So many unanswered questions - transracial late-discovery adoptee Ryan

I was 18 when my parents told me I was adopted so I’m what’s known as a LDA - late discovery adoptee. This news really messed me up. After learning of my adoption, I kept it a secret from everyone else in my life for another 12 years. I traveled a lot, lived in Ibiza, had a busy life - managing to ignore it. When the COVID lockdowns hit, I couldn’t avoid it any longer. From that point, adoption has ruled my life. That’s why I decided that I had to trace my roots and am now on a reunion journey.

A theory I was told was I was found in a street in Morocco and taken to a hospital. I was adopted by my Moroccan father and English mother and brought to live in Scotland. While they were going through the complicated process of adopting me, I spent some time with a foster family in Morocco. This is about as much as I know. I always wondered why my skin was darker than my siblings and could never work out why. There were so many unanswered questions.

I took a DNA test and the results only identified a 4th cousin - which is not a good match. I’ve applied to be on the TV show Long Lost Family twice, but have not been successful so far. In June, I took a trip to Morocco to try and find more information about my adoption. Every single piece of information is valuable to me. I believe that everyone deserves to know where they came from.

It’s hard work trying to find information in another country and in another language. I don’t speak Arabic so I need to have someone with me to interpret or via phone which has its cha;llenges. I met my foster family and they were positive about the likelihood of me tracing my birth family. I visited the hospital I spent time in, and saw my name in a court register. However, getting more information is difficult. I was sent to five different offices and then back to where I started. Each place I went, I was either told I had to go somewhere else to get the information I wanted, the person I needed to see was on holiday, the files were in an old archive, or the information didn’t exist. At the hospital, they requested money from me to get the information I needed. You have to be careful not to get scammed since there are a lot of people trying to make money out of you.

I appeared on some national television programs in the hope that someone watching would know something about me, but nothing came of it. In Morocco during the 1990s, there was shame around women having children outside of marriage. They could get in trouble from the authorities and lots of babies are abandoned for that reason or because of poverty. One thing I noticed while in Morocco is despite the poverty, the people looked happy.

I’d like to meet my Moroccan family and thank them, but I don’t know if I will ever get the chance to do that. I know there are many barriers to finding out who my birth parents are. I’ve tried going through the embassies, but ended up waiting months and months for a response. They don’t seem to be able to help much. You need to be persistent, but it’s very draining. For now, I’ve hit a dead end and feel in limbo. I need to go back to Morocco but it’s expensive, so I’ll have to save up more money.

Although I was taken away from my roots, I love Scotland. I am close to my adoptive mum and she’s been a huge support to me through this process.

I struggle to know where I fit in – my adoptive family, Morocco, Scotland, and even with other adopted people. There are moments where I think that everyone else is happier and more solid than me. But I know I am hard on myself. I try to be spontaneous to keep my head above water but find myself crashing. I may push people away and self-sabotage. However, I have ambitions to be successful and to have a family. I’m not sure how to achieve this yet but I have hope.

In July 2021, I decided to share my experiences publicly. I posted a YouTube video, talked to the press, and published my story on my website. I find it healing to talk about my situation and keen to share my story.

Even small pieces of information that I can find about my biological family means a lot to me. There is always the chance that someone listening, watching, or even reading this, will know something which will really matter to me.

About the author

Ryan Anderson is a foundling and a transnational, transracial, and late discovery adoptee (LDA). Found on the street in El Jadida, Morocco he was adopted age 3 months then brought to Scotland age 6 months, in between this time he was fostered with a Moroccan family. He first found out he was adopted at age 18. Since 2020 he focused on personal development, to then become became open to share his story at age 31.

More info from Ryan

The day I found my adoption certificate

Honoured to feature this guest post from Daniel Bishop, who did not know he wasn’t his parents’ biological child until he was in his late 20s. Thank you Daniel for sharing so eloquently.

In early June 2012, I was 26 years old. I was back living in my parents’ house. My brother had died the previous December of lung cancer when he was only 46. My Dad had been unwell for the previous week or so and, in the early hours of June 6th, he had a massive brain hemorrhage which killed him, aged 65. 

