Blog

I never thought I would be sitting here looking back on my career … a Super Bowl Championship with the San Francisco 49ers … a National Championship at the University of Notre Dame … a candidate for the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

I was “Skinny Rick” who lived on Jefferson Street in the inner city of Harrisburg, PA. I picked up football playing with older kids on my block who were bigger and stronger than me. We played in factory parking lots with broken glass on our asphalt “field.”

As a child, I always felt different. I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror. I always wanted to look like someone else. Someone with lighter skin, better hair, a skinnier nose. I was a kid trying to fit in and be accepted. I didn’t realize I had yet to discover something that would change my life forever and change my perception of my identity.

When I was about 10 years old, an older teen approached me on the basketball court. He asked me, “Is your sister Rhonda?” I said, “Yes.” He replied, “That’s MY sister. Can’t you see she looks like me? She doesn’t even look like you.”

I raced home angry and in tears. I couldn’t wait to tell my dad so he could straighten this guy out. When I told him what happened, he let out a big sigh, put his head in his hands and said, “We’ll talk about this when your mom gets home.”

I was not only shocked but confused. When my mom came home, she broke the news. I was adopted. My sister was adopted, too. The boy on the court was her biological brother. I never learned the details of our adoptions.

My mom couldn’t stop crying. I told her I just wanted to know the truth.

Her tears kept flowing. All she could say was she loved me. I loved her too and didn’t want her to be sad. That’s when I took my feelings and locked them away deep inside. I never brought it up again.

I didn’t realize until later in life how traumatic this experience was for me. I convinced myself I didn’t care about knowing who my birth parents were. I told myself they must have been bad people. It put a chip on my shoulder. It made me feel like I had to prove myself in everything I did — to everyone, including me.

In school, I participated in every competition. I got straight A’s, was class president, won spelling bees and science fairs. I had to win at everything. Good wasn’t enough. I had to be the best.

On the outside, I exuded confidence, but on the inside, I was still trying to find myself and manage my biggest fears and emotions that were ready to explode.

When I started excelling in football, the attention fed me. It’s what I needed to feel worthy. I put more pressure on myself than any coach could.

It wasn’t until the end of my NFL career that I decided to look for my birth mother. I wanted to know where I came from — I needed closure. When I finally found her, it was comforting to see that I looked like her and my half-brothers. She told me she was only 15 years old when she had me. I also found out she wrote poetry, and I come from a long line of poets. Understanding this part of my story was exactly what I needed.

Fast forward six years, and I took the lessons I learned as an adopted child and applied them as an adoptive father. I was on a plane to South Korea with my wife and 8-year-old son Ricky to pick up his little brother, Shane. I had always dreamed of paying forward the love and kindness my parents showed me. I wanted to be as good of a father as my father was to me. Our family was now complete. The first conversation we had with Shane was to let him know that we adopted him. We answered all his questions the best we could.

I did not want Shane to start his life with us with any mistaken perception about himself or any of the unnecessary insecurities that I had to battle. He is proud of his Nigerian and Korean cultures. He exudes self-confidence, and we have raised him to love himself and his story. We couldn’t be prouder.

Ten years after adopting him, we took Shane back to South Korea to visit the people who took care of him before he became our son. He was so happy to meet the nurses, doctors, social workers and foster family who loved and cared for him.

I encourage anyone who wants to help a child waiting for a permanent family to support the Dave Thomas Foundation for Adoption. Follow the Foundation on social media to share their adoption resources for prospective parents and other ways to get involved to help!

Thank you, Ricky, for sharing your story.

We welcome our caring supporters to share your story about how adoption has impacted your life and why the Foundation’s work is important to you. Together, we can achieve the vision that every child will have a permanent home and a loving family.