45 People Share How Being Adopted Changed Their Lives Forever

Hey, I’m James. I was born in Swansea, Wales. When I was two and half months old I was removed from my birth parents and placed into foster care because of neglect and harmful circumstances. I had two brilliant foster families, each for a year, until I was adopted when I was two and a quarter years old, moving an hour away to Cardiff (Capitol of Wales), which is where I've lived ever since. Having read my files and recently reconnected with members of my birth family, I know that adoption was the last and best option for my situation.

I’ve had a mixed adoption experience, because on one hand I was adopted into a wonderful family who have loved and cared for me. But on the other hand because there was no post adoption support when I was adopted back in 2004, I was left to drown in my trauma of grief, loss, identity, and attachment, which has had a huge impact on my life. I’ve always had a fear of being abandoned, difficulties making and sustaining relationships/friendships, and because I was exposed to domestic violence between my birth parents, people raising their voice and shouting at me makes me blow up. And so it has been difficult, but I’ve also had so much happiness and joy. I have the greatest mum and dad in the world.

I’ve learned the impact of what’s happened to me in the last few years, and now as a 23 year old, I’m advocating and fighting for adoptees and adoptive families. I’m on the Youth Council of Connected, a service for young adoptees (7-25) in Wales, giving young adoptees a voice and the ability to work with the National Adoption Service of Wales and Adoption UK. I’ve also just graduated with an MA in Screenwriting, and have the goal of bringing authentic representation of adoption from the perspective of adoptees to TV and Film.

- James Evans (Adopted from Swansea, Wales, now living in Cardiff)

I was adopted as an 11-month-old baby from China, just before my first birthday in October 1997. My birthday is in November. I was adopted by my American family and became a U.S. citizen at 3 years old. Currently (2025), I’m 28 years old. I do not know my birth parents and have no interest in searching for them at this time. Although it’s not planned yet, I would like to travel back to China one day to see where I’m originally from.
We have very little information about my life before adoption. I grew up with my family in Oregon, USA. I have three siblings, and they are all biologically related to each other. I don’t mind that I’m the only one adopted—I grew up with my family, and that’s all that matters. Family is important to me.
- Leanne Scarlett (Adopted from Wuhan, China, now living in Frankfort, Kentucky, USA)

I was born Guadalupe Nevarez. From what I’ve been told, my biological parents came from Mexico before I was born and had me in Arizona. I was in and out of emergency rooms before I was even 2 years old. No one knows for sure who was responsible but I ended up with many broken bones, leading to numerous ER visits. The hospital eventually lost my records, and I was returned to the same situation.
I landed in the hospital one last time to have a shunt placed due to the extent of my injuries, and that was when I was finally rescued. I was adopted by my family shortly after I turned three. They were the ones who took me to countless physical therapy appointments and made sure I was safe. I’m so thankful to be part of a loving family.
I know very little about my biological relatives. I was told I had an older brother, and my birth mother was pregnant when I was rescued. I still think about my siblings from time to time and hope they didn’t experience what I went through.
– Joye Bishop (Adopted from Phoenix, Arizona, USA now living in Portland, Oregon)

