Navigating the adoptee experience in public discourse is like threading through a labyrinth of misconceptions and uninformed questions.

Adoptee losses are ambiguous, too. I’ve heard some adoptees state that they are told to “move on,” or “get over it,” if they are interested in excavating their adoption story. Just as my father suffered a loss so great that it could not be named or talked about, so too have we adoptees experienced loss. For some of us, this loss happened so early in our lives that we might not even realize its impact.

AMS was the first space in which I could talk about my adoption and myself. The conversations I was a part of brought up the complexity of birth parents as well as what our hobbies were. There, adoptees are validated as individuals who happen to share an aspect of their identity.

The phone rings. I sit anxiously awaiting an answer with sweaty, shaky hands. I am both relieved and disappointed when the call goes to voicemail. Abruptly losing my nerve, I hang up without leaving any message. My mind and my stomach wrestle with a mix of shame, relief, anxiety, and disappointment. Almost immediately my phone rings. Answering, the person on the phone says, “Hello?” I hesitate for what feels like hours. The caller says again, “Hello?!

Adoption is not a one-time event; adoptees live with the aftermath their entire lives. If we’re lucky, we find answers and truths that assist us in our healing, but for many there is no way to discover our stories. Instead we have to sit with all the unknown and unanswered questions.