Adoption-Personal Narrative Analysis

My family is not my blood family, but with how close we all are sometimes I forget. From the moment my parents thought we were mature enough, they told us we were adopted, but they never really told us our “story” until this year.
My adopted parents had two miscarriages and because they wanted kids so bad, they decided to adopt. My sister was adopted at eighteen months, my brother at sixteen months, and I was adopted at five days old. All three of us have our own stories on why we were adopted, but mine is uniquely different.
The day I was born my biological mother left me. She swaddled me up in blankets and set me on a bench near the entrance of the hospital, knowing that the nurses would walk by and see me. That same day at around seven

p.m. one of the nurses walking to her car found me. When she brought me back into the hospital, the nurses and doctors put me in the NICU to make sure nothing was wrong and then put me in the nursery. Once everything got settled everyone wanted to name me. Half of the hospital wanted to name me MeKenna which was the name of the hospital. A nurse wanted to name me Marisol because I looked Hispanic, and the rest of the hospital wanted to name me Hope, because they “hoped” that I would have a great life. A day or two later they noticed on the cameras that someone would stand outside the nursery with a black hoodie and watch me. The hospital thought that it was one of my parents and were afraid they were going to hurt me. When I finally got adopted, my parents named me Brittany so that my biological parents could not find me. They also really liked the name Hope so they made it Brittany Hope.
When I was smaller it never really phased me that I was adopted. I thought it was cool to be adopted. I would always here the other kids make jokes about how “others were adopted” and everyone would start laughing, and I never understood why it was funny. Or everyone would constantly talk about how they looked like their mom or dad and would ask why I did not look like my parents, and I never knew how to answer them. I mean, how do I answer them? Do I tell them that I’m adopted, or avoid going down that road? Everyone would always get so awkward when they would talk about things like that. But it never bother me. The truth is, I like being different than everyone else. Nobody looks at it the way I do. I would and sometimes still do, get asked “do you ever want to find your real parents?” or “why don't you go find your real parents?”, and I never knew what they meant by real parents, because I always looked as the parents I have now as my real parents.
Now that I know my story, it has made me appreciate my life in a whole new aspect. My biological mother could’ve left me anywhere, but she left me somewhere knowing that I would get found. Just that part alone makes me think a million different things. My parents have always taught me to be thankful for what you have, and never ask for more than what you need. Knowing that I could be with totally different parents with different life style, makes me respect life. There could had been million of different outcomes of her putting me on that bench. Yes the life I live is not perfect and is actually a lot rougher than i make it look, but there is always someone that has it worst.