Meeting for the first time – by Nelson/Roberto

I met my birth family for the first time when I was 16 during the Christmas of 1997. It was an incredible experience. One that I will never forget. Looking back on it now, it’s all a blur of memories. Filled with excitement, confusion, love and happiness. When I found them I found my self.

The first thing I remember is sitting on the plane listening to music. I’m always listening to music, especially on long trips. I don’t remember what I was listening to but I think I had really crappy head phones. It always bugs me when I don’t have a decent pair of head phones and for some reason this sticks out in my mind. Even though I had been to a few different countries before I had never been to Central America and I really had no idea what to expect.

We arrived late at night and as we walked thought the airport I remember going down a long flight of steps on our way to customs. I was still listening to music as we waited to pick up our bags. As we stood there a woman approached me and started to ask me in Spanish some questions. She had a piece of paper in her hand and I believe she wanted me to take a survey. Not knowing any Spanish I just stood there and ignored her. I felt bad because I’m sure I came off as being rude but I had no idea what was going on and all I could think about were the people waiting outside.

We finally cleared customs and head out of the airport. There were people everywhere and most of them were cab drives asking if we wanted a taxi. We just kept saying no and moving forward. Then there was a clearing and that’s when I saw them for the first time. In front of me stood an older version of myself and by his side was a little girl of 6 years. Immediately they hugged me, my little sister getting stuck in between me and my father. For a moment I tried to let her out but it was no use, they wouldn’t let go. My father had been waiting 16 years to see me and it felt like he would never let me go ever again.

After that its all a blur of meeting my older brother, older sister, grandmother, stepmother, cousins, aunts and uncles. There must have been 30 people at at the airport waiting to meet us. I have no idea how long we were outside of the airport hugging, crying and trying to communicate with each other. We have a picture from that night. Its blurry and you can’t really see anything. All you can make out are lights streaking across the photo. My mother has said from time to time that this picture describes the emotion of that night and I think she is right. It was just one big blur.

The next thing I remember is piling into a car with my little sister close behind. She sat next to me never letting go. My mother snapped a picture of the two of us. Later we would make a mouse pad from this picture and to this day that mouse pad sits on my desk. As we drove off I remember feeling completely lost, everything looked so different and I had no idea where I was. Even so I felt at home and safe. I looked down at my sister. Here was this little girl who I had never met but I meant the world to her. It was a strange feeling and one that I would feel again and again as I got to know my family.

Video – TV Interview
Part 1: The adoption, a leap of faith and a miracle reunion.
Post – Part 2: The Back Story

Eva’s Introduction

There is something you should know about my family first: we are not the type of people that quit easily. Not that kind… we have been fighters throughout life…

Pain and suffering are two words that my family knows really well and how can I start to tell my own story (which is my family’s as well) without using these kind of words? Well, I wish I didn’t have to, but it is quite a bit of what we have to tell…

That is the reason why I have to start talking about how hard it is to lose someone you love. Even when you are only 3 years old and are not aware of sense of lost. You suffer, and it hurts deep in your heart. Growing up without the guidance and care of a mother is a really tough task. You always feel there is something missing, there is something gone. You always feel you need something in your life but you don’t realize what that thing is. There is a lonely feeling that stays with you no matter if you are happy or sad… It is something more, something not understandable.

But I don’t have to feel cheated by God and life. They gave me the purest love I could ever have, my Grandma. The best, the nicest, the most caring and loving Grandma on earth… she was my support through all these difficult years. But the thing is, WHY?

Wondering why has been a deep thought during my life, and now I know it is a question without an answer. However, it is the most important question we have asked to ourselves…

I guess this is the reason why we are telling our story. So maybe we can understand, and make others to understand what we went through. How after all, it has became a MIRACLE…

As my brother said, Ana Milagro is the name of our mother, which means MIRACLE,. If you think about it, a miracle is full of power, full of hope, full of blessings, and I like to think that this is the legacy she gave to us… and this is her story, the story of a MIRACLE…


“Losing ones family obliges us to find our family. Not always the family that is our blood but the family that can become our blood”
Sean Connery – Finding Forester

The other day I saw the movie Freedom Writes. Its a story inspired by the real lives of long beach teenagers during the early 90’s. The film was really good and it made me think about my own family and our story. In the movie the students kept diaries so that their could write about their life experiences. This made me want to write down some of my own experiences.

For those who aren’t to familiar with the story. My parents were both revolutionaries in the civil war in El Salvador. They both were fairly important in the group that they fought with. During the war I was separated from my family and adopted to the US. 15 years later I was reunited with my birth family thanks to efforts of my grandmother. That was in 1997, since that time we have become a big family. I frequently visit my family in central America and they have come to the US on several occasions to visit me as well.

I’m writing this blog with the help of my siblings to tell our story. We want to write our thoughts and feelings about the things we went trough. We also want to help my mother as she writes a book detailing the events that brought us all together. We have been through so much over the years and we are so lucky to have found each other.

This year marks an important year for our family and our story. It was 25 years ago that I was separated from my birth family and this Christmas it will be 10 years since we were reunited. A lot has happened during that time and it has not always been easy but now we can look back and reflect on these incredible events.

My birth mothers name was Ana Milagro Escobar. Milagro is miracle in English and is the inspiration for the name of this blog. This is our story, this is Ana’s Miracle…

Part 1: The adoption, a leap of faith and a miracle reunion.