Talking to Amy felt like reconnecting with someone I knew forever. From the start, we just got each other, and deep down, we knew we were sisters, though initially neither of us admitted it outright.
TBILISI, Georgia — All through my life, I felt a void. I knew something was missing. In 2021, at 19 years old, I discovered a life-changing truth. I had a twin sister named Amy. Over the last three years, I connected with and got to know her. Unfortunately, our joy came with a dark shadow when we realized we were victims of a corrupt network that trafficked children.
Last November, we confronted our biological mother and learned more shocking news: we have two other sisters and a brother. Anger surged through me as I realized she failed to protect us and allowed our trafficking. I still wrestle with forgiveness and remain far from finding peace. However, with Amy back in my life, I finally feel whole.
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During my childhood, I always felt like an unusual presence followed me everywhere. I envisioned a girl, dressed in black with pigtails in her hair. Strangely, she had no eyes or mouth, just a small nose. Despite her eerie appearance, she felt like a best friend to me, always there, inquiring about my well-being. When I told my mother about this mysterious companion, she dismissed it as nothing more than an imaginary friend. To me, she felt incredibly real. Looking back, I wonder if it was my mind’s way of remembering my missing twin.
Dancing has been my passion for as long as I can remember. At nine years old, I encountered a strange situation at a competition hinting at the existence of a girl who looked just like me. The mother of one of the competitors approached me, holding a photo of a girl named Amy who I never met. She inquired about her, which I found odd. However, I was so engrossed in the competition at the time that I brushed off the interaction and focused on my performance.
Sometime later, the daughter of that woman created a photo collage on Facebook, featuring images of Amy, and tagged me in it. I was shocked by how much we looked alike. Without really thinking it through, I reposted the image with the caption, “She is my twin.” It felt like Amy had somehow always been in my life. The truth wanted to come out. Even though we were so close, it felt like we were worlds apart.
In 2021, at 19 years old, a friend sent me a screenshot of a TikTok video and asked if it was me. Once again, I felt strange. I knew it wasn’t me, but there was an undeniable connection. This time, I decided to take action and reached out to Amy.
As we started talking, it became clear we were more than just lookalikes. We discovered that we were born in the same place, during the same summer, and shared a biological illness. Additionally, our conversations revealed identical voices and we mirrored each other’s gestures. All these similarities seemed more than simple coincidence.
Talking to Amy felt like reconnecting with someone I knew forever. From the start, we just got each other, and deep down, we knew we were sisters, though initially neither of us admitted it outright.
Meeting Amy in person for the first time felt akin to standing in front of a mirror. As we gazed into each other’s eyes, I experienced an indescribable sensation, as if the entire story unfolded before me, even though we remained in the dark about many details.
I experienced an undeniable feeling that something strange gripped us, and we both set out to uncover the truth. Amy took the first step and investigated her adoption. Not only did she confirm her adoption, but she also found out she had a sister. This news jolted me. I never considered the possibility of being adopted. I look strikingly similar to the woman who raised me, my mother, so I had no reason to doubt my parentage.
When I got home, tears just streamed down my face. My grandma approached and asked if I was okay. “I already know Amy is my sister, I said. “Please, just tell me the truth.” I begged for an explanation. My grandmother told me my mom could not have kids and they had adopted me. They only found out about my twin sister six months later. A huge sense of relief swept over me. Everything finally made sense. At the same time, I felt angry, as if my whole life was built on lies. I found myself caught in a whirlwind of emotions.
Finding out Amy and I fell victim to a baby-selling black market became the toughest pill to swallow. I cried, wondering why this happened to us. “Why couldn’t I have grown up with my sister by my side,” I thought. I felt this deep anger, furious at the idea of them treating me like an object. “I’m a human being, not something to be priced and sold,” I kept thinking.
Yet, that’s exactly what happened. My anger spread to the whole world, and to everyone who had a hand in this horrible trade. Amy felt determined to find our biological mother. As for me, I didn’t want to know anything about her or even look for her. In my eyes, she was the one who left us, who didn’t protect us from the horrors of the black market. That was all I needed to know. I didn’t care about her identity or getting in touch.
Despite my reluctance, I eventually supported Amy’s search, even though part of me wished it would all just end. Eventually, my curiosity about whether we had other siblings got the better of me. During that time, it felt challenging to focus on my daily routine. I tried to concentrate on my studies and go about my day, but this part of my story played constantly in my mind. It became hard to get back to the life I had before I reconnected with Amy.
My adoptive mother became a pillar of support throughout this process, encouraging me to seek out our biological mother and find it in my heart to forgive her. “You don’t know what she was going through when you were born,” she advised. Working through that forgiveness remains an ongoing journey for me.
In November 2023, Amy and I finally left to meet the woman who gave birth to us. I traveled to Leipzig primarily to stand by Amy and offer her my support. The truth was, I didn’t want to be there, but I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone in such a situation.
As soon as we stood face-to-face, she embraced us tightly. Although meant to be comforting, it only intensified the anger within me. However, I held back my emotions, not wanting to spoil the moment for my sister. The embrace felt like it lasted an eternity. All I could think was, “Please, let this end.” I needed to be somewhere else far away and alone.
Despite that reunion, I firmly believe my only mother in this life is the woman who raised me. I cannot envision regarding that other woman as my mother. Deep down, I wish I could forgive her, and I’m earnestly working towards that, but it’s a struggle. The thought that she failed to protect us lingers in my mind. I hold onto the hope that one day I’ll be able to forgive her, but I acknowledge that the journey towards forgiveness is far from easy.
As we kept searching, we discovered we had two sisters and a brother. This discovery amazed us and made us incredibly happy. They didn’t know about Amy and me, but now, we have a great long-distance relationship with them.
There’s a part of this story that remains unresolved: the trafficking. We cannot seek justice because of the age of our adoption case. It remains too old for any legal investigation to start. I believe that God, karma, or some force out there will eventually deal with those who treat human beings and children like objects. Holding onto this belief gives me a sense of peace.
When I found Amy, that missing piece returned and today everything seems right. The emptiness left me. I have her, and I also have two sisters and a brother. It is more than I ever could have hoped for. I’m at peace, not angry at life anymore. I’ve been given a beautiful gift.