Narrative Essay About Immigration History

I was about the age of 10 when I finally learned my heritage. My mother and I were standing in the bank vault, and she was getting some papers for a trip to Canada, to update all of our passports. I was there with her, and while she was going through the things in our lock box, one particular, colorful document caught my eye. I pulled it out and held it up to her, asking what it was. She told me it was my birth certificate. I looked at it once again and replied that this couldn’t be my birth certificate, because it was written in a strange language, not English. She finished getting all of the documents, including my birth certificate and we went home. I couldn’t stop asking her questions about what it was, until she finally told me. That day, I learned I was adopted. The adoption story itself changed how I
At the orphanage I stayed at, the nurses referred to me as a “pesky little bug”, because I was always moving. Before the Americans came and adopted me, I was offered up to other Russians first, as is a Russian law. When the Americans came to Russia, I was nine months old. The Americans looked through the registry and the nurses helped them select my brother and I. They weren’t supposed to see or select any children beforehand.
Each child was supposed to be on the registry for ten months. Matthew was safe, as he was two years old at the time. On the other hand, I was only nine months old! However, by the time the papers were signed, I made it by one day.
There was another scare. The court date for the group of Americans to adopt their children was nearly changed! They would have had to gone back for me! It was the groups’ quick thinking, a bribe of $100, flowers and candy to the judge, along with the fix up of the truck that was to take them to receive the papers, the problem was avoided. On November 2nd, 1998, we received our birth certificates and our new names. Matthew and Emily