My story sounds like an old TV episode. It begins innocently enough, with my parents contacting Catholic Charities in Louisville, Kentucky, to adopt a baby because they were unable to have their own children. Soon, they were able to adopt a baby girl (me) in August 1967, but were told it could be many years until they could get another baby/sibling for me. Very quickly after I was adopted, however, they got a letter from Catholic Charities letting them know there was another baby available for them. They were shocked at how quickly that happened but were very happy! They adopted my sister in June 1969. We are 22 months apart.
As we grew, we always resembled each other, but there was never any thought that we were blood-related. I was adopted out of the Cincinnati Catholic Charities, and my sister was adopted out of the Louisville Catholic Charities. When we were teenagers, we would get asked if we were twins, and we would just laugh because we knew we were not even blood-related. My sister had darker skin, like she was possibly Italian, and I had olive skin, so we always knew the resemblance was just a coincidence.
Fast forward to 1992, when I was 25 and pregnant with my first child. I decided I really wanted to meet my birth parents. My own parents were completely on board and supportive. They offered to help me in any way they could. There was no internet to search for people or get information from at that time. I got an attorney and paid $800 to open my file. After six long months, all I was able to get was my birth mother’s name, address, and age on the day I was born. It did show that even though I was adopted out of Cincinnati, my birth mother’s address was in Louisville. I also found out that she was only 17. Nice to know, but that info was not very helpful in the age of no internet. I was sure she was married and would be impossible to find in a phone book (all we had then).
Finally, my friend and I got the bright idea to go down to the courthouse and search marriage records for the few years after my birth. Happily, we were able to find her quickly and found out her married name, along with the names of her bridal party and parents. We could not find her in the Louisville phone book, but we found one of the people in her bridal party in the phone book. My friend called them, explained the situation, and asked if they thought she would want to talk to me or meet me. They told me she lived in Knoxville and that they would call her and ask. She did! So we talked later that night and agreed to meet halfway between our cities in a couple of weeks.
While I waited to meet her, I was able to find an old h**h school yearbook that she happened to be in. My first thought was that she looked like my sister but just figured it was a coincidence, because my sister and I had always resembled each other but thought no more of it.
We finally met a couple of weeks later for the one and only time. We have never met again. It’s been 32 years now. While we were talking, she mentioned that she had another baby after me — that her parents forced her to give up that baby also. When she told me the birthdate, I was floored; it was the exact birthdate of my sister! She told me her parents had sent her to Cincinnati to an unwed mother’s home for most of her pregnancy because her dad was a prominent local attorney and did not want anyone to know his teenage daughter was pregnant. It was very taboo back then.
Once she returned, she finished h**h school and went off to college. Her parents banned her from ever seeing my birth father again. He went to a different college than her; however, his best friend went to the same college she did. I guess she hung out with him a lot, slept with him, and became pregnant again. This time she was 19 and didn’t get sent away to have the baby, but was forced to give her up. So, my adoptive sister is my actual biological half-sister, with her father being the best friend of my birth father.
I had always felt “different” knowing I was adopted. My parents had made sure my sister and I always knew that we were adopted, but as a child, it makes you feel different from your friends. Knowing we were biological sisters was such a great feeling.
My dad later asked Catholic Charities why they allowed my parents to adopt bio-siblings and not tell them. They said that they had a policy that they tried to place siblings in the same home but were unable to tell the adoptive parents because of the closed adoption laws. That explained how they got a baby so quickly — only 22 months after adopting me — but my parents were very upset that they weren’t told we were siblings.
The story of my birth father is also pretty cool. In 2003, right after the Catholic priest scandal had cost the Catholic Church millions of dollars, I got a letter from the Archdiocese of Louisville. I put it in the junk mail pile and was just planning to throw it away because I figured it was a letter asking for money. My 9-year-old daughter, for whatever reason, begged me to let her read it. To this day, I have no idea why she was so adamant to read a letter sitting in the junk mail pile (fate maybe?).
She began to read, and the letter said that my birth father was looking for me and they wanted my approval to give him my information. I was floored, and of course, I wanted him to have it. We were able to talk soon after that. We met a few months later. He had moved to California after college, and to my surprise, he told me that he works in the movie business. He does special effects. My husband and I Googled his name and found that he has an Emmy Award for special effects in the original Star Wars. He had his own IMDb page! We couldn’t believe it.
As the years went by, he became like a long-lost brother to me and an uncle to my children. He swooped into town two to three times a year and would shower my children — and now grandchildren — with gifts and amazing stories of Hollywood. My children were in awe of him. He worked on many famous movies over the years and would send my kids things like the director’s chair that Orlando Bloom sat in during the filming of Pirates of the Caribbean, or a beard clipping from Steve Carell’s beard from Evan Almighty. He would send scripts and T-shirts and other souvenirs from many other famous movies. He is friends with James Cameron and even had a small part in the movie The Aviator. He’s also in a SpongeBob episode as a “roadie” for The Bird Brains band.
We are still very close, and see each other a few times a year and keep in touch through text. Unfortunately, my birth mother chooses not to have contact with me. She tells me that it’s just too hard for her. To this day, her sons do not even know that my sister or I exist. She did tell her daughter, and we talk sometimes — but not much. It’s fine, because my adoptive parents are my forever parents, even though they both recently passed away.
- Carol Pautsch (Cincinnati, Ohio, USA, now living in Louisville, Kentucky)
(The pictures included in this story are of my birth father and me, and of my sister and me as children.)

My name is Alison. I was born Natalia Archvadze in the Republic of Georgia (former Soviet Union). At the age of four, I was adopted with my six-year-old sister Thea (now Victoria) by a Jewish family in Baltimore, Maryland. We have two brothers who are biological siblings to each other. At nineteen years old, I struck out to New York to seek my life’s purpose. While I only have memories of orphanages, my sister spent her six years with our biological mom. She has terrible memories of experiences there, and that has contributed to my lack of desire to seek them out as an adult. I am grateful to have been adopted, I appreciate my adoptive family, and I am hyper-aware of how lucky I am in the scheme of life. There are so many people who never make it out of orphanages or a*****e homes, and so many who will never have the opportunity I have been granted. – Alison Goldberg (Adopted from Tbilisi, Republic of Georgia, now living in Centereach, New York)

