It's All In A Name.

I never thought I had a problem with being adopted. But I now realise that my sense of worth has been tainted by it.

All my life I have wondered why I was given up. Of course when I was adopted as a baby in 1969 there was no support for a young single mother. So the only choice was adoption.

But I never really knew if I was really wanted.

Then a few years ago, when my (adoptive) mother was dying from cancer I felt the need to find out a little bit of what I originally was. Where I came from.

I never felt the need to meet my biological parents. I just wanted a few little pieces of the jigsaw. Perhaps something to say I was a wanted child, but that it was the times and the difficulty of it all that made adoption the only solution.

So I applied for my adoption certificate and any other info that was available.

When I got that letter in the mail I felt kind of excited and elated, but very fearful.

I opened the letter and scanned it very quickly. Both parents 22. Unmarried. Both worked for tha same employer.

Mother blonde, With blue eyes. Father tall.

So I began to see where my features came from. Why I was adopted. Then I saw that she had named me.

That's when I knew I was wanted, for surely you don't name a child that you don't want.

That is all I need to know for now. My friends don't understand why I don't want more. But that is enough for me. And everyone I have ever known who has been adopted has a different story and different needs. I think this is because your beginnings are so fundamental to you as a human being that it can be hard to have this new awareness of your background. It can be hard to take.

I still think of my original name (Belinda McManis) and I feel that it's a name for a character. Someone apart from me. But strangely the name is becoming part of my history and thus a part of me.

I think when the name and what I know becomes real to me then I may think about delving deeper.
Misseddie Misseddie
41-45, F
1 Response Jan 21, 2013

Don't wait if you think you might have regrets later. I did, and when I decided to find out who my birth mother was, she had passed away a few months earlier.