Acceptance

What do they look like? Do I have my fathers height. Does my mom have the same smile? Is my laugh replicated. Are my actions inherited, or acquired.

What is adoption to you. Is it a complete life secret. Is it a secluded identity. Is it locked in a closet and never spoken about. Is it unknown completely? Or is it a regular dinner subject. A common thought out idea.

Those of you who have been adopted, what is adoption to you.

Lucky for me, I was adopted into the most loving family anyone could have. Dad jokes, mom’s packed lunches, family vacations and weekly movie nights. Who wouldn’t want to be brought into a family with such love.

Growing up, I had a slight idea of who my biological mother was. A woman in her thirties, who already brought two sons into this world. A woman born of military parents. Unbeknownst to me I had little idea of where I really came from.

Belgrade, Serbia, 1993. A little girl born in a hospital on a warm June day. The first seven months of life was spent in an orphanage. A family of three in Canada received a call that there was a little girl waiting to be welcomed into a home. My mom and dad got on a plane, flew into a town outside of the capital, and soon enough brought home their second adopted child. A blonde, hair blue eyed, two year old boy - adopted in 1991, & a brown hair, green eyed girl welcomed to the family in 1994.

Four years old, you don’t really understand the concept of adoption; but I knew from a young age that my family may have been put together differently, but it was overflowing with endless love.

Fast forward 23 years and this is where it gets interesting. From here on out, there is mom, dad, and biological mother.

My dads family lives in Serbia. He has three brothers, and the youngest is married to a woman who worked as a social worker. They are now both missionaries. The two got visiting visas, and flew to America where my dad, mom, brother and I went to greet them for multiple visits. My aunt through conversation with my mom, realized that she had previously worked with my biological mother.

Here I am, thinking I knew what I did about my mother only to find out I was wrong. Very wrong.

Eight half brothers, and two half sisters. Who are these people. What is this other part of my life, that I had not even the slightest knowledge of. My aunt told me she had 4 children living with my biological mother when she worked with her, ten years back (2007).

Let’s take it back a few steps. October 2014, my mom and dad went to visit my dads family in Serbia They stopped in a little souvenir store to bring me home a keepsake, as it had been years since I visited my home country. They shared a brief story with the owner, as she had asked who they were bringing souvenir to.

January 2017, my family was told my dad's father had cancer. April rolled around, and my parents went to spend time with my grandpa - and family. At the end of their trip, they strolled into the same souvenir shop which they had shoved their previous visit to the back of their thoughts.

They walk in, and the owner greets them with a brilliant smile. She recollected her thoughts, and knew exactly who they were. The Canadian couple, who adopted a Croatian boy, and Serbian girl. They explained how they were here to visit their family. She delicately asked if they had accomplished all they needed to while in Serbia. My mom explained how the only thing that was unfinished on their list, was to go to the social center downtown to inquire about my adoption. Being over eight-teen, I now had legal rights to explore this whole other part of my life.

Minutes later, the store owner asked my mom if she knew my biological mothers name. My mother nodded, and responded. The store owners jaw dropped. She explained that my biological mother was her neighbor for some years. She also informed my parents that her younger brother - and my adoption case social workers younger brother were friends. She promptly called her brother, and soon he came to the store.

Nearly four hours in the car, my brother and I finally arrived at Toronto Airport to welcome my parents home from their trip in Serbia. My dad and brother went to retrieve the car, and my mom told me that she needs me to sit in the back with her, and let my brother drive home. Emotionally, I suggested to my thoughts that I would soon claim information about my biological mother.

"Here is her facebook name, whatever you do from here on out - you have our full support" my mother said after a recap of how this had all come to be.

I pulled up facebook on my phone, typed in here name and sat there for minutes - which seemed like hours. Would I finally fill the void of wondering what my biological mother looked like. Was I dreaming. Was I going to be disappointed. I finally clicked 'search' and my heart sunk. Those prominent lines in my cheeks when I smile. The second I saw them, my heart sunk. I knew it was her - and I was of her.

"Do you remember June 25th, 1993?"

This is the first thing I said to my biological mother, after wondering my entire life how I would first approach her. Never did I know it'd be on facebook. You day - dream your days away imagining how this moment would go.

And surely, I was disappointed. Not once, did she ask if I was ok. Not one apology for leaving me in an orphanage for seven months while she decided if she wanted me or not. Phrases like "you should move on, I have" and "you'll never know who your biological father is because I say so" were devastating to me. She maliciously sent smiles, called me babe, and had the audacity to ask me if I come from a wealthy family in North America.

How could this be? Is this the woman who gave birth to me? There is no way, I could have such a big heart, and come from someone so selfish. Was there no sympathy. Was their no remorse. I was bitter. I was hurt, and I was bitter.

We messaged back and forth for several hours, and the last thing I asked was if my family had any known health issues. She concurred to answer. This is how we left off, and I am thankful.

I am thankful that I did not get to know this woman. I am thankful for the opportunity to see what she looks like. I did not fill the void, that has been lingering for so long, but I learned how to deal with it and accepted that she was not my fate. That was not the life God wanted for me.

A family in Canada, of four. A little family that makes mistakes, has arguments, shares laughter, and memories. This is the family I wake up so thankful for. Cousins, and aunts and uncles and grandma's and the extended family of many. This is who I was intended to be apart of. This was where I was supposed to be.

To my biological mom; thank you. Thank you for helping me understand that you were not intended to have a little girl in your life. That you did not want me. And that is ok. I have accepted it. And it has shaped me to who I am today. It has taught me to love endlessly, no matter what. It has taught me that the deepest scar, can be healed by time and mostly by forgiveness. It taught me that letting go, and forgiving heals wounds. It heals you. It heals you, and not those who have hurt you.

"Forgiveness is taking the knife out of your own back, and not using it to hurt anyone else no matter how they hurt you."