I Often Forget My Kid’s Adopted.

I haven’t discussed the topic of Adoption in general in a while (okay, I haven’t discussed anything in a while) and I suppose that’s because as E gets older the issue of adoption isn’t really one that I think to discuss as frequently and to be honest most days I don’t think of “adoption” per say.  I mean, I think of Sam* daily and pray for her, but I guess thinking of her doesn’t necessarily make me think of my child being adopted, rather my love for Sam* and praying for her health, happiness, and safety.  Thinking of her is just like thinking of any other beloved friend or family member.  I thank God daily for bringing E to us, but I think this is a general prayer echoed by mothers alike no matter how their children came to them.

But then sometimes, when I’m not expecting it, a question comes from left field from someone who can’t figure out our situation.  For example, earlier this month I had “urgent” surgery (because saying Emergency surgery sounds life threatening, and it wasn’t at that point life threatening I suppose).  While in the Pre-Op area preparing I had shown my nurse a photo of my daughter and of course babbled on about how beautiful, smart, and in general just how perfect she is.  As the time for my surgery drew closer and we were reviewing my medical history, she asked if I had any abdominal surgeries previously like a C-section, to which I said no.  She then said, “Oh, so a vaginal delivery, any complications?”  When I said “No, no vaginal delivery,” she looked at me bewildered and was even more so when she met the same facial expression on my face.  We stood there for a full minute staring at each other not comprehending why the other was so confused.  Finally my husband interjected, “Our daughter is adopted,” which clarified to her how I could answer no to both of those questions.  I still sat there bewildered that it was so baffling to her that someone could have a child and not have gone through child-birth.  My point being that it’s just my norm and in my world I don’t assume that every person with a child birthed them either, its second nature to me.

Then there is always a slew of questions that follows the realization that she’s adopted by a stranger which often are met by the same bewildered look from me, because again, I just don’t think about the fact that she doesn’t share my DNA (which is not something we reveal to everyone, not because we’re shameful of it, because we’re not, but because it’s her story, and she can opt to share it with strangers as she wishes, however obviously in this situation it was medically necessary as I assume the nurses next line of thought would have been to start questioning the validity of said child I had been speaking of and if she was real).

Question One is always: “Oh, she’s adopted?  Where’s she from?”  People are often astonished to learn she was born right here, in our town and that she’s not from some exotic location which always cracks me up if they’ve seen her since she’s so very, very Caucasian, she clearly is not from an Asian of African country which is where the majority of International Adoptions occur.  This question is usually followed by “Oh, she is so lucky”, to which my response is always, “No, we’re the lucky one’s.”

Question Two is usually: “Do you ever talk to her mom?”  To which again, I often respond to without even thinking, “Yes, I talk to myself on a daily basis,” and generally feel relieved because usually when A catches me talking to myself he looks at me like I’m a nut job, so clearly this person understands that talking to myself is entirely normal…except they don’t, they are asking me if I talk to the woman who did carry her in her womb for 39ish weeks, assuming she is who I think of as E’s mom.

Their response usually makes me cringe: “No, I mean her real mom.” And then I realize they’re talking about her birth mother, even though I am her {real} mom and she is my {real} daughter.  What’s ironic is even though they ask me this question, most people who aren’t a part of the adoption triad usually are astonished when I say, “Well, yes, we text a few times a week and I try to send at least one photo a week.”   Like it’s crazy to think that I, as her mother, would talk to the woman who chose life for {our} daughter on a consistent basis.

I’m not saying that I’m trying to live in denial about my daughters adoption, because I’m not.  I’m proud of how she found us, and speaking frankly, I think parents whose children didn’t come to them through adoption are seriously missing out on how amazing it is to get to visually see and experience the miracle of witnessing God’s plan in motion in front of your very eyes.  But what I am saying is that I don’t look at my daughter and think oh, she’s my adopted daughter.  I look at her and see my daughter, the end.  So, if I don’t talk about adoption as much as I used to, it’s not because I’m shameful of it, or trying to specifically forget about it…it’s because it’s not a defining characteristic of our family.  We’re a family.  E is my daughter, I am her mother, A is her father, that’s our story, and while adoption is an amazing part of our story, it in itself, is not the end-all-be-all of our story, but merely a piece that helped a seemingly simple boy and a bit of an over dramatic girl become a daddy and a mama in an unconventional yet miraculous way.

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This entry was posted in Adoption, Amazing Husband, Baby E, Breaking Stereotypes, Confessions, Hospitals, Personal Reflection, Taking Care of E, Things That Make You Hmm... Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to I Often Forget My Kid’s Adopted.

  1. Heather S says:

    ♥ I have to admit though, that I was prob. one of “those” people you speak of before I met so many others who have been adopted, & had a child myself. Though I don’t usually get nosey with questions, haha. I guess you just don’t think about, or realize what so many have to endure for a child, until you’re trying for a child yourself & start looking into things more.

  2. Beth says:

    I often forget that Tristan is adopted. I only wish we didnt have to explain so often but we were blessed with a beautiful brown baby boy. Although I forget he doesn’t look like either of us, the outside world doesn’t.
    I love your perspective though and love all of you!

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