I've always known I was adopted. It wasn't revealed to me as a great family secret in later years or whispered about behind my back as a child until I guessed. I've always known. That fact has shaped the very positive adoption experience that has shaped me. My parents are not progressives, in fact, anyone who knows me has heard stories about just how conservative they are. They aren't trend setters or trail blazers, they just happened to be practical, common sense people who recognized, in their gut and their heart of hearts, that everyone has a right to a proper sense of self which doesn't start with keeping secrets. I don't remember them ever telling me I was adopted; it was just incorporated as a reality into my life.
When I was very young, most of my childhood friends were kids of couples that my parents met while waiting to adopt through Catholic Charities. That may explain why I actually thought everyone was adopted until I was about five years old. In my mind, some mommies went to the hospital so that they could give babies to other mommies who needed them. It wasn't until I was in Catholic school that I discovered that this wasn't the model that the majority of the world adhered to.
Being adopted was natural to me, just like having blue eyes or a propensity to be talkative or the fact that other people could be in the sun much longer than me. I never questioned where those components of my being came from or spent much time wondering about my "other family". Those were mysteries that I assumed would be revealed at some later, more mature point of my life.
Because it was part of my life, it never occurred to me that other people would be curious about my adoptee status. When, as I grew older, friends would ask "well, don't you want to know who your REAL parents are?", I resisted these questions and explained, sometimes calmly & other times emphatically, that parents are the people who raise you and discipline you and teach you to ride a bike and do all of the everyday mundane things that you take for granted. Even when my relationship with my parents was strained, I have never, for one moment, thought of them as anything other than my parents. I credit their early understanding of child development with that bedrock of my life.
Possibly my brother's adoption when I was seven also solidified my understanding of how we make family. I had been a much doted over only child and the transition to big sister was not an easy one for me. Even today, I can clearly remember the day that we picked him up at Catholic Charities and just how happy my parents were to have this colicky, wailing, stinky little boy. That day illustrated to me how essential the desire for children should be in parenting...and why, to this day, I don't have any. That fire never ignited in me.
When I was very young, most of my childhood friends were kids of couples that my parents met while waiting to adopt through Catholic Charities. That may explain why I actually thought everyone was adopted until I was about five years old. In my mind, some mommies went to the hospital so that they could give babies to other mommies who needed them. It wasn't until I was in Catholic school that I discovered that this wasn't the model that the majority of the world adhered to.
Being adopted was natural to me, just like having blue eyes or a propensity to be talkative or the fact that other people could be in the sun much longer than me. I never questioned where those components of my being came from or spent much time wondering about my "other family". Those were mysteries that I assumed would be revealed at some later, more mature point of my life.
Because it was part of my life, it never occurred to me that other people would be curious about my adoptee status. When, as I grew older, friends would ask "well, don't you want to know who your REAL parents are?", I resisted these questions and explained, sometimes calmly & other times emphatically, that parents are the people who raise you and discipline you and teach you to ride a bike and do all of the everyday mundane things that you take for granted. Even when my relationship with my parents was strained, I have never, for one moment, thought of them as anything other than my parents. I credit their early understanding of child development with that bedrock of my life.
Possibly my brother's adoption when I was seven also solidified my understanding of how we make family. I had been a much doted over only child and the transition to big sister was not an easy one for me. Even today, I can clearly remember the day that we picked him up at Catholic Charities and just how happy my parents were to have this colicky, wailing, stinky little boy. That day illustrated to me how essential the desire for children should be in parenting...and why, to this day, I don't have any. That fire never ignited in me.
What an amazing intro! I love the part where you thought everyone was adopted--and that people just went to hospitals to give babies to other famiies.. And your solid knowledge of your identity and your gratitide to your parents. this is going to be an amzaing blog for so many people. what a gift--and what abrave gift. I cant wait to read more.
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