The Story of My Beginnings

August 6, 2010

Thirty two years after my arrival in Minnesota, a place that would be my home, I have come back to where I began. I'm in Seoul Korea and will soon venture out in search of my story.

Roughly 5:00am-6:30am

I've been plagued by dreams of anxiety. I'm running after something or someone and cant seem to catch up. I'm searching for something or someone and cant find it or them. I am driving and getting ready to turn onto a highway. I check my cell phone and it's all in Korean. I realize I have no idea where I am going or what my cell phone is telling me. As I go in and out of sleep this morning, each cycle of sleep contains one of these dreams. My rest is restless and finally I just stay awake.

11:25am

I am headed down yet again to the bowels of our hotel where I can pick up the subway to Sinchon to meet Kim Thompson who will be with me as I make my way back to Korea Social Service to view my file and tour the facilities.

How do I get a T Money pass? Which subway do I take? How many stops up is it? Will the information be in English? Where am I supposed to meet Kim? Between stops 7 and 8. What does that mean? Street level or in the tunnel? What is Missha (the store I was to meet Kim in front of)? What if I get lost? Maybe I should just take a cab and pay all the money for it. What time do I need to be there? How much money do I put on my T Money card? How will I know how to get back? 2pm. 2pm. 2pm. 2pm....

Fast forward to a little after 2pm.

As we're walking up the stairs, I have this feeling of some kind of impending doom. I feel like an inmate on death row walking their last few steps. I knew I was approaching something big, something potentially heavy, and something that would change my life forever. I was about to meet myself 32 years ago. Instead of happy, joyous, celebratory emotions of this homecoming, I was scared, anxious, sad, nervous, and empty.





I sat alone in a small meeting room. The noise of the air conditioner overtook any conscious thoughts in my head. No lights were on. The room took on a dreary grayish blue. It's the same coloring I can remember at my daycare providers house where I spent some of those afternoons peering out the big bay window in the living room looking for my dad. It's a lonely sad hue. I wanted the silence as I waited but all I heard was that damn air conditioner. My body shivered under its icy breath yet welcomed the soothing cool of the air.

A woman, who I think was Mrs. Kim Choon Hee, the director of KSS, walked into the room clutching two files - one for me and one for my sister. She did an awkward pause as I am sure I did not look like a grown up version of Lee Cho Hee (a very unmistakenly feminine name). I assured her it was me. We sat opposite each other at the table. There I was, laying on the table, closed up, and who knows what's inside. But that was me. I was in that file. My history. My answers. My life.


Mrs. Kim opened the folder and began to tell me what was written on the pages, which of course were all in Korean. I was so focused on trying to understand her through her accent, making sure I remembered the questions to ask, wanting to take photos of the pages, make copies, touch the file, leaf through the pages myself, hold them, and just consume the information through some osmosis type process. I wanted to absorb that information into my body, into my core, into my soul. But it seemed clear I could not touch. My mind was a blur as it darted in between conscious streaming thought, clear presence as I strained to make sure I understood every word Mrs. Kim said, and endless wanderings through a barrage of emotions that I could not predict or navigate intentionally. My interactions felt rather businesslike and stoic. I didn't cry. I didnt even get a lump in my throat. But I know deep inside there was incredible release of emotive energy. On the surface, I think my body went in to protection mode from the shock and intensity of this experience that was happening to me right this very moment.

My Story:

I was born Lee, Cho Hee on January 14th, 1978 at 9am at Luke (Nooga in Korean) Clinic. My mother, Lee, Eun Joo was single and unwed. She was 24 when she had me. According to my file, she did not want to share alot of information about her story with the Social Worker from KSS. Information about my birth father is unknown. I was NOT abandoned at Shindaebang Police Station. My adoptive parents were told this story and it was passed on to me. My paperwork probably went through this police station as Nooga Clinic is near it. I was not a healthy baby when I was at the orphanage. I had a pretty consistent cough, fever, and congestion. There were lengthy medical records on my health. My birth family has not been in contact with KSS. Mrs. Kim told me that my birth mother's name is very common and it would be impossible to find her in Seoul. According to Mrs. Kim, I was named by the orphanage. Lee is my birth mother's family name, but the orphanage gave me the name Cho Hee. I do not know how accurate this is because there are some indicators on my file that might suggest otherwise about my name. I have more questions of course. I knew this could be the case. I have a couple of people I can reach out to once I am back in the states should I want to do more research into my beginnings.


After the file review, we went up to the second floor of KSS where the nursery areas were. Of the two nurseries, only the smaller of the two was in use. There were 4 infants and one 1-year-old boy with developmental disabilities at KSS. As we walked into the room, 2 volunteers were helping to feed and tend to the babies. I'll never forget Mrs. Kim's words as she softly said to me, "one of these cribs was probably yours."



I walked over to the row of cribs where 3 of the 4 babies were. Fighting back some tears, I ran my hand along the rails. I felt the cool metal bars and breathed in the stale nursery air filling my lungs with air and my body with the memories of yesterday. I touched the babies very gently and in my mind I wished them well on their journeys. I left a piece of my heart with them and wished for them good lives full of forever hugs and forever love. And I wished that they would never have to feel alone for even one minute. One of the babies in particular looked like me from the baby pictures I have from the orphanage. As I looked at her laying in the crib, I really did feel as if I was looking at myself. My heart filled with sadness as I thought about what the lives of these children could be like with their missing stories. And if anything that they carry with them as they grow older, I hope they remember that I was there offering my love and my heart if even only for 10 minutes.

After we left the nursery, Mrs. Kim gave me a tour of the rest of the KSS grounds. Of the 4 or 5 buildings on the grounds, only the one is still in use. I was told that when I was there, there were 150-200 babies there and 50 workers. Back then there was no such thing as volunteers. As I walked around this place that was my first home, I felt an emptiness to the desolation and junkiness that seemed to have overtaken it. The unused buildings were in various states of dilapidation and the grass was patchy and unkept. As we walked by the building that I was in when I was there, I peered inside. It was dark and empty. I tried to listen for the sounds of the children playing, the workers conversing, the babies crying. I tried to pick up on the residual energy that may have been there, but I didnt sense anything. I felt calm though and somewhat peaceful. Not many words were exchanged by Mrs. Kim and me, but that's ok. I needed that silence to just consume everything around me. My eyes were seeing the same things now that my tiny infant eyes saw for the first 6.5 months of my life.











As I was walking around, Kim was taking photos. As I reviewed them, she was telling me that she had captured a Magpie on my camera. Apparently, Magpies and Tigers are the two good luck/good fortune animals in Korea and it means there is positive spirit energy around you or something like that. Based on her reaction to seeing this bird, which I did not until I looked at the photos on my camera, I was under the impression that it is somewhat rare to see them. I'm taking it as a sign of its presence on this day. I like to think I was surrounded by goodness - good energy, good luck, good fortune, and good spiritual energy as I completed my life circle. I know alot of you back home knew this was a part of my trip back to Korea. I think that Magpie was delivering all of your thoughts, well-wishes, and love as it graced me with its presence while I was having this experience.


Thank you all for your love and support through all of this. It has all helped to make this such an incredible homecoming! And When I Touch the Land in Korea, you all are touching it as well. A piece of it is left in each of your hearts and minds just as much as a piece of you is left here in my home home.