Personal Identity Essay

Many children were told that their parents had died or abandoned them, and many never knew where they had been taken from or who their biological families were

Kathryn Patricelli writes in “Long-Term Issues for the Adopted Child,” that the child may actually feel grief over the loss of a relationship with their birth parents and want to reach out to them, but she also says that not every child will express an interest in his or her birth family history. All adoptive children will have some sort of feelings about their adoption, and whether the child chooses to search for their biological family or not, parents should support them in their decision. David Livianu states that the more open family discussions are from the beginning, the more likely it is that communication will continue in the event that the child does want to look for his or her birth parents. Although Patricelli and Livianu don’t directly correlate telling a child at an early age and a child wanting to seek their biological family, a child being told at the age of 6 to 8 that they are adopted most likely will not want to seek their biological parents at that time. However, the adoptive parents should prepare themselves for the day their child chooses to search for their parents, if they choose to do

Mark comes home one day to see both of his parents sitting at the table staring at him. A sense of suspicion creeps into his mind. His dad sternly requests Mark to sit down. At that moment, Mark’s parents inform him that he is adopted. As Mark recollects the event in his mind years later, that was the point where his life changed forever. Children around the world experience the life changing event and nothing prepared them for it, but it can be avoided through open adoption. The subject of adoption continues to be a problematic topic, but for the betterment of the people involved, open adoption brings the child a sense of wholeness, more information on the child’s background, and lessens the grief of the birth mother.

When I was fourteen years old, some pre-pubescent insult of a highschool boy assured me that it was MY fault my parents put me up for adoption because I was a less than desirable human being. I took a second to gather my thoughts and calmly responded, “Well at least I was chosen. Your poor parents, having no other choice, are stuck with you.” Although these insults tore me apart from the inside out, making light of them was the only way I knew how to protect myself from vulnerability. I didn’t want anyone to know my story because the truth is, it wasn’t a pretty story. While other kids who were adopted waltzed around holding their pretty stories up as if they deserved the Pulitzer Prize for them, I tucked mine away deep into the crevices of my being.

On October 17, 2033, I was adopted from The Carey House For Girls soon after my third “birthday”, when Dixon was 10. I was your average orphan girl: left on the doorstep with a name around my neck before I could remember my parents faces, so the day i was taken in (October 11th) became my birthday. I never once wondered about who/where/how my birth parents were. I wasn’t mad that they gave me away nor was i curious as to why they did it. I simply didn’t care. For instance, One day when i was 13, a couple showed up at our house claiming to be my parents. Cia and Page were busy upstairs so I invited them in, shared some juice with them, chatted a bit with them, and then showed them out the door. By the time my mom asked me about who came in,

Before I came to this life there were family members who had lives. Let’s start with my mother. Her name is Lisa Hansel back then. She told me, when I asked her 20 questions before, she told me what my name stands for her. Because she has Faith in me. Before I was born my mother gave birth to my older brother. Leroy Jr. He was still born, and didn’t make it. Losing a child and then trying again must have been a tough choice. My father’s name is Leroy Curlin. He’s right now at least near his fifties. I’m eighteen; he was in his thirty years old when I was born. Before I was born my parents were together. Either dating, or have a mutual relationship. I didn’t want to know all the facts, for imagination

It was April 23, 2009, and my sister had just come home from Taiwan, with my mom that day. My parents paid extensive attention to her, so neither my brother, nor I got any attention from my parents. This also meant that we couldn’t spend much time with her, either. However, before she was adopted, we shared the attention of our parents.

I was born in Fu Ling, China, and adopted on October 17th, 2003. I have grown up in America, raised by a caucasian family. I’ve known that I was adopted ever since I could comprehend the true meaning of adoption. My family and I have received a countless number of confused stares; curious as to why I looked different than the rest of my family. As a child, my friends would ask why my hair was so much darker, or why I was so much shorter compared to my sisters. They would often ask why I had such an “American” name, since I clearly was not from America.

