Four families built through adoption give us a glimpse into their inner world

Talia

From across the ocean, I schedule a time over WhatsApp with Talia from Minnesota. I zoom in on the picture she shares, and see her beautiful family — her, her husband, their two daughters, and her parents, who look like they might just burst with nachas. It’s your standard Erev Shabbos photo with everyone in their festive best. There’s one glaring difference, though, and it’s that Talia doesn’t look anything like her parents.

Talia was adopted at four months old from Colombia. After her parents realized they wouldn’t be able to have children, they decided to adopt. Talia doesn’t know much about her biological parents because it was a closed adoption, but believes they were very poor and just couldn’t handle a child.

“I feel like the word ‘saved’ better describes how I feel than the word ‘adopted.’ My parents, who gave me everything, saved me from growing up poor, underprivileged, and Christian. I was converted at four months old, and then at 12 I had to choose Yiddishkeit for myself, which was a very big deal. But I have tremendous hakaras hatov that my biological parents gave me up for adoption, as well as to my parents for adopting me. I feel like the luckiest person alive.”

When I ask Talia if she has tried to meet her biological parents, she explains that she isn’t very interested, and besides, she doesn’t speak the language and there’s a yawning cultural divide. She sounds calm and content. When she describes her feelings toward her adoptive parents, her emotions run high.

“My parents gave me everything. They’re the best people in the world.” Her voice starts to break. “My parents love kids. If they could have, they would have had 20. They went to the other side of the world for me and took a chance, not knowing what would happen.”

For Talia, adoption was always just a part of life. Her sister was adopted from Minneapolis and looks more like their parents, but Talia is visibly darker and has different features. “I don’t recall my parents telling me I was adopted. It was just known, a fact of life that wasn’t considered a big deal. Sometimes I’d get teased by bullies, but it didn’t really bother me. My parents gave me so much love, and so did my community.”

The first time being adopted became an issue was when she entered shidduchim. Coming from a small, out-of-town community, her adoption was an accepted fact, but suddenly, she found herself in a world where it was considered a big deal. Shadchanim immediately tried to set her up with other adoptees, but as Talia said, “If the only thing in common is being adopted, it’s not going to work.”

Talia decided to be very open and upfront about being adopted. “It wasn’t hidden from me, and I had no intention of hiding it from anyone else.” She told her husband on their first date that she was adopted, and he, too, felt that it wasn’t an important element when choosing a spouse.

She was worried that becoming a mother would be triggering, but it wasn’t. Both of her daughters are light-skinned. “I expected little brown babies, like myself, but no.” What was exceptionally special, though, was sharing her pregnancy with her mother, who’d never experienced carrying a child. “I’d tell my mother about each twinge, each kick. She was over-the-moon excited and in a way living vicariously through me, but in a good way. We both experienced it for the first time, together.”

Talia’s daughters are five and two and they don’t know their mother was adopted, not because it’s a secret, but because there was never a real, compelling reason to tell them. “Adoption isn’t anything to be ashamed of. I’m just waiting until they can emotionally understand, and honestly, I want to get it over with. Their parents love them, and they have the best grandparents in the world. Nothing else matters.”