It was my job then to gather the necessary documents to register my dad’s death, a day or two after. In amongst all the family documents was where I found my adoption certificate. Something you’d never expect to just find. Except, looking back, maybe I’d always expected it.

Finding out my mum was not my biological mother

My mother had slipped back into the drink and a few days after the funeral and through the tears in the kitchen, it came, “I’m not your Mum. I couldn’t have any more children after what he’d done to me". He being her first husband, my brother’s Dad. She told me I was conceived in a relationship my Dad had with my birth mother whilst they were temporarily separated. 

My immediate response was to reassure her that she was Mum, and I would not think of her any differently. The world had already been shaken after finding the adoption certificate and, to be honest, being told this wasn’t quite as earth shattering as that. It felt like a relief. Looking back, I don’t think I fully appreciated the scale of the outpouring of grief and shame.

Getting my files

Some months later things had settled down and I wrote to adoption services at Suffolk council. I didn’t quite get what I expected. I thought I would get some files or official looking documents; some signed stuff. What I got was a small A4-size plastic wallet with my adoption story inside. It had my birth mother’s name, date of birth, where she was from and some information about her, followed by the narrative of my adoption. It also had my brother’s name and date of birth - he is 54 weeks younger than me. It was the first time I’d heard my story and I was grateful. However, it was nothing like the story my adoptive mother told me, and it didn’t fully hit me until after I’d got home. I must’ve read through the information 10 times, each time in more disbelief than the last. It didn’t add up. 

The story I’d read was that I was the result of a surrogacy agreement. The more I thought about this, the more unlikely it seemed, and I hated how it made me feel. I felt like a dog. Like someone wanted a puppy and went to a breeder. It was horrible. 

One day, my adoptive mum found my adoption pack in my flat and all our old trust issues came out to play. “Please don’t look for her”, “Please wait until I’m dead”. I said I couldn’t wait and that this was about me - for once. Her response? “She was only young, you’ll ruin her life all over again”. I said it was probably better if she went home.

In spring 2014, my Mum was diagnosed with terminal lung and liver cancer. My wedding in November became a survival target and she made it to the big day. The following September she became unwell again. The doctors confirmed that the cancer had spread to her brain and was causing dementia-like symptoms. They estimated that she had weeks to live. She died on November 20th, a month before our first baby was due.

Getting my full birth certificate

In 2016 I began searching again. It occurred to me that I’d never seen the full version of my birth certificate, so I ordered a copy online. Having already had two quite different stories given to me, I kept an open mind as to what I would find. 

I was not expecting to see my adoptive parents’ names on the birth certificate. Nor was I expecting to see a declaration of corrections stated as taking place on my 1st birthday. My mothers’ names had been substituted - so my adoptive Mum out and my birth mum in. The addresses were also substituted: adoptive parents out; birth Mum’s address in. Father’s name was withdrawn with no replacement. So I now have an empty space where there used be a Father’s name. Needless to say at this point my head was a mess. These people lied on my birth certificate. They put their own names on my birth certificate on purpose. This was clearly not a mistake. In my mind, the only way now of getting any answers was finding my birth mother.

Asking Long Lost Family for help

I tried to search for my birth mum and, after much failure, my last idea was reaching out to the TV show Long Lost Family. I thought my story may be unusual enough to spark some interest and if I had to be filmed and be on TV, well, I’d just have to live with it.

Long Lost Family were interested. After several emails and video calls, in November 2017, I got an email from their specialist intermediary to arrange a phone call. I’d been handed over. No filming was going to take place, but I would now be looked after by the intermediary. And they had some news! They had found my biological mother and she was prepared to begin communication. This was exactly what I wanted to hear and the news that I wasn’t going to be filmed was a relief. We were also expecting our second child. 

My biological mother and I exchanged letters. It was a special thing to receive my letter from her. To have her speak to me in her own words, finally, was amazing. It was comforting. It was a relief. It was a huge step closer to the truth. 

Meeting my biological mother

We met in Cambridge in March 2018. My biological mother was gracious enough to travel down as my wife was four weeks or so from her due date. It was incredibly emotional for both of us. We hugged. We got a bit teary. I asked for the truth and she gave it to me, both barrels. 