Hi, I'm Carla, and I was placed in foster care at the age of six. I was adopted at nine (officially ten, due to paperwork).
There was a lot of alcohol involved with my parents, and my dad wasn’t really around much. There was a lot of neglect and a lack of support for me.
I was in foster care for a period of three years. The first placements were traumatising, and I still feel the effects of them. The last pair were amazing and truly understood what it meant to be parental figures.
Two weeks after my ninth birthday, I was told I was going to be adopted. My sister and I (we were adopted together – part of the deal) came down with our foster carers, saw our rooms, and decided we wanted to stay. The rest is history.
Seventeen years later, we’re happy. We still struggle with mental health issues as a result of everything that happened. Years of therapy, nightmares, and tantrums have brought me to where I am today.
In June 2023, I had the opportunity to speak in front of an audience at the Thames Pavilion, behind the Houses of Parliament, about my adoption. So many people are still surprised to hear the story of an older adoptee – and being able to share that is a powerful gift. It offers hope for the future of other older adoptees.
- Carla Moverley-Ford (Adopted from Barnsley, UK, now living in Weymouth)

Hello everyone, my name is Oksana. I was adopted from Ukraine in 2010.
In 2008, my biological father passed away. Shortly after, my older brother (one of three) and I were placed into state custody when it became clear that our mother could no longer care for us. We were sent to Chervonohrad Orphanage, where we stayed for two years after our mother relinquished her parental rights.
In 2009, I was given an incredible opportunity to be hosted by an American family for Christmas. That visit changed my life. During my stay, the family asked if I wanted to be adopted. I said yes — not fully understanding what it meant, but knowing deep down that I wanted a better life.
Six months later, they came to Ukraine to complete the adoption and bring me home. They also offered to adopt my brother, but he chose to stay. So, I made the journey alone to a new country — scared but hopeful. And honestly, that was just the beginning of a life filled with miracles and love.
Fifteen years later, both of my biological parents have passed away, but I still hear from a few family members back in Ukraine from time to time. I often wonder what my life would have looked like had I stayed, but I know with certainty that I’ve been blessed beyond measure. I carry a powerful testimony and deep gratitude for the people who welcomed me with open arms and gave me a loving home and endless opportunities.
There are so many questions I’ll never get to ask my biological parents, and sometimes I think that might be for the best. I've grown, healed, and built a life of my own. Today, I’m a wife and a mother to a beautiful little girl — and I love her the way every child deserves to be loved.
- Oksana (Adopted from Ukraine, now living in the USA)

Hi, I’m Hope. I was adopted from China at the age of 7 by my lovely family. Growing up in a small town with not a whole lot of diversity, I often struggled with questions about my identity and a sense of belonging, which is common for adoptees, especially those adopted internationally and transracially.
As an adult, I began exploring my adoption story more deeply, including the complex emotions around my birth mom and the loss intertwined with being adopted. I know nothing about my birth dad, but I’m hopeful to find answers and meet my birth mom one day, God willing.
I hold both gratitude for my family and curiosity about my roots. Sharing my story is important to me, not just for myself, but for others who might relate to the complex emotions of adoption.
- Hope (Adopted from China, now living in California, USA)

I was taken from Lakewood Hospital at three days old and placed in a foster home. My mother had major mental health issues caused by her own mother trying, unsuccessfully, to abort her. My father was an a*****e alcoholic who also acted inappropriately toward my older siblings. The courts found out about some things and took me away at birth. My older siblings were also placed in other foster families. Eventually, they were returned to my parents, but not me. The judge died before I could be released (around age 3 or 4). Later, my father found out he was being investigated again and moved the family to California to be with one of his sisters. I was eventually placed up for adoption. After several more foster homes, I was placed with a couple in Medina County, south of Cleveland. I was placed with them at 4½ years old and formally adopted on June 6, 1960. The problem was, the court didn’t know that the man was an alcoholic and the woman was, to a degree, co-dependent. I survived a great deal of verbal a***e and “punishments” that were actually a***e. As I grew older and started to develop, my "father" started crossing serious boundaries with me. He even tried to get me to “run away” with him. After I graduated h**h school, he tried again. I told my “mother,” but she didn’t believe me. After college, I turned 21, which was the same year the law changed and legal adulthood became 18. He told me he had kept me three years longer than he had to, and that I should get out. Two months later, I rented a small apartment in a southwest suburb of Cleveland and moved out. One year later, I moved to a slightly larger place. My mother said she figured after a year out, I’d move back home. I told her again what had happened, and she said, “You mean it actually happened?!” I said yes and told her I would never move back there. Everyone I knew was paying $10 to $15 a week to stay at home, but he demanded $25 (for his alcohol). I wasn’t allowed to have any say about meals or anything, even when asked. For $10 more, I got my own place. I lived on my own for almost eight years before I got married. My mother approved of my Egyptian boyfriend, but when I changed churches, I was disowned. She finally spoke to me again about a year later, because at least I “still believed in God.” But when I married a Black man, the disowning became permanent. I never spoke to them again. They told my younger brother (also adopted) that if he stayed in contact with me, there would be consequences. Needless to say, I was alone. BUT GOD didn’t leave me. I lived in a few places that didn’t work out for various reasons until about 18 or 19 years ago, when He brought me to where I am now. One of the dearest sisters there “adopted” me, and I finally had family. A little over nine years ago, I had a dream that the Lord told me my brother was going to introduce me to my sisters. I said, “Yeah, right, Lord.” I knew I was the youngest, but that was all I knew. Two months later, my brother’s daughter (he is deceased) contacted my son on Facebook. And guess what — we all connected later that spring! I drove to California to meet my biological family. My oldest sister and I are now so close. She is “My Bobbie”! I remembered her from visitations when I was in foster care. I’m now pushing 71, with a huge church family and strong relationships with my biological family. It took 57 years, but here we are! I’ve been legally married for almost 43 years, with two grown children — a son and a daughter — and six grandchildren: five boys and a five-month-old granddaughter. God has truly carried me through incredibly rough years. But PRAISE HIM. He saved me! I even met the aunt who was involved in my adoption when I was in college, though she didn’t identify herself at the time. Funny enough, I ended up living just blocks away from family several times. – Barbara LeSure (Adopted from Cleveland, Ohio, USA, now living in Lakewood, Ohio) Photos: Me with my new granddaughter — and me as a little girl, just before being adopted.

