A very Condensed synopsis of my Adoption, Search, Reunion & Post Reunion Journey
I was born in Seoul, South Korea in 1975.
I was adopted into a White American family at the age of 6 months old.
I not only love my Dad and Mom, I also respect and admire them.We have our disagreements, and I suspect they still don't understand me and I don't understand them. But we do our best.
I have three brothers--one younger, two older. They taught me how to fight and how to cry.
I met my husband when I was twenty-three. I didn't marry him until I was thirty-one. We just had our first child in January 2011.
My husband is my best friend and my most trusted advocate. I can't imagine life without him.
I have a degree in psychology. I used to counsel college students. Now I am a housewife and stay-at-home mom.
I initiated a search for my biological mother in 2002.
I told my American parents that I had started a search. They wanted to protect me and cautioned me not to expect too much. The adoption agency gave me the same advice.
Many years passed. Many tears poured. Many fists shook.
I got a phone call on January 7, 2009 that not only had my biological mother [Omma] been located, but my biological father [Appa] had also been found. (Yes, that's right, it took 7 years.)
My Appa and Omma are not together. And they never will be.
I traveled to Korea with my husband in June of 2009 to meet my Korean parents for the first time.
I traveled to Korea again in September of 2009, this time, by myself. I cried a lot.
I always thought my Korean name was Yoon, Mi Ra, until last year when I discovered it was supposed to be Cha, Mi Ra. No one seems to know how the mix-up happened.
My Omma's daughters want nothing to do with me. I am a secret to my Appa's wife and children.
My Omma does not want to talk about the past, because it is too painful.
My Appa does not want to talk about my Omma because he is trying not to hate her.
My American parents do not want to talk about my Korean parents. I'm thinking they just need time.
I have Korean relatives living here in the States. I met them in January of 2010. We maintain ongoing contact. They're very nice people but I can't help but feel insecure.
Letters and text messages constitute the primary forms of communication between my Omma, Appa, and me.
I hope to write a book about all of this one day, thinking that maybe doing so will help me to make sense of it.
Who am I kidding? This will never make sense.
All I can do is try my best to manage life in post-reunion. It's so much more complicated than I ever anticipated.
