Hairy Roots of the Family Tree

Since I have found my B-Ma I have been shyly dipping my toes into the Hong Konger waters, if you will. Jokingly referring to Hong Kongers as "My people" and "We Asians" as if I had been eating Egg Fried Rice my whole life instead of just on Take-Out Fridays, and spending the last 29 years deciding which ethnicity I felt like being, that day. (FYI, it's usually a toss-up between Hawaiian and Japanese. So cool...)

The typical banter between the Hubband and I usually centres around our baby-girl, Ever. ( - If you've got a kid, or two, you know what I'm sayin', right? Holla!)

To set the scene: I say: "insert stereotypical -Asian-stuff here"
To which the Hubband retorts: "Stereotypical Maori/NZ European rant here" - All in jest, of course!
(You can't be a racist if you're that race, can you?)

Jokes aside, the reality is Ever is a mash-up of both Hubband and I's cultural background.

  Clever Ever is beginning to speak English almost better than me. "Mama" was her first word (Yusss!). "Dad" was her second. *bunny nose twitching* was her third, and "Ta" was her fourth; and now she's saying "Cat" and "Cheese" pretty good. So you know, the important English words. Haha!
  She has even been to a (NZ European) wedding and a 21st, all before the ripe ol' age of 10 weeks old.
  We have also, unfortunately, had the opportunity to immerse her in the Maori culture of Tangi's last year and this year - If you've ever been to a Tangi you will know it is a rather long period of time... She was a really good girl for most of it. So proud. *wipes tear from eye*


But the Hong Konger side has been relegated to a 'Hello Kitty' bag and a couple of frozen dumplings...

Legally, I am my Adopted Family's Heritage. I essentially lose "Who I am", and take on who they "are". So in theory, I am NZ European/1/16th Maori... yeah right.

The next conundrum is: if I went to apply for a Maori grant would that be ethical? They would take one look at me and know I am as "Asian" as they come - purely physically speaking of course. (If you talk to me you would know I don't know my wontons from my spring rolls) So what does that mean?

On the odd occasion when I actually go to the doctor, I have always had to leave the 'Medical Family History?' question, blank. I have no clue.

I feel stupid. Like I should know something?! After all I am a "Hong Konger", right?!

Being adopted into a different race family is hard. Especially when you get to an age when you realise it. I briefly talked about it in my first post.

Both our families are huge and complicated before we even add the Birth Family saga. On the Hubband's side there are already 4 siblings and 7 nieces and nephews. With varying genetic strengths and weaknesses (Darn you hay fever!) And then "legally" on my side are 5 siblings and almost 10 nieces and nephews (not counting the Steps and their kiddie-winkles) But then I guess all that is moot when it comes to bio family history, ain't it?

From the Adoption files I know my B-Ma wore glasses. So crap-eye sight. Check. That's about it.

So what does that mean for Ever?  I don't know if she will inherit any bad genes from "My Side" of the family or even what to look out for, if anything?! And that shizz be scary when it concerns your child. Your baby. Your love.

As usual the weird bio-family shizz prevails, at least when I am filling in Ever's medical forms...

Time keeps on ticking

It's been a while since my last post. Time has not been on my side lately. Babygirl has been sick for the last three weeks and...

As I predicted: I was a ticking time bomb.

I blew up literally the next day after my post. Snot and tears running down my face, and as with all things it came out of nowhere. Over nothing good. Something about a garage sale at my sister's? So basically really emotional, hard-hitting news there… not.

I knew this journey was going to be an interesting one. As an analytical person I like to break things down and sort them into little boxes in my head so my wee brain can make sense out of things. I am a big lists and plans person. The more check boxes, the better! I like to know what I need to know now. Not later. With this journey I've learnt, I can't.

I'm not in control.

