Today, I miss my mother, not the one that the adoption industry gave me in the name of Jesus, but my real mother, the one who gave birth to me. She died in a bus accident when I was 6 years old while going to the funeral of my grandmother. My sisters and I didn't go to the funeral, so I didn't see the accident that caused her death. I told her goodbye just like if she would come back the same day. My oldest sister was the first to learn about her death. She wept and yelled non stop while going to the place where mom was hit by the bus.
The day after my Arrival Day, I woke up late. When I opened my eyes, I remembered I was in USA.
I felt anxious and loneliess in the new enviroment. I wanted to cry but I was a big girl so I have chosen not to cry. The cloths on my bed showed me the yellow-haired lady had been in my room while I was sleeping. The yellow-haired lady came in, showed me the cloths and without saying a word, left the room. I got dressed quickly before she came back, then I felt alone again.
I recognized the American couple that I had seen on a photo.
I was told by the lady who gave me the photo that the couple would be my new American appa and oemma (respectively dad and mom in Korean). My thought then was: "The American lady is well-dressed and pretty but she doesn't look like an oemma, she wears too much of make-up; the American man can't be an appa, he is too fat."
I was born at Kenndy Airport, on December 2nd, 1975.
I'm 42 years old... No, it's not a mistake, I was born at 9 years old.
It was my 2nd birth from my adoptive mother. The moment she saw me, she felt the same pain than any other woman giving birth. It seems that other women have also felt the childbirth pain the moment they took their new babies in their arms.
After we landed in the land of fairy tales, my escort left me to an unknown American woman who took me to a room full of adults. Taking the babies, they were crying, laughing, talking aloud, and showing their new babies to each other. That's what my amother compared to giving birth because these women "were exactly like women giving birth to their babies" and she (my amother) also felt the pain of childbirth when she saw me.
I was 20 when I revealed the secret the first time to a psychologist of a college. I liked her immediately but it took me several weeks before taking the decision to talk about it. I told her that my father touched me repeatedly and did more than touching me during my adolescence. I thought that would be our last meeting, I was sure she would despise me. We continued to meet but I never wanted to talk about the secret again. I told her that he had stopped touching me since four years and that it wasn't a problem for me, the real problem was my mother drinking almost every day.
My adoptive father is deceased. I didn’t see him before his death because I had cut off contact with him about 18 years ago. He died more than seven months ago but I know it only since two weeks. His death reminded me of my first father. My first father is also deceased. I didn’t see him before his death either. I learned about it 24 years after his death.