When People Ask Me If I Want to Find My Real Parents
Um, I tell them I know my real parents. I have known them since they adopted me. Yes, that is right. My real parents are my adoptive parents. I googled “real” and it is an adjective that means “actually existing as a thing or occurring in fact, not imagined or supposed.” Well, now that makes it simple, right? My adoptive parents do exist, and they are not imagined. It goes beyond the definition though. I guess you can say I created my own definition of real. To me, real as it relates to people means truthful, trustworthy, and able to love unconditionally. “Real” means a person who is there in the good times and the bad. It is a person who will hurt just so his or her child doesn’t have to. That to me is real. My parents are real.
Well, I found my biological birth mom in 2013, but my biological father is still out there, somewhere. Before I located my biological mom, I would tell people I wanted to search, and I was hoping to find my roots; I was hoping to find answers. I always told people who would ask that it doesn’t mean I love my parents any less. It is hard to understand. It is hard to explain. I have had many years to think about why I wanted to search though, and I think I came up with reasoning. Some that are not adopted don’t understand my longing to discover my roots and my heritage. Two wonderful people raised me, and they instilled in me a beautiful soul. Yet, for nine months I was in the womb of another woman; she has been the person I have been physically closest to. That will never happen with anyone else…ever. Before I had children I was curious about my biological parents, and one reason was because I didn’t look like anybody. I would look in a mirror and see ONLY Rebecca. I wouldn’t stare into the mirror and see my mom’s hair and my father’s eyes. I longed for that. People may think wanting to look like someone is nothing big, and it shouldn’t affect a person so much. Yet, it did. I think sometimes what people take for granted are, in actuality, very special events and traits. It just depends who you ask.
I had a couple instances where I would be asked if I wanted to find my real parents and then when I would reply, “Yes,” they would get this look on their face. I guess you could call it a look of confusion. Then they would tell me I should feel lucky my parents adopted me, and they don’t understand why I would choose to search and hurt them. I will be honest, I would be taken aback, but then I would try to understand their viewpoint. I would tell them I wasn’t trying to hurt my parents; I knew I was lucky. I would tell them I needed closure; I wanted answers to why I was given up. I wanted medical history. I wanted what they never had to question.
So, when people would ask me if I wanted to find my “real parents,” I would look at them and simply rephrase their question: “Do I want to find my biological parents? Yes I do, and here is why.” Reality is perception my friends.
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