...and I'm okay with that, finally. So here I am almost a month later and I have had many, and I mean many, FB conversations with my 'cousin', Jane*.
  I have learnt a little more about this 'Bio family' and it's been somewhat a relief to learn about their family dynamics and see some more photos. They have become more 'real' (I know that's not good English), and more human to me. I see their flaws and their strengths a little better. I definitely see personality traits in my B-Ma that has transferred through time and sea and cultural upbringing to still be a core part of me. It's in my DNA, I guess? For example I have learnt that the insomnia that has plagued me most my life has also plagued her... Awesome trait to inherit.

On a different-ish note, I am starting to come to terms with the death of my birth father. (But that's another post)

The more time goes on the more I realise it's ok. This weird situation is fine. Maybe I'm fooling myself? I'm not sure. I have created this nice little bubble around me. I am here, in New Zealand. They are all the way over there in Hong Kong. It's not exactly like they're going to get on a bus tomorrow and come visit me, is it? The most they can do is stalk my FB page and maybe spam my email?

The question that keeps presenting itself is: What now?

It's been almost five whole months since we first connected. Now the hope (and disappointment) of going to Hong Kong through the TV show has well and truly worn off. The likelihood of her coming here is Zero. My family situation remains the same, so do I just carry on with life and chalk it up to the puzzle is pretty much finished, let's go play monopoly now?

We'll see. After all we are coming into a new season. Amen!



*name changed to respect their privacy.

Who's Your Daddy?

It's late but I really want to share what I have just learned.

Tonight I have been FB messaging my 'cousin', Jane*, who is acting as our interpreter at present. (She is a lovely chiquita, who I have recently found out is a Christian too (whoop whoop!) At one point she had my B-Ma on the phone, me on the FB, whilst interpreting our convo back and forth from either party.

As previous attempts had proved confusing with broken english answers, I had to ask thee question whilst I had this opportunity:

Who is my birth father?!


Which led to a cascade of other questions:

Is he still alive?
How did you meet?
Do you have a photo of him?
What did he do for a living?
What did he look like?
Did he know about me?

Unfortunately for me the answers were not easily digestible. He passed away about seven or so years ago. Also, unfortunately, he was not a good man… stink. (for him, and for me)


As with all the crazy news I've had recently I have learned I do not react well. I go into what I am now referring to as, SamaShock. I laugh about it and make stupid jokes about it… Then all hands on deck! Kapow!

So for now, I will say, At least I already got one daddy. Who needs two, aye?! (Haha..?)


Ps. I'm guessing it will properly sink in next week… or maybe the week after.



*name changed to respect their privacy.

What's in A Name

Birth Mother, Biological Mother, B-Ma, Mother, Mama, Mom, Mum, Surrogate Mother, Ma, Adopted Mother, Foster mum...


"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Shakespeare


Since finding my B-Ma I have had one fact that has irked me. Where do I place her?

My B-Ma and half-sister have been referring to her as "Your Mother" "Our Mum" and it has been uncomfortable to say the least. Also the fact that they have been calling my mother "Foster Mother" or "Adopted Mum" pees me off...

My mother has always been the one who has raised me. The one that has wiped away my tears, scolded me for being naughty and laughed with me through out the highs and lows of 28 (out of 30) years. She is the one that has tucked me into bed, introduced me to my Lord and Saviour, and has prayed with me over many of life's problems and joys.

Sometimes I put it down to bad translation, or even it's easier to write 'Mum' than 'Birth Mother over and over. I mean no disrespect to her, but it is hard. We are starting this relationship from scratch.

I feel that the name 'Mother' is earnt. It is not a given. I'm not trying to be harsh, but I am quite black and white when it comes to these things. A mother isn't someone who had a child. It is someone who cares for, nourishes, teaches, watches, encourages, nurtures a child, whether that child is biologically theirs or not.

For arguments sake, she is my "mother". She created and birthed me. Biologically I owe my 'Sama-ness' to her and my Birth Father's gene pool. On a sympathetic note, she has revealed to me how she had no choice in the matter and that she has missed me for the last 30 years. My heart aches over this fact as we cannot undo what has been done, and further more, I wouldn't want to.