Hello everyone! My name is Mirela. I was born in Buzău, Romania, and adopted to the United States at the age of 3. My biological parents made the difficult decision to place my older sister and I up for adoption, because they were too poor to provide a life for us. I have three biological siblings, an older brother, an older sister, and a younger sister.
I was adopted by a single mother and was incredibly fortunate. I arrived in the U.S. malnourished, but I quickly became a healthy little girl. I adjusted well to learning English and adapting to a new country. I was blessed to grow up competitively swimming and dancing, attend a private h**h school, and graduate with a college degree. I was given all of life’s necessities and more. My adoptive mom showed me how to be a strong, independent woman and work hard for a beautiful life.
Growing up, I just wanted to fit in, but my name always made people pause and ask questions. I always knew I was adopted, but it wasn’t until I turned 25 that I began the journey to search for my biological family. Being internationally adopted made that search incredibly difficult. I didn’t know much about Romania, the culture, or where to even begin. Eventually, I found someone who helped with my search, and that’s when I received heartbreaking news: both of my biological parents had passed away in their early 40s, just a year apart from each other.
There was nothing I wanted more than to reunite with them and finally get answers to a lifetime of questions. That loss hit hard.
But my journey didn’t end there. I was able to connect with my older brother and younger sister, who had stayed in Romania and later moved to Italy with their families after our parents died. I also discovered my other sister, who had been adopted to Belgium when she was just 10 months old. My older brother had two daughters, and my younger sister has three children, one boy and two girls.
Because of the different paths life gave us, living in different countries, language barriers, and very different upbringings, my relationship with my siblings has remained virtual. We stay connected through video chats and messaging on social media.
Tragically, my older brother passed away on August 2, 2024 at age 35. His loss deeply affected all of us. Our sibling bond was already fragile, and his passing added another layer of grief to something already complex. My brother was the life of the party, and despite the many hardships he faced in life, he was never without his infectious smile. That is how I will always remember him.
As much loss as my story holds, I know firsthand that every adoptee’s journey is different and unique. Not every story ends in a happy reunion and that’s okay. Adoption stays with you for life. It’s layered, emotional, and often hard to explain. I share my story for those adoptees whose journeys didn’t turn out the way they had hoped.
Despite the sadness I carry, I hope my story offers healing, understanding, and connection. If your story holds pain, unanswered questions, or deep loss, please know, you are not alone. You are seen, and your story matters too.
I’m proud to be Romanian. I’m proud to be adopted from Romania. And I’m honored to share my story.
- Mirela (Adopted from Buzău, Romania, now living in the USA)
Photos show me now, me on the right in Romania, and at the bottom right, a video call with my older brother.

Born amidst the turmoil of Freetown, Sierra Leone, during the strife-ridden 1990s, my early years were marked by profound adversity. By the tender age of two, I found myself orphaned, bereft of both parents in the wake of the Civil War's relentless toll. In the midst of chaos, I was sheltered within the cramped confines of an overcrowded orphanage, where the clamor of conflict resounded all too vividly.
Tragically, my mother succumbed during childbirth, leaving me to the care of my grandmother, who had recently welcomed her own daughter into the world. Sacrificing her own maternal bond, my aunt was entrusted to her care as my grandmother selflessly assumed the role of nurturer and protector.
Yet, in a city plagued by destitution, where access to even the most basic necessities remained elusive, my grandmother's fears for my survival deepened. Medical conditions such as fractured bones, Malaria, and intestinal parasites plagued my fragile existence, a testament to the harsh realities of life in Freetown's impoverished landscape in the early 90’s.
In 1996, I was embraced by a White American family, pioneers among those who would adopt from West Africa. Though their love was unwavering, a shadow lingered over our l bond, stifling my Black identity. Settling in Santa Clara, California, amidst a community where Black representation was non-existent I found myself confined by the confines of cultural conformity.
I encountered resistance at every turn. Expressions of curiosity or admiration for Black culture were met with suppression, as my family's anxieties over societal judgment loomed heavily. I was steered away from pursuits that resonated with my true essence.
Enrolled in a predominantly white sport, the confines of baseball became my sanctuary, yet a sense of dissonance lingered. Denied the opportunity to engage with activities that spoke to my cultural roots, I remained within a narrative not of my own making.
Fueled by a desire to manifest change, I sought to transform adversity into opportunity, to cultivate communities where diversity thrived and innovation flourished.
- Kanu (Adopted from Freetown, Sierra Leone to Arizona, USA)

