I am never alone. Adoption is always with me. It is between the lines of everything I read. It is on the tongue of every conversation. It is a constant tow.
I have more than once told fake tales of pregnancy and labor, choosing to play along with baby-store staffers rather than say, "We adopted." To say it like that, as explanation to a stranger, seems a violation of something, or a diminishing of all of us - you, me, Daddy, your birth parents - as if Adoption is all someone needs to know about us, or as if knowing Adoption about us is really knowing anything at all.
You say things that leave me breathless, like, "Before I was born I was sad because I thought I wouldn't have a family. I thought I wouldn't have any parents to love me and take care of me. And then after I got born when the nurse put me in your arms, I looked up into your loving eyes and I cried happy tears, because I knew I had a mother forever. And I knew you were the mother I always wanted."
And you say things that leave me floundering, like when I said, "I love that you used so many different colors to make these pictures. They're beautiful! Maybe we can send one to M," and you said, Who's M? Oh, yeah, my birth mother. Should I be disturbed that you forgot (even for a moment) who "M" is? Should I be happy that you don't seem to have Adoption running through your every thought as I do? Should I think nothing of the moment and just move on?
I sometimes wonder if I've lost my sense of humor. Other people see this cartoon and crack up laughing. I see this cartoon and wonder if you will ever feel this way.
Click here to purchase Sally's adoption book, What I Want My Adopted Child to Know: An Adoptive Parent's Perspective, in softcover, hardcover, or e-book formats.
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