CRUSHED BUT NOT BROKEN: THE UNKNOWN SCARS OF ADOPTION - By Heather Ann

“You’re ADOPTED!”, the young boy on the school bus shouted at me that cold rainy morning.  “Your mom left you in a garbage can, haha” he sneered and pointed towards me. 

My heart sank as I stared out the rainy bus window.

Kids can be cruel.

Those words stung, and stuck with me, longer than I realized.

Maybe I wasn’t worth keeping after all?  My young 10-year old self thought, as tears streamed down my freckled face.

Why did my birth mother give me up?

Was I as worthless as trash in a garbage can?

My young brain didn’t fully comprehend the magnitude of what was spoken over me early that school morning, but I internalized those words for many years, well into my young thirties.

People always ask me, “When did you first know you were adopted?” and all I can say is I always remember knowing, from the time I was a child.

I remember the day my parents first told me I was adopted.  They made it sound fascinating, and told me they proudly picked me over all the other babies in the orphanage, and that I was theirs.

I felt special then; superior in a way.  But at age five I didn’t understand what being adopted meant, other than my parents told me they wanted me and I was special.

And while I could elaborate on that feel-good story, I’m going to share a different perspective.

There is the painful side of adoption that isn’t always talked about.  It’s the elephant in the room no one wants to acknowledge, but everyone knows is there.

And like any elephant, while people can pretend it doesn’t exist, the grandiose nature of its presence makes it impossible to ignore.

You see, whether the adoptee chooses to acknowledge it subconsciously or not, there are natural scars carved into every adoptees’ heart that run deep; wounds that slice to the core.

And there comes a day when all adoptees must fully realize and process for whatever reason, valid or not, they weren’t wanted by their birth parents.

Harsh but true, this realization stings.

And it hurts.

While most people experience some form of rejection or abandonment in some capacity during their adult lives, I experienced these at a young age, before I could put into words and identify exactly what was happening to me.

Even when I tried to “forget”, and pretend that everything was “typical”, I was always reminded.

Family genealogy reports at elementary school?  I didn’t “really know” where I came from or what physical characteristics had been passed down, other than I had red hair.  And while I knew I was Irish, I could only speculate my other ethnic makeup.

Doctors’ visits consisted of filling out charts about my family medical history, which I would leave blank or write in big bold letters “ADOPTED”, because I didn’t know how to answer questions such as “Does cancer or heart disease run in your family?”

The overall inherent shame and trauma I experienced were real, and continued to compound once I met my birth mother.

I was 19 years old when I first met her face to face and asked “So, what happened?”

She told me she was raped, and that’s where I came from.

I remember a blank stare coming over my face, as I attempted to process what she was telling me.

Again, not fully realizing the impact these words would have on me later, I remember using logic (my typical coping strategy) to continue to ask more questions about my birth father such as – “Well, where is he? Can I find him too?”

She said he wanted nothing to do with her, or me.

It wasn’t until many years later, again not till my early thirties, did I start to understand.

Wow, I was a product of rape. I wasn’t conceived in love. I wasn’t wanted. I could have been aborted.  Not exactly the fairy tale love story, huh?

And looking back, I can’t imagine the pain she felt.

She carried me to term, gave me away, and then retold the story, reliving the process all over again, as I sat next to her flesh and blood in her car.  At the time, I remember my young ears held on to her every word and soaked in anything that could help me make sense and process all this chaos.

Over a decade later, as I grieved the full reality, mourning what happened, and what could never be, an amazing light shone through the darkness and penetrated the depths of my soul.

It was at that moment the Lord revealed to me, through it all, He was there the entire time.

He was with me, as my heart began to beat (Job 10:8).

He was there, as I formed in my mother’s womb (Psalm 139:13-16).

He was with me, as I took my first breath (Job 33:4).

He was there, as the orphanage placed me into my parent’s arms for the first time (Psalm 22:9-10).

He was with me, that cold rainy morning on the school bus as the young boy’s words crushed my spirit (Psalm 34:18 and Deuteronomy 31:6).

He was there, the day I met my birth mother (Isaiah 49:15).

And He’s with me now, as I continue to process and accept my life the way it happened (Isaiah 55:8-9).

Adoption is beautiful.

A child has a chance to be born, a chance to experience love, and the chance to fully live.

Even though I was conceived in the most horrific of circumstances, God used it all for good.  His good.

God has used me to tell His story.  The story of life.  The story of redemption.  The story of reminding us all, if we accept His Son, Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior, we too can be adopted into His kingdom (Ephesians 1:5).

I’m thankful my birth mother chose life, and I’m thankful the Lord allowed me to be adopted into a loving home.  I love my parents dearly and I couldn’t imagine my life any other way.

Remember, God is bigger than anything that could ever happen to us. His ways are bigger than ours, and He sees the entire story of our lives.

I can now confidently say the Lord fought for my life, even before I was born.

To all the adoptees out there who may have experienced similar pain, I hope you find comfort in the verses I listed above.  Know God did not abandon you, He saved you.

To all the parents who selflessly chose life, and placed their babies up for adoption to have a better life, thank you.

And to all those who have adopted children into their lives and hearts, without you, we wouldn’t be where we are today. Thank you for loving us, as your own.

Finally, to those who don’t yet know Jesus, and may have experienced similar abandonment issues from your parents even if you were never adopted, know that God is there with you too, and He can be your Father.

“For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves.  Instead, you received God’s Spirit when He adopted you as His own children.  Now we call Him, “Abba, Father.” For His Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children.  And since we are His children, we are His heirs.  In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory.  In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory.  But if we are to share His glory, we must also share His suffering.” [Romans 8:14-17]

The enemy wishes to silence and shame, but God, the author of life, provides healing in the light.

He gave me a voice to tell His story, and now it’s time for you to tell yours.  May we all embrace life.  Choose Life.  Live Life.  And never take one single moment for granted.

Happy National Adoption Month.