mothermade

The question of family comes up not only for National Adoption Month, but also at this time of year when turkeys are basted. Before my ado...

A week ago, I collected lots of Puerto Rican music to remind me of my father. His loss permeates my soul. He was my anchor in much of my ...

When I was a white, I talked like a white, I thought like a white, I reasoned like a white. When I became Korean, I set aside my whitis...

Home. That word conjures so many emotions. Some feel the warmth of a family quilt, smell homemade baked goods or hear the consoling purr o...

My life is marked by death. Stickies on the worn pages. Each a misaligned tab to start a chapter Of a life filled with loss. August 16,...

Dated January 23, 2016, on flight KE037 … I am fragments. The First maternal fragment, Is my flesh and blood — A round ass, dark hair —...

Blocked from knowing my history, a product of the  Baby Box theory , I only remember the love of one family. It wasn’t the choice of my adop...

I sit in our small apartment in Korea … my shoulders tense. Each walk outside our door brings me deep anxiety. Lately, I have reflected on...

“Nobody’s Perfect.” This was the line that echoed throughout my childhood. My sister and I had matching nighties with this phrase emblazon...

I dread today. That sounds selfish and unkind … especially to those this day is made for … … those with intact families, … those who have...

In my third year of undergraduate studies, I read the most heartbreaking story . Four Korean sisters, ages 6 to 13, made a suicide pact to...

I asked my husband and kids this year to pick a day in November to surprise me with birthday wishes. They have been so supportive, despite t...

My daughter, like myself at her age, says she will never bear children. Her reasonings are based in physical pain. She cannot imagine a chi...

Yes, I let the anniversary of my mother’s death (February 2) pass without blogging. The loss of my adoptive mother, the only one I call “m...

Yesterday, I heard a story of a woman similar to me. This woman quit her job and moved away with her husband, who like mine, traveled a lo...

In the summer of 1996, just days before our plane took off for Rwanda, I bought a book called Womenfolks: Growning Up Down South by Shirley...

In 1993, my mother and I shared Valentine’s Day. Each of us would have been alone that Valentine’s Day, had we not had each other. For me,...

The subtitle for Barb Lee’s Adopted film is “When love is not enough …”.  What kind of love is she talking about here? I argue that love ...

Today, as I pulled into the post office and mailed my father and his wife’s package, I had a sinking feeling.  I wanted to be mailing a pack...