Hello. My name is Antonina and I was born in Kazakhstan. I was adopted at age 6 with my younger brother. I am now 27. My adoption story is a little different.
I was burned as a baby and my whole life I did not know how it happened or what my burn scars were from. I was always so curious and so upset I didn’t know anything. Within the past couple of months I ended up finding my birth mom after searching my whole life. We could not be more happy. She told me how I got burned and so it is now not a mystery. It’s such a big relief to know my story.
The funny thing is, that’s not all! I was adopted through a group called Kidsave. The age limit was 5 and up but my brother was younger than that. So the people at the orphanage snuck him in with me so that we would stay together and I couldn’t be more thankful.
I still to this day feel sad for missing my birth family but know I get to talk to them. Anyway, this is just the start of my story and I am glad to have shared it with you.
- Antonina Fisher (Adopted from Kazakhstan, now living in America)

I was adopted as a baby through a Christian organization that prioritized faith when placing me. My bio mom was 17, my bio dad was off the radar, and to her and her family, this option was presented as the “right” thing. I grew up in a family that loved me dearly, so dearly that I was under intense pressure from the start to perform as a good child within their religious system of fear-based control.
They eventually got divorced and repartnered. Fast forward to my 18th birthday. My adoption records were given to me, and I made contact with my bio mom. I was stunned to see a face that looked like mine for the first time. To feel so in sync with her values, and nature, and mannerisms, even music! I discovered I have a half-sister who is also so incredibly like me. Fast forward again, to me approaching 30, and feeling ready to meet my bio dad.
I tracked him down on FB with the help of my adopted mom, expert sleuth, and made contact. He is my wild side! Once I met him, I felt like the pieces of me fell together. I find myself now gravitating towards my biological parents more so than my adopted parents, and I see that it’s hard on them… and I also release guilt for desiring and needing what I was deprived of without consent as a child.
I’ve done adoptee coaching, read numerous books about trauma stored in the body from primal wounding, and continue to find new resources that help me better understand some of the ways I operate, and how to heal. This is a lifelong journey, and I feel that it’s my dharma to keep peeling back the layers and bring this healing medicine to the world.
I’ve moved to the mountains and opened up an online energy healing practice, and I LOVE working with other adoptees. We really have a special set of circumstances to work with, and I’ve found that these techniques have really helped me reach the somatic depth of such a complex trauma.
— Emily Iris, adopted from Worcester, MA, USA, now living in Asheville, NC

