Each year, approximately 135,000 children are adopted. I was one of those children. When both of my parents are with me, people act curious about how I fit in with them.

I can read it on their faces that they are trying not to think too loudly. It happens with friends, boyfriends, and almost everyone at times. Sometimes, it is one of the first things I have to explain to people when I meet them. Especially at summer camp, the conversation went something like this with a camper named Julia.

“Hey we were just wondering what are you?” Julia asked, trying to hide a rude tone. “What do you mean?” I replied. “Well, what race are you?” she asked nervously. “I’m hispanic and white.” I reply. “Really? You are not white. Why are your parents both white? Why are you darker than them? Is that a summer tan? If so tell me where you go because it is amazing.” She throws questions at me like darts.

“I am adopted actually,” I say shyly. “Oh Zoe, I am so sorry.” she puts a hand on my shoulder. Julia’s eyes were full of sympathy.

Soon all of the others rushed to me for storytime. “Tell us, how did that happen? And why?” she requests. I explain the story, and when I finished, there were looks of pure empathy on each girl around the room. Each apologizing and hugging me, and when I tell them I am happy they just apologize. The rest of that experience they treated me differently.

Ever since that experience it has been hard to talk about it. Now that I have grown as a young adult I have decided to share my journey through adoption. The story has many twists and turns but in the end there is joy.

My biological mother is Christy and my father is Luis. It all started when Christy had an affair with her fiance’s best friend named Luis. Jason was her fiancee, and they had one child already. The little girl 7 at the time, and full of innocence that every child should have. She got that taken from her when Jason molested her. When Christy found out she was pregnant she assured Jason it was his baby. Deep down inside she was afraid of what he was capable of if she told the truth. Being only 19 years old she didn’t know who to turn to.

I was born February 23, 2002 on a sunny afternoon. Jason gripped Christy’s hand, and then the nurses exclaimed that my head was coming out of the womb. A head full of dark brown hair showed which neither Jason or Christy had. Christy and Jason were both fair skinned and had light eyes. Jason let go of her hand and started to wonder who the father was. When I was finally born, Jason had soon realized who the father was. Luis his best friend, the man with the dark skin and thick black hair.

After the birth Jason faced trial, and soon ended up in prison. Before my birth my mother went through a book filled with possible birth families that I could be a part of. She chose Jenny and Mark George. I came home with the happy couple and their son. I grew up not knowing that I was adopted until an ordeal in first grade. A classmate asked me why I looked nothing like my parents. My life went through a haze for a while, I didn’t know who I belonged to. I was confused about who I was; I grew up with Lebanese and Greek culture with the blood of a Native American Indian/ Puerto Rican and Anglo mother.

All of these thoughts consumed my mind and then I started pushing friends away until I was completely isolated. I finally came to the conclusion that my birth mother chose life for me. That is one of the most precious gifts that you cannot take for granted. I had to make peace with myself and feel okay when people asked me my story. It is what makes me myself. I never take one day of my life for granted.