Day #19 – Adoption

ImageI am grateful for those who adopt and those who give their children up for adoption.  Both are brave brave souls.

I was adopted at the age of 2 1/2.  My story goes something like this – Once there was a Japanese woman living and working in France.  She was teaching at the university in Grenoble; her specialty was linguistics.  She was married with children when she met a writer from Czechoslovakia.  One thing led to another, and then there was me.  Her husband agreed to allow me into their lives and family even though he was not my biological father.  Fast forward a few years and the family is returning to Japan.  The husband would be shamed to bring a child who was obviously not his back to his home country.  So, the woman makes the impossible decision to put me up for adoption.

As I have heard the story told, I was quite devastated to leave my mother and head off with strangers who spoke a different language.  But soon enough, I settled in, and my story ends happily.  I could not have picked better parents.  And so I am thankful that they opened their hearts and lives to a little French speaking Eurasian girl.  I am also grateful to the woman who did the best she could for her husband, her children and hopefully for herself.  My mind cannot comprehend how your heart heals from that, but I hope hers did.

xoxo

Robyn

5 thoughts on “Day #19 – Adoption

  1. You made me tear up. I often think of Priyankas biological mother and how agonizing it must have been to let her go. She will never know how wonderful and deep Priyankas life is and how much she is treasured. I wish she could know that she is happy and has a good life. I am grateful she made the choices she did and hope she has peace. Aliks biological mother knew he was coming to America and the orphanage said she was happy because she knew he would have comfort and love and a world of opportunities not available to him there. They said she felt like he had won the lottery. I’m eternally grateful she felt that way and can imagine him thriving and prospering. And the truth is, it was us who won the lottery and have been blessed with two amazing children and a house full of love.

  2. I too have absolute love for a Mother who left her precious daughter behind to return home with her other children and husband.
    It is easy to say, I couldn’t have done that, but she acted out of love for her entire family’s happiness. She knew her daugher with “candy bar eyes” and brown hair would not likely be accepted.
    She was trying very hard to hold the rest of her family together as best she could.
    She bought you shiny new red shoes and packed all your favorite snacks. She wrote us many pages of notes about your likes and dislikes and your small vocabulary.
    There was no doubt in our minds how much she loved you and my heart broke that she had to make the impossible decision to leave you to our keeping because she knew you might have a better chance for happiness and education.
    On each of our children’s birthdays, I say a silent prayer that their birth Moms somehow know how greatful we are for the joy and happiness their children have brought to our family and hope that they would be proud of the great adults and parents they have become.
    They gave us a most precious gift and we nurtured them with love and patience and let them find their own way to light the world with their gifts.
    We always believed that our goal was to raise our children to contribute to the world and to leave it a better place because of their actions and achievements. From where we stand, I believe they have done that.
    We love you sooooo much! Mom

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s