• Kimberly Idigpio


Updated: Dec 15, 2019

I remember when I was adopted. I have memories and whether or not they are real and if they truly happened I keep them very close to me. I remember when my biological mother took me to the adoption home, however I'm unsure if it was my birthmother or my Aunt. I remember living in a room filled with other kids, and beds pushed together all side by side. I don't know if any of this is really true but the memories and how it all fits together in my mind has brought me a lot of peace.

My youngest brother John was adopted when he was about 5 or 6 and I was adopted when I was 3 or 4. I remember being taken home by my parents, and sitting in the hallway with John playing a hand game, and the last memory I have I was taken back to the adoption home. I assume the papers were not ready and everything had to be finalized before I could really be taken home. John and I were so close. He was my big brother. We were adopted into a family with three older brothers my mother had from her first marriage but throughout my childhood John was the big brother.

Growing up we both struggled a lot with our parents being white, and us being of color. I think he struggled with it more, and through his actions and acting out I learned to keep quiet about my feelings. It was hard and people were so mean. John chose to act out towards our parents and I chose to be quiet. I guess it was easier to blame our parents than to face the reality that our birthmothers had bigger plans for us. This is not to paint the wrong picture, We had a beautiful colored childhood. Our parents paid for sports, dance lessons, Christmas days that I will never forget. They blessed us with so much that I could never know how to pay it back to them. They went above and beyond for us.

In those darker times growing up, we both wondered who our mothers were. We handled it so differently. Adoption is not easy and everyone handles it in fear until they come to understand the why. I remember when John met his mother, and we were both sitting upstairs staring out the window as she came out of the car. I started to cry immediately. I was so young, and I didn't know what was happening really but we both of us were just so nervous and excited. I ran down stairs with John and watched him as he ran to hug her and I thought to myself I want that. I was only about 12 at the time. Shortly after that he lost contact with his mother and I worried about the outcome for meeting my birthmother. We did a lot with my brother and I'll keep our memories close with me. We pushed each other in ways no one will understand. Even though we chose different paths, I will always remember him as big brother.

Shortly after John moved out, I was on my own trying to understand what this life was and how to adapt with my adoption feelings. I was made fun of a lot for my parents being white, having a lazy eye, and being extremely skinny. I was confused how the world could be so cruel. I was so loved by my family but loving myself was a difficult task when the world didn't see me the way my parents did. Growing up took so much of my energy and now as I am older I am much wiser and much more understanding to people's negativity. My childhood journey was full of love, laughter and nourishing healthy from my family. I am forever grateful for the negative and positive. I love this body, I love my adoption story and I absolutely love all my flaws.

Know your roots and fall in love with them.

Thanks for reading.

Xoxo K

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