April 10, 2010
By Anonymous

An accomplishment is not only a skill, or an ability acquired by training, but also a moment in someone’s life that portrays a certain truth and understanding. My life has had its share of ups and downs and yes, there are typical recollection in every growing teenagers life, but what makes my ‘becoming of age’ story different is that I always knew I was the daughter of a different mother. It was never easy to accept the fact that I was just different from the rest of my family. By me not being “blood related”, I found myself wondering who my other “family” really was. Growing up is hard as it is, and to have a constant reminder that your life could have been different from what it is right now is troubling.

I always had a vague understanding that I was born in the Dominican Republic and had a baby brother died from a natural cause just before I was born. Knowing this, I found myself growing accustomed to the occasional side conversations –about my different features- from my so-called “friends”. My mother gave me a picture -surrounded by a gold frame- of my birth mother holding me. I never saw the “mother-daughter” resemblance and never chose to try. I liked to keep my secret –if you will- hidden away from anyone who even hinted at the difference between my sisters and I.

At the tender age of 10, my mother informed me that we would be going to the Dominican Republic to see my birth mother and family. I understood that the purpose of this trip was to put my birth mothers mind at ease, but she chose to put me up for adoption, I did not. I felt afraid and a bit queasy at the fact that in a couple of days I would be expected to smile and be excited to see a family I knew nothing about. This insecurity was something I have dealt with all my life, and now I actually had face it? I did not want to go. I did not want to face it.

When I arrived at the town I was born in, I knew I was getting closer to the one thing that scared me the most. I held my mother’s hand all the way up a long and treacherous mountain road, to a wooden cabin they called home. I was greeted with open arms and happy faces. I looked around, and noticed four little faces in the crowd of people. They were my siblings. Even though we spoke two completely different languages, I knew that this moment was going to be something special. That feeling of fear subsided, and I took the hand of my little sister and smiled.

Growing up can be a painful part of life, and for me, overcoming a fear of insecurity is an epic accomplishment. I can finally admit that I am all right with being adopted. I guess you can say I found myself. Not being blood related does not make me less of a daughter. I would like to think of it now as more of a special trait, rather than a burden.

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