At two-years-old, I experienced many adult situations. My biological mother has struggled with substance abuse ever since I was born. My biological father is Hispanic and was never involved in my life. His whereabouts are unknown to this day. I recall constantly moving to unkempt houses, including living in a garage and a tent in a different state, and regularly feeling filthy. When I was three, my mother moved my sister, myself, and herself to New Jersey. My current guardians brought us all back to Indiana after we had experienced horrible living conditions for six months. Consequently, when I turned five, a judge ordered that my sister and I be removed from my mother’s care. This is when my adoptive parents became my legal guardians. They

For example, the birth of a child to an adopted person, which may be the first experience with a biological family member, may cause the adopted person to revisit earlier issues of identity. The new parent may also be prompted to think about what his or her birth mother experienced in giving birth and what the birth mother and father may have experienced in making the adoption placement decision. Adopted adults who become new parents may be sympathetic to the difficulties of their birth parents, or they may wonder how their birth parents could ever have placed them for adoption. In a study of adopted adolescents’ thinking about adoption, 13 percent never thought about adoption, 54 percent thought about their adoption once a month or more, and 27 percent thought about their adoption once a week or more, with males thinking about their adoption more frequently than females (Kohler, Grotevant, & McRoy, 2002). Adolescents in closed adoptions were no more likely to have increased frequency of thought about their adoption than those in open

I was born in the general city hospital and even before I was brought into the world my birth mom had decided she was putting me up for adoption. I know in my heart she wasn’t a bad person, but instead was just in a bad place and wanted to give me my best chance and the best life I could possibly have. Where I was born the country was very poverty stricken, but my parents still fell in love with the culture and the people who lived there. At first they would go down for a vacation type visit for a week or two, but after they decided to adopt a child from there they would stay for weeks on end. Once they found a local adoption agency they began spending time with the children there and eventually they decided to adopt me. When all the paperwork and legal documentation was taken care of I was taken back

My life began when I was born unto two people who loved me but could not keep me. About three months after my birth, I was found by a policeman in the middle of a large park in Nanchang, Jiangxi and brought to a local orphanage that is still supporting orphans to this day. As sad as the beginning of my life sounds, I was one of the lucky ones. Many unwanted children are discarded in ways that ensure their deaths, bumped around to different temporary homes, or brought up through orphanages until adulthood when they are sent to live on the streets. I was placed in two different foster home, both sets of foster parents loved me and looked out for my health. 16 months later I was adopted by wonderful American family and brought to live in Eugene,

I thought I would be ok not knowing my history or who my real parents were but turns out I’m not ok about it, I’m not ok being that pretty rich girl who everyone thinks nothing of and I’m not ok with people knowing of me just because I’m the only adopted unicorn in upper Earth. These thoughts are some of the things that triggered my curiosity about my background and lead me to go on the most life changing experience of my life.

Typically, Indian babies that stay in an orphanage tend to not have as bright a future ahead of them, especially girls. There are many obstacles female children in India have to face growing up in parts of India such as sexual abuse, inequality to men, and fewer educational opportunities. By being adopted I was spared those hardships. My past has inspired me to further my education and to take advantage of the freedoms I have to achieve success, help others less fortunate, and strive for a happy future. Unlike typical children, I was not born into a family of my own. Being adopted twice has not set me back from my fellow peers and those around me. It has given me the determination to excel and make a difference in the

When I finally learned about my heritage, I was ten. My mother and I were standing in the bank vault, and she was getting some papers for a trip to Canada, to update all of our passports. While Mom was sorting through the papers and jewelry in our lock box, I joined her. One particular, colorful document caught my eye, so I drew it from the lockbox and held it up to her, asking what it was. After looked at what I was talking about, she explained that it is my birth certificate. The writing was strange, definitely not English, so this couldn’t possibly be my birth certificate. Mom gathered all of the passports, my birth certificate, and we went home. I couldn’t stop asking her questions about what all of the words meant, until she finally told me. That day, I learned of my adoption. The adoption story