The Meaning of “Adopted”

I don’t spend most of my time focused on the fact that I’m adopted. That’s not to say that I am not acutely aware of it, but I don’t obsess about it or spend every waking moment thinking about the implications of being adopted. Most of the time it’s just like any other fact about me – it just is and doesn’t demand much thought or explanation. Granted the reunions with my natural families have brought it to the forefront in the last two years, but even that has just become part of the fabric of my life now. On most days, I’m just being me and that means I have lots of families. All of this is true on most days. Today is not one of those days.

Today, I am wondering what it really means to be adopted. My day started innocently enough. I went to the gym, led a lunch and learn opportunity, ate a late lunch with a client, and answered emails. Then, I went for an afternoon haircut. And that’s where my day shifted. The conversation in the shop was pretty casual and focused on the fact that an individual’s mom just celebrated a birthday. The lady telling the story explained that her mom is now 83, but they put the candles on the cake backwards so it would say 38. Of course, her mom got a big kick out of that fact and snickered because the daughter always says she’s 39, which prompted the mom to say, “Oh, I guess I couldn’t have had you. You must be adopted.” The daughter laughed while telling the story and noted, “Well, if I was adopted at least I was wanted by someone.”

Ouch. Is that what adoption really means? That someone wanted me – with a heavy dose of implication that someone else did not? I have to admit, that thought stinks. Not just for me, but for all adopted kids. I’ve always thought it was a bit more complicated. That my parents probably did want me, but life circumstances led them to make a decision to give me to someone else rather than keep me. Now that I’ve heard their stories, I think that is true. But not every adopted kid has heard their parents’ perspectives. And that means there may be a bunch of kids who really stress over that heavy dose of implication. Wanted by some, but not by all.

Interestingly, I’ve often struggled with what it really means to be adopted. As I was growing up, my parents had a tendency to “claim” people – meaning they would take them in (sometimes physically, but always emotionally) and support them. In fact, they still do that, which I think is cool. But in introducing those folks to others, they would often say something like, “this is our adopted son/daughter.” In some ways, I knew I was distinguished from those individuals because I was never introduced as adopted, but because I knew I was adopted, I wondered if there really was a difference between them and me. I have always been a good thinker, so I often rationalized the distinctions – for instance, I was living in the home and the “adopted son/daughter” was not – but I still struggled with the idea that I might not be so different from one of those people. That in reality, it could have easily been one of them living with my family rather than me if the timing would have been different.

One of the cool things that has come from my reunion with my natural families is that I’ve seen where I belong with both families. But on days like today, when I struggle to understand what this whole adoption thing really means, I wonder if it’s more like I don’t quite belong to either family. And that thought does not help my already well-established tendency to believe I should rely only on myself because you never know when someone might walk away (by the way, this is apparently a common reaction in adopted kids).

I realize this post isn’t exactly encouraging, but it’s real. And because I was still thinking about it after a 2-hour lawn-mowing expedition, dinner, and an ice cream cone, I figured I better get the thoughts out of my head and onto paper. Here’s to hoping the next post is more positive. In the meantime, I’m going to try to stop thinking and get some rest. Hope you guys have a great night!

The Primal Wound – Bonding with a Different Mom

Please bear with me by reading 4 quotes from “The Primal Wound” as they are important to what I intend to write tonight.

“An infant or child can certainly attach to another caregiver, but the quality of that attachment may be different from that with the first mother, and bonding may be difficult or, as many adoptees have told me, impossible.” (The Primal Wound, page 19)

“An adoptive mother may be at a disadvantage in coping with the affective behavior of her child, for she doesn’t understand the form or depth of his grief or the limitations placed upon her as his mother. The infant has missed something which cannot be replaced even by the most motivated of adoptive mothers.” (The Primal Wound, page 20)

“It has been shown that regardless of the intellectual reasons a child has been given for his relinquishment, there are often feelings of betrayal, anger, resentment and sadness, which are projected onto the available mother-figure.” (The Primal Wound, page 56)

“Sometimes there is a sense of responsibility toward the unborn natural child of the adoptive parents. Dorothy says that she always tried, but never quite ‘lived up to my mother’s expectations of what her own daughter would have been like.'” (The Primal Wound, page 65)

I love my mom – my adoptive one. She has been a great mom and caregiver. She never made my feel “adopted” because she treated me just like she treats my brother, who is her natural child. But I have never bonded with her at the level that I see most mothers and daughters bond (or even at the level of bonding that I see between her and my brother), and it has been a source of concern for me for a long time.

Mom has said (to me and others) that I “took out” on her what my “birth mom did” – meaning that I treated her poorly because of my adoption. I have consistently bristled when I’ve heard this for several reasons. First, I didn’t feel that I treated her poorly – I had the same growing pains that most kids do, but I never intentionally did anything to be disrespectful to her. Second, I thought that what my natural mom did was a good thing (and had been told it was), so I found it difficult to understand how I could be taking anything out on my adoptive mom when the whole adoption process was supposed to be good. Third, I couldn’t understand how what I was doing was any different from my brother, so how could I be acting out based on my adoption when he’s not adopted?

Now, I think I understand. My mom knew something didn’t feel right. She had a natural child. She knew what that bonding felt like. She’d have to know, right? Moms just know that stuff