Winter 2007/2008 - Lotus Connections

What If, by Linh Nguyen

I am currently 23 years old and occasionally I would think about all the 'What Ifs' in life. What if I was never separated with my biological family? That big question has roamed around in my head from time to time. Usually it starts when I feel like I don't belong in the two worlds in which were given to me. I'm not adopted, but I do have the title of being a foster child. Lucky enough, I had the greatest opportunity to know where I came from and who my biological family is. Yet, it never prevented the fact that I was separated from my biological family at the ripe age of three. My story started with a struggle to strive for a life that my biological mother wanted me to have.

My biological mother ran a small coffee business before and after my birth. Life in Vietnam was a struggle around the 1970-80's and it was hard for her to make a living. On top of providing for her rather large family because she was the eldest daughter, she also had to raise her two daughters as a single mother. By the time I was born, she had to focus more on work in order to feed my sister and I. My so called 'father' was no help at all. The constant drinking and gambling that he was doing left my biological mother in tears and pain. Rather than providing for his family, he would cause more trouble. The environment for raising two daughters would not be stable with my 'father' around; therefore, their marriage ended. This was the end of my relationship with my biological 'father', at the age of 2.

Since my mother had her business to run, she would leave me with my babysitters who did not treat me well. During the night they would leave me downstairs, in a crib while they slept upstairs, which worried my mother terribly. There was one rainy night where she couldn't sleep so she went over to my babysitters only to find that I was by myself in my crib with no one around to watch me. After this incident, she knew it was time for her to look for another babysitter. At that time there was a family in her neighborhood who was looking for a child to baby sit. They were a little over my mother's budget, but she had to do what she could to give me what I needed.

Ever since then, the new family who raised me turned out to be my foster family who I have now. They hadn't adopted me, but essentially in the Chinese custom they were my God parents. In America, they are my guardians. At the age of three, my foster family decided to escape the communist rule of the North's Vietnamese government. Those who worked under the South's government were forced into "re-education camps." My foster family decided that they couldn't stand this kind of oppression so they decided it was time to leave. Though countless people died at sea while fleeing the country, that fact did not discourage them from trying to escape Vietnam.

My biological mother tried so hard to come along with my sister, but she had to make a sacrifice that not many can do. She wanted me to have refugee status in another country. My grandfather was sick at the time and was in a different state of mind. He was adamant about having my mother (the eldest daughter) stay with her family. Disgrace was what she would leave behind if she had left. Being the brave mother that she was, she wanted to give me a better life by letting me go even if it meant for us to separate. This decision changed the rest of my life for the good and the bad. From the moment I left, the relationships that I would've had with my biological family changed forever, especially the relationship with my sister. My biological sister and I grew up separately without knowing what it would have felt like if we had grown up together. She had to stay behind as I took on a life that until this day I am not sure if it belongs to me.

The day finally came. Along with some friends and would-be escapees, my foster family purchased a fishing boat which carried us to our new life. If we were caught we would surely be punished and sent to a prison camp. There the North Vietnamese officials would teach us what we did wrong and tell us how bad the previous government had been. Still, our family had high hopes, for life in Vietnam was getting bleaker by the minute. I was still three years old and ignorant of what was going on. The journey that lay ahead would not be a good memory for a child. We hid from watchful eyes of patrolling policemen. Being caught would mean all efforts wasted and possibly death. I was carried to the boat on my god-mother's shoulders as thorns were scraping her legs and water reached her waist, yet she was determined to reach the boat. The temporary pain was nothing compared to the life she was leaving behind, and a small price to pay for the life that lies ahead.

Everyone piled in the boat, which was taking on water at this point. Many people started to get sick as the waves rocked the escapees back and forth. My foster mother, the only healthy one in the group, fed everyone rice with one hand while dumping excess water overboard with the other. We were lost at sea for five days and four nights. Even as we came across commercial boats, none of which responded to our cries for help, we prayed that someone would pick us up.

After what seemed like a lifetime out at sea, we were rescued by the U.S.D.D.G 9 Battleship in the South China Sea. Three days later we arrived at Subic Bay, a U.S Navy base located in the Philippines. All of the refugees were sent to the Paluan Refugee Camp. There we were able to learn Western culture and were interviewed for a chance to resettle in the United States. We were there for five months and then relocated to another refugee camp in the capital city of Manila for another six months to take English classes. After nearly a year in the Philippines we were finally approved by the Immigration and Naturalization Services Office to resettle in the U.S, due to my foster father's previous work with the South Vietnamese government prior to 1975.