Firstly, my father (or who I was always told was my father) was most definitely not my father. I could feel the anger as she was talking. The years of thinking about this and going over and over it in her mind was all spilling out. It felt like this took place in a different time and she was a different person now, getting her chance to try and make amends. 

The story unfolded. 

I was born a few weeks early in July 1985 at the Mothers’ Hospital in Clapton. My mother was persuaded to accept help from a married couple unable to have children and I was registered with my adopted parents’ names as my birth parents.

I was angry. Angry for her. Sad for her. I still am. 

Something - I don’t know what - prompted them to correct my birth certificate and make the adoption official. Social services became involved.

There were interviews with social workers. I was under local authority supervision. The observations were written up and filed. My notes spent some time being lost in the archive but were found. I have them, I’ve read them. “The child is too young to understand the purpose of my visits."

The police were involved. The adoption was granted in 1988, somehow. All the way through everything that is recorded it states that the man who took me is my natural father. This is not true. He deleted his name from my birth certificate. How can he do that and the adoption be signed off? It doesn’t add up. The social workers could see through all this, surely? The observations certainly hint as much.

It all starts to make sense

As horrible as this is, it made so many things make sense. Why my parents said that if I was bad, I’d be taken back. Why they always said that if I didn’t go to school, I’d be taken away. Why I felt so distant from them. Why we had nothing in common. Why my isolation punishments never felt like punishments. Why I found affection difficult with them. Why they said there was something wrong with me because I couldn’t hug them. Why my dad blamed me for my mother’s drinking.

As my biological mother and I talked more about our lives, our interests and her family, we got on well - better than I’d hoped. We had a lot in common. I met her husband and niece. We went for dinner and it was a momentous day for me. The bungee cord had relaxed and we’d come back together. Not as if nothing had ever happened but we had started trying to make up for all the time and shared experiences that had been taken from us.

From then on, I was a different person. This was a line-in-the-sand moment; there was life before and life after. I have a different identity now: adoptee; my mother’s son. My name isn’t mine anymore, it never felt like mine.  It’s the person I was at school. At my old jobs. The drinker. The failed musician. Failed athlete. Failed tradesman. Failed everything. Not me anymore. Not me now.

My biological mother and I are still in touch. We see each other a couple of times a year. The distance doesn’t make things easy and we have our lives. Sometimes fitting new people into our lives isn’t that simple but we make the effort. We talk about her to our children and she’s part of their daily lives, which is wonderful. It was tough but we got there. And we’re still getting there. We’re still trying.

Long Lost Family's response to my open letter

Last year when Long Lost Family was back on our screens, I wrote a rather cross open letter to the LLF team. Having recently come out of the fog and working with adoptees both in London and online, I felt the show wasn’t a realistic portrayal of adoption reunion. I also said that in the episodes I watched the adoptee often appeared alone with no family or friends, and the adoptee always called the birth parent ‘mum’ or ‘dad’ upon meeting. I added that I was concerned about what support was given to adoptees who appeared in the programme.

Here is an excerpt from my open letter to Long Lost Family:

“While I was still in the adoption fog, I watched you avidly. I delighted in the resemblances between the reunited relatives and looked forward to a good cry at the emotional climax of the programme (…) Now, with two adoption reunions under my belt, and being firmly out of the fog, I can no longer watch you. I’m sorry (…) While non-adopted people delight in the drama, you are a source of frustration and bewilderment for me and many adoptees I know. “

This year, when the new series came out, my open letter caught the attention of the LLF team and I received this reply. I’d love to know whether you watch Long Lost Family or What Happened Next and and what you think of this detailed and thoughtful reply from the executive producer.

Dear Claire,  

I am writing to you in response to your letter to Long Lost Family, which has been brought to my attention by Nicky Campbell. We are aware that the stories that we include cannot reflect every adoption and separation experience. I am sorry that this means you choose not to watch the programme.

We acknowledge that the series represents the stories of only a few of the 4,000 applications we receive each year from people searching for their families. This is a fact which we do acknowledge in the opening commentary of the programme.

