Hey everyone, it’s Paul. Yesterday, I celebrated my birthday, which on it’s own is nothing remarkable. But it was only the fourth time I celebrated on the actual date of my birth—October 27. Before that, I was always given cake and presents on someone else’s birthday—the real Paul Fronczak.
Obviously, I’m very relieved that an amazing team of genealogists discovered my real identity four years ago, which led me to my birth certificate, and my actual birthday. But the truth is, I’m still not used to having had to switch my birthday from the spring to the fall. It still feels a little strange to me to say that October 27 is my birthday. Imagine if you had marked your birthday on the same day for nearly 50 years, then all of a sudden switched to a different season, month and day. Don’t you think it would feel kind of weird?
I also understand that I’m hardly alone in feeling this way. I don’t know the exact number, but I’m guessing there are many tens of thousands of people who, like me, learned their true dates of birth well into their lives. They, like me, are the lucky ones. Since pre-adoption records are often sealed and generally very hard to get, a lot of adoptees never get the chance to celebrate their actual birthdays.
I’m wondering if there’s anyone else out there who has experienced this birthday-switcheroo and found it a little difficult to adjust to. If so, I would love to hear your story, and I hope that maybe you’ll send me a note.
For me, as strange as it’s been to celebrate on October 27th, it’s also been kind of great. I honestly never felt like I was a Taurus, and now that I know I’m actually a Scorpio I can say that my horoscopes make much more sense. Overall, it feels right to me that I was an October baby. And who knows—maybe in a few years I won’t ever think about my old birthday, April 26th, again.
Hopefully, that will happen when I find the real Paul Fronczak, and we can get together on that day to celebrate his birthday
Thanks for checking in, and see you back here soon.