Adoptee Story: Tracy part 2

November 24, 2020

Adoptee Story:

Tracy, born in the United States, adopted in the United States.

INTRO: Fellow adoptee Tracy, shares her adoptee story with us, in her own words. This is part 2, as Tracy shared her story last year as well. She has since found out more, been through more, and for this NAAM she reached out to me wanting to update her story. I suggested she write part 2 to be shared as a continuation. Please, find adn read the first part of her story HERE.

This art is my beautiful friend's interpretation of my adoption trauma and story using the words lost, lucky, and chosen. It suits me better than a portrait or selfie.

“It’s been quite a bumpy road since I wrote the first draft of my origin story * link here *There are a few small changes and some really massive ones, so I thought an update was in order.

 

I will begin a few years before I was born. My biological narcissistic mother and her husband divorced sometime around the time my youngest, oldest brother died at 4 months old due to malnutrition, disguised as Cystic Fibrosis cause of death. Child Protective Services came in and took the six older boys and put them in the system. No one stepped up to keep these boys who were ages 3-12, and the older ones languished in the system for years and aged out with the younger ones being adopted almost immediately.

There is speculation that my mother had another daughter born before me around 1968 but I have not found evidence of her  except for DNA matches I cannot place yet.

 

I was born in Jackson, Michigan May 4, 1970. The day of the Kent State Massacre. I always wondered if that is why I am an activist, but I digress. I found out recently from my adoptive mother, I was indeed in a foster home for about 2 weeks, so the “23 days” notation on my baby announcement is accurate. According to her, my foster mother was a very loving, caring woman who took good care of me, but she could not recall her name. I was “such a good baby, so quiet, never cried, never needed to be rocked very long, and content to stay in my bed” etc. What she didn’t understand was that my heart was broken, missing my first mother and she could not fix it so there was no need to cry, it didn’t help. Those tears  would come later. Apparently I was allergic to milk and infant formula, I was fed molasses and PET milk as this was what my parents were told to feed me. Other than that, I was the perfect child…except I had asthma as a baby, which is something I have just discovered. I was always told I was 8, when I had my first memorable asthma attack. I remember thinking I was upset because they left to go out for the evening and my grandparents could not console me and I went into a full blown attack and had to be taken to the emergency room. It was absolutely terrifying thinking I was going to die and yet I was strangely comforted by it. But I am getting ahead of myself again.

I mentioned in my first story that I also have an adopted little brother who I have very little contact with. We have spent a bit more time together lately, as our adoptive mother is terminally ill. He might actually be ready to do a search after years of not even thinking about it. I also found out from my adoptive mother he is likely 50% Native American, which blew me away since they told us they knew nothing about his parents except they were very young. I hope he comes to me when and if he decides to search.

 

My adoptive father just passed away recently and one day while sitting with my adoptive mother, I gently prodded again about my story and she suddenly just opened up. Apparently, she did not want my Dad to have to answer these questions since he was the infertile one and she made him adopt us to stay married. He would always get so worked up when I would ask questions, now I know why. I know he loved me, I know that. I just wish I weren’t a bargaining chip or consequence. When I mentioned to her how hard it was to get a passport, and prove my identity, she was shocked that my birth certificate was amended and I do not get access to my original. She will now fight beside me to restore our access to our original birth certificates. I never thought this would happen and to be honest if she hadn’t gotten sick and dad hadn’t died, we probably never would have gotten here, so even though I am going to lose both of them in a very short period of time, I am forever thankful for her transparency finally.

 

I have discovered much more and almost nothing about my biological father. If he wasn’t a headline in the paper I probably still wouldn’t know. He was a Marine and a narcotics detective who went deep undercover and went to jail in a drug sting gone very bad, however they caught the guys who set him up and he was acquitted of all charges and reinstated like it never happened. It kind of explains my detective skills and why finding my roots comes so easily to me. I still have not made contact with a relative who knew him, only a friend who I can contact at any time I have questions. I speak with his granddaughter daily on Facebook and I adore her. She had never known him either. We  have not met yet but plan to once this stupid pandemic is handled. Her mother and Aunt still will not make contact with me. So I have two sisters on my father’s side and possibly one on my mother’s side who I still do not know. However, the “cousins” have come out of the woodwork and have welcomed me into their hearts. They are all so sweet and helpful with providing/sharing any information they have with me.

On the other side I have 7 older brothers, yes 7! The one we lost as a baby was the catalyst for this whole disruptive process. Had they not lost him, who knows what would have happened? Would I even have been born years later? The oldest, David was almost a teen when they were removed, so he fostered out and went back to his aunt and uncle, my mother’s brother when he turned 18. The twins, Terry and Tim were separated, fostered, reunited and ready to adopt together but the adopters only wanted one of them, (they didn’t want the troublemaker) so back into the system he went. He ran away so many times, slept in the woods, alone so he wouldn’t have to go back to his abusive foster parents, he finally turned 18 and thought he was free, but no, because of all his drama they kept him until he was 21! Hearing him tell me his story over the phone in our weekly chats  was so unreal and heartbreaking. He is the only one I talk to constantly. The other twin was never adopted either and fostered out, and joined the AirForce. We speak occasionally and had plans to meet pre-COVID but that will have to wait as he was just diagnosed a few weeks ago and is recuperating. The next in line, Mark contacted me when we matched on 23&me and we talked twice and then nothing. He is a self-described hermit without even a cell phone, so there is that. I keep the line of communication open with birthday wishes in his email so who knows? Maybe one day, he’ll respond again. The younger two, Dan and Chris, I have found on Facebook but no response as of yet. Dan worked in ministry and Chris is a biology teacher. I plan to reach out again soon.

 

 

My life is a constant rollercoaster now as I navigate reunion and I would not change a thing. To be cont…

Tracy

You can find me on INSTAGRAM as @relentlesspeace which is my writing/activism space

End of Article
Amanda Medina

Amanda Medina

I was adopted from Medellin, Colombia to Sweden in 1985. I was about a year and a half when I started my life as an adoptee, and it would take 32 years until I was ready to face what that means, what that has always meant, and what that will always mean.

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