For Sandra Artiles, writing Para Siempre was both a release and a reckoning—a way to finally close a deeply personal chapter shaped by adoption, identity, and unanswered questions. Drawing from her upbringing in the Dominican Republic and a lifelong search for understanding, Artiles transforms her story into a message of forgiveness, resilience, and self-worth. Through her words, she not only makes peace with her past but also offers others navigating similar journeys a powerful reminder: not knowing where you come from doesn’t diminish who you are—it can become the very foundation of your strength.
Sandra, congratulations on publishing Para Siempre. What inspired you to share your story, and why was now the right time to write this book?
For years, I have been writing pieces of my story. A story that many other people out there share as well. I finally as a token of closing the cycle of healing I decided it was the right time to put it out there.
Your book explores adoption, identity, and your relationship with your mother. What was the most meaningful part of that journey to reflect on?
To come to terms with not knowing my past. To forgive all of the people involved in my birth and upbringing. To understand them. And love them, freed me from sadness and the void that lived in me for a long time.
How did growing up in the Dominican Republic shape your perspective and the story you tell in Para Siempre?
Deep Sense of Family & Loyalty
In the Dominican culture, family is everything—tight, present, and deeply rooted. That kind of upbringing creates a strong emotional lens in your storytelling.
In Para Siempre, this shows up as:
Characters who are driven by love, sacrifice, and protection
Relationships that carry weight, history, and meaning
A sense that no matter where life takes you, family stays with you. Whether they are your blood or your chosen family.
Writing something so personal can be both healing and challenging. What was the writing process like for you emotionally?
At the beginning, it was a search.
A quiet cry for help. A deep need to be heard.
Little by little, that search became something more—a way to tell others that it’s okay not to have all the answers… that it’s okay to forgive… and to make peace with the past.
I know there were many other children adopted from that hospital.
Today, they are adults—just like me—maybe carrying the same questions, the same silences.
What do you hope readers take away from your story, especially those who may share similar experiences?
To those that have the same story or know someone.
To them, I want to say:
I hope you find peace.
I hope you create the life you choose for yourself.
And I hope you come to understand that not knowing does not take away your worth—it shapes your strength.
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