I was adopted at birth. From what I knew as a child, my parents told me I was adopted before I was even old enough to understand. My birth mother, sadly, was an a****t who gave birth to me six weeks early. I weighed 5 lbs, but somehow wasn’t addicted to the d***s. Although I was sent to NIH for testing, they told my adopted parents that I seemed fine, though I could have issues as I got older due to the d**g use during pregnancy. They also said they didn’t have to take me if they didn’t want to, but they took me anyway. I knew I had two sisters, 10 and 12 years older than I was, who my birth mother didn’t put up for adoption. My parents were told that the man who was my birth father wanted nothing to do with the situation and wouldn’t even sign anything acknowledging that he was my father or giving permission for me to be adopted. This meant my adopted parents had to advertise in the newspaper for a father. If no one came forward after 30 days, the adoption could go through. Three years before me, my parents had adopted my older sister, with whom I sadly never got along. Even to this day, I only see her at family events. My aunt and uncle also adopted two children, both boys, who were younger than my sister and me, but it was nice to have cousins who we could relate to! Overall, I had a great life. My parents were well-off, and they loved and spoiled my sister and me. They took us on many trips and gave us a wonderful life. But something was always missing. My older sister had no desire to know her birth parents, but I always longed for mine. To me, the fact that my mother made the selfless decision to give me a better life was so special. And because I didn’t resemble my bio family at all, I felt very different. My parents told me that when I turned 16, I could contact the agency I was adopted through to search for my birth family. However, I ended up becoming a teen mom at 16, so life got a bit busy. I was elated to be a mother, and although my parents wanted me to give the baby up for adoption, I just couldn’t do it. I understood even more how hard that decision must have been for my birth mother. I was always very open about my adoption. People would ask me all the time if I was Spanish or where I was from, and my answer was always, "I don’t know, I’m adopted." So, when I was filling out my questionnaire on MySpace, it asked for my ethnicity, and again, my answer was "Don’t know, I’m adopted." What I didn’t know was that my parents had sent a few photos to the agency for them to pass along to my birth mom when I was a baby. One photo actually said "Lisa" on the back—the name my parents gave me, which my sisters always remembered. Unbeknownst to me, my sisters had longed to meet me and had been updating their info at the agency in case I ever contacted them. Fast forward to my 18th birthday. A few days later, I received a message on MySpace from a girl who said her sister had been put up for adoption, and she saw on my page that I was adopted. She was just curious if I would ever be interested in meeting my birth family. At first, I brushed it off as a crazy person messaging me, but then my best friend said, "Lisa, that girl looks a lot like you! What if she’s someone in your family? You need to answer." So, I did. I explained that I had always loved my birth mother for putting me up for adoption, and I had always wanted to find her, though my search had been delayed because I got pregnant at a young age. She immediately responded, "I think you’re my little sister!" Writing this now brings tears to my eyes! I was very cautious at first. I went and got the binder with all the information my parents had kept for me. I asked lots of questions: “What adoption agency was your sister adopted through?” “What’s her birthday?” “How many siblings does she have, and how old are they?” “Where was she born?” Answer after answer came back, and I just couldn’t believe it... this was real. Wow, this is my big sister! The best day of my life! My sisters and I spoke over the phone for hours, day after day. We had so many similarities it was crazy! It was as if we never missed a beat, like we already knew each other! They came to meet me, and we went to lunch. I typed a four-page letter for them to give to our mom, as they didn’t want to tell her they had found me until I was ready to meet her. I wrote about how much I loved and respected her, and I told her anything and everything I could think of that she’d want to know about me. That night, my sisters went to my mom’s and gave her the letter. She was in disbelief and asked, “Where did you get this from?” My sisters explained how they had sat on MySpace for two hours, typing "Lisa" into the search engine within a 50-mile radius of them. As soon as they came across my photo, they knew it was me! Me, my son, and my best friend (who was also adopted) went to my sister’s for the big day. I would finally meet my mom! After lots of hugs and tears, my mom and I sat at the back of the room and talked for six hours. She had brought my hospital bracelet to give to me (that she had kept all these years), as well as some letters the adoption agency had sent her as updates on me, and a letter she had written to me many years ago. They all still sit in my keepsake box, along with the “Happy First Birthday” cards they gave me when we celebrated my first birthday together and some other things I chose to keep. After that day, we all spent a lot of time together. I learned that my birth mom had gotten clean the April after I was born, as she saw me not being addicted to the d**gs as a sign. She had been clean ever since! I learned that my older sisters had a very rough life and sadly spent time in d**g houses and other bad situations due to our mother’s addiction. They ended up with their father, who treats me as his own to this day. He was a working single dad, so the girls had to take care of each other for the most part. I learned that the father who wouldn’t sign the papers was actually my sisters’ father. He was still legally married to my mother, but he didn’t want to sign something that would lead me to think he was my father when he wasn’t. I learned that my father was one of two men who both told my birth mother they wanted nothing to do with me or a baby. I learned that as soon as my mother saw me, she knew which man was my father—who I now know was Italian, which is probably why people always thought I might be Spanish! I learned that my birth father had been in jail many times since my birth, and although we found an address for him, I decided not to reach out. To this day, I have no desire to know him. My world was complete. We spend all the holidays together, celebrate our children's milestones together, and although I’m still very close with my parents, my life finally felt complete having my birth family. Sadly, my birth mother passed away nine years ago now, but I feel so blessed that both my sisters and I were by her side when she left this world. I feel so blessed for the years I had with her. I’m also very proud to say that I had the chance to speak at her funeral about the amazing woman she was, even with all her faults. I now have two adopted boys myself, and I go above and beyond to ensure they have a relationship with their birth family, so they never have to long for something or someone and can always have a clear sense of who they are and where they came from. I’m so grateful for the life both my birth mother and my parents gave me. Together, they gave me life, and I will always be grateful to both of them. Thank you for letting me share my story. It’s something I love telling people and try to share as much as possible! - Lisa Darling (Adopted from Baltimore,Maryland, USA, now living in Hyattsville) Photos: Me today, me when I was little, and me with my birth mother, birth sisters, and her partner at my sister’s wedding — a few years after we met.

