I think one of the hardest aspects to accept is knowing my missing pieces, will always be missing.
Where was I before I was adopted?
Did I stay in hospital the whole time?
Or was I moved to a foster home as I was told?
How was I treated, wherever I was?
Who cared for me?
Was I just left in a crib to cry it out?
Or was I given something to keep me quiet?
And if yes, is that why I cried non-stop for months if not held?
Why did the state not have a non-identifying report for me?
Why did the story given to mom and dad not match the story my aunt told me decades later?
Why does it all matter so much to me many decades later now that I’m on the downhill side of life?