The reality is that some searches are impossible for us to solve; some birth relatives do not want contact in any circumstances; and some do want contact but without LLF cameras being present. All of these variables we understand and must take into account. However, this means that the stories which can be told do tend to be those with positive outcomes. In our follow-up series, 'What Happened Next', we have deliberately chosen to include stories in which the relationships did not work out, or which show the enormous complexity of building a relationship after a lifetime apart.

'LLF' and 'What Happened Next' should be seen in tandem. They are watched by the same audience and demographic.

To answer some of your specific complaints:

• We do try to include family members whose lives have been impacted by adoption, from the adoptee to their spouses and children, sometimes even their adoptive parents. These decisions are predicated on the wishes of the people involved.

• We have included examples of adoptees talking to their adopting parents about the impact that the search process has had on them. For example, we have shown an adopting mother expressing concerns. In another instance, an adopting mother chose to meet the birth parent of her daughter. They chose for their meeting to be filmed.

• We do not dictate the names that adoptees choose to call their birth parents. This is certainly not something that is scripted or requested; all of the contributors use whatever terminology they are most comfortable with, be that Christian names or formal/informal titles. There may be deep rooted explanations for why some adopted people choose to use the terms "Mum" and "Dad"; it is their choice.

• Most importantly, both the searcher and the found person are offered intermediary support by a qualified ASA, qualified social workers, and counsellors or psychologists if needed.

The countless complexities and sensitivities of individual searches are difficult to reflect. No single story can ever be a universal truth.

However, we feel that in creating a documentary series that reaches 5 million viewers, we have helped to shift public opinion by removing the stigma and shame that has for many years surrounded those separated from the family of origin. The programme has inspired many people to search for the answers to their own family mysteries. It is a known fact that fostering and adoption teams deal with many more enquiries in the period after these documentaries have been aired.

While some of those people searching will find further difficulties and complexes as a result of their search, statistically, many are happy that they searched even if it is only to have answers to their questions.

Finally, the Long Lost Family search and social work team have provided answers for, and reunited, more than a 1,000 searchers over the past 10 years; of whom less than 20% are filmed. The remaining 80% are given the exact same duty of care search experience and support as the 20% who are filmed. This is something of which the entire team at LLF are justifiably proud.

Thank you very much for your letter and for raising your concerns with us. I do hope we have been able to answer the points that you have raised about the search process and the duty of care that lies behind the programme.

The Executive Producer at Long Lost Family

Photo by Erika Giraud on Unsplash

———————————

I’d like to thank the producer for this thoughtful and detailed reply and for giving permission for it to be published in entirety. It is still my hope that within my lifetime we see the full adoptee experience realistically portrayed in the mainstream media.

I’d love to know what you think of Long Lost Family, so let me know in the comments below or find me on social media (links below).

Here are my other blogs on adoption reunion:

• Adoption Reunion: Top Tips

• Reunion Rocks, Reunion Sucks

• Sorry These Seats Are Taken

And my most popular blog post: Why Are You So Angry?

How I helped my friend Tim find the missing link to his birth mother - at the age of 76

“My name’s Tim, I’m 76 years old and I’m trying to find my mother.” 

 This is how I first encountered Tim, at the North London adopted adult support group he has faithfully attended for 10 years. Tim doesn’t always speak much during the group discussions, but when he does it’s powerful and unforgettable. Underneath Tim’s self-effacing humour I could sense a real yearning to know what happened to his mother, and if he had other relatives out there.

Here is Tim

Another member of the group, John, had already scoured public records including shipping records and discovered that Tim’s mother left the UK for Canada shortly after he was born. Then the trail went cold. With three different names/spelling listed on the few documents Tim had, and the likely possibility she’d married and changed her name once in Canada, we were stumped. 

Tim was fostered and later adopted by a local family, and it’s thought his birth mother had tried to contact him by phone and letter over the years, so we thought that if she were still alive she would be welcoming of contact. As Tim’s mother would now be almost 90, it was sadly not likely we would find her alive, but how difficult could it be to find Tim some family? Well, actually as it turned out really, really difficult! (But, spoiler alert – we got there in the end.)