I was born and adopted in Mexico in 1956. I adored my French-Mexican parents and had a wonderful life, but there was always something missing... I always wondered about my origins—what could have happened, why I looked European, and why I was born and left in one of the best hospitals in Mexico City (ABC). I had no clue, as in those days, babies were registered under "X."
Only three years ago, my daughters had their DNA tests done and discovered that they both had a h**h percentage of Celtic ancestry, which made me want to have mine done too. I learned that I am 98.1% Irish/Scottish, found out who my birth parents were, and was able to build my biological family tree with the help of a kind DNA detective.
Mixed feelings, of course—but I finally had some answers. My birth family is from New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. I was able to contact a few half cousins on my birth mother’s side, but they kept their distance. On my birth father’s side, I have four half-brothers that I haven’t been able to reach.
My birth mother passed away in 2004, and my birth father in 2020. Nobody seems to have a picture of my birth mother. Her life was complicated. After she had me, she got married and had three more children—my half-siblings—who sadly passed away too young and in a tragic way. I’m in touch with two half-nieces (my half-brother’s daughters), and they are adorable. I have another half-niece and a nephew that I haven’t been able to reach. Their mother (my half-sister) passed away tragically when she was only 23 years old, so I can understand why they might not want to know anything about their mother’s relatives.
Life is complicated. But at least now I know part of my story, and I’m at peace and happy to know about my ancestors. I inherited my birth mother’s voice and her love for acting and singing. I just wish I could know more.
- Marie (Adopted within Mexico City, Mexico)
(The pictures included in this story are of me, along with a photo of my birth father below)

I was adopted in December of 2009. I had met my parents two months prior and really liked them. However, there was a struggle with transitioning into this new life. I was leaving everything and everyone I knew behind, but I knew that if I stayed, I may never get the chance at a forever family again. Everyone knew that preteens and teens didn’t get adopted; everyone wanted babies and toddlers.
My dad was an active pastor, and I didn’t know anything about being a “Preacher’s Kid.” I was a poor girl from South Central, and yet, I was expected to uphold a standard that I didn’t know anything about. My mother and I had a tumultuous relationship. I was phasing into teenage years as she was entering menopause. I had been homeschooled with other girls with similar stories, and now I was in public school where I had to find where I belonged.
By the time freshman year of college was over, things got worse. I constantly kept getting hurt emotionally, my parents constantly sheltered me, and I honestly just needed to break free. But actions caught up with me, and I knew I couldn’t stay home any longer.
In October of 2018, I enlisted in the U.S. Army. I have traveled the world, seen beautiful and terrible things, and made life-long friendships. This year will be seven years since my enlistment, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve built a better relationship with my parents and, more importantly, myself.
Sometimes, what you think is the road to twilight is actually the road to dawn.
- Kandice Pritchard-Harmon (Adopted from Macon, Georgia, USA, now living in Augusta, Georgia)

Adopted at 3 months by an Italian mother and English father, I had a wonderful childhood. My dad worked two jobs so myself and my adopted sister could attend Catholic school.
Fast forward to when I was 29, I found my biological mother by investigating in Paterson, New Jersey, but after meeting her, she kept calling me asking me to take her shopping to the mall. She wanted me to buy her clothes. I finally didn’t respond, but years later I was given a gift of Ancestry and discovered that I was one of six children and three of us were adopted.
I found my sister in California in 2019 who is seven years older, but haven’t found my brother who was born one year ahead of me. I found that my biological name is Jo Ann Tuzzio and my biological father was from Sicily and my biological mother was Dutch/German. They were not married, but after I was given up, my biological mother married and had three more children.
I have met my biological half-sister and there were two half-brothers, one is deceased. I was contacted by my biological nephew who has been trying to find a contact for my brother Joseph, born in 1949. At this time, I have no idea what his new name is, but that he was adopted from Paterson Catholic Charities by a couple in Alabama.
I have a wonderful husband, no children, but I do have nephews and nieces who contact me on a regular basis. I thank God for the parents who raised me and I have had a wonderful life.
– Gail (Adopted from Paterson, New Jersey, USA)

I was adopted at 9 days old. My mother told me I was adopted when I was 5. I had a good life, but it was dysfunctional. I had the best mother ever! While she was living, I couldn’t search for my birth mother because it would have hurt her too badly. I had been told things about my biological mother. She was 19, tall, and strawberry blonde. When I lost my mother to dementia, I started by petitioning the court in Kentucky here in the USA. The response I got was that she had been contacted and notified of my desire to know her. She wrote a letter back saying she wanted no contact. I was crushed! Fast forward three years — I tried petitioning again. This time I got a letter back saying she was deceased, and they released her name to me. I started by looking up her obituary. I learned I had a brother. I looked him up on Facebook and found him. He was skeptical because she never told a soul about me — not her son, not her sister or brothers, not her husband. They knew nothing of my existence! My brother, aunts, and uncles all talked to me on the phone for about two weeks, and then they stopped responding to me altogether. At that time, I was like, What the h**l is going on here? But I left them alone. Fast forward again — two years later. The news shows that tornadoes ripped through their town and lots of people lost their lives. So I called to make sure they were okay, only to be told by my aunt’s husband that they didn’t believe me. They thought I was just some crazy lady who drew that name out of a hat! I found out that she was a j****e — she was a d**g a****t her whole life. She died at 58 from congestive heart failure. No father was listed on my birth certificate. Now I wish I’d listened to everyone who told me maybe not knowing was better. I wish I’d never looked for her! I’m left with more questions than answers. Why did she never tell anyone about me? Never mentioned me to a soul. - Elenore (Adopted from Kentucky, USA, now living in Virginia)

