I was 2 years old when I was adopted from Romania, but it wasn't until I was about 12 that I actually started understanding what that meant, or how to explain it to my peers. From the beginning, my parents were very open about my adoption, which made it easier when the time came for open and honest conversations. Like I stated earlier, it wasn't until I was 12 that I started having questions about what adoption is or how it happened.

I was the family miracle, and by family, I mean 111 insane aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents. I was adored by everyone. Videos of me would play on rerun at every family event, and every time I cried. I think for a while I was crying because I was overjoyed and overcome with all the love from my family, until one day, the joy changed.

It was the summer of 2013. I was 19 and just finished my sophomore year of college. Maybe it was all of the sunscreen I had been using or all of the sun exposure affecting my ability to think properly, but something inside of me told me I needed to search for my biological mother.

For many years leading up to this point, I felt haunted by this feeling and idea that the answers of my birth were out there, and these strange people to whom I was "related" were hopefully living, and could give me the answers for which I so badly yearned.

I sat down on the couch a few days later, my mom right beside me and my dad in his chair, and told them that I needed to write a letter to Somna, my biological mother. because I couldn't take the overwhelming feeling of not knowing what she looked like or her side of the story any longer

I started the letter by stating who I was, when my birthday was and "I am the daughter you didn't keep." In this letter I asked her why she gave me up for adoption, if I had siblings, how her health was and lastly, but most importantly, for a photo of her. With that, I sealed the envelope with a photo of myself and sent my heart across the world.

For years, I had no idea that an address even existed, so when my mom told me they had one with the paperwork, I was ecstatic. I knew that there was a chance that she didn't have the same address but I decided to give it a shot because, well, I had to.

No more than a week later a letter with my return address was back in my mailbox. After a good five minutes of crying, I reassured myself and opened the letter. Inside. A note with diligent and deliberate cursive was staring me in the face. The first line read, "My dear daughter." If that's not enough to make your heart stop momentarily, I don't know what is. As I Google translated the letter sentence by sentence I quickly turned into a puddle of tears for what seemed like the millionth time.

Here's the thing about adoption and seeking out your biological family: It comes with a price.

Here are the ABC's that I had to learn the hard way; A is for acceptance. This means that you may or may not come to accept that you are different, accepting that there are people that couldn't keep you, or didn't "want" to keep you. This means accepting that you may not understand or know why things happened the way they did, but surviving and striving to be the best you can be every single day.

B, is for belonging. This means struggling to fit in and feeling like you aren't good enough. Belonging is standing in a room full of your friends and family and feeling like you aren't "one of them," even though you are.

And lastly C, my personal favorite. C is for choosing your path. This means not allowing your adoption to define you or undermine you. Choosing to wake up every morning knowing that you're here today for a reason. Choosing to carry on through life knowing that without the ones that "let you go," you wouldn't be the kickass, strong, smart and loving individual that so many people love and adore.

With this being said, I don't want you to think that this was an easy process for me. By no means was this easy. I spent years feeling like I wasn't good enough, like I was an outcast or just feeling like straight up trash. There are still days that I have to remind myself that this doesn't make me any less of a person. If anything, this gives me substance and a great story to tell.

Now that I'm 22, I'm still learning and accepting that this is my story and these are the cards I’ve been dealt. It's time to embrace adoption with open arms and to not stop your story at C, but to continue it to Z.