry.  I submitted my application that day.  I scanned in all my documents and I sent them in an email to SENAME.  I called everyone I could to tell them I was finally searching and this time I had hope.  Then, I waited.

As I waited, my head was filled with possibilities.  I fantasied about reuniting with my birth mother.  I thought about her finding out about me, being overjoyed and excited to connect with me again after 25 years. Maybe she has been waiting for me all this time.  Maybe I have younger siblings.  But I also had doubt.  I thought maybe they won’t find her or maybe she doesn’t want to see me.  Maybe she is married now and never told her family about me.  But the worst maybe was maybe it is too late, maybe she is dead.

Everyday after submitting my application to SENAME, I waited for the end to the maybes.  And finally, while waiting in line at a Wendy’s in Lancaster, PA during an Adoption conference for work, I got it.  

“…Lidia is alive and unmarried.  Also, she has given birth to 4 other children, in addition to you…she is likely living in Santiago…”

I couldn’t believe it.  Alive.  Unmarried.  4 other children.  Living in Santiago.  

I had answers.

But was this enough?  Did knowing she is alive make her real?  She was still just a name on paper.  I needed to connect with her.  I needed to know, does she want to know me?

The wait became longer and more difficult as SENAME told me they were trying to send out a social worker to tell my mother about me.  I became even more desperate.  I checked my emails every minute, but nothing.  For over a month (in my mind what felt like a lifetime) SENAME was unable to find her.  

Then on Labor Day, 2011, I received the best news of my life.

“We found your mother and she is very happy for finding you too.  A social worker went to her house last Friday and she was very happy because she was waiting for this moment...”

Attached to that email was her photo.  So for the first time I saw her face, her eyes, and her smile and my childhood dreams were answered.  She is real.  

She is real.  

I found her.

Stay tuned for part two and three of JaySoLe journey to Chile, letter to her mom, and Youtube video of her reunion.


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A Drop of History

By Lynne Rachell

Standing and looking over the cliff of empty nester life, I find myself surrounded by friends who are newlyweds and parents. These friends are just starting or growing their young families. I enjoy their company, listening to their stories, laughing with them and sometimes meting out advice. Every now and then, I feel a twinge of short-lived jealousy thinking I’m open to raising another child. However, I like better the idea of borrowing one of theirs and giving it back. After returning said child, I know I can reclaim my new life of responsibility for me, myself and I. I've earned this bit of selfishness after 18 years! Self reflection is a huge part of witnessing the experiences. I relate, having once been a new mom/parent also. I listen to their stories and remember my own experience of giving birth. If I shared that part of my life, you would hear all the excitement, fears and joy I felt when my son joined the universe. I know that just like me, my friends will share their stories with their children and they will claim and love it. My son loves hearing that part of his story. It is one drop amongst many others in the history of his life.

As an adoptee, that part of my own story has been fleeting. Before I learned I was adopted, I tried to imagine my mom pregnant with me in her stomach. She was always Foxy-Cleopatra-Brown-fine in her bell-bottoms, snug blouses, wigs and make up. I couldn't imagine her with a big belly, let alone birthing the four of us. She always spoke gently about our birth stories. There was rarely detail; especially with me. When I learned to do math, I figured out that she was 27 years older than me. That age seemed pretty old to be having babies in my young mind but there were too many of us to deny some birthing had in fact happened.

Always fond of the camera and pictures, even as a kid I loved browsing family photos in search of me and my siblings and other relatives. It was much later in life that I realized the tragedy of mom responding that a baby photo was one of my siblings while indicating that perhaps this or that unmarked chubby, brown bambino was me. It just didn't hit me then. Nor did it hit me when I learned I was adopted at age 10. It began to hit me when I realized that everything I thought I knew about how I came to exist was a lie. Perhaps a lie intended for protection, but a lie just the same. It hits me now when I listen to the stories of my friends and understand that I will never hear the joy my parents felt when I entered the world. I will never know if it was a difficult or easy birth. Or if my mom cried when she first laid eyes upon me, as I did when I saw my son. I will never hear about my dad pacing or fainting in the delivery room. I know now that in fact, he wasn't there. I will never see pictures of my baby room. I will never know if I stayed up all night but slept all day, if I was colicky or cried a lot. Lost further in the archives of foster parent life are stories of when I first smiled or got my first tooth. As an adoptee, it is not uncommon to learn that certain facts about your existence are lost to you. You learn to live with them. Can’t miss what you never had- right?

