Lost and Found: A Mother’s Long Search for Her Twin Daughters

Narrated by: Wang Taomei

Written by: Jin Yang

Translated and edited by: Clyde Xi

November 7, 2024

Abstract

This is the account of an ordinary mother navigating extraordinary constraints. Set against the realities of rural life, family obligation, and state policy, the narrative traces how private choices are shaped—and sometimes broken—by forces beyond one’s control. Written in a mother’s own voice, the story does not seek judgment or absolution, but bears witness to what endures when love must persist without certainty, distance, or time. It is a record of history, responsibility, and the quiet determination to love and truth, even when separation seems final.

1. Marriage, migrant life and first child

   
   

My name is Wang Taomei. I was born in 1983. I have a younger brother, and I began caring for him from a very early age. Because of this responsibility, I received little formal education. I learned tailoring as a teenager and began working away from home at a young age. 

In 2002, I married my husband, Gao Yingguo, who was born in 1980. After our marriage, I moved into his family home in Gao Xin Village No. 1, Luo Jing Brigade, Gu Xiandu Town, Poyang County, Shangrao City, Jiangxi Province. 

In 2004, I gave birth to our first daughter at the local hospital in town. Because we married and had a child before meeting the minimum age requirement of the family planning policy, we were fined 300 yuan.

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2. Second child: preserving over-quota birth

   
   

In 2006, my husband and I were working in Guangdong. In March of that year, I discovered that I was pregnant for the second time. When my pregnancy was three or four months along, I had a prenatal check-up in Guangdong and quietly paid the doctor 50 yuan; he confirmed the baby was a girl. We returned to our hometown just before Chinese New Year. By then I was already nine months pregnant. 

My father-in-law insisted I had an abortion but I refused. The baby was already so developed—it was a living human being. He argued that even if the baby was born, no one could care for her and she would have to be given up. In his view, another girl would be considered an over-quota birth. Besides the hefty fine, I would be forced to undergo sterilization, eliminating any chance of the family having a grandson. He was adamant that I terminated the pregnancy. I cried but stood firm. 

Seeing how determined I was and how pitiful my situation was, my mother agreed to help care for the child. I stayed mostly in hiding to avoid being discovered. When the time came, I went to my mother’s house. In January 2007, I gave birth—not at the hospital in town, but at the home of a private doctor near my mother’s house. We were afraid to bring the baby back home, so we left her with my mother to raise. When she was about one year old, we moved her to a neighbor’s house in our village. The paternal grandparents visited frequently and gradually grew attached to her. Eventually they accepted her. But her resemblance to our family raised suspicions among neighbors, and someone reported us. In the end, we were fined 4,000 yuan. After that, she was able to come home and their paternal grandmother was raising both daughters while we continued working away from home.

3. Third pregnancy –  fighting for the birth of twins

   
   

In 2009, we were working in Jinjiang, Fujian. In June, I became pregnant again. At just over 40 days, I learned it was twins. At that time the family planning policy was strictly enforced in Fujian. If officials discovered a pregnant migrant worker, they would have forced her to abort. After the third-month pregnancy, I did not dare go out. Whenever family planning inspectors came to the factory where I was working, the boss hid me. I spent my days confined upstairs at his house and my husband went out to buy necessities to meet my daily needs. 

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When the babies were about five months along, the boss’s son drove me to a hospital for a check-up. The doctor confirmed I was carrying twins and one was definitely a girl, while the other was likely a girl as well, though not certain. He asked if I wanted an abortion and I said no. Some fellow migrant workers from my villagers had their pregnancies discovered and were taken for forced abortions. Others, upon learning they were carrying girls, chose to abort voluntarily partly because the procedure was free. But I would not do that. These twins were my own flesh and blood. Girls’ lives matter too, and I had to protect them. It was of utmost importance that first, I would keep them hidden from officials, and second, I would eat well, taking more fruit to give them sufficient nutrition even in difficult times.

We returned to my hometown for Chinese New Year. My belly was very large—nine months along—and I had to take the train home. I still remember the train attendant warning me to be careful. When we reached the station, my husband arranged a private car and we slipped home under cover of darkness. I stayed hidden and did not dare to go out.

My father arranged a secret prenatal check-up, taking me at night to his friend’s house for a B-scan ultrasound. It confirmed both were girls. We dared not go to a hospital. If discovered, we would face fines, forced abortion, and sterilization, since this birth was already a serious over-quota violation.

