It's so funny that Sylvia approached me about sharing my story about my adoption. Not so long ago, I'd sat down with my parents and listened to an old tape that they had recorded together - documenting their adventures while coming to find me. We shared many laughs that day.
My father had served in the Vietnam War. I remember him telling me stories when I was younger about the local Vietnamese women there trying to give the American soldiers their babies. Begging them to take them to America. It was heartbreaking that of course, they could not do this for them. My father always knew from that point on that he would one day adopt from Asia.
My name is KoriLin (Lunt) Hillig. My birth date isn't my "real" birth date. No one actually knows when I was born or where I was born. My Korean given name wasn't my actual Korean given name either... I suppose that I will continue to be in the dark about much of my infant life for some time to come - and that's perfectly okay with me.
My (adoptive - though I never use this word - they are in fact my parents in every sense of the word) parents struggled for quite some time to have a baby. I'm sure you've all heard this story before. My father was in the Army. My mother was a stay at home wife who couldn’t wait to start a little family of their own. They had sent out letters all over Asia only to get letter after letter back telling them that they had no available babies for them to see. After months, they finally received an answer to their many prayers. They received a letter back from Korea with good news!
They were stationed in Japan and immediately made travel arrangements with the little money that they had saved and jumped on a plane (with no real plans) for Korea. Crazy! I learned recently from them that they had actually begun their travels to Korea before I was ever brought to the hospital there. I hadn't even been abandoned yet.
Upon their arrival at the Seoul hospital (I never made it to the orphanage) they were told that they were only able to see one child - a little girl. Needless to say my parents were a bit shocked. They were under the impression that they would be seeing several babies and/or children. My mom told me that my dad looked at her and said, "If she is sick, we can't take her." They had witnessed friends who were in or had gone through the adoption process put forth all of their love, hearts and souls into their children... only to lose them due to infection and/or sickness and then be asked to "choose another" child because theirs had died. Being a mother now... I cannot imagine this - I just can't. It's heartbreaking.
My parents were led into a room where there were dozens and dozens of orphaned babies, toddlers and older children who were on their way to the orphanage in Inchon, Korea. They were terrified of my parents - after all, they looked so different from them. But there was one baby. She was being held by a nurse. She was chubby and healthy and smiling from ear to ear. She began to squeal with delight and hold her arms out towards these two strangers -as if she were begging them to hurry to her - as if she'd been waiting for them. My father looked at the nurses who were stunned. He then looked at my mother and then back at the nurses again and asked, "Is that her? We'll take her!!!"
Yes, that little baby was me. I couldn't have been more than several months old. My parents smile and love to tell people that they did not choose me, but that I chose them. They've also shared with me that I was not like the other babies in the hospital. I had been well fed. I was not sickly. I was dressed nicely and groomed very well. They have let me know all of my life that whoever had been blessed with me first, must have really loved me and taken care of me for as long as they could have before, for whatever reason, let me go. I was abandoned in a very public park. So many other babies in Asia were being left in the streets, thrown in garbage cans or drowned. I was very fortunate and very blessed.
During my adoption process, my parents discovered my mother was pregnant. I'm sure you've all heard this story as well. It was never a question for them though on whether or not they would proceed with my adoption. I was already their daughter; they were already my parents.
I am the oldest of five. My parents, my sisters, my brothers and I couldn't be closer. I remember the first time that my sister Lori and I (we are 11 months apart) were playing on the swings outside. We must have been 4 and 5. She was thirsty and drank out of my water bottle. A little boy told us that we were gross because we didn't have the same germs because I was adopted. Needless to say, we were devastated. We ran back to my parents sobbing because although we never noticed it, someone had just pointed out that we weren't the same.
I don't remember what my parents said to us that day - but it must have been something great because to this very day, we (my sisters and brothers and I) are the ones who look at people like they're the crazy ones when they ask how we're all related. Did I mention that my youngest brother Adam was also adopted from Korea? =)
I have toyed with the idea of meeting my biological family someday - if I even knew where to start. I've never actually followed through and tried to find them though. For me, THIS is my family. These are my sisters. These are my brothers. I am so grateful to the family I was born into, that they would bring me into this beautiful world to be raised by the Lunts. How blessed and fortunate I have been to find "my place" in this huge, huge world and in a whole different country at such a young age.
I remember like it was yesterday when my younger brother Bryan (Bryan is my parents "biological" son) was killed in a car accident when we lived in Hawaii. He was 6 years old. I was almost 10. My father was at work. My mother was inside cooking dinner. The other boys were all riding their Big Wheels down the hills in front of our houses and into the parking lot. Bryan knew he wasn't allowed to do this. It was dangerous. He'd asked me if he could ride down the hill one more time. The last thing I would ever say to him was, "Okay, I won't tell mom."
I tell this story because it's so important to me now. If I'd never thought of it then (and I didn't) then I surely must have now (and I have). My parents and my siblings went out of their way to love me, to let me know that this was not my fault. Not once was it ever pointed out that Bryan was their child and that biologically I was not.
I am 37 years old and have never thought of myself as being "adopted" - but I am. And I am so, so grateful for adoption. It is a powerful, powerful process that brings families together. It may not be through the traditional ways of the past.
I have always said, "It doesn't matter how we get to our families. It only matters that we get there."
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