Fifteen Years of LoveFor the first fifteen years of my life, I did not know my birth mother. The news that I was adopted came as quite a shock to me when my foster mother sat me down in the living room and broke the news to me one winter's evening. She handed me a small box, that my mother had left for me.I remember not sleeping that night. Not because I was upset, but because the contents of the box answered all my questions about why I felt weird, as if I didn't really belong with this family. I know I shouldn't really say that, but I always felt that something was wrong. For example, my family members were all really tall, at least six feet, and I