My life here has been fraught with severe highs and lows. My family is big, complicated, loud, crazy and sometimes messy; but I wouldn't have it any other way.

I wouldn't have the family I have. My husband. My daughter. My extended family. My friends. My church.

I would be almost an entirely different person if I had not been given up.


How can you reconcile feelings for the woman who created you with the woman who taught you everything you know?

In Your Face…book

Last night I got the shock of my life. (Okay, make that the second shock of my life…)

I was checking The Facebook before bed (as you do) only to find a friend request from a random Asian chiquita from Hong Kong. The first thought was SPAM! You know what I'm talking about:

"Me have a million dollars, you inherit. Give me email address. Love you long time."
(It's not considered racist if that's your race… I'm pretty sure..?)

I stared at that face in that little profile box. My heart leapt into my throat.

Me:"Who is this random called, Ping Pong*?"

Hubband (taking a look): You know, Sama

Me: No…

Hubband: Come on, Sama. Come. On…[smirks]

I knew. It was my half-sister, Penelope*. But I guess I wanted to be sure? It's hard to pinpoint the exact feeling when I looked at that tiny profile picture of the Asian girl pulling a complete 'Sama' face. The possibility that someone else could have the exact same weird facials as me!? Absurd. (Well, actually I guess that's the norm for all bio whanau's. Haha!)

I have never had anyone who resembles me before.

To say I have done all the scenarios in my head is an understatement. I imagined finding out my B-Ma (birth mother) is dead, or is a drug addict, or maybe a princess! or God forbid, a horrible person; and more realistically, has gone on to have a family after having me.
  I imagined if I had siblings would they have my black kinky-winky, curlyish hair? Or my wee button nose, that I swat anyone's hand who tries to touch it; or maybe my awesome sense of humour or quirky fashion sense? (And of course, my deep humility… jokes) But when confronted with The Reality was daunting to say the least…

The next moment of shock came when Ping Pong PM'ed me. Asking if I was available to talk.

I said, yes.

Over the next half hour or so we exchanged broken English messages. Some on her side, some on mine (- which sucks coz English is the only language I know. Haha!) We delved into some of the deep issues and some of the light. (I cracked up when she asked me if my daughter was naughty like her two kids!)

I also got to see a couple of pictures of my B-Ma (past and present) for the first time in my entire life.

At first I didn't think she looked like me at all. But upon further inspection in the light of a new day I realised, holy cowbells! This is MY Birth Mother… My. Birth. Mother. My connection. My DNA.
The puzzle pieces were well and truly smashed together and I couldn't deny that I got a chunk of my looks from her. It's very surreal to be looking into a (sort of) future mirror. Very surreal...

  There were a few moments during the chat session where I admitted I was overwhelmed and didn't know what to say. (Seriously, what do you say to your newly found half-sister and your B-Ma you haven't met after 30 years?!) I'm not sure if Ping Pong understood that or whether she chose to ignore it and railroad ahead with the Q+A anyway? It was disconcerting and disjointed, and really flippen late at night, so I said my goodnights and went off to mull over the sitch.

  Every time I think about it it's like looking through a foggy window. Each new piece of information spins me out and I go into a glazed trance. It's not real. It's an excellent story to tell to others but it didn't happen to me. This blog is, unfortunately and thankfully, proof that it's not just a dream.



*names changed to respect their privacy.

The Fiery Emotional Gamut

Sad, angry, unresponsive, exhausted, anxious, flippant, happy, excited, nervous, disappointed, fearful, betrayed, rejected, peaceful, oversensitive, positive, pissed off, vulnerable, curious, sad, angry...


I have always battled with how honest I should be in this blog because emotions are fleeting. But I've come to realise I can only be me. I am an emotional gamut. I am not a PC robot, no matter how hard I try.


