From the Perspective of an Adopted Child

Bob and Joyce Childers adopted me when I was two months old. I've known from a very early age that I was adopted. My parents were very open about it and from the time I could sit and listen until I could fully understand, my parents would tell me. What did that mean for me growing up? Truthfully, not much. I didn't look like either of my parents or my brother but then there are lots of kids who don't look like their biological families. I couldn't tell you what hospital I was born in or the time of my birth but then little kids don't really care about that kind of thing anyway. I remember that for whatever reason (most likely he didn't read my chart before entering the exam room) that my pediatrician could never remember that I was adopted and would always ask my parents about history of diseases in their families- duh. :)
Other than that, I had two parents who really loved me and an amazing grandfather and grandmother. They never treated me like anything other than a part of the family. My mom's side of the family was very good to me. My dad's side of the family was not the same; however, I feel like I should insert here that his family didn't treat their biological parts any better. Long story short, you know God does amazing things in people's lives because I'm always amazed that my daddy turned out to be such a good man coming from his background.
I never had a big desire to find out about the woman who gave birth to me. I never harbored any ill feelings toward this woman. Actually, I was always thankful to her. I was thankful that she had chosen life for me even if that meant it was not a life with her.
I got married when I was twenty four. A few years after that, there was a petition filed that opened up adoptive records. Jim and I were thinking about having a baby and I told him I wanted my records to see if there was anything genetically I needed to worry about. Right after that, the files were closed again. It wasn't until I was nine months pregnant with my first son that I received a call to come and view my adoptive file. I was nervous walking in to the Department of Children's Services office. Jim went with me but I remember they would not allow him to go back and view the file. I walked back with a social worker. She began by telling me that many biological mothers would call back in from time to time just to update the file, especially with medical information. Mine had not. In fact, the social worker told me that my file was one of the smallest she had seen. Not a great start.
Before I was allowed to open the file, I had to sign an affidavit stating that I would not attempt to contact my biological family except through the Department. And with that signature, I opened the file.
There was my mother's name, Kay Marie Soper Teal. Soper was her maiden name. How funny that my middle name is Marie. My adoption was a closed adoption through the State so my parents could not have known that was my biological mother's middle name also. My mother was married previously and had a little boy from that marriage named Robert. She worked for the State in a secretarial position and because there was no such thing as maternity leave back then had to quit her job to have me. When she divorced her first husband, she and her son Robert moved in with her parents. She felt that she could not care for another child financially and apparently her parents were not excited with the idea of there being another "mouth to feed."
My name was Katherine Teal for the first two months of my life. My mother held me once and when I was cleared to leave the hospital I was placed in a foster home.
My father was just drifting through town. I have his name but I won't type it here. He knew about the pregnancy but chose to move on.
There was a little background on my maternal grandparents, the social worker's home visit notes, a crazy amount of court documents, and a hand typed letter made by my foster mother of my feeding and nap schedule. Bits and pieces of the home visit papers as well as a few other pieces of information validated a lot for me.
So the Department gave me two weeks to decide if I wanted them to pursue contacting her. I was nine months pregnant, very emotional, and so I decided that I just couldn't pursue that at that point. Logically I felt it would be understandable if she were contacted and didn't wish to see me. My heart just didn't feel that way and I just wanted to focus on having my baby and maybe look at that again later on down the line.
Here I am seven and a half years later, two precious boys, a wonderful husband, and an even deeper knowledge now of the sacrifice my mother made for me. When I held my oldest son Avery in my arms that very first time, I could not fathom the pain that my mother must have gone through at that moment. To hold me, to look into my eyes and then to hand me over knowing that she would never see me again. She would not see my first step, could not comfort me when I got hurt, would never hear me call her mother. How do you get passed that? Do you? At that moment I realized that one day I would try to find her and that whether or not she wished to see me, whatever her answer, that would be ok. That would be ok because I know for me, in order to hand my child over for someone else to raise I would have to cut myself off completely. I would. Otherwise, I would wonder every single minute of every day was my baby being loved, was my baby being cared for, was my baby better off for the decision I made.
So thank you Kay Marie Soper Teal. Thank you. I WAS loved, I WAS cared for, and I believe I WAS better off for the decision, for the sacrifice you made.