“My adoption papers say I was handed to the police by an unknown woman in Medellin, Colombia. She claims to have found me and had me for a month as she was unable to find my mother, she handed me over to the police. I was adopted to Sweden at age 1.5 years old after having had my photo in a local newspaper to see if anyone would come to claim me, but no one did. At least that was my story until I found out about the many falsifications, the vast corruption and the many lies within adoption, and within adoption in my first country and during the time of my adoption.
There were different ways that children were made adoptable, such as kidnapping, lying to the mother that her baby was stillborn, someone other than the mother relinquishing the baby or child, holding a child for ransom for childcare fees, and then passing these children on for adoption abroad. There have been numerous cases proven to have involved falsified paperwork, where the child is given a story that is not true, where dates are swapped, names changed and parents name either erased to change. We know this because of the many adult adoptees that have searched for, found, and reunited with their families in Colombia. Many have found out they were never supposed to have been adopted, were not relinquished and have been loved, wanted and missed by their first families.
For me, the lack of details in my story and the fact that there are no names are red flags. They raise questions but provide no answers. They serve to provide me with a generic story that I have heard repeated by others as well. But they provide me nothing specific to base a search on.
Today, I know that my story could be true, just as much as it could be a complete lie. At age 35, I find myself with a black hole that makes up the first couple of years of my life. And because my papers contain no specific information, there is nothing for me to go by if one day I try to search for my birth mother.
I grew up in denial about the effects of my adoption and it did actually spare me a lot of suffering in my younger years. However, the process of coming out of the fog and realizing that I have been traumatized and that I have always lived in survival mode has shown me that the denial I grew up in that spared me suffering, also prevented my healing.
I run a blog about my life as an adoptee and invite fellow adoptees to share their stories in their own words. The blog's name is “This Adoptee Life”, and I am on social media with the same name. I work hard to raise awareness about the problems with adoption. I spend a lot of time in conversation with fellow adoptees who are just starting to explore their stories and deal with a lot of feelings around that.”
(New Jersey, NJ, USA)