Happy reunion with family for a daughter given away 44 years ago

By Hai Hien   October 26, 2024 | 03:20 pm PT
Seeing the woman on the video call with a striking resemblance to her third daughter, Tran Phung Nga buries her face in her hands and sobs uncontrollably.

Beside her, Nguyen Trung Chanh, tears streaming down his face, struggles to speak.

Nearly 70 years old, bedridden for years, blind, and surviving on oxygen, he whispers: "Finally I have lived to see this day."

The couple had once believed they would die without ever seeing the daughter they had given away when she was just eight months old, but after 44 long years a miracle occurred.

Chị Lệ Hằng (tên cũ là Nguyệt) trong ngày đoàn tụ với bố mẹ tại xã Đông Thạnh, huyện Hooc Môn, TP HCM, ngày 15/4/2024. Ảnh: Nhân vật cung cấp

Le Hang (born Nguyen Thi Nguyet) during her reunion with her parents in Ho Chi Minh City on Oct. 15, 2024. Photo courtesy of the family

In early 1980 Nga gave birth to her fourth daughter, Nguyen Thi Nguyet. For months she carried the baby in a small aluminum basin while selling vegetables at Cu Market on Ham Nghi Street in downtown HCMC. The couple lived with Nga’s parents in Binh Thanh District near Bong Bridge. After her parents’ house was sold, the couple moved to District 1 to make a living.

With three daughters already, the family struggled daily, sleeping in markets, under bridges or anywhere they could find a place. Two of the children were looked after by relatives - one by Nga’s parents-in-law, one by her own family - after another tragically died of illness.

With no one else to rely on, baby Nguyet stayed with her parents.

Little Nguyet, with her pale complexion and cleft chin, was loved and cradled by women hawkers at the market. But malnutrition left her frail, with her body covered by sores. During visits to her parents’, second daughter Mong Hien was tasked with taking Nguyet out to play. One day, as they passed a stall selling palm sugar, she recalls how her starving baby sister tugged at her, indicating she wanted some.

The older sister cupped her hands and begged for a piece. "She eagerly licked the palm sugar as soon as I handed it to her," she recounts.

Nguyet cried from hunger every night. Fearing for her health and unable to bear her suffering, Nga and her husband made the difficult decision of giving her up for adoption, fervently hoping she would have a decent life. In 1980 a woman named Muoi, who sold things at the same market, introduced a childless couple from Cho Gao District, Tien Giang Province, who wanted to adopt Nguyet. On the day she handed her over, the baby clung to her and cried for her, and Nga silently promised herself: "When we have a home, we will come back for you."

Years passed with the couple still living hand-to-mouth. In 1987, after giving birth to their fifth daughter, they moved in with Chanh’s family. In 1994, after having a son, they borrowed money to buy a small thatched house in Dong Thanh Commune, Hoc Mon District. "Now all I want was to bring Nguyet home," she told her husband. It had been a long 14 years.

What she feared most was that her daughter might not be loved or cared for, and she was haunted by nightmares of Nguyet dying alone. She returned to the old market to ask Muoi about her daughter, only to learn that the family who had adopted Nguyet had moved away without leaving any trace. The only information she had was that her daughter had been renamed Le Hang.

Unable to trace her daughter, Nga became increasingly remorseful. Every time she passed the old market, where her daughter had once begged for palm sugar, she would break into tears. Chanh felt powerless to stem his wife’s sorrow. He often thought that if they ever reunited the first thing he would do was apologize, hoping his daughter would understand and forgive the difficult decision they made all those years ago.

This thought stayed with him throughout the years he was bedridden with diabetes and pleural effusion. Twice the hospital sent him home, believing he would not survive, but he held on. "I have to live to see my daughter again and ask for her forgiveness," he would tell his children.

Chị Lệ Hằng (tên cũ là Nguyệt), áo trắng đoàn tụ cùng mẹ và anh chị em ruột trong gia đình mình, ngày 15/4/2024. Ảnh: Tuấn Vỹ

Le Hang (in a white top) reunites with her birth mother and biological siblings on Oct. 15, 2024. Photo courtesy of the "Tuan Vy - Connecting Love" program

Le Hang, now living 12 kilometers away in Thu Duc City, posted on social media looking for her biological parents six months ago. This was her third attempt at finding her birth family. She first learned she was adopted at the age of seven, overhearing neighbors talking. Afraid to upset her adoptive parents, she sought out Muoi, who confirmed her adoption but gave no further details beyond her birth parents’ names and her old name, Nguyet. "I was determined that once I could earn my own money, I would find my birth family," she says.

After finishing seventh grade she dropped out of school to help her adoptive parents with various jobs. At 21 she had her own family, and the desire to reconnect with her birth parents remained strong. She asked Muoi again but was only directed to Cu Market, where her birth parents once lived. But despite her efforts she could not find their whereabouts. She searched in Bong Bridge Market and Tay Ninh Province, but to no avail. Lacking the resources to continue, she paused her search. In early 2024 a friend encouraged her to try again, reminding her that her biological parents were aging, and delaying could mean missing the chance to meet them.

She decided to try one last time. The mother of three posted on social media, expressing her wish to find her biological family, saying: "I do not want to be alone, and I want to know where I came from." Months passed with no response, and her hope began to fade.

One day Hien’s niece stumbled across Hang’s video and sent it to Hien, asking: "Are you related to a woman named Hang? You two look so much alike." After seeing the video her niece had sent, Hien felt a frisson of excitement run down her spine. The details Hang shared about her lost family matched Hien's own family story.

"At that moment I knew she was my sister," she says.

The family arranged a video call, and upon seeing her pale skin and distinctive cleft chin, Nga and Hien became convinced that Hang was their long-lost daughter and sister.

On Oct. 15 Hang finally returned to her family after 44 years. On seeing his daughter, Chanh mustered strength to sit up and speak.

Between apologies, he repeatedly thanked the heavens for reuniting them before the end of his life.

Unable to see due to his illness, he gently touched Hang’s face and said: "She must look just like me."

His final wish is to regain his sight, just for one moment, to see his daughter’s face. However, due to financial constraints, the family has yet to arrange the eye surgery he needs.

 
 
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