I was adopted when I was little and becoming a mother turned my relationship with filiation upside down.

Born with a disability I was adopted by my parents when I was one and a half years old.. The peculiarity of my story is that I was not immediately abandoned by my biological parents.

After the shock of my birth, in which my parents had to face my difference, we gave them time to reflect. During this time, I stayed in the hospital, before being admitted to a nursery. After a year, they were asked to make a decision. It was then that they decided to abandon me.

To avoid being tossed from one foster family to another, social services very quickly looked for a family to adopt me. Since I was what is called a “special needs child,” they looked for a family with older siblings, so that the siblings could also care for me. In the case of children with disabilities, the adoptive parents are often older.

This was the case with my parents, who were 40 years old at the time of my adoption and had already adopted several children before. When I arrived, the family already had 5 children, 3 of whom were adopted. Then I had a little sister adopted after me when she was 7 and I was 8.

I lived in this loving family, with very loving parents, who have done everything for their children. When I was younger, it all kind of centered around the issue of my disability. It hasn’t always been easy to make me recognized as Sonia, beyond the handicap. Everything crystallized around integration, the acceptance of my dwarfism at school, for example. But beyond that, I was very pampered by my parents, very protected by them.

On the other hand, we never talked about our adoption or the question of ancestry. It was a somewhat taboo subject, especially for my mother who didn’t want to hear about it. It wasn’t easy, because I asked myself many questions. I knew I was of Algerian origin, and that was all. I was afraid to broach the subject, for fear of hurting my parents. I loved them and I felt a conflict of loyalties trying to figure out where I was coming from. The handicap has added something quite strong to this guilt. I thought they consciously adopted me, so I had to be grateful to them for accepting me as I am.

Also read: “When you are adopted, the condition to regain possession of your history is to reach adulthood”

The search for origins, an inner upheaval

It was at 23 that I finally started looking for my biological parents. I waited until I was independent, living in my own apartment to start these steps. It was a phone call that started it all : Someone who was building a family tree called me to inquire about a branch of my adoptive family, and to find out if I was related to it. I said yes, but deep down I knew that this person was looking for a resemblance, a biological filiation. My parents are my parents, but several generations beyond, difficult to identify, my ancestors are not the Gauls… At that moment, I also wanted to know my ancestors, to know where I come from.

I was lucky that I didn’t have any difficulties in the process of finding my biological parents because they recognized me at birth, which is very rare. I asked the County Council for my file and the answer came 6 months later. In this famous file I found in particular a hand written letter from my biological mother. I realized we both had the same handwriting.

When we find our origins, it is an inner upheaval. I wondered for a long time why my biological parents didn’t want to keep me with them. Eventually I discovered that it was my disability that was the problem when I was born. Furthermore, in the medical record established when I was little, it was noted that we did not know if one day I would be able to walk. It scared them, and I understand that..

It even warmed my heart that my two parents took time to reflect before being abandoned. They have been asking the question for a long time and it was very difficult for me to learn it. They are two adults who took the time to find out if they would be ready to accompany me for life.

I first contacted my mother via mail and she called me a few days later. She told me that she has been waiting for this call since I was 18. She was very moved and so was I, especially since I immediately noticed that we had something similar in the voice. On the phone she asked for my forgiveness.

Reuniting with my biological parents

We met some time later, in the premises of the Provincial Council. She took me in her arms and asked my forgiveness again. For me, who have always lived with a disability, I was able to understand and forgive my biological parents for abandoning me. I’ve had health problems, operations, integration problems, socialization problems… I can understand that faced with these challenges of disability, they have been able to abandon me.

For a year I called her a lot on the phone, I even welcomed her into my home. I was very keen to reconnect with this woman to get closer to her, but also to my Algerian origins, of which I knew very little. But the pain and guilt have been too much for her. So he ended up cutting ties, a bit abruptly. At that time, it hurt me a lot, I took a long time to cash it. Now I understand this gesture. She had also abandoned a child and was reunited with a grown woman whom she did not recognize as her daughter.

This is also why, when I met my biological father five years later, I had lower expectations. Above all, I wanted to make peace with my story. With him things have become easier. I was also probably older and therefore more mature. What is surprising is that it is through him that I felt recognized in my biological filiation because he called me by my original name Mounya when we first met.

But I didn’t expect more. After seeing it on average once a year, the links broke down. No regrets.

The discovery of motherhood

When I got pregnant, I still decided to contact her again to tell her the news. I also informed him of the birth of my first child. Not for those who establish an emotional bond with my son, but so that he knows that he had a descendant in his filiation. To tell him that he was a way for me to make fun of life and move on, not to create a link that doesn’t exist. I realized that I would like my child to have biological grandparents. But since the link with me was never made, they can’t take on this role for him.

The regrets, however, I have towards my adoptive parents, both deceased for just under 10 years.

Since I became a mother, I ask myself many questions about it the place my son will occupy within my family tree. My adoptive parents are the first people I thought of when I woke up in the maternity ward. What makes me deeply sad is that they will never get to know their grandson.

What comforts me, however, is that my son will get to know them: through the stories I’ll tell him, thanks to the other members of my family, through the memories we’ll share with him, through photo albums… He’s still very small, but he’s already talking about my parents, evoking his “grandfather and grandmother from heaven”. AND Obviously I will tell him about its originsso that he knows where it comes from and that this topic is never taboo.

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