I was in a foster home until I was almost 4 years old. I remember two women coming to visit me at the foster home. Some time passed and one of them returned. She brought some toys for us to play with. She and I played all day. Then she had to go. I tried to follow her, but I was told I could not go with her. Man I was hurt and mad! I was mad at her for leaving me. She returned several times after that and each time when she started to leave, I reacted the same way. I visited her several times at her home. We went all over New York. After that I was able to sleep over, but I had to return to the foster home. The last time she visited me at the foster home, she brought the lady with her. They picked me up and we went to a courthouse. There I met a judge. They all left me in his chambers alone. I cried. I thought they left me forever. But the judge came back and talked with me. He asked if I liked the lady who came to see me. I told him yes. He also asked me if I wanted her to be my mother. I told him yes. The next thing I know I am going home with the lady. She told me she was my new mother. I was so happy. The situation is actually a lot deeper than that.
At least in DMC's case, his adopted mother told him his birth mother's name. He was able to start his search from there. My adopted mother never told me my birth mother's name and she swears that she does not know my birth mother's name. I tried to find out. I wrote the New York department of health and filled out an application for their adoption registry. They responded saying that my birth mother was 14 years old when she had me. She was a protestant and the foster home I lived in was burned down and the files there were ruined. I found out I was born in Manhattan NY at St. Luke's Women's Hospital. That info was on my birth certificate but my birth parents' name was not on it. It had my adopted mother's name on it. I mean I spent the first 6 years of my life in NY, but my adopted mother moved us back to her hometown, Georgetown.
Back in 2001, I was going through a very trying time in my life and I told her that I saw on my medical record that i suffered from malnutrition when I was a baby. She said that I would not eat the food my birth mother was feeding me or she was not feeding me; either way, I was taken away from her. I was enraged! I felt that while I am growing up, when I am asking her about my birth mother, she could have told me that. I wanted to just beat my adopted mother. But I restained myself. I asked her what else did she know about my birth parents. She said that's all she knew. I told her not to wait until she is dying to tell me my birth parents' names. Who are they? She demanded that she did not know and that she did not want to talk about it. I just walked away from her. I felt if I stayed there any longer, that lady would end up hurt. I am not a violent person, but she is one person that I wish I had never met!
Remember when I wrote that the situation is deeper than that? Well it is. That woman was just so angry all of the time and I never knew why she was so angry. At the foster home, I wasn't taught much about anything. I get with my adopted mother and she just got mad at me because it took me so long to learn. She was teaching me how to write. I didn't even know how to hold a pencil. She just became so angry with me that she just beat me. I didn't even know what a beating was. That was my first beating. I was crying so hard and I started running toward her apartment door to run away from her, but she caught me before I could get there. She beat me and I cried. I sat on the floor and she pushed my head into my lap. When she did that, she hurt me even more. I wanted to go back to the foster home. I mean, sure I needed discipline from time to time, because I was always so playful. Playing was all that I knew. But there were times when I couldn't figure out why she was beating me. The beatings and the yellings were so severe. I had bruises on my body. The beatings and yellings continued for years.
I wish that I could find my birth parents one day. I'm not mad at them, because I know that my birth mother was young. I'm glad they gave me life. I want to thank them. I want to meet my real family. I want to see who I came from. Maybe I can finally fill in some missing pieces.
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