Monday, December 19, 2016

My records

Per my attorney,   I composed yet another letter to Andrew Cuomo, the Governor of the state of New York. New York is one of 29 ( the number changes often)  states that have sealed adoption records laws.  I was supposedly born in Brooklyn New York, and I have no idea who I am. I am not sure of my date of birth. I don't know my birth mother's name or anything about her because my mother will not tell me. Why? Your guess is as good as mine.
I'm 54 yrs old. There is no reason in hell that I should not be allowed to know who I am. Most people in my life don't seem to understand why it's so important to me; but then again, they have brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandmothers and grandfathers that resemble them, whose behaviours are similar to them, who carry diseases and ailments that they will carry, etc., and I have always been told I look and act like me.  Even before I found out I was adopted, I always wondered why I never felt like I belonged, why I was always the last to know about a family crisis or other family events and was not included in any of the planning of anything, why I didn't have the diseases others have, why my stature is different from anyone else. Also, why my mother always celebrated my birthday on a day that was different than the day my birth certificate ( that I discovered 10 yrs ago was a revised birth certificate) said I was born, and why the length of my body and my weight  at birth was always different every time my mother would talk about it, but my sister's birthday and size at birth was consistent (not to mention that she looks like every one of my mom's sisters and father's sisters and when I used to ask who I looked like, there would always be silence, followed by-'well, you look like you'). My earliest memory was going with my mother for a walk, while my sister was still in her stomach, and then a few days later, my  newborn sister on my mother's bed, and my cousin and myself looking at her. I was 3 at the time. I wish I could remember back when I was 11 months old, when my mother finally confessed that that was the age that she had adopted me ( though that changes as well, from that age to a year to 2 years).

I'm rambling on.

So, my attorney asked me to write the sappiest sob story I could write, to make the Governor feel sorry for me and allow me access to my birth records. This was the 4th letter I mailed to him in the past 2 years. I doubt that he will even see the letter, but I'm praying he will this time.