All in all, I'm thankful for my memories and the numerous photos I took of my son. As long as they exist, I can share them with him and his children should I have the opportunity. I tell him stories about his life now without him asking because I understand the importance. I smile at the stories of my friends and even those shared by my husband’s family of his life beginnings. I tell my friends to record and document everything. While I’ll never know parts of my own story, I try to weave parts of it together with the bits of history I picked up via my reunion. I live vicariously through my experiences and those of my friends and family. I smile with them at pictures and laugh at the funny incidents that occur when I'm present. I accept that our collective experiences may be the only opportunity and insight I receive to fill in the blanks of my personal history. Every drop counts. But sometimes that reality and acceptance makes me cry and lament over the drops that I can never regain.

Identified in life as Lynne Rachell, my birth name is Gloria Marie. I'm a dreamer, blogger and poet by night- the most important part of the day. I searched for many years to find my biological family when I learned that I could... After learning that both my son and I had the traits for sickle cell anemia, the desire to find my birth family intensified. After many unsuccessful attempts, I hired a private group to manage the investigation for me. I thought it was a longshot, but they found my birth family within a week. My mind was blown and my life forever changed. The investigation revealed that my prior search attempts were not in vain. I learned my birth name was Gloria Marie years before I learned anything else. I've often wondered who that person was or might have been were it not for being placed in the adoption triad. What started as a search for family, transformed into one to find self. Join me as I work to discover myself and document the unique experiences of life as an adoptee thru poetry, prose and other means.

Lynne Rachell's Blog: Finding Gloria Marie

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Resources For Adoptees

The Child Welfare Information Gateway (formerly the National Adoption Information Clearinghouse) is a good starting point for resource information.

The American Adoption Congress is committed to the right of all individuals to search for relatives from whom they have been separated by adoption. They offer answers to many frequently asked search questions .

The International Adoptee Congress (IAC) is a newly established membership organization made up of internationally adopted persons. The IAC is committed to empowering, supporting, and giving voice to all international adoptees and adoptee groups.

The International Soundex Reunion Registry is a non-profit, mutual consent reunion registry for persons desiring a reunion with next-of-kin. This is open to all adopted adults over 18 years of age and all birth parents, as well as all adoptive parents of adopted children under 18 years of age.

The Family Search Internet Genealogy Service (sponsored by the Church of the Latter Day Saints) is the largest collection of free family history, family tree and genealogy records in the world.

If you are an adoptee born in New York State, a birth parent or biological sibling of a child born in New York State click HERE for more information regarding the New York State Adoption Information Registry.

(Source: Forever Families Through Adoption) 

Q&A With Ashley Maureen: When Your Birth Parents Do Not Want Contact

Ashley Maureen is an adoptee waiting to reunite with her biological family since her social worker located her family. Only problem is....birth mom still has not returned a letter to give consent for reunion. Read on to learn more about Ashley's adoption journey and her pursuit to finding herself in the arms of her mom.  

Open adoption or closed adoption what state?


Closed adoption in Florida


When did you find out you were adopted?


I have always known as far back as I can remember, my parents were good about being open and telling us, made sure we knew, even before we knew what it meant.


How did you find out you were adopted? How did it make you feel?

I've always known, but didn’t really explore what it meant and my actual nationality until about 6th grade. It felt interesting, it was another aspect to my life, something to make me unique, as I didn’t know any other adoptees.

Do you have any biological siblings? 

Not sure


How has being adopted affect your life?


It doesn’t really affect your life… It is your life. You live knowing somewhere out there, there are people who are not the people who raised you, but  who gave birth to you, carried you in their body for 9 months and made the difficult decision to place for adoption… all for you, hopefully. Even if the decision wasn’t made in my best interest and instead in their own, that would still make it my best interest as well.


When did you decide that you wanted to search for your family? Why?


I have been interested in finding and knowing them since I realized what adoption is and what being adopted meant. I started my serious search at 18, my freshman year of college. This was the first year I was legally able to without the consent of my parents, and the first year I was out of my parent’s house and felt like I had the privacy to do so.


How involved were your adoptive parents in your search?

I kept my family out of it as much as possible.. Although my adoptive mother, gave me the social worker’s information (who actually handled my adopted sister’s adoption)  to use to find out more about the search. I told my mom the basics.. That I was going to search… How much it cost… and that I paid the money.


What steps and resources did you use to search for your family?

