I don’t remember finding out I was adopted, my parents told me I was “chosen and special”, since I was a baby, so I grew up always knowing. I guess you could say feeling special and chosen didn’t have the same connotation one might think in my life scenario. I was born in a small town in Arkansas in the 70’s. My biological parents were in high school when I was born.  Being a teenager in the bible belt and pregnant isn’t exactly an ideal situation and although my maternal and paternal grandparents were all apparently willing to help raise me, my biological mother decided to secretly give me up for adoption. My adopted grandfather was the only pediatrician and delivered every baby in town, including me, so it basically went like this; the very first person to hold me as I take my first breath, sedates my bio mom so she can’t see or hold me and after a few days in the hospital, being tended to by only nurses, eventually hands me over to his daughter, my mom. Who admittedly never wanted to be a mother, but didn’t have any say in the matter. Male dominance and 70’s in the south.. am I right? Not sure what the thinking was exactly, but definitely know my shady small town adoption would certainly not be legal today. My Dad was many things to me, but what he mainly was was a bipolar, alcoholic with schizophrenic tendencies, not exactly Dad of the Year. I have very few memories of my childhood but a few flashes including watching him break my moms fingers outside of my bedroom and us eventually escaping when I was 4 years old, me , my fearless big sister who was also adopted from the state 4 years before me and became my protector and caregiver at way too young an age. I remember big chunks of my dad not being around, then the court granted visitation every three weeks I think? My mom worked a few jobs to keep us fed and I will always remember her fondly as a very hard worker and a total survivor despite her poor choices in men. I hated my life most of the time growing up and often fantasized that my bio parents were these fancy people, all grown up and would eventually whisk me away to this calm and beautiful life as soon as I found them. Whenever I even hinted at finding my biological parents, my dad would become irate which one time ended in  him throwing his dinner plate across the room shattering on the wall as he broke down crying saying he was the only dad I ever had and he would die without me. When I was 18 my dad committed suicide and I felt his passing set me free to find my bio parents. One summer a girlfriend and I drove to the town where is was born and broke into the school library, found all of the archived yearbooks around the age my bio parents would have been in high school and she found him, my biological father, just from a photo, we look so much like each other it was frightening, there was no doubt that was my father and we were right. Only not the happy ending I was probably searching for as he isn’t or wasn’t the nicest guy, and at the time had a wife and two kids that didn’t know I existed. Soon after, with the help of my mom I was able to locate my biological mother and she was very receptive to meeting me. An interesting side note, she gave birth to me on her birthday so we share that. We’ve drifted in and out of closeness, I guess I’d by lying if I said I fully trust or have forgiven her. I don’t exactly blame her for how my childhood went down, which by the way, as horrible as a lot of it was some of the time, I wouldn’t change a thing. I think I just feel guarded is all, mainly because it feels her actions were based in resentment and selfishness, but who’s not selfish at 17/18 years old. Again, as weird and unstable as my upbringing was, in an inexplicable way I am so grateful for the parents I was given. They made me who I am today and I like that person now. I’d love to say I’ve accepted not knowing my biological dad and fine with the fact that he doesn’t care to know me, but that wouldn’t be  true. In some way or another I think I may always carry this deep childhood wound of not feeling wanted. It’s a gift and curse. It’s made me resilient but hard to get close to, independent but I have difficulty with intimacy, loyal but at times feelings of being unloveable. It’s a mixed bag really. I think when you feel so adrift for most of your life you spend a lot of years searching for something to fill that gnawing hole. I was flung into some type of arrested development, at least that’s how it went for me, and the more spiritually fit I got the more I realized I did in fact deserve to be loved by someone good and safe. I also discovered more than anything I wanted to be a mom and give a kid a life I wasn’t given. So being a late bloomer and all, and after meeting and marrying the love of my life I did eventually become a mom to the most magical kiddo I could have ever been gifted. She will never know what it’s like to feel unwanted, a burden, or disposable. She’ll only know love and security, from her parents anyway. This is where the generational trauma ends and I celebrate that every single day.