In a rectangular birch box, buried amidst formal government papers, vaccination records and first birthday cards, lies a certain paper which catches my eye. Holding my past in my hands like this reminds me of my origins with a sudden clarity. The document is labelled simply “certificate.” Its header states it is a letter from the Hangzhou Children’s Welfare Institute. The first page is in Mandarin, but on the next page is an English translation:
This is to certify that Lin Jinliang, female, was born on November 4, 1999, and was found to be abandoned at the gateway of Hangzhou No. 7 People’s Hospital on November 11, 1999. She was sent to be brought up by our Hangzhou Children’s Welfare Institute on November 11, 1999 by Hangzhou Gudang Police Station. Our institute has looked for her parents and relatives by all means, but no trace can be found.
Translate origin: from Latin “translat,” to carry across
As a child, my mother used to tell me stories. She would regale me with books she read as a child, everything from Anne of Green Gables, to adventure fantasy novels. She’d recount tales about her childhood friends she made growing up in the rural, Oakville suburbs. As I lay in bed, sleepy and full of that night’s dinner, I’d beg my mother: “Tell me a story about when you were my age.”
As I grew older, these stories changed and shifted on my journey to young adulthood. Today, there is only one story I have asked her to tell me again, then again. My adoption story. Over the years, details were added when I was ready to hear them. Some hard questions were answered differently the older I became. At its core, it has remained the same. As I’ve grown up and moved cities, moved lives, it is one of the only parts of me that remains unchanged. I remember my beginnings going something like this:
“You were found at the hospital gates, at an entrance that nurses used every day going to work. Your birth parents knew where to leave you so you’d be found. We think they left your birth date on a piece of paper. We know you were left with baby food and a bottle. From there you were taken to an orphanage, where nurses cared for you day and night until you were 10 months old. Then, your father and I flew all the way across the ocean from Canada to meet you in China. We waited through the first day while everyone else from the adoption group received their children, except us. We weren’t told why we hadn’t gotten our baby. Eventually the next day, after hours of waiting, you were finally carried out by an official. I held you for the very first time and I knew with certainty, for better or worse, you would be my daughter forever. And I will always love you, no matter what.”
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