When I first found out about finding my birth mother I was pretty chill. No crying, no shouting from the rooftops. Chilled. I presumed that was normal. The fact that few family members I told looked at me as if expecting something else? Some hidden emotion to well up to the surface. Nothing. Nada. Zero. Zippo skippy.

  It was as if finding your birth mother that you've never known for the last 30 years is an everyday occurrence. I mean, what difference does it make to my life?


When the TV show fell through (read here) I was gutted. After my 'mourning' period, I picked myself up and dusted myself off then made a new/old plan (this blog being the start of the original plan. More on that later...) I was excited at the hope of meeting her and getting to return to Hong Kong after 28 years in New Zealand. Everything was peachy keen jelly bean… until the anxiety crept in.
 It started so subtly I didn't realise until this past weekend. Like a thief in the night. Threatening to take my hope, my peace and my sanity.
  The shock of the news and the hope of a speedy reconciliation had worn off and I was in No-Mans-Land. With no money and no concrete timetable I had no idea what the next step was, or even should be? Wading in open murky waters of possibilities...

My health has taken a hit as of late. I have not been to bed before 2am in almost three months and it's showing. Ear problems, nasal blockages, dermatitis, exhaustion, hives, headaches, never-ending zits and now cold sores (Mm... not) The vain revelation of the grotesque cold sore that continues to spawn slapped me into the truth: I'm not doing so hot.

  There is no handbook (that I know of) on how to deal with finding a birth parent. That is partly why I am adamant about recording this journey. I want everyone to know that I have deeply appreciated my peoples caring ears, thoughtful advice, and well wishes; but in the end I have figured it is better to go through the fire than to sit in it or try to sidestep it in vain.



I have had a revelation that there is a cry within my heart of what could've been, what 'should've been' (I use that term loosely as I still believe that this 'life', is God's plan for me), of what I've missed out on.

Having a daughter of my own has been a trying, and healing, process all rolled into the cute butterball that is Ever. It has brought with it a gamut of questions. In the forefront is always:

How could a mother give up their child?

My love for Ever is so deep it hurts sometimes. She has always been a blessing, a joy and a delight (yes, even when she's being a little minxy-moo) I look into her eyes and know I want to shield her from the pain that I know is inevitable. I want to bring her joy in the small things and the big. I want to watch her discover the world and see the delight on her wee face as she learns something new. I love looking at her and seeing bits and bobs of me and The Hubband. I love knowing that she is mine and I am hers.

This is what makes my heart ache for my own birth mother.

The connection you have with a (birth)mother is tangible. It is as physical as it is emotional. It is spiritual. My body responds when she cries, when she touches me, when she nurses. There is a connection that is beyond the 'mother/daughter' labels of the family tree. It is hard to describe.

 I have felt an overwhelming sense of loss and rejection all my life. I have grieved on and off over the years. Over the separation I have had since my birth, and the two years of isolation in the orphanage. I can never change that or would never want to rewrite history through Ever.

Disclaimer: I don't want anyone to misread my intentions. My family are, and always will be, my whanau. I have shared 28 years of my life with them. I will always be grateful for their love and support and that God chose them to be my family. No contest.

When God slams a door shut...

SLAM! Bam! No thank you, ma'am.

She said, No.

N. O.

Game over. You lost. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. The End. Well, at least that's how it feels right now...


My birth mother, who I haven't seen since my birth, said no to filming her.

I seriously can not believe it. Why? When you know that that was the only way I could get to Hong Kong. After 28 years of being in New Zealand, and 30 years being away from her. Wouldn't she be desperate to see me? To meet Ever and my hubband? To have something on record she can cherish about our first meeting? It's not like she's going to see it on Hong Kong television...

I can't help but feel overwhelmingly rejected at this point.

