Everyone has an origin story. All the superheros do. Even supervillans do. I have a few.
According to Mom (I consider my mother to be my natural mother)
Mom was a tortured soul. She was sexually abused from before she could speak. Her first memory was of her mother, holding a shotgun on her grandfather, after catching him molesting Mom while he held Mom on his lap. Later on, when she was 5, Grandma sent Mom to live with her father. He put her in informal foster care, with a pedophile who molested her for the 6 years Mom lived with him.
Mom returned home to her mother. Grandma had had a bunch of other kids while Mom was away, and their care often fell to Mom. Mom was poor and ragged. She was ashamed to go to school. Dad was a rich guy from the neighborhood. Grandma told Mom to “go for him”. Grandma thought he would be a good catch. She didn’t sleep with him right away, and this kept him interested. Eventually she did, and she became pregnant.
Dad arranged for an abortion, using the same abortionist Grandma used. Mom was 16, and abortion was still illegal. It was another traumatizing experience for Mom. Mom and Dad continued to bang. Mom got pregnant again. This time, Dad offered to marry her. They got married, and were going to live in an apartment off his parents big house, when something happened.
Mom saw a sign outside a church, offering help with unexpected pregnancies. She went in and asked about it, and was introduced to the idea of adoption. She went home and told Dad, thinking he would reject the idea, but instead he embraced it. They moved a few towns away, and Mom waited out her pregnancy away from the family. Dad worked on her every day as her belly grew, telling her I would have a terrible life if they kept me. A life even worse than hers. She didn’t want to give me up, but she began to believe him, and agreed to the adoption.
I was born. No one was told. Mom took care of me in the hospital and held me on the ride to the agency. I stared at her the whole way. She cried at the agency. She cried for days afterward. She cried everyday for 10 years. It would overtake her suddenly. While on line at the bank, when buying groceries. Then she stopped crying. She waited for me to find her. She didn’t want to look for me, because she thought my adoption might be a secret to me, and she didn’t want to be the one to tell me.
According to Dad
Mom got pregnant. They had relationship problems. They liked group sex and drugs, and Mom wouldn’t give those things up, so Dad decided the only solution was to give me away, so I could have a better life.
According to A-Mom
My parents were too poor to keep me. Mom had to raise her younger siblings and didn’t want to raise any more kids. My parents told their parents that I died at birth. My parents were married, and A-mom could not understand how a married woman could give her baby away. No one held a gun to her head. She was a cold heartless woman who did not want me. A-mom knew my name at birth, but would only tell me the first name. A-mom lived in terror that I would be taken away.