My Early Years
Every child’s dream is to have a loving mother and father who will provide everything a child needs. Children dream of parents who will be there for them through every struggle and success in their lives, without missing a beat.
I was adopted from Ica, Peru over 17 years ago. My adoptive parents brought me to the United States for a better life. They are the best parents anyone could ever imagine. They treated both me and my sister, Rachel, with love and compassion.
I was raised to show respect, be well-mannered, and think before I speak. Throughout my life, my parents would say, “Your mother placed you for adoption because she loves you so much. She put your happiness before her own.” I never really thought about this until I turned 14 and my parents showed me a picture of my birth mother. Not only was I crying from the happiness of finally seeing my birth mother, but I quickly noticed another person in the photograph.
A little boy was sitting on my mother’s lap. My mind went crazy with questions and confusion. Was he my brother? I never knew I had a brother, let alone an older brother. Then the piercing questions came to my mind.
If he’s with her, then why aren’t I? Did she not love me as much?
For some reason, a secret, but heavy, depression was brought on by seeing the photo. I kept both my questions and my depression hidden, however, and I didn’t even talk to my parents about my feelings.
When my family moved during my freshman year of high school, it was a fresh start. Putting my troubles aside, I concentrated on making friends. I walked the hallways known as “Trouble-free” and “Happy Logan”, which was, secretly, tough. Keeping my feelings to myself was the hardest challenge I had ever faced. The missing answers to my questions always consumed my mind.
What is my mother like now? Is my brother safe? Does he know he has a brother? Are they even alive? If they are, do they remember me?
I wanted my answers and would have done anything for them. My heart was a jigsaw puzzle and it was missing the biggest piece.
Finding a Confidante
Then I met someone who became one of my closest friends and my confidante. I began to confide in her. She knew I was adopted from Peru, but was unaware of my depression and questions.
Then one day, I couldn’t fight my emotions anymore, so I told her literally everything on my mind. To tell someone things you have never confessed to anyone before is not only hard, but scary. When I was done explaining, I noticed a weight lifting from my shoulders. The relief was an amazing feeling.
I remember her asking, “Logan, how can you walk around and act like nothing is wrong?”
My only response was, “I don’t know, I just do.”
The relief of having told someone how I was feeling seemed to take away the heaviness and the sorrow, but the urgency of the questions remained. To tell the truth, I felt sure I would never discover the answers. But my junior year, answers finally came.
Finding the Missing Piece
My parents had been working with a man named Felipe for a year to locate my birth mother. Once he found her, he contacted her, met with her, took photos of their meeting, and got her email address. All of this transpired on a hot and long 4th of July. I was working, and my shift was full of anxious excitement to hurry and get home so I could send a message to the email address Felipe had given us.
Once I was home, I sat down at my computer. My palms were sweaty, and I trembled with nervousness. Could this finally be happening? After I sent her my email, I just sat and waited for what seemed like forever. Soon, a message appeared on the screen.
The previous years of confusion and unanswered questions were solved with a single email:
“Hola hijo, mi amor. Te amo.”
(“Hello son, my love. I love you.”)
It was a simple email that said so much. I started to cry tears of joy and relief. My heart was filled with the peace I thought I would never find.
The only thing I could say back was something I wanted to say for a long time, “Hello Mom, I love you too.”
We have been in contact with each other for over a year now. I discovered my older brother Johan was 19 and at the top of his class. My birth mom also told me she had another son, my half-brother, Eddu, who was only 5 years old. I couldn’t believe it: a little brother.
Since Recovering What I Was Missing
My feelings have changed so much in the past three years. For once, I feel fulfilled and content knowing that my family is just an email away. The confusion I once felt is gone and replaced with the peace that my mother, Lucy, sent with a single message. I am looking forward to meeting my birth family in person. My family is planning to travel to Lima, Peru next summer.
Meeting my birth family in person will only be the beginning of getting to know them and sharing our lives. Even though we haven’t met yet, that missing piece in the jigsaw puzzle of my heart has returned. I feel whole.