This is a window into my life story as a closed adoption adoptee. What is it exactly? Well, it is the most mundane of things really. Something that few people ever give thought to for more than a cursory glance except when getting a driver’s license or passport. But for some of us, this is one document that confirms proof of my actual existence, not the legal fiction that was imposed upon me the day that my adoption was finalized on the 8th day of my life.
We adoptee’s, those who were raised in a closed adoption are often cast into a legally imposed, permanent state of anonymous identity. At birth, our birth parents were given the option to sign our original birth certificates if they so desired. In my case, I got very lucky because my birthmother, knowing full well that there was the significant probability that she would never see me in her lifetime, placed her name on my original birth certificate. She was fortunate on that day to be given this advice by her attending nurse who said it would be the only way I might ever be able to one day find her. This one document, my original, non-amended birth certificate signed by my B-mom (as I like to refer to her) was immediately thereafter, signed, sealed and locked away permanently with the intention of being withheld from me regardless of my desire and or legal/civil rights to obtain it, for forever.