I understand being filmed is not for everyone. I totally get that it is intrusive, and a little scary. I understand that the language barrier would be hard, and the filming schedule might make things seem a little rehearsed or staged or whatever!? I get that she must have some deep emotional issues surrounding my existence and the subsequent abandonment. I understand there may be family problems and cultural taboos about filming. I understand that she doesn't know how our first meeting may go. Regardless of all these very valid reasons, I. Still. Feel. Rejected.

After abandoning me to an orphanage I trace her down 30 years later. I tell her I don't hold anything against her. That I have found a way to come meet her. Then she rejects all the plans I have put in place to reconcile. All the effort I have gone to to make a way for us to make peace of the situation. Why the heck did I bother trying? I knew that this was a possibility, yet somehow it doesn't take away the pain.

I am just completely gutted.

Does she even realise what she's done? What kind of person could be this blasé about it? It's a big expensive deal crossing continents to meet her. It's not like I can just book a bus ticket to come round for a cup of green tea...

On one hand I feel bad that I am being a jerk about it (not that I have said anything like this to her. I told her I understand...) BUT on the other hand I feel like she owes me?!

It's weird..?

For the record I know she doesn't owe me anything. She doesn't owe me an explanation or a meeting. She doesn't owe me a life story. She doesn't owe me even an email. She literally doesn't owe me anything, and I understand that. But I can't help feeling like she owes me this at least!?

  I know it's irrational and maybe I'm just being a brat cos I'm not getting my own way? Maybe it's because my dream is to be on TV? Maybe cos I'm desperate to tell my story. Maybe it's my selfish desire to travel to Hong Kong. Explore a culture I know nothing about. Or maybe it's because my birth mother has rejected me again...

I'm lost. Where to from here now, God?

#classicSamaFreakOut

Are you for REAL? (Planning The Plan)

Okay, I am aware my last post was a little short (just like me. Hehe!) But hey, I was in shock. Like, SuperShock.


Sometimes this all doesn't seem real? Like, how can it be so simple?

1. Decide to search for Birth Mother
2. Email orphanage
3. Email Adoption Unit of Hong Kong
4. Apply for TV Show
5. BIRTH MOTHER IS FOUND!
6.Go to Hong Kong to meet Birth Mother
7. Live in peace. Happily (with) Ever After...


To be honest I expected that it would be hard to find her. If you consider how many people are in tiny Hong Kong (over 7 million people) compared to New Zealand (just over 4 million) But I guess when God is in your corner nothing is impossible.

I've had some time to digest this new info and I feel... okay? Since there is no manual (unless you count this blog as one? Haha!) I can't exactly tell you how I will feel tomorrow or next week, let alone an hour from now. So in the meantime I have been immersed in this TV show buzz: I have to get to Hong Kong.

I have been emailing the TV show team back and forth as there were a few hiccups in the photos of documents I had sent blah-blah, woof-woof. I also emailed them literally within the hour of me finding out about my birth mother. I didn't know if this would be a problem for them. But they seemed fine and asked me to email the Adoption Unit lady I have been emailing, to give them permission to take over the situation. I still haven't heard anything back from the Adoption Unit lady yet. Also neither has the TV show team. So I have just emailed again... (a little worried now)

Since everything is looking like it's falling into place at a rapid pace I felt the need to get some more info (cheeky I know!) So I had an in-depth, yet not-on-the-record, chat with one of the producers about the ins and outs. As obviously with a not-yet-one year old to think about I need a little more info than, "Surprise! You're going to Hong Kong today!" She graciously obliged, sort of...

So the 411 on the D-Low (yeah, I'm cool) is that "hypothetically" if I were to be picked for the show I will have to pay for my family to come. So stink, but I guess doable (if God is for us...) But the good news is that they will tell us which flight number etc. to be able to book our extra tickets, so that's a plus?! Also, I naughtily asked what the "hypothetical" timeframe might be like, as I have to organise either hubband to take off work to look after Ever or to (hopefully) come, plus passports etc.

= SIX  (to seven) weeks!

