On Adoption: The imagination of a child

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Hulk Hogan is my dad. The kid in my class is my twin. It seems silly now, but as a child I would imagine these things to be true. When you know you are adopted it is impossible not to wonder about your biological family.

If you are not adopted it may have never crossed your mind that adoptees (from closed adoptions) don’t know who we look like, don’t know if we have any siblings, don’t know what to do when we are asked to do a family tree, and can’t answer medical history questions about our biological family.

I was lucky to have in my adoption papers wish I knew where they are now some basic physical traits, health history, and hobbies. My mother would let me read it every once in awhile, but never let me keep it. I hand copied this piece of paper one time my mother pulled out the documents from hiding. And then I memorized it. Both of my biological parents were 5’2″ with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was 21, she was 19. My birth mother was a straight “A” student who loved animals and wanted to be a veterinarian. My birth father had poor eyesight and was a wrestler. There was some mention of some heart problems in the family.

I can see myself in these small snippets of information. I’m 5’2″ with blonde hair, but I have hazel eyes. I was always a good student and wanted to be a vet when I was a child. I had to get glasses when I was in the fourth grade. I was born with a heart murmur. It’s something. But it’s not enough. And that’s where the imagination kicked in.

Since my biological father was a wrestler, and Hulk Hogan was the only wrestler I knew of plus he had blonde hair I decided that he must be it. I didn’t become a huge wrestling fan (though I did end up marrying one!). I never wrote crazy “I’m your daughter” fan letters. It was just one of those things.

There was a boy in my class who had a birthday the day after mine. And he was adopted too. So naturally we would make up these stories or maybe we believed them, I can’t remember that we were brother and sister, twins to be exact. Me with my fair skin and blonde hair, and him with his dark brown eyes and black hair. It didn’t even phase us that we were born in separate hospitals, in different towns. There was enough time for her to have me, drive to the other town and have him. A woman in labor traveling in between births; what were we thinking!?! No, it didn’t make logical sense, but it gave us something to hold on to. We had many birthday parties together, and though we weren’t really twins, we understood what it meant to be an adoptee.

With all of this wondering and imagination, I aways anticipated setting out on a grand search the moment I was old enough- when I turned 18. Now I’m 31, and still haven’t. One time I called the adoption agency and almost talked to someone, they made the mistake of putting me on hold and I hung up. I have the documents required for me to fill out to begin my search saved on my computer, blank. I do have my birthdate and place of birth on an adoption reunion type page that would email me if anyone was looking. I’ve never changed my email address. I’ve never received an email. In the past year I’ve come to realize some things about myself, and this blog is a step for me in my process. I think I’ll get there. I want to get there. It’s complicated.

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