I'm 62 years old. I was adopted when I was 3 hours old. My adoption was a closed adoption. The couple who adopted me were older, so I was teased a lot by my schoolmates. They would say my grandparents were coming to school events to watch me. I would reply, "That's my mom and dad. Don't call them my grandparents."
As I got older, I think I was around 15 when my parents told me I was adopted. I kind of already knew, since I didn’t look like any of my cousins or my mother and father. I remember my mom gave me a court paper, and she had written a last name on it. She said she thought it might be my birth mother’s or birth father’s name. She wasn’t sure.
I didn’t start my search right away because I didn’t want to upset my parents. They were the only parents I had ever known, and I didn’t want to hurt them. My adopted mom passed away in 1999. After that, my adopted father told me I could go ahead and search if I wanted to. He said he would understand. He passed away in 2007.
I found my birth mother first, just from the last name my adopted mom had written down. I contacted her and asked if we could meet. She worked in the town where I grew up. When I saw her, we were both very happy. We hugged and cried. She told me I had one half-sister and three half-brothers, and that they were from her then-husband. She also told me that her current husband was not my father. Instead, the man she was married to before him was, and I had a brother. She gave me his last name but said she hadn’t spoken to him since I was born.
I called this man. He told me he wasn’t my father, but that he had signed the paperwork saying he was. My mom had needed someone to sign, because she had cheated on this man and gotten pregnant with me. My grandfather, my mom’s dad, told her she had to put me up for adoption because I was a "b*****d baby." So she signed the papers, and the man signed them too.
After he told me this, I was very upset with my mother for lying to me about who my father was. Things didn’t go well between me, my mother, and my siblings. I was angry because every time I asked someone if they knew who my father was, they all gave me the same story my mother had told me. The details were always exactly the same.
My birth mother passed away about 8 to 10 years later. I didn’t really see her much during those years. Maybe just a few times. Every time I asked again about who my birth father was, she would lie. When she was on life support, I flew out to be there. I told everyone I hated her for the lies, but I also said, “She was there for my first breath, so I will be there for her last breath.”
To this day, everyone still sticks to the story she told. I ended up doing a DNA family history test, hoping to finally get closure and learn who my birth father was. I found him. It said he lived in a town about 10 miles from where I grew up. I called and spoke to him on the phone. We met in person about two weeks later.
My daughter went with me. As soon as I started up the steps to his house, my heart felt whole. The missing piece of my life had finally been found. We held each other for about 10 minutes, crying.
I met my half-sister, and she’s more of a true sister to me than my mother’s daughter ever was. She has two sons, and my dad married a younger woman. I’m actually older than my stepmom, which is kind of funny.
My father said he had asked my mother several times, after getting out of the service, whether they had a daughter. She always told him no. That’s what hurts me the most. It also hurt my father deeply.
When I found my father, he was 81 years old and dying of prostate cancer. He had been fighting it for about 8 years. He told me he always had a feeling he had another daughter out there and that he had wanted to find me before he died. He got his wish, and I got mine. We only had about 2 or 3 months together before he passed away, but he got to meet my daughter — his granddaughter — and her two kids, my grandkids. They were his great-grandkids.
The day he met them, he said, “My story finally has an end, and my puzzle is complete. I’m glad I got to see the ending.” He passed away 3 years ago, and now my family and I, along with my new family, are building our memories. My sister and I have become very, very close.
I’m still angry with my birth mother for lying to both me and my birth father for so many years. She looked us in the eye and lied, and I can’t forgive that. Because of her, my father and I lost at least 8 years we could have had together. Instead, we only got 2 or 3 months. But those were the happiest months of my life.
I was adopted by the most loving, caring couple in the world. I always called them my mom and dad — because they were. They raised me and helped shape me into the woman I am today.
I want to say thank you to my birth mother for having me and giving me a chance at life. And a very, very big thank you to my birth father for never giving up on the belief that he had a daughter out there. That daughter was me.
- Brenda (Stewart) McQueen — Adopted from California, USA

For many adoptees from Eastern Europe and Central Asia, including Russia, Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Romania, Moldova, and more, these early years hold powerful memories, even if some are only captured in old photos. These memories can also be complex.
I was adopted from an orphanage in Arkhangelsk, Russia, in 1994 with my brother. We grew up in New Zealand, and although I was just two years old at the time, I have spent years reconnecting with my bloodline. Along that journey, I discovered my birth family in Russia, as well as relatives in both Ukraine and Kazakhstan. These connections have become an important part of who I am. I also wouldn’t be the person I am today without my parents who adopted me.
During the 1990s and early 2000s, tens of thousands of children were adopted from Eastern Europe and Central Asia. More than 60,000 children from Russia were adopted into the United States, and over 700 into New Zealand. Thousands more came from countries like Romania, Ukraine, Bulgaria, and Belarus during this time.
Every story is different. But many of us share common threads of identity, culture, and reconnection that stretch across borders and generations.
- Alex Gilbert (Born in Russia, adopted to New Zealand)