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When I was born, my birth mom gazed at me with loving eyes.
When I was born, she gave me a name that she knew I would never answer to.
When I was born, a small blanket was wrapped around me in a loving embrace.
When I was born, a smattering of hushed affirmations was whispered into my ear.
When I was born, my fragile body was placed outside an orphanage, waiting to be found.
When I was born, my biological mother abandoned me.
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When I was discovered, my umbilical cord was still attached to my stomach.
When I was discovered, the orphanage workers bundled me up in their arms.
When I was discovered, I was taken in, comforted by the promises of warmth.
When I was discovered, the orphanage workers tried to find my biological parents.
When I was discovered, the news announced my abandonment in a futile attempt to have someone claim me as theirs.
When I was discovered, no one came for me.
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Where were you, mother? Why did you not step up?
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My adoptive mother said that my birth mom must have had her reasons for leaving me.
My adoptive mother told me that in Vietnam, poverty is common.
My adoptive mother reasoned that perhaps my birth mom may not have been able to support me financially.
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Perhaps she is right and my biological mother could not afford to properly care for me.
Perhaps it is because I was a burden to her.
Perhaps my birth mother was in an abusive household and left me so I could have a better life.
Perhaps it is because she never wanted me.
Perhaps my birth mother was trying to ensure I had a good future through adoption.
Perhaps I was nothing but a mistake.
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Either way, I will never have an answer.
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My adoptive mother promised that she would help me search for my birth mother if I wanted.
My adoptive mother assured me she didn’t mind.
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Maybe I would get answers then.
But...
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Why would I want to find her?
She doesn’t care for me.
I owe nothing to her.
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These were angry words, spat out from a place of loneliness.
I spoke these words at a time when I didn't understand that love takes sacrifice.
Now I reflect on the belief I once had that I didn't owe my birth mother anything.
I used to think that because she left me, I owed her nothing.
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Except I do owe her.
I owe her everything.
I owe her my existence.
I owe her my every breath.
I owe her the life I have now.
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Perhaps this debt is why I could never hate my birth mom.
Her womb was my first home.
She brought me into this world, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
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Wherever you are, mother, I wish you happiness.
Eat well.
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