Are You My Mother?

My brother and I grew up with the clear understanding that we were both adopted. With six years between us, it was also very clear that we came from two different families since our parents received us at birth.

Recently, my brother’s birth aunt reached out via social media after finding him on Ancestry.com. He called me right after receiving the message, asking what he should do. After talking it through, he decided to contact his birth family.

He has since met them over dinner and drinks, but he reassured me that I will always be his favorite sister. Yep—that’s my brother. I love him dearly.

In 2002, we lost our father to cancer, and in 2021, we lost our mother to dementia.

Now, as an adult orphan, I sometimes find myself feeling like a lost child. When I see an elderly woman or man pass by who bears a good resemblance to me, I can’t help but wonder—Are you my mother? Are you my father?

As strange as this may sound, once you lose both of your parents, there is a constant sense of loss that never leaves you and an ache that never fully fades. Then, as an adopted child, there’s a lingering curiosity in the back of my head like a dull headache, always wondering, ‘Where do I belong?’

I miss my parents every day—as I get older, as my children grow older, and now, as a grandparent. I never wished to replace them. They were the ones who showed up time and time again. They wiped my tears, gave the best hugs, offered advice only they could give, and somehow knew what I needed even when I didn’t. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish for just one more moment with them.

I never seriously thought about finding my birth parents—until I became a mother myself. When my firstborn was diagnosed with an unusual allergy, I realized my curiosity was less about identity and more about medical history for my children’s sake. I remember talking to my mom about it then and receiving her blessing. She told me: “Jennifer, you’re my daughter. If you find your birth mother, I know you’re my daughter and always will be.”

Now, at 48, I’m left wondering. With the miracles of modern technology, people are reconnecting with long-lost relatives every day. If given the chance, would I really want to meet my birth family?

The unknown is scary. Change is scary. And sometimes, learning the why is even scarier. But maybe knowing is better than not. Maybe understanding where I come from could be exciting. Whose eyes do I have? Where did I get this nose—and can I complain about it? Is my outgoing personality from my mother’s side or my father’s?

I may never get answers. But I do know this for certain: God blessed me with two parents who were undeniably mine, and a brother who may not look like me but he shares my quirky personality and mannerisms.

So, if you catch me daydreaming, I may just be people-watching—quietly wondering, ‘Are you my mother?’

Families don’t have to match. You don’t have to look like someone else to love them.

-Leighanne Toughy