What the?! Wow... okay. Sweet, I can do that. Yep, God is unreal! No, make that, God is super REAL! Adrenaline rush, anyone?

The MOTHER of All Emails...

... See what I did there?!


Yes, you are correct. You do not need glasses or laser eye surgery.

I received an email, TONIGHT in fact, that disclosed:

WE HAVE FOUND HER. 

YOUR BIRTH MOTHER.

She is going into their office to verify her identity at the end of next week.

Seriously, all I want to do is smoke a cigarette. (Sorry Ever!!!)

I can't talk. I don't want to talk. I don't know how to talk. I mean what do you say to that?

Hello. Goodbye.

Big Dreams on the Big Screen

Whoa Mama! Sometimes life hands you the most amazing opportunity at the perfect time! I have to admit I am in shock... yet again.

This lovely opportunity gift-wrapped in my sparkling dream of being on TV seems too good to be true. But then again, maybe good things come to those who wait... 28 years.

Okay, the deets: My mama rung me the other day to inform me that her friend, June*, had been watching the ol' box and an ad for a new TV show came on calling for applicants searching for long lost loved ones. So my mama, who of course had already told June about my search (without my permission) and June thought that maybe this was the Big Man Upstairs plan for me to find my B-Ma!

June emailed me the deets yesterday and I applied last night. This morning I received the call.

"Bring Briiinggg" went my iPhone.

- Hello?

Why do YOU want to find your birth mother? (paraphrasing of course)

- My desire to find my birth mother came from the birth of my own daughter. Being brought up within a Western/Maori culture with no connection to my own genetic heritage or cultural identity, made me realise that this inherent void doesn't just affect me anymore. I want my daughter to know her roots. I want to also bridge this chasm that has eluded me all my life. This sense of wandering in the unknown desert (- I have been choosing which ethnicity I feel like being that day...)

The informal interview spanned around 20 mins. It was super hard coming up with deep coherent answers when I had literally just woken up. But nevertheless I continued with my story and answered as honestly as I could recall.
I am the first to admit I am not the greatest talker. I feel I am more of a writer. But the researcher didn't seem to mind. She soldiered on trying to decipher SamaSpeak.

Basically the premise of the show is for them to find the loved one you are searching for. So you are in the dark until, SURPRISE! We have found insert name here! Then who knows what happens after that - Though I presume it is like all the others where they take you to meet that person or bring them to you depending - All in front of the awesomeness of a camera lens. Part of me thinks this could totally blow up in my face... oh well! (Haha!)

 I did of course, disclose that I had already started the search by contacting the orphanage and the Adoption Unit of the Hong Kong government. They were okay with that as long as any correspondence I receive, I forward to them and not pursue anything else.

As a Film and Television graduate and former Promo Producer, I know how to tell a story choice as... I mean, pretty choice.


The Pitch:

Three generations of mothers and daughters (four if you count my B-Ma as she is only 16 years older than me) A reconciliation of past and present. The desire to uncover my roots and make peace with my past. To go back to my 'homeland' with my family.

What I tried to express through the interview was the desire for my mama and daughter (and hubband, of course) to be a part of the journey.
  I told them about my mamas wanting to show me the orphanage. About her desire to thank my birth mother for the opportunity to adopt me (I almost cried...) The experience would not be the same without her.

I do understand that part of it is the wanted - no, needed - security and familiarity. The other part, a yearning to connect my family with the family I could've grown up with. To fit these weird shaped puzzle pieces of my life together.

My original vision was to retrace from the beginning. From my B-Ma's old residence to the hospital I was born in, all the way to the orphanage I lived in for the first two years of my life. I want to discover any (hopeful) resemblance between myself and my B-Ma, and my own daughter. Something I have cried over in my own family situation. I want to hear her story no matter how hard it is to handle. I want to know how I came to be orphaned. I want my B-Ma to know I don't hate her. In fact I feel lucky. Extremely lucky to have had the life I've had - I want her to know that. To know I am thankful...

