I am having a diffficult time finding out who I really am. There is a part of me that I have been missing for so long and it has been a burden on my heart to know where I came from, to have a true identity, especially since the passing of my father-in-law and with my mother (step-mother) also facing the ongoing battle with cancer. I need to know maybe because it has me questioning my own mortality at times. Who was my mother and what kind of inherited traits did I recieve from her? Do I have a high risk for cancer? Do I have diabetes on her side of the family? Am I prone to depression because of something she passed on to me? I need these answers as I have children who need to know.

On the emotional spectrum, I want to have a sense of belonging.  I feel sometimes that I am floating through this world, not really having a purpose because I have no hard evidence that I even exist. It’s hard to explain but I know that once I am able to accomplish the seemingly impossible task of getting a copy of my birth certificate with my mother’s name on it, showing that I was actually born to her, I will have some closure. I will have in my hands the thing that will help to define me.

My Dad has been trying to help with his limited resources.  I did not start questioning him about the whereabouts of my birth certificate till the spring of 2003 I believe it was, and still, he has not been able to produce anything to help me feel whole. Our family growing up, like most, was dysfunctional; we never talked about anything, hence my not asking till I was 31 years old about my mother and my sister I never knew.

I was born in Seoul, Korea and to make this story short, I will paraphrase. I was born to my father and mother who were married at the time, he was stationed in Korea as a member of the Armed Forces. So as I know it, I am a US citizen being born to a US citizen on military grounds, but it seems that trying to prove that is more difficult than it should be.

My story is a long one, and I somewhat alluded to it in a previous post so again, I will make this a short and sweet version. Through complicated matters, my Dad ended up back in the US while allowing my mother to leave the US with me in tow because she was very unhappy in the States, not knowing anyone, and not knowing any English. He wanted her to be happy and her, not undestanding why he could not just leave the military and go with her, left, I am sure heartbroken, thinking her husband was abandoning her.

She brought me back to the country I was born in, and years later, I dont know how many for sure, my sister and I were left at an orphanage by her, to be adopted by mostly American families. She never wrote to my father, though he did every week, along with sending her money, but she had taken off with the both of us, not informing the lawyer who was the liason between my father and mother, just sending divorce papers for him to sign. He found out that my sister and I were to be adopted and as quickly as possible, sent for us.

I was brought to the States when I was 5 years old, not knowing any English, not remembering that I had a sister, mother or father, yet knowing somehow when I first laid eyes on him as he greeted me at the airport, that he was my father.

I never asked my Dad any questions, somehow I knew he did not want to talk about it, and our family was one that never delved into emotions or talked about anything. We walked on eggshells our whole childhood. I did not know that I had a biological sister till my step-mother told me when I was 16. I still did not ask my Dad about her or my real mother. Fast-forward 15 years and I am sitting in front of my Dad, with tears in his eyes, he is apologizing to me about how he has let me down, about how he has let my sister down. He told me what he remembered about my mother, that he loved her very much, he told me about my sister, he had not known about her till my mother was already back in Korea, as she had been pregnant with her when she left. He cried and told me how he had tried to send for her along with me, but how she had already been adopted and there was nothing he could do.

I sat and listened, almost numb because he was pouring his heart outat last and I was starting to see the picture of who I was, and where I came from after so many years of being in the dark. My mind raced but I could not speak, I could only see my Dad, who had never before expressed the kind of emotion he was right at that moment, so vulnerable, so hurt, so broken-hearted and defeated trying to tell me that I came from somewhere, that I came from a marriage that was full of love, and that he blamed himself for the loss of a mother and sister for me.

He told me then that his wish was to find my sister, find my mother, and to help me to find my identity. I asked him about my birth certificate and with him going blind due to glaucoma, it was difficult for him to go through any files he had and to fill out the necessary government paperwork necessary in order to obtain past records. He had lost most of what he had of my mother; he told me her name, and showed me a picture of her. I have her full lips that I always thought was from my father’s side of the family. He also gave me a picture of me when I was about 2 and also one of me and my sister, when she was probably not a year old. These are the only things I have as proof of having had a biological sister.

I told my Dad that I had found my passport when I was about 16, that I took it from his drawer, held on to it, because it made me feel like I could hold onto a piece of myself. But that I had lost it in all the moves that I had made from the age of 19 to 31. That was the one document that could have helped in finding my birth certificate and I lost it.

Fast-forward again to present day. My Dad is still cutting through red tape, still filling out this form or the other to get a copy of my birth certificate. I am wanting this piece of paper that so many take for granted so that I can close a chapter of my life that held so many painful memories and start new, knowing who I really am and being able to prove it.

My husband was adopted so he has a friend in his case worker that helped in the process of his adoption and he has linked me to a woman who deals with overseas adoptions to see if she could help in some way with my quest. She suggested that I write to my state Senators and tell them my story, edited version, and see if they can help. I keep putting it off though and I don’t know why. Is it because it seems futile? I don’t really know. Any suggestions on how to go about with this search for my past?

I need to feel grounded and I know that I have the love of God to keep me focused on who I am but I also have this overwhelming hole that needs to be filled with answers that only my mother and sister can provide. I need some motivation to keep me going because I feel like finding the both of them would be a miracle with nothing to go by. Finding my birth certificate would be a start, then I will move on to the task of trying to locate my sister, then my mother.

I will take any words of encouragement or prayers that God will show me a way.