The day an adoption is finalized is typically thought of by many as a wonderful celebration of family, of love, of relief, of forever. But for me, it was the day that I was signed, sealed, adopted… and severed. With the single stroke of a pen, my fate was sealed (along with my birth certificate and records) and my family connections were dissolved. Yes, I gained a new family, but as wonderful as that was, I lost mine. All of mine. Even the ones who had already died. Even the ones who didn’t exist yet.
“Yes, I gained a new family, but as wonderful as that was, I lost mine.”
The moment the adoption was final, I no longer belonged to my Mother or my Father. As far as the law is concerned, I became the legal heir to my adoptive family and would forever be viewed the same as any child born to it. While that sounds like a lovely way to be fully grafted into a family, that also means I was cut off from my biological family completely. Not only cut off from my parents, but my legal rights were also severed to my grandparents, my uncles, my cousins, my siblings, my nieces, my nephews and every other member of my family. I had no choice or say in this action and neither did they. Nor do I now.
Adoption gives and it takes away.