My Own Adoption

So I really thought my own adoption irrelevant to the consideration of a 'real adoption,' but I do keep thinking about it and so I thought I'd write. Keeping in mind that my story is connected to other people and their emotions and boundaries, I've edited a lot, but the writing in itself was cathartic. Following are just some of my thoughts.

First, my mom's my mom; mom, mother, birth mom (all of them). If you know me, and have ever met her; you know we share more than a majority of our DNA. She was/is a pretty fantastic mother. The most brave, amazing and unselfish thing she ever did was leave my father - I was 6.

I remember bits of bizarre imagery, but not a lot is clear about my early childhood. I'm sure it's all much more vivid for my brother, but we don't talk about it. I hope someday we will, but I don't want to force my own emotions on someone who's successfully dealt with it and moved on. My husband is amazing in that way for me. I think he's my personal psychologist - with great benefits!

I was 8 when my mom met my dad. I was 9 when they got married. By that time our father rarely visited. I can remember talking with my parents about dad adopting us and I can remember how excited I was to have a normal family.

We changed our last name - I can remember talking about it before we started the school year and I remember it wasn't a big deal to me. I do wonder what that was like for our father.

Dad had to start parenting at a pretty difficult stage and as I now read adoption stories and books about parenting adopted children, I realize even more how great a sacrifice he made for us and how difficult it must have been. He's adopted himself, so I don't think he thought about it as much of a 'cross to bear'. It was just the way our family happened to come together.

Milestones have always been the hardest for me. I always wanted to invite my father with this ridiculous hope that he would suddenly be a normal dad. Mom of course always knew it would end up being more hurtful than good, but I would insist. It never went well. Mom just wanted to protect me and I would end up angry at her.

When I married Michael it was the hardest decision of the wedding for me. Who would walk me down to aisle? Although Dad must have been hurt, he left it up to me, which is his usual way. In the end Dad walked me down the aisle and we danced to Brad Paisley's, He Didn't Have to Be. The song still makes me cry and I know I made the right decision.

We brought the kids to meet my father - a strange experience I don't want to repeat. I always send extra pictures of the kids to my grandmother for him. I'm not sure what he thinks of that. If he were ever to get in touch I'd be happy for it, but I'm okay with how it is now. I don't hate him, but I don't understand him. In many ways I feel sorry for him. I do worry that I'll get a call someday that he's gone and I'm not sure how I'll feel.

I had to present my adoption papers when we immigrated to Canada and I was shocked by the language. I couldn't imagine a birthparent signing that document. I think it's the most selfless thing Dad ever did. I haven't yet gotten to the point where I give my father any credit for it, although it must have been hard and it did certainly provide me with a much better and more stable life.

I've always believed that a person's history is so important to the person they become - it's how you deal with that history that makes the difference and for me closing the door isn't dealing with it and so I write.