Mark's Story

I was born in 1970 in Atlanta, Georgia, and adopted at two days old. The attorney who handled my private adoption delivered me to my adoptive parents at the MARTA bus terminal in downtown Atlanta, just a short distance from the hospital where I was born. It was an unusual way to begin a life, and in many ways, it foreshadowed a story I would not fully understand until much later.

I don’t remember the exact age when I learned I was adopted, but I believe I was around nine or ten. A close friend of mine was adopted, and when I mentioned that to my mom, she asked me to sit down and said, “I have something to share with you.” I was shocked.

Up until that moment, I had always felt like I fit in. I had an older brother who was the biological child of my adoptive parents, and physically, I blended right in. Everyone in my family has brown hair and brown eyes. There were no obvious differences.

With no shared DNA with my adoptive family, there was one major difference that became very apparent when I started school. Everyone in my family was academically gifted. School came naturally to them. For me, it was a constant struggle.

I was diagnosed early with ADHD, but there was no treatment plan ever implemented. Looking back, it was like needing prescription glasses and never being given them. I had developmental delays and struggled with speech and reading. Instead of learning proper phonics, I adapted by memorizing. I found ways to survive, but it never felt like I was truly succeeding.

I was placed in a program labeled “SLD” (Special Learning Disability) and separated from the general classroom. Even now, that label still lingers. Through resilience and a refusal to give up, I moved into a regular classroom by fifth grade, but the struggle never fully went away.

In high school, I found another place where I could thrive: the restaurant business. I started working in ninth grade and quickly realized that the fast pace, constant movement, and energy matched how my mind worked. I craved positive feedback from my managers, something I rarely experienced in the classroom.

With a little luck and a lot of hard work, I graduated from high school through an open-campus program that helped me meet my math requirements. After a year off and community college, I made a decision that changed the direction of my life. At six-foot-five, I decided to pursue basketball at a small liberal arts college. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made.

For the first time, I learned how to channel my ADHD rather than fight it. I worked extremely hard, on and off the court, and I graduated from college. That experience gave me confidence I had never felt growing up.

Adoption had always been part of my story, but it had never defined me. That began to change when my wife and I were expecting our first child. For the first time, I thought, I’m going to meet someone who shares my DNA. That moment shifted something in me.

I reached out to an organization in Georgia called Families First and learned a little more about the circumstances surrounding my adoption. I also received non-identifying information and was told my birth mother was 16 years old at the time of my birth.

My wife and I went on to have two daughters, and for many years, out of respect for my adoptive mom, I chose not to pursue more information. My mom devoted her entire life to me, often putting her own dreams on hold so I could chase mine. We were very different in personality, but somehow that's exactly why it worked. Over time, she didn’t just raise me, she became my best friend.

Then life shifted. In 2015, my adoptive mom was diagnosed with dementia, and we moved her into assisted living. The following year, I felt called to take another step. I contacted Families First again, and this time I began the search for my birth mother.

I wrote her a letter thanking her and included several questions. Fortunately, the social worker at Families First was able to contact my birth mother. She responded with a thoughtful letter, but she also signed an affidavit requesting no additional contact. She wasn’t ready to reopen that chapter of her life. It was difficult to hear, but I was grateful for the connection and the answers it provided.

At that point, I continued my search through DNA testing. In late 2017, everything changed. I received a close match, my birth mother’s older sister. After months of communication, my birth mother became open to connecting. On our very first phone call, she suggested we meet. I wasn’t fully prepared, but I was open.

What happened next still feels surreal. I learned she had two sons, my half-brothers, who lived just 30 minutes from me. We planned an amazing reunion weekend, but it never felt like we were meeting for the first time. There was an immediate comfort, a sense that we already knew each other.

Meeting my birth mother for the first time is hard to describe. There was an instant connection. I felt an immediate sense of love and recognition, even though we had just met. The weekend could not have gone better.

Over the past eight years, we’ve built a meaningful relationship, and I’ve been welcomed into the entire family. One of the most profound parts of this journey has been experiencing “genetic mirroring,” seeing my traits, mannerisms, and personality reflected back to me for the first time.

I also learned something that connected us even more. My birth mother also struggled with ADHD. Like me, she had challenges in school but went on to build a successful career as a registered nurse and later as a flight attendant.

Looking back, I never allowed my adoption to define me, but it unquestionably shaped me. Over time, I came to believe that setbacks can become turning points. That mindset carried into my professional life, where resilience and adaptability became defining traits.

I turned a passion for the stock market and investing into a 30-year career in financial services, and today I serve as an Assistant Vice President and officer at a Fortune 250 company. Along the way, I’ve been fortunate to receive meaningful recognition for my work, but the greater reward has been realizing that resilience and adaptability can become lifelong strengths.

When I reflect on my journey, I see my adoption not as a challenge but as a gift. It gave me resilience. It forced me to adapt. It helped me discover strengths I may never have found otherwise. And ultimately, it gave me two families who have both played an important role in who I am today.

If I could go back and talk to that young boy struggling in the classroom, I would tell him this: You’re not broken. You’re wired differently, and one day, that difference will become your greatest strength.