When I raised the option of DNA testing with Tim he was reluctant due to understandable concerns about data and privacy. However, as the months went on and Tim’s health began to waver, he reconsidered. One Thursday evening in July 2018, after listening to the group share tales of their reunions, Tim spat into a test tube. We posted the precious cargo to Ancestry and waited. 

When the Ancestry email landed 2-3 weeks later I opened it with baited breath. One strong match! No medium matches. Lots of weak matches. So all our eggs were in one basket: this one strong match. She had quite an uncommon name, so I headed to Facebook to find out more. I found her easily and it looked as though she lived in Canada. Bingo! We also had the good fortune of her family tree being semi-open on Ancestry, which meant we could get a family overview. 

But how was this women related to Tim? Ancestry said she could be a 1st/2nd cousin, but due to her approximate age, I wasn’t convinced. I did some Googling and spoke to some amazing angels in the Facebook searching groups including Josie Pearse and the talented Gaye Sherman Tannenbaum to discover that Ancestry isn’t yet able to determine ‘halves’, as in half-niece or half-nephew, which this lady could very well be. If she was Tim’s half-niece, her mother would be Tim’s half-sister and could very well be alive! 

As a fairly impulsive person, it wasn’t long before I had written and sent this via Ancestry:

Hi XXXX,

My name is Claire and I am helping my friend Tim do some family tree research. He's 76 and not very confident using the internet! 

He actually doesn't have much info about any of his family and no living relatives as far as he knew, so to see that you are a very high match is very exciting indeed! He lives in London, UK and has done all his life.

Because of his age it would be really lovely if we could find out asap if you are indeed a relative and try to arrange a chat with Tim if you are. 

Would I be able to talk to you on the phone to explain briefly about Tim's situation? I am happy to call you anytime, or you can call me on XXXXXX

I appreciate it's rather an unusual one but believe me he will be absolutely thrilled to bits. 

I look forward to your reply.
Claire, on behalf of Tim

Nice and vague but compelling enough to elicit a reply, I thought. 

I was wrong. 

We heard nothing back although I could see she had logged in to Ancestry to read the message. Like a dog with a bone I gnawed away at the issue and decided the reason she hadn’t replied was because, living in Montreal, she only spoke French. (This is also known as clutching at straws.) So I asked a French friend to translate a second letter, giving more a few more details such as dates and locations. We settled back to wait for a response. 

Nothing.

If I’m honest I was angry on behalf of Tim, I felt he was owed a reply. But short of flying to Canada to mount a search, what could we do? So, we sat and twiddled our thumbs for a bit. We wanted to give the maybe-niece time to think about it, talk to the rest of the family and decide how best to respond. The trouble is, this was time Tim may not have. 

So I decided to contact the chief researcher behind Long Lost Family. If you’re familiar with my Open Letter to Long Lost Family you’ll know this was a bit of moral dilemma for me! Needless to say, her fees were out of Tim’s budget (circa £2k) and I did feel we were so far along the trail that it would be silly to pay someone to redo all the research we had already done. (Tim had already ruled out appearing on Long Lost Family or any similar shows, so there was nothing we could do; we were at a dead end.)

But try as I might I just couldn’t let it go. Tim was only getting older and I really felt he deserved to know his mother’s story after she left England. 

One day in April 2019 I fired off another spontaneous email to Tim’s maybe-niece in Canada, our only link to Tim’s maternal side. It had been nearly 8 months since our last attempt. In this email I revealed as many details as I knew about Tim’s mother, and I highlighted the urgency as Tim was not in the best of health. If I’m truly honest, I begged her to reply. I also included my phone number, social media links and a link to my professional website for reassurance this was a genuine attempt at contact. 

Here is an extract from the third email I sent:

“Tim is desperate for some information about his birth mother and it seems after a year of intense searching, using many volunteers from around the world, you are our only hope. 

“He has never even seen a photo of XX, but he is certain she tried to contact him when she was alive so we know she never forgot him. As Tim's friend I really wish for him to have some peace of mind over this as I am sure you can imagine it has been on his mind one way or another for his whole life.”

 Reader, she replied the very same day. 

