Identity Crisis

Me and my dad. Year of my adoption.
Me and my dad. Year of my adoption.

    I opened an envelope written in Romanian.

Silvia reads the letter. “It’s from your birth family. Wait this guy claims to be your dad.”

    I stand silent. 

She asks if I want to see him on the CD. 

“Yes.”

    It wasn’t the I’m craving the empty void inside me kind of ‘yes’ some of us adopted children have when we yearn for our birth families even if we don’t know them. It was a sure why not? Kind of ‘yes’. 

    You see I once was bonded to my birth mom for nine months in her whom, but that was it. For so long I bound myself in curiosity letting thoughts stir of who the mystery birth-dad was. I even yearned to hear my birth mom’s voice, and feel her embrace. Some babies die and some hurt forever, because those nine months of sharing an identity  with a birth-mom is so important. That is why so many babies are traumatized when they are taken away from birth mothers. 

But when this guy marched back into my life twenty-one years later “Hi I’m your dad” in a letter all I could think was….

Are you though? You were never there when I needed you most. My dad was. In fact you might think you are my dad because I’m of your blood, but you’re not. I have a dad. But most importantly I have a heavenly father. 

Romans 8:15 “The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.”

I do not hate this man for not doing what he should have done, be a dad. I just want to know why now…twenty-one years later…

Read on :

https://hylachamberlain.wordpress.com/2015/02/27/blood-doesnt-mean-everything/

https://hylachamberlain.wordpress.com/2015/04/25/my-fantasy-birth-mom/