At this point, you can say that I have conquered the hardship of pursuing the life my mother had dreamed of for me. But was it worth it? It has been 20 years and I still ponder about the many possibilities of my life had I stayed behind. I should be appreciative of what my mom wanted for me and for such a great foster family, but at times I feel alone in the two separate worlds in which were given to me. Sometimes feeling trapped in the middle with no one to speak out to or reach for.

Being curious about the life I would've had, does not mean that I do not love my foster family because I do. I just wish that I had a family that I could connect with on a deeper more familial level. I grew up with four very elder brothers. Our relationship is different from normal siblings and people tend to tell me that not all families are normal, but I thought otherwise. Sometimes I feel as if they are afraid to talk to me and I would be afraid to talk to them because our relationship growing up was not based on communication. I do adore them very much, but most of the time I feel like they don't understand or know me at all. Not all families are perfect, but sometimes I wish our conversations scratched more than just the surface level. I wish I could say I have a better connection with my foster father and mother as well. Maybe it's both of our faults for not knowing how to interact with each other. This might have to do with the generational gap and the communication barrier that I have with them. My Cantonese is not well spoken and neither is their English so it would be hard to have a deep conversation.

My foster mother also had a different method in raising her kids. Compared to my biological mother, my foster mother is more reserved and authoritative. This type of personality usually makes me afraid to talk to her about anything. Aside from our unspoken moments, I do have fun with them. They have been a silly and fun family to grow up with. Sometimes when I see my friends with their biological family, it makes me wonder what it's like to hang out with a family with the same kind of blood.

At times I thought about putting myself back in my biological world, but realized that I still wouldn't fit in. Most of the time I really miss my biological mom and sister, but how much do I really know about them that I miss? They've only been in 3.5 months of my life so what do they really know about me and what do I really know about them? My phone calls to them are minimal and the conversations are not deep. I haven't experienced birthdays, hard times or even happy times with them to know what they've been through. This brings me to the relationship I have with my sister.

I've always admired the sister relationships that people have. It's always nice to have someone close to you to talk to about anything or even to fight with. My sister and I have missed out on a lot of each others special moments. One of them would be her wedding and another would be the birth of her first child. Sometimes I wish so hard to feel what our relationship would be like even if we fight or get on each others nerves. That's what sister relationships are based on and we've missed out on so much of it. I would hear my friends complain about their sisters and I just want them to know that they don't know what it's like to not grow up with them until they actually go through it. I remember one conversation I had with my sister where she told me that she realized we don't have a special bond. She noticed it when she overheard her husband's sisters having long conversations with each other over the phone and we can't. We can't have long conversations because we have that communication barrier where I can't find words to tell her my true feelings. Also, our lifestyles are completely different.

Even though I only spent 3.5 months with my biological family, I grew to adore them as much as I adore my foster family, but maybe even deeper. I cannot explain to you the reasons why. My last visit to Vietnam made me realize how special they are to me and how it feels to have a 'real' family. I felt like I found what I was looking for during my last visit to Vietnam in August 2007. I finally had my first birthday celebration with them and during that time I actually found resemblances that I would not be able to find with my foster family. That's when I realized that maybe I do belong somewhere. Even though I might not be close to them, I am still considered family.

One night my biological mother asked me a question that I will never forget and that I hadn't expect that question from her. She asked me if I hated her for doing what she did. From that moment on, I felt tears welling up. I started to cry which I tried to keep inside, but I knew she started to cry as well. I told her that I did not hate her because I knew she was doing what was best for me. But sometimes, I wished she would let me stay by her side. I told her that I wanted to experience what it was like to grow up with her and my sister. Eventually, I wanted to be by their sides.

On our last night together, we laid next to each other for one last time like mother like daughter. She gently put her hands on mine, trying not to wake me up. It was night time and she thought I was asleep, but my eyes were just closed. Just before I fell asleep, I knew it was our last night together and that I wouldn't see her for awhile so I started to cry silently trying not to let her know. For this one time, I felt the warmth of her hand on mine and it made me cry even more because it was the loving warmth of my biological mother that I've never grew up with. Even though she made a sacrifice for me that I did not agree with at times, she is still my birth mother and I adore her for being so brave. I do love her very much.

This trip not only made me realize that I have two families who love me, but it also made me realize that I do belong to not only one place, but two. I am 23 years old now and I can never answer all the 'What Ifs' in life, but I can answer this. What if I never struggled to come over to the U.S? Then I would never have been able to share the story of my life with you.