When I saw the email I thought I was dreaming, I couldn’t breathe. Then I couldn’t stop smiling. We’d done it! After 10 years of searching, so many friends, social workers and wonderful searching angels getting involved, and for just the cost of a DNA test and Ancestry membership, we’d done it! 

The first and most important thing to say about the reply was that it contained bad news. As feared, Tim’s mother was no longer alive. 

However, the rest of the email was filled with lots of details about the family, and something more precious than gold: photographs. For the first time, at the age of 76, Tim could see his mother. 

There was also this sentence, which I clutched to my heart: “I think you are right my grandmother (Tim’s mum) never forgot him and he remained in her heart.”

I replied straight away with heartfelt thanks and sent the email and photos to Tim’s daughter immediately, Tim not being on the internet. 

And then another huge and unexpected leap forward… Remember a year ago Tim had no information at all about his birth family other than his mother’s first name, three possible surnames and a shipping record to Canada in the 1940s…. and now this tiny email offering so much hope and promise:

“I just spoke to my mum - XXX - who lives in Montreal Canada - and should love to hear from Tim ASAP. Her number is XXXXX.”

Tim’s half-sister had requested a phone call! This is more than we ever hoped for. (Ok, privately we hoped for all this and more, but as adoptees we have to keep our expectations low.)

A few months later, Tim’s sister flew into London and Tim and all his family were there to greet her with signs, hugs and tears. After a lifetime of wondering, here is Tim with his arm around his sister, basking in the moment that almost never came:

Tim and his sister, meeting for the first time in their 70s

P.S. If this were Long Lost Family, we would end the show here. But it’s my duty to remind you that adoption reunion is a lot more complicated than that! 

Photo credit https://unsplash.com/@adolfofelix

An open letter to Long Lost Family from an adoptee

Dear Long Lost Family,

While I was still in the adoption fog, I watched you avidly. I delighted in the resemblances between the reunited relatives and looked forward to a good cry at the emotional climax of the programme. (It’s well-edited, I’ll give you that.)

Now, with two adoption reunions under my belt, and being firmly out of the fog, I can no longer watch you. I’m sorry.

While non-adopted people delight the drama, you are a source of frustration and bewilderment for me and many adoptees I know. How can something so popular, fronted by adoptee himself Nicky Campbell, get it so spectacularly wrong? 

Here are a few reasons you leave a bad taste in the mouths of adoptees, as well as many adoptive families and birth/first families:

1. You shortcut the search process

Searching for birth relatives can take a lot of time, a certain level of skill and some money. I know people who have searched for decades and found limited information. I know people who have relied on the kindness of strangers online to provide a breakthrough. I know people who have gone against all their instincts and spat into a DNA test tube in desperation. I know people who have spent hundreds of pounds on private detectives - the very top researchers cost upwards of £2k.

It is unrealistic to set expectations that the average person could have the success rates of the professional researchers on Long Lost Family. Many of us find incomplete information and/or end up following red herrings for months or years. Not to mention the many contacts made by adoptees via post, email, social media and sites such as Ancestry that go unanswered.

2. The adoptee is usually shown alone

No adoptee is an island, we have families and friends so why are these generally not shown on the programme? I’ve blogged about how lonely it feels to go through reunion alone. It’s the only major life event I haven’t felt able to speak openly to my parents about, despite their verbal support for me searching.

I appreciate many people do not involve their adoptive families when they search, for a number of reasons, but I don’t think it’s helpful to always show the adopted person embarking on reunion alone. I feel Long Lost Family covertly reinforces the idea that adoptees should feel guilty for searching and/or the adoptive parents would be upset or angry if they knew. Even if the adoptee doesn’t want to involve her parents, there must be a sibling or friend they can bring along for support?

3. The adoptee always says “Hi mum!” or “Hi dad!”

This happens too often for it to be a coincidence so I’ve come to the conclusion it must be written into the Long Lost Family contract that if you benefit from the programme’s help you have to stick to this formula. It’s far more common for adoptees to use a biological parent’s first name at this stage, even if they are not on good terms with their adoptive family.