I was adopted through Catholic Charities, so I had to go through them. I contacted the social worker, who actually remembered my family. She sent me my non identifying information, which I had never had.. Didn’t know the paper work existed. I knew that I was Black and White, and that my mother was 20 or 21 when she had me, but not much more. The non identifying information became a prized possession. For a while I carried it with me wherever I went.. after all.. that is the only thing I have that tells me WHO I am and where I come from. I eventually was able to pay the $300 for the search and; filled out all necessary paperwork then submitted to the social worker. This was a big day! A friend documented the notary process and sending them off at the post office by taking photos.

What were your initial feelings when you decided to search? Have they changed over time?


The decision to search for me was natural.. it was something I needed to do. When that time finally came to submit the paperwork and fee it was nerve wrecking and exciting! My feelings over time have changed a little, my excitement has somewhat turned into concern and learning to cope with the possible outcome.


What information did you obtain and how did it make you feel upon receiving them?


I started my search (contacting the social worker) in 2006, to this day the social worker has sent several letters to my birth mother, and we have yet to receive a response. They supposedly have current information from her. Its crazy that I can be on the phone with the social worker and she could have that information right in front of her but cannot release to me. My feelings were hurt for a while. I felt like I deserved for her to respond. Often people made excuses saying that she may have a family now, and may want to forget. That to me is not an excuse and is very selfish. For a period time I started to resent her, feeling that this may be the reason, but overtime I have come to accept that I do not know the reason, only she does. I pray that she is alive, and well and that I still have time to meet both her and my birth father. I often also wonder make up scenarios of the situation and how and why it went the way It did. I grew up in the same county that I was born in, there is a possibility that I know them or have passed by them before.. but the reality is that I may never know.


Have you made contact with your biological family? What was the outcome? Is it what you expected?


No, no contact with my biological family. Still waiting for a response from my mother. I have been reluctant to request that my father be contacted as … that is my last hope right now. I don’t know if I could deal with the possibility of neither of them responding. I think not sending the letter, gives me hope … that theres still another option… there may still a possibility that he may respond. I know that I need to send it, but its hard. Very hard.


How did it make you feel when they did not want to be contacted? Do you think it is fair?


It hurts. The person who gave birth to you, who carried you for 9 months, who was in labor with you…. Seems to have just forgotten about you. Although this is probably not the case, it’s the way it feels from this side of the fence. All I want is to be acknowledged by the people who created me, to be wanted by them, and loved. It might sound crazy being that I've never met them.. but they created me, how could I not feel that way?


If you can tell your birth parents anything what would you say?


Thank you. Although I have an empty place in my heart where you belong, I have a life filled with loving people and have been afforded the opportunity to do so much. I don’t know what life I would have had growing up with you, but I know that I wouldn’t be in the same place I am today without by adoptive family. I hope to meet and get to know you someday, I want you to be proud of me and; I want to learn where/who I come from. I hope that if you have another family now, that you always remember me and can be brave enough to welcome me into your life one day.

What are your thoughts on adoption?

To be honest I've always debated whether or not I would adopt because I KNOW what it comes along with, and often feel bad for my parents knowing that I cant help but wonder who my birth parents are or where I come from. I don't know if I could be on the other side, although I do believe adoption is NOT a negative concept. Its sad that some adoptions do not turn out better for the child & that some people do have bad experiences, but the overall purpose is to place a child in the arms of parents who cannot have their own children or who have a big enough heart to care for more. I KNOW it cannot be easy for a parent to give their child up for adoption, especially after conversations & watching the journeys of birth parents. Adoption is not for the weak hearted. It takes a strong group of people, who have to keep that strength for a lifetime - From the mother who has to wonder if her child was given a better life, or if their child resents them, to the child who will always have those questions and that empty place in their heart, to the adoptive parents who will give their heart, home and family to a child who does bear their DNA, and to know that the child knows (should know) that their parents did not give birth to them.. that they have another set of "parents" out there somewhere. Overall it is a beautiful concept and I commend anyone who has had any part in an adoption. It is a blessing ♥


Is there anything you would like to share with adoptees that may be facing what you are?


Keep your faith, know that God will only give you what he knows you can handle. Although we know in our hearts this is what we want and need, God’s timing Is always right! I try to find the positives, the fact that my mother has not yet responded, can be a sign that we are not ready to meet. It gives me the opportunity to continue to grow and achieve, so that if & when I meet her, she will have more to be proud of.

If Ashley's story impacted you or if you would like to share a question or comment please comment below

True Life: I'm Searching For My Birth Parents (Includes non-identifying information)

Ashley Maureen Adoption Journey


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