- Jamie Fry was just four years old when he last saw his mum, before being dropped off at an orphanage in Saigon and later being adopted by a family in South Australia
- Jamie went on to have a fulfilling childhood in Australia but never felt quite whole as he was disconnected from his roots in Vietnam
- Determined to discover his true identity, Jamie set on a multi-year long quest to be reunited with his birth family
Rubbing a cotton swab inside my cheeks, I then neatly tucked it into a ziplock bag.
‘I’m counting on you,’ I whispered, before mailing off my DNA sample, praying it’d lead me to my family.
It was 2011, and aged 41, I’d been searching for them for years.
Born in Vietnam in 1970, when war, violence and military upheaval engulfed the country, my mother was forced to put me in the care of an orphanage in Saigon when I was just four, after my father, who was a Black American soldier, returned to the US.
‘I’m counting on you.’
It was the last time I remember hugging her. I also had vague memories of a big brother.
As the war began to de-escalate, in 1975 thousands of orphaned children were airlifted to Australia, the US, France and Canada, to be adopted.
Fortunately, I was one of those kids, adopted by a South Australian couple named Helen and Gordon, who became the most loving mum and dad to me and gave me a wonderful upbringing.
READ MORE: Forced Adoption: ‘I was stolen as a baby’
I grew up alongside three brothers, Justin, Marcus and Matt, who were athletic and inspired me to be just as strong and competitive.
Despite only speaking Vietnamese when I arrived, I quickly assimilated to the Australian culture and became fluent in English.
In my 20s, my curiosity around my culture and identity piqued, so I began searching for my family, with the support of Mum and Dad. Armed with only the name of my orphanage and knowledge my father was in the US army, I didn’t have much to go off.
So in 2000, aged 30, I made the journey to Vietnam on a quest to track down my birth mum.
While there, I explored the local food, music and night life, immersing myself in the culture I’d long forgotten.
I went to the orphanage where I was adopted from to find any potential leads on my family, but sadly they had no information.
I knew the search for answers wouldn’t be easy, but I refused to give up hope, even after I came back home to Australia.
In 2004, I returned to Vietnam with my wife, Nandini, then 34, with renewed hope of finding my birth family.
READ MORE: Aussie’s adoption hell – I was reunited with the wrong mum
Hearing of my plight, a local TV station offered to search for my mum, but then told me she’d died when they couldn’t find any trace of her.
I refused to believe it. She’s out there somewhere, I told myself.
Years passed and I decided to take a DNA test to find potential matches.
A few weeks after mailing off my sample, I received an email with a match – a first cousin named Conrey on my birth dad’s side who lived in Arkansas, US.
She’s out there somewhere.
But he’d sadly died aged 92, just two weeks after submitting his DNA sample. Through our family tree I was able to connect with other relatives.
Discovering that my birth dad was one of 16 children, I learned he’d tragically vanished after the war and no-one knew where he was.
Still, I was grateful to have found more extended family who embraced me as one of them. It gave me hope that I might find Mum one day too.
READ MORE: TGA birth shock: My heart stopped for 20 minutes
Nine years later in March 2020, I received another email from Ancestry.com saying there was a match for an older half-brother named Ly on Mum’s side. Three years older than me, he’d been born in 1967.
A few weeks later, I received a Facebook message from our half-sister, Lien, then 44. She wanted to connect after hearing about me from Ly.
Amazingly, she was living with my biological mum, Thu!
‘I’ve been searching for you.’
I couldn’t believe it!
Starting a video call, as the call connected and my screen filled with the image of my mum and sister, I jumped in excitement.
‘I’ve been searching for you,’ I said, as we cried tears of joy.
Mum told me I had another half-brother, Reginald, who was born in 1973, but I had no memory of him.
After speaking to Mum and Lien, I had a video call with Ly. Seeing my big brother’s face for the first time in 45 years was surreal. And, after showing him a scar on top of my head that I had a memory of getting while playing with him, he could hardly believe it was really me.
‘That’s the scar! Now I know it’s you,’ he said, tears welling in his eyes.
But with them all living in the US, due to Covid I wasn’t able to travel to see them for two years.
We video called weekly and I learned that my sister was born two years after I’d left Vietnam.
Desperate for a new start, they’d moved to the US in the 80s, where Mum went on to become an award-winning chef with the Ritz-Carlton hotel group.
I couldn’t believe I’d not only found my mum, but three more siblings.
As soon as the borders opened in December 2022, I flew over to be reunited with my family.
Arriving at Mum’s place, I wrapped her in a big hug as tears streamed down her face. ‘I’m here now,’ I said, comforting her.
I knew she felt guilty for giving me up, but I assured her I’d had a wonderful life. Sadly, my adoptive mum passed that year, aged 82, but my dad was overjoyed that Thu and I were finally reunited.
To celebrate our reunion, Mum prepared a big Vietnamese feast for us all.
In 2024, I returned to the US with Nandini and my daughters, Jasmyne, then 18, and Jayde, 17, who were excited to meet their biological grandma.
The path to being reconnected to my identity has been long and at times unforgiving, but I’m thankful I never gave up hope to be reunited with my family.