4. There’s little in the way of follow-up after adoption reunion 

I know you have spin-offs where you revisit the families, but overall there is little in the way of medium and long-term follow-up. So many reunions flounder after the first meeting and/or the initial honeymoon stage, and this isn’t made clear, which can leave some adoptees feeling like failures if they struggle. More support is needed to help reunions thrive. 

5. The wider relationships can be hugely impacted, which you don’t show

I feel we have a responsibility to show that it can be difficult for birth parents’ other children to assimilate, particularly if they didn’t know they had a sibling who was adopted. Partners of birth mothers and fathers can also struggle, as shown in this outstanding episode of AdopteesOn where Haley talks frankly with her biological dad’s wife.

I have been contacted by partners of adoptees who are struggling post-reunion, asking what they can do to support. My own partner has had to take on a huge role to support me on the adoption reunion rollercoaster.

6. There’s not enough signposting to support for adoptees and birth/first parents

It’s important to give as much information about the (limited) services for adopted people pre- and post-reunion available in the UK. For support with adoption reunion in the UK, including free/affordable counselling and intermediary services, contact PAC-UK (phone line 020 7284 5879).

7. Adoptees are spoken for 

Let adoptees speak for themselves in their own formats. You can read/hear real accounts of adoption reunion from the following:

• AdopteesOn

• Born in June, Raised in April podcast

• Who Am I Really podcast

• An affair with my mother by Caitriona Palmer

• All You Can Ever Know by Nicole Chung

• Angela M Barra

So, Long Lost Family, I won’t be watching tonight I’m afraid, but I hope this blog post has given a tiny snippet of the reality for many of us.

Yours,

An adoptee x

UPDATE: Long Lost Family replied to my open letter!

Photo by Cheryl Winn-Boujnida on Unsplash

A-Z of adoption triggers (Part one: A-C)

I’ve never been “officially” diagnosed with attachment issues, but here are my top adoption triggers, so see what you think! 

 It kind of makes sense to feel upset and anxious around the themes of (possible) abandonment, I think? I’m hoping other adoptees will get in touch saying “Me too!” – and let’s exchange tips on what works in terms of healing. I’ve touched on a few things in my last blog, but keen to have – and share – a big healing toolkit.

A is for Ageing

Not something one can avoid but certainly more noticeable as time marches on.

 I’ve been friends with the same group of girls since we started secondary school, when our mums were about the same age we are now. So whenever we meet up I’m acutely aware of how much they’re now looking like their mothers. Just a fleeting expression or gesture and their whole ancestry appears in front of me.

As my appearance changes with age, I have no idea who I resemble. Although I’m in reunion and see my biological parents fairly regularly, their faces are not imprinted in mind as my family’s faces are. I also don’t know many, if any, of their/my relatives aka my wider genetic pool – I’m may end up looking like an aunt, cousin, grandparent or even great-grandparent! Who knows?

 B is for Birthdays

It’s a no-brainer really for adoptees to be triggered around their birthdays. In my teens and 20s I went extremely off-kilter around my birthday, which is a polite way of saying I screamed and shouted at my friends and boyfriend and cried on every single birthday. Friends have since told me they were afraid to attend my birthday parties, but more afraid not to!

I still do cry on my birthday but I accept it as part of the adoptee experience. I suppose I am crying for the little baby arriving into the world and going straight into a metaphorical Waiting Room between two mothers. For most people, birthdays mark the day you joined your family. Not so for adoptees.

I know some people “celebrate” their adoption day as well (or instead of) their birthday. Gotcha Day, is it called? I’d love to hear from you about how this works and whether it helps.

 C is for Christmas

I’ve had insomnia since October worrying about Christmas. I feel an intense need to opt out of all the celebrations and hide in a hole. Not really possible with two little ones!

 However this is coupled with an even stronger need to be in all places at once so I’m not “forgotten”. My nightmare scenario is all my family realise they have a better time without me there, i.e. that I am dispensable.

I’d love to hear from other adoptees whose parents also have biological children to understand if this is maybe a factor.

Coming soon: look out for the rest of the alphabet of adoption triggers coming soon! I'll be covering pregnancy, childbirth and my love/hate relationship with Long Lost Family.