I am welling up as I write this so I'm going to go. So whoop, TV Show, whoop!

Opening a Can of Worms...

Searching for my Birth Mother is daunting. It's opening a can of worms. Is it going to be happy singing cartoon worms or dirty slimy rotting worms…

And with that in mind, I finally received an email the other day from the orphanage that told me to email the Adoption Unit in the Hong Kong Government. Check. Sitting and waiting for their reply now... Check.

Waiting is hard. I am such a hands-on person that the suspense is eating at me. On the outside I am calm. I have left it to God. Yep, that's right. It's in God's hands…

But what about...

Maybe I should have…

What if…

The questions that swirl in my head are crazy. I feel as though I am living on autopilot. Checking my email in-between hanging out washing and playing with bebe-girl. Then check it again before I leave the house to go get groceries. Check it again when I'm in the supermarket carpark. I am almost willing an answer to come just by my persistence.

Possibility is a weird word.

pos·si·bil·i·ty

 noun \ˌpä-sə-ˈbi-lə-tē

: a chance that something might exist, happen, or be true : the state or fact of being possible

: something that might be done or might happen : something that is possible

The fact that even the Merriam-Webster dictionary definition can't really explain the word well cracks me up. The idea that anything could happen freaks me out. Good or bad or possibly no news could be waiting for me.

In the meantime, I carry on with life as I have always known it. The expectation that someday answers will unfold and another side of this story can be told. I am hoping for good news but at the same time I fear that it may not be.

Are You Hong Konese?

Where are you from?

Gizzy, bro.

No, where are you from?

Well, we used to live in Auckland, but then moved to Ohakune; but I spent the most time in Gisborne…

No where are you from? You know, your people.

I was born in Hong Kong -

- Oh, so you're Hong Konese.

For most people the question of where we come from never seems to be given much thought. We look at our parents and know that we inherited our father's Maori nose, or our mother's left-handedness, and don't forget nana's sweet cooking skills; all have been passed through the generations. There is an inherent sense of belonging. A definitive cultural identity.

As an orphan, this is it.
What you see is what you get.

This is not a sob story. This is a story of triumph and carving my own sense of identity in a mash of cultures. My journey is a love story from my Creator to me.

I was born in Hong Kong and lived in an orphanage until my (adoptive) parents came and sprung me out of there at two years old. I grew up in a family of five kids where we spent the next few years moving around until we settled in Gisborne (East Coast represent!)
 Back in my day (yes, I'm old enough to legitimately utter those words now) New Zealand wasn't exactly riddled with the 'Asian Invasion' - that is until I came on the scene. Jokes.
  Racism is definitely alive and prevalent in New Zealand. I spent a lot of my formative years feeling like the Asian among the Pakeha/Maori family - Oh wait, I was. (Full disclosure: My parents adopted my older bro first, who is half Chinese) and school bullying didn't help extinguish the feelings of alienation.

  At around nine years old I remember a lady asking my mom if I was an exchange student. At that age you're mostly thinking about your Barbies outfits or practising your sweet gymnastics routines on the front lawn, not thinking about where you come from. But it seems that where your from matters. No matter the age. I was labeled and put into a little box. The adopted Asian child.
  I don't remember the exact moment of realisation at how different I looked compared to my family but I do remember wishing I looked like those tall blonde haired, blue-eyed Barbie dolls or at least like someone in my family. No matter how much you are told that you are the "same" and "I love you as much as your siblings" it doesn't quite sink in…

Fast forward 20-odd years later, I am now a wife and mother to my own daughter. I have had the honour of growing a beautiful baby girl in my belly and being able to watch her blossom and change over the past six months has been a healing journey for me. So much so that I have decided that I am now ready to find the enigma that is my Birth Mother.

I'm not sure what is ahead. I am hoping for the best. As I write this I have already emailed the orphanage I was in… Wish me Luck!