Christina Ridgway
photo by Peggy Harrison |
Being adopted has always been a factor in my life—from the moment I was born, to the moment eleven and a half weeks later when I arrived at JFK Airport from Korea, to the moment almost 22 years later when I returned for the first time to my native country.
When the opportunity arose this past summer to attend the International Interdisciplinary Congress on Women in Seoul, South Korea, with U.Va.’s Studies in Women and Gender program, I felt compelled to visit my home country. Shortly before leaving, I e-mailed my adoption agency and asked if there might be any information about my birth mother. I did not receive any immediate response, however, and left for Seoul without knowing that this trip would change my life.
At the conference, I met many inspirational women, but it was meeting one woman who was adopted and later reunited with her siblings that inspired me the most. Her birth parents had died the year before she located her siblings, which included three older sisters and a younger brother. Hearing her story made me realize that I would regret not looking for my birth parents, and the following day I called the adoption agency. I spoke with the post-adoption services worker, Mrs. Kim, who said she had received my e-mail and had sent a written notice to my birth family’s address. It was Friday and she hoped to update me by Monday.
By Monday she had not received any news and did not seem optimistic, but invited me to come to the agency on Thursday so that I could see my records. My class had a meeting with a women’s workers’ union, but I had made arrangements to leave early for my visit. During the meeting, I received an unexpected call. It was Mrs. Kim. She had wonderful news.
"I found your family!" she cried. My heartbeat was thundering in my ears, and I stood there crying in disbelief. She told me that my birth parents lived a good distance away, but one of my sisters lived nearby and would be coming to the agency to meet me.
I arrived at the agency early and Mrs. Kim had time to show me my adoption records. I learned that I had five older sisters and was excited, but also nervous at the thought of meeting these sisters whom I had never known. Shortly after, there was a knock at the door. Two beautiful women, both with tears in their eyes, stood there nervously. I recognized them immediately as being my sisters. Soon we were embracing, both of them telling me how much I was missed as one of the family. A few minutes later there was another knock at the door. It was my sister’s husband and he was carrying a baby girl—my niece—with a face that looked much like mine as a baby. My one sister exclaimed how much I looked like my nam dongsaeng (little brother). It was at that moment that I found out I had another sibling—a younger brother. My other sister insisted I come to stay with them for a night at her house, and I asked if I could bring a friend who spoke Korean. Although I speak some Korean and my one sister knows a little English, I wanted to be able to communicate fully. I called my sorority "little sister," June Hee Yang (Col ’07), who was in Seoul at the time, and she came with me. She translated for us, and both my family and I were grateful that she was there.
That night, the rest of my siblings, my birth parents, three nephews and two aunts came to join us. With many tears and hugs, we talked, took pictures and exchanged information. They wanted to know if I was healthy, how I was doing in school, and what my plans were. We compared ourselves—our faces, our hands, the way are thumbs are double-jointed. I discovered that my artistic ability comes from my father’s side of the family and that all of my sisters enjoy painting and art as well. They took me to eat traditional Korean food and even bought me a birthday cake to celebrate the many years that had passed.
Throughout the night they could not express enough to me how much I was missed and how happy they were that I had found them, as they had no way of locating me. I was born the sixth child in a family that, at the time, was struggling, and because they loved me so much they did what they thought was best for me. I could not express enough how grateful I was to them—in giving me up they had given me so many opportunities, just as my adoptive family had by adopting me. In these few moments I realized that the two most important women in my life are my mothers: one who gave me life and one who shaped my life.
I only had one night and day with them, as my trip was coming to an end, but it was a time I will treasure forever. They saw me off at the airport the next day, sad to lose once again what we had just regained. We keep in touch now through phone calls, e-mail and online chats, and I eagerly study Korean, hoping to spend more time with them after graduation this upcoming summer. I plan to teach English there for a little while—a chance to teach, learn more Korean and moreover spend time with my family. It’s amazing to me how strong a connection we have, despite meeting only once. Now with two families that I love extraordinarily, I am blessed with an abundance of love.
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