My Birthday (Part 3)

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I come home from the lunch to my own private grief. I will remain a hermit for a few days as I gather the courage to face the world again. No one wants to talk about the loss of your identity through separation from your mother prior to adoption into a make believe world. My birthday is the day I was born. My birth certificate was falsified by government agencies on the day of my adoption. I have twin identities, neither of which really identifies me.

I will face the world this week. I have a supportive group of mature adoptees. We share our understandings of how our lives have been affected by the loss of our mothers. We talk about the high incidence of substance abuse, depression and suicide amongst adoptees, and our own self-defeating behaviours. We work to bring into awareness of the general public, the lifelong effects on mother and child of separation at birth. Human babies, like puppies and kittens need to spend time with their mothers after birth if they are to remain mentally healthy. Research tells us this, yet the money-making baby market ignores the research, and its supporters want to silence us. Together we give each other courage to tell our own stories.


I was born at Rose Park to a mother named Rosa. My adoption was pre-arranged by the local doctor.