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Who Am I?

"Who are you?" the centipede inquires of Alice in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. Alice knows just what to say, since she knows who she is, but what if she was adopted? Adoption is a very controversial issue in the world today. While adoptions provide those who cannot reproduce on their own a way to have a child to call their own, not a lot of thought is given to how the mother and the child are affected by her decision. Adopted children do not usually get a chance to know their birth parents, and if they are lucky enough to, it is usually a long hard emotional road to travel. Speaking as a child who learned she was adopted at age four, I find it very overwhelming that I do not have any idea what my birth parents were like or why they decided to give me up.

When a mother makes the decision to give up her child for adoption, it is never an easy one to make. A lot of factors go into such a decision like the mother's age/maturity, her economic status, and her lifestyle. Teen mothers are often the ones who decide to go the adoption route. They simply are not at a place in their life, both economically and maturity-wise, that they could handle raising a child. They know, that whomever the adoptive parents may be, can offer her child a life much better than the one she has to offer. Often it is very hard for the mother to let go of her child, and she chooses to not see it after birth, knowing that any contact with the child will make it even more difficult. After giving up a child for adoption, the mother moves on with her life, her life without a child. Some may only think of the child occasionally, while others might think of what might have been very often.
I have to admit, I have always been curious about my birth parents, but I have never been able to ask my adoptive parents what they know. I simply feel that they would be hurt by my curiosity and that would never sit right with me. Instead I have wondered for years, since middle school really, what my birth parents were like and what the circumstances were that lead to my adoption. When I was in ninth grade, I had a serious boyfriend with whom I discussed all of these secret questions I had harbored for years. After talking about it one day when my parents weren't home, I found the key to my mother's locked box where I knew she kept all the important documents of our family. I opened it and searched for any clues I could find to my history. What I found still haunts me today. I found

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