For the next twelve weeks I will be recording my youth from birth to twelfth grade.
Click on the link above to learn more about recording your youth.
I am not sure what happened at my birth or the weeks leading up to the eventful day, because I was adopted. I really wished I could tell you how many hours my birth mother was in labor or how nervous my birth father was, but I can't. I CAN tell you what happened 16 days later.
In the 70's most adoptions were closed, which means that all records of my adoption were sealed. I used to peek at my birth certificate to see if the blanks left there had somehow been filled. Growing up, I made up stories as to what happened and even told people I was from different parts of the world. I remember one time a substitute teacher asked different children where they were born, and since I really had no clue, I said Canada. The sad part was she knew my family and quickly set my imagination straight!
When my mom was in college she had heard a professor say that by a specific year, which she doesn't remember, there would be millions of orphans in this world. The thought so overwhelmed her that when my parents wanted to begin a family they chose adoption as they way to do so.
My parents applied to Volunteers of America about 5 months before I was born. They went through a grueling few months of getting paperwork done, home visits, and interviews and were finally approved. The day they received the call that they had a child they were at my Granny's house. She answered the phone and realized who was on the line. The agency asked to speak to my dad, and Granny got so excited that she forgot my dad's name. After getting his attention by calling him Mr. (last name), my mom and Granny listened anxiously for any news. Dad talked vaguely during the entire phone call and would not give them even a hint as to my gender. When he finally got off the phone he said, "Well, we have a girl and she will be 16 days old tomorrow!" They were so excited that Granny threw the dish towel she was holding in the air! The next morning they drove to the agency and picked me up!
That day in October became my Gotcha Day. In the adoption community the term Gotcha Day is the day when you become a family, the day all hope arrives, the day they never let you go forever.
They had several names picked out and finally settled on the name Kayla Denise. My mom had heard the name Kayla when she was a teenager and thought it was beautiful. Denise was after a cousin, that my family was extremely close to, that had died nine months earlier in a car accident.
So, the part of my story that I know really doesn't begin at my birth, but 16 days later when a wonderful couple brought me home and made me their daughter. Over the years I have filled my blanks with love and realized that no matter where I began, my story is beautiful!
