Decree of Adoption
It has been over a year now since I discovered my adoption. It is still a bizarre thing to think about that a person could experience. I have spoken and shared thoughts with many other adoptees, and late discovery adoptees. Among the LDA crowd, I have learned that this is never going to go away. The pain, anger, and grief is something I will always carry from now on, but I do know that as time goes on, I will become better in coping with it.
I have formed new opinions on adoptions. My perspective is continually changing, and evolving with each day. The more I learn, and the more I allow myself to feel, the more I grow. I've come across so much information from other adoptees, and the vast amount of knowledge out there is incredible. Every adoptee has a story.
Speaking of adoptee stories, here's a bit of how mine has progressed.
So, I sent my letter to my a-parents back in January. Since then, I have spoken to either of them over the phone. I did reach out a few times in a group text, and asked if either of them has read it. I was ignored, and nobody responded.
Nevertheless, I have been working on figuring out the process of appealing to the courts in Texas to unseal my adoption paperwork. In doing so, I shared my story in a Facebook group. One of the responses I got was from an older lady who also had to go through the process of appealing to a court in Texas. She then let me know that she knew exactly what form was required, and that she would be willing to share with me her filled out application. This was an absolute brilliant stroke of luck.
I was able to share these forms with a lawyer friend of mine who offered to assist with this quest. He went through everything and advised that I obtain a signed affidavit from any one of my a-parents stating that they are okay with the court unsealing my paperwork. With this approach, I figured my best option would be to speak to my a-father.
It was not until the 8th of August (14 months on the dot since receiving the results of my DNA test that changed my world) that I gathered the courage to send my a-father a text message to see when I could call him.
He preferred that I communicated in writing, as it would allow him to react more responsibly and not say anything in the heat of the moment. I replied back saying that that was fine. I then told him about the affidavit and asked if he would be willing to sign it. He then informed me that during the last few weeks, he had gone to the Courthouse twice. He mentioned that they told him they could not find any of the original documents. He then sent me a copy of the Decree of Adoption. A piece of document he tucked away many years ago.
On it, was my name. Anoop. A piece of the truth. A piece of my start in life. It’s one thing to finally know my first name, it’s another to know that I was not given a last name. There are a lot of emotions and thoughts that have gone through my head now that I know my name.
It’s given me more questions than answers.
Who gave me this name? Was it from my mother? Or was it from a stranger?
How important, or unimportant was I to be given this name? I looked up the definition of the name. I needed to know what it meant. According to Wikipedia:
“Anup (Sanskrit: अनुप anūpa) is an Indian masculine given name. The Sanskrit word anūpa has the following meanings: 'watery', 'situated near the water', 'bank of a river', 'pond', 'lagoon'. The meaning of the name “Anoop” is: "Incomparable, unequalled; unique; pond.”
But does it actually mean something to somebody, and to whom did it mean something that the name was given to me?
And why wasn't I given a last name?
I've written about my name before. The name that I have. And how it was given to me. This name that I have is not who I am. It's not representative of where I come from. And sadly, neither is Anoop. It's incomplete. There are no roots to this name, and as such, there are no roots to the person, me.
It is however still a crucial piece of information I did not have before that will help me as I search for my roots. Another clue to not only help rebuild who I am, but rediscovery that which was lost.