My husband was as firm as mine in terms of our decision to continue the pregnancy while we were in Fujian, away from home. But once we returned home and faced his domineering parents, he wavered. My father-in-law demanded an abortion and I absolutely refused. I had endured so much hardship in Fujian to protect these children—only to be told to abort them now? I told him they were my children. If his family did not want them, I would raise them alone. I would divorce his son, let him remarry and produce a grandson for the family. Otherwise, I said I would jump into the river with the two babies still in my womb. Faced with my absolute resolve, my father-in-law had no choice but to back down.

On the 15th day of Chinese New Year, February 28, 2010, my husband was sent away by his father to work because the family desperately needed money. On March 15, 2010, labor began early that morning. My mother-in-law called several neighbors to carry me to a vehicle and took me to the home of a private doctor named Cai in town. We feared that giving birth at a public hospital would alert family planning officials, leading to forced sterilization and destroying my father-in-law’s hope of having a grandson. But delivering at a private home meant crude facilities and enormous risks.

At around 7:15 a.m. on March 15, 2010, the first daughter was born smoothly. The second daughter was in breech position; her foot emerged first and she became stuck. There was heavy bleeding. I don’t know how Dr. Cai managed to deliver her. I lost consciousness and was extremely weak. Around 6 p.m. that day, several people carried me into a vehicle and brought me home. During the journey, I asked my mother-in-law, “Are the babies okay?” She gave no answer. I never saw or touched the babies. My mind was blank.

4. Searching for the twins taken from me

   
   

When I regained some consciousness at home, I asked my mother-in-law, “Where are the babies? They aren’t beside me. I can’t hear them crying.” I kept pressing her until she finally admitted they had been given away. I was so furious that I could not speak and nearly fainted again.

I could not accept that news. I argued fiercely with my in-laws, demanding their return. The next day, without a phone of my own, I secretly used my father-in-law’s phone to call my husband and insisted he come home immediately to retrieve our twins. When my father-in-law discovered this, he forbade my husband from returning. My mother-in-law tried to persuade me, even enlisting neighbors to convince me that the children had been given to a good family and I should not look for them. I refused. Even if we were poor, we could work hard to support all four children. When I asked whom they had been given to, my mother-in-law said they had been handed to Dr. Cai, the delivery doctor. When I asked whom she had given them to, my in-laws had no idea.

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I could not bear not knowing where my children were. I called Dr. Cai directly and asked where they had gone. She replied that my mother-in-law had asked her to help give them away. I told her that, as their mother, I had never agreed. She said that was a family matter. At home, I argued again with my in-laws. I told them it was reckless to give the children away without knowing where or to whom. What if they had been sold to traffickers? My daughters would suffer, and I would carry the guilt forever. It would have been better never to have given birth. I cried and made a scene. 

My father-in-law, worried about my health and recognizing some truth in my words, promised to ask Dr. Cai the next day. Not trusting he would be honest, I asked my own father to accompany him. Dr. Cai spoke to them smoothly, saying the girls were with a family of good means in the county town. The man was a driver; they had a 16-year-old son and wanted a girl. The twins could be registered under the family planning policy and receive a good education. She promised to provide photos every year. According to local custom, adoptive families do not want contact with the birth family. 

My father-in-law reasoned that giving them away might still allow the chance of a grandson. My husband is his only son; without a male heir, the family line could not continue. My own father felt that taking the children back—with four already and possibly more later—would place too heavy a burden on me. He pitied me and was also influenced by Dr. Cai’s words, neither man saw the children or brought them back. They returned home empty-handed.

Still unwilling to accept the result, I called Dr. Cai again. A day later, a woman claiming to be the adoptive mother called back from Dr. Cai’s phone. She said the children were with her and doing very well. I heard a baby cry over the phone. She even said, “The child is pooping right now.”

I stayed home to recover for a month. To earn a living, I had to return to work. Before leaving, I went to Dr. Cai’s house to ask about the children. She gave me a photo of them at one month old. Carrying endless longing and profound helplessness, I went back to Fujian with my husband to continue working. I always kept that photo with me and looked at it whenever I missed them.

Before the Mid-Autumn Festival in 2010, we returned home for the holiday. I visited Dr. Cai again. She offered no new information beyond saying the children were with a good family. She gave me a second photo, and I could see they had grown.

During Chinese New Year of 2011, we came home again. A few days after the Lantern Festival – 15^th day of the new year, realizing the girls would soon turn one, I bought new clothes and silver bracelets as birthday gifts. I went to Dr. Cai’s house hoping she would pass them on. She became angry, saying I kept coming to ask about them, that she had told me repeatedly they were fine, and that I should stop disturbing them. Thinking she might be upset because I brought no gift, I quickly bought good wine and cigarettes and returned. I begged her to pass the clothes and bracelets to the children as an expression of my love as a mother. She refused outright, throwing the gifts and clothes out the door. She said the adoptive parents were well-off and did not need them. I pleaded that she did not have to reveal who sent the gifts—just pass them on. She refused again. I cried at her doorstep for a long time. Her husband came out and scolded me, telling me not to disturb them anymore.

