Tag Archives: family

On family ties, true bonds and brave children

With the adoption of our Igor, we are blessed with the special love of a very special member of our family. Family which goes far beyond the blood lines of our members, true bonds for life based on decisions we made together and events we can’t control or prevent. Myself being adopted because events made me an orphan and my adoptive parents decided to adopt me and love me as their own son. My precious girlfriend at the time of our decision and now my fiancé, once in full acceptance that she is not able to have children of her own and now the proud mother of her 2 adopted children, her very own children. My blood family, the relatives of my parents, and my adoptive family, the relatives of my adoptive parents. Family of my fiancé, proud grandparents of their adopted grandchildren. Best friends, who came so close and special that they are a part of our family, of our lives. And of course our Leia, our smiling shining precious sweet angel, who motivated us to do whatever it takes to adopt our Igor and be the best parents we can be for our children.

All these special people, family by blood or by decision to make a difference for those who no longer have family, are my family, our family. And all of them were there for us during the adoption procedures of Igor. Praying with us, hoping with us. Sharing our fears and giving us hope that all would work out for the best. Cheering with us when the special moment was there and we were allowed to adopt our Igor, crying happy tears with us and celebrating this special moment with us. Thinking out loud with us how they can support us with his treatments and how we can join our love and strength to help and support this wonderful sweet loving traumatized little boy. Because we are family and Igor belongs to our family.

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Family ties

When I grew up, it wasn’t much of a secret that I was adopted. My mother from Indonesia, my father half Dutch and half Indonesian, it wasn’t difficult to guess that I wasn’t there son in the biological sense. Looking back at family pictures when I was a kid, my white square face gave away the “secret” at the first glance. Some of the kids at school made a fuzz about it but that never bothered me much because I had the best parents any kid could wish for!

When i was old enough to understand everything, my parents explained me about the adoption, the little things they knew about my parents and where they came from. Always educating me about my background, encouraging me to find my roots when I was ready for it. When my parents, my loving adoptive parents were still alive, finding my roots was not so much on my mind as my parents wished for. My father always asked me about it, challenged me to find out before it is too late but I kept pushing it away, not able to accept that I had other parents than my parents. It felt to me like betraying the parents who adopted me and loved me, my father kept telling me I was wrong in feeling that way and as always, my wise loving father was right and I was just stubborn.

Some years ago, when my parents were already sick and knew they wouldn’t have much days left, I promised my father to finally search my roots, finally find out if there was still family of my parents. It took much more effort than I expected and I had many moments in which I considered to give up. Luckily there was always some kind of progress when I was about to throw in the towel and eventually I found the brother of my father, my very own uncle. And a year later, I found my aunt, the sister of my mother. My family!

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Finding my roots or who I am

Last year after a long search of many years and more luck than I can express, I looked into my uncle’s eyes for the first time after 40 years. And it is as if I am looking in to my own eyes, in to a mirror seeing myself 30 years from now. Seeing my uncle gives me the feeling of seeing my father if he would have lived now.

Besides our looks, my uncle and I have a lot in common. Our strongest commonality is what people around me call being stubborn, I prefer to see it as persistent and knowing what we want.

It was strange for me to experience how much I am apparently formed by my genes as I always believed the upbringing by my beloved adoptive parents formed me most. This believe was maybe enhanced by the fact that I had no reference at all to my family, my birth family.

Continue reading Finding my roots or who I am