Complete

"Complete"-written May 2026

I recently set upon a quest to obtain a copy of my birth record.  I received the document, which contained the name of my biological mother, as well as her age when she gave birth to me. Upon receiving this knowledge, I have to confess, curiosity got the better of me.

My library provides free access to Ancestry, an online genealogy database. One day, I went to the Ancestry website within the library and searched the name I was given at birth. There were no results.

I then had the thought to enter the name of my biological mother. I then clicked “death records”, merely on a whim. There was one result in the database. 

I didn’t click on the result; instead I went to my computer search engine to search for an obituary. I typed in my biological mother’s name, plus “obituary”, and hit enter. Her obituary popped up immediately. It took all of five minutes to do both searches.

Like any well written obituary, the obit of my biological mother read as a snapshot of a life well lived. I discovered her profession; I learned that she had a spouse, children, and extended family. Only then did it dawn on me: her children are my biological half siblings.

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I didn’t feel anything reading her obituary. That is to say, I had no emotional reaction reading it. For me it was like I was reading a stranger’s obituary in a newspaper. After all, my biological mother is a stranger to me. I’ve never met my biological mother. I don’t know her, I have no relationship with her, no ties to her at all. Other than my shared DNA.

This I know to be empirically true: DNA does not a family make. My biological parents are not my family. My family consists of the parents who raised me, the siblings I grew up with, and my nieces and nephews. They are not my “adoptive family”, they are my FAMILY, the only family I’ve ever known.

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All of my life, I’ve felt like something was missing. The basic, fundamental knowledge of where I came from has been unknown to me. The history, nationality, people, heritage, culture, language, customs of those that gave me life, is unknown. It’s a loss I never knew how to define, explain or convey. 

I recently heard someone speak about this lack of knowledge of family history. She said, “I feel like half a person.” This was said on the TV show “Who Do You Think You Are”, a TV show that investigates genealogies of celebrities. There have been a few seasons in the U.S., and several seasons in the U.K.

I’m sorry to say that I don’t remember who said this phrase. However, that phrase hit the nail on the head for me. I’ve felt like half a person my entire life.

I’m hardly alone in this; it’s common for adopted people to have a sense of confusion, loss, or frustration about their lack of knowledge of their heritage and ancestry.

I did some research, in an endeavor to find out how many adopted people there are on the planet. I read that 250,000 children are adopted around the world every year. There are no statistics for the number of adopted adults.

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Having gone on this journey of obtaining this fundamental knowledge of my personal ancestry-receiving a copy of my birth record, discovering my biological mother’s name, finding her obituary-I am made whole. Yes, there is more information that I don't know, and will probably never know: the time of my birth, the hospital I was born in, my heritage, my nationality, my ancestors stories, my country of origin. 

Yet, I don't need to know those things. I am complete. I am finally an entire person. To know who you are, where you come from, that’s a great feeling. I've never had that before.

I'm thankful to have gained this knowledge. I'm blessed to obtain this information. I'm eternally grateful for everything I've been given.

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I’ve now come to the end of my journey. The circle is complete. I’m a whole person, at last.

Thank you, biological parents, for bringing me into this world.

Thank you, my family, for giving me life.

Thank you universe, angels, spirit guides, Mom, Jazz, for your help and guidance in this endeavor.

The struggle is won, the deed is done. I am made whole. I am complete.

"Complete" by Hope