Cecilia unveils her poignant journey from knowing
her adoption story to discovering her biological roots.
This tale sheds light on the profound impact of adoption on one’s identity.
I am Cecilia.
I was born on January 11th., 1985, but my story began before, when Elsa and Juan Carlos decided to start their family and found out that they couldn’t and, when at the same time, someone else decided that she couldn’t raise me.
I was born on a Saturday, at the Moreno Hospital, and two days after I was born I was already at home with my Dad, my Mom and my sister Analía.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve known I’m an adoptee. My parents always told me how much they wanted me and how they went to get me after I was born, from another woman’s belly.
Throughout my childhood, I had serious health problems. I had heart surgery several times, and my attention was always on those matters, which were the priority. But that didn’t take away, as it is said, the ‘stone in my shoe’ that wouldn’t let me walk, that bothered me and hurt me with every step I took. I lived in constant distress and fear.
I kept asking myself: “If the woman who gave birth to me didn’t want me, how will someone else ever love me? How did she know if I was well and if she left me with good people?”. I had only feelings of contempt and hatred because I thought these were the feelings she had felt for me as a newborn.
I was sure that due to these negative feelings she had abandoned me.
During my adolescence, my doubts increased. My desire to know what happened to my biological family sprouted through my pores. I couldn’t handle it. I began having panic attacks, a lot of anxiety and fears that even prevented me from leaving my home alone.
So, I decided to share with my mom my wish to look for the woman who gave birth to me. Her comment on the matter was that yes, I should definitely search, and if I wanted to go with my biological mother, she wouldn’t be angry.
Her words caused me a lot of pain. My desire was only to know and to acquaint.
I never, ever doubted about my love for my parents. I never thought of leaving them. My mother’s comment distressed me so much that I decided to postpone my search. I decided to wait because I considered that it was not the right time.
Time went by and when I was 18 years old, my mother Elsa died of breast cancer. This was extremely hard for me. I was hers. I was my mother’s girl, always under her wing. All my life I tried to do things the way she wanted. Suddenly, I felt very lonely.
After several years of mourning and therapy I was able to understand that my fears and anxieties were not due to the loss of my mother, but about something much deeper. So again, I decided to search.
On my adoption papers there was a name, a surname and an ID number, so with that information I began my quest. And to tell you the truth my search was very quick. There was an address just 30 blocks away from my house where a woman with that name and surname had lived a few years ago. The days before going to that house were full of expectations. I remember walking on the streets looking for a face that looked like mine.
Finally, I decided to visit that house and after doing it disappointment followed.
Rosa, the woman who gave birth to me, had died. Now, her aunt used to live there. Rosa had died of breast cancer, yes, you are reading correctly: ‘breast cancer’. Paradoxically, my two mothers died from the same disease.
Therefore, many of my questions were never answered. And they never will be. However, having searched helped me a lot.
I met my brother, Julio, who is the male version of me. I got to know my grandfather, and also the man who is my biological father, who today has another family.
I found out about Rosa’s circumstances when I was born, and thus realized that her actions allowed me to be a woman with more opportunities, more love, and more protection. Her ‘giving me up’ gave me the opportunity to have a real family so that I could make my own way.
I don’t know what would have happened if she wouldn’t have given me up. What I do know is, that thanks to her decision, she gave my mom and dad the opportunity to be parents, and she gave me the opportunity to have a better life and the best parents I could have had.
Today, perhaps I still have my fears and insecurities, but I face them in a different way. I am no longer the “poor abandoned girl”. No. Now, I am a woman who takes care of herself and who grows.
Today I understand that there are circumstances in life that you don’t choose and that put you between a “sword and a wall”. That’s why I stopped judging my biological mother.
As much as I know today that I would never abandon my child, I understand that she gave me a chance.