I left in despair, without a new photo, and returned to work away from home to survive.

In that year, I became pregnant for the fourth time while working in Beijing. At five months of pregnancy, a check-up revealed it was a boy. I returned to my hometown early and stayed hidden. When my labor began, my mother-in-law took me to the local hospital. When I presented my ID, the doctor realized we already had two daughters, which meant this was another over-quota birth. Without asking me, he performed a cesarean section and tubal ligation. After returning home, family planning officials demanded a 10,000-yuan fine. After negotiation, we paid 8,000 yuan. By then the policy was beginning to ease.

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Time passed. Every Chinese New Year when I returned home, I visited Dr. Cai to ask for news about the twins. No matter how harshly she spoke or how many falsehoods she told, I always went with a smile. I once swore I would never disturb the adoptive family or the children—I only wanted to know where they were, even if I could only see them from a distance. She still refused to tell me anything.

During this time, Dr. Cai moved from our town to the county seat. I tried every possible way to find her new address. She was my only link to my daughters. No matter how much she disliked me or how often she rejected me, I swallowed my pride and continued visiting her house every year.

5. Breaking through – meeting my twin daughters for the first time

   
   

Years passed. In 2020, my eldest daughter was going to school in the county seat, so I sought work nearby, especially close to schools. I found a job at a tea shop, from where I could watch children after school and look for my twin daughters. I believed my daughters would be about ten years old, likely in first or second grade. Whenever I heard about twin girls, I would rush to the school to check—but they were not mine.

Whenever I returned home, besides visiting Dr. Cai, I asked around about any twin girls in the area. My eldest daughter said I was becoming obsessive and might have a mental breakdown. I believed—because Dr. Cai had said so—that my twins were somewhere in our county. I just didn’t know where.

In late 2023 and early 2024, my older sister began volunteering for “Baby Come Home” (Baobei Huijia) in Zhejiang. When I asked if I could register online, she said yes. I asked my eldest daughter to submit our information on the Baby Come Home website. A volunteer asked whether both husband and wife agreed to search for the daughters. We both agreed. We would always place the children’s interests first. If the adoptive parents no longer wanted to raise them, we would take them back. If they couldn’t afford their education, we would support them through school. The adoptive parents could maintain contact if they wished. 

After verification, the volunteer published our search notice. Later, the Baby Come Home volunteers noticed a near match between our post and one from an American adoptive mother. We submitted blood samples from my husband and me. Somehow Dr. Cai learned I had posted on the site and demanded I remove it, saying it would harm the children and the adoptive family. I refused unless she first told me where they were.

With assistance from the Nanchang Project, Chinese police, and many Chinese and international volunteers, DNA matching was completed. On July 28, 2024, for the first time since their birth, I saw my twin daughters online in America. I was overwhelmed with excitement and emotions beyond words. I am deeply grateful to the adoptive parents for raising them with such care. I am especially thankful that they also helped the children search for us. Thank you for their boundless love that transcends borders. I am truly thankful to all the volunteers for their tireless work.

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Editor’s Note

Through the ministry of Village of the Stars, I have had the opportunity to witness the reunification of Chinese adoptees with their birth families, serving as a volunteer interpreter. Taomei and her twin daughters are one such family. I am deeply grateful to Taomei for the courage it took to tell her story, and to Jin Yang, whose patient assistance made their reunion possible and helped document this journey.

The twin daughters were raised with love and care by their American adoptive parents, a middle-class family living in the suburbs. Today, both girls are in high school and are thriving—academically, socially, and emotionally. They remain in contact with their birth family through regular online conversations, especially during Chinese New Year, when distance feels a little shorter. 

Taomei personally sewed two dresses for her daughters with her own hands. As a highly skilled tailor, she finds joy and meaning in sewing love into every stitch—love that may have arrived late, but remains equally deep and enduring.

Taomei and her twin daughters are among the few survivors of the vast machinery of the one-child policy. Many women and children were not as fortunate. Over more than three decades of state-enforced control, millions of mothers endured forced abortions and involuntary sterilizations, carrying lifelong physical and emotional scars. This story stands not only as a testament to one family’s endurance, but also as a quiet remembrance of those whose voices were never heard.

Clyde Xi

February 7, 2026