Adoption

Adoption

By: Annie Walk

          When you think of adoption, what comes to mind? Someone not being able to take care of a child. Someone getting raped and giving up their baby they couldn’t bear to have because of the b*****d that took advantage of the drunk girl at the party. Some teenagers not taking any precautions while engaging in sexual activity then 9 months later wondering how the hell they’re supposed to raise a baby when they’re still babies themselves. Well, I see it differently. Let me tell you why.

          I was adopted. My birth mother cheated on her husband with a black man in the 90s. Now if you’re uneducated, that was still a time where interracial couples were still frowned upon. Her husband gave her an ultimatum. It was him or me. Obviously, we all know who she chose. Her name is Stephanie. I don’t know much about her. I do know that she was careless. Careless enough to cheat on her husband. Careless enough to have a baby and not be able to take care of it. I cannot be mad at her because the people who adopted me are so great. But I can’t help to feel a certain way to Miss Stephanie and whoever my father is.

          Jeff and Gina Walk, my parents. The people who raised me. Two of my most favorite people in the world have given me everything and more. I love them to pieces. They took me in when they didn’t have to. We have an indescribable bond. I’m more than thankful that they are mine and I’m theirs.

Stephanie is her name. I don’t know much about her. I don’t know if she’s still around. I don’t know if she has other kids. I know nothing. It’s the best that way. That doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Curious as to why she gave me up? Why did she cheat on her husband? Does she think about me like I think about her? Why did she do this?

          She’s not my mom. She gave birth to me. She didn’t raise me. She didn’t stick around. Why do I think about her on Mother’s Day while celebrating my real mother? The woman who dedicated her life to raising me and making sure I was set. I hate Stephanie, so why do I think about her? She abandoned me, she doesn’t deserve my thoughts.

          I’ve lived a good life and I’m only nineteen. I have so much more to live. I will no longer spend my time thinking about that woman anymore. I have a mother. And she loves me more than anybody else in the entire world. I refuse to let myself drown in sorrow over a woman who made a stupid choice in life and left me to deal with the pain. There’s no more pain.

Reviews

[matrixmark]

WOW - this was super charged with emotions. You've been through a lot if this is about you. If it is about you then - this must have taken a lot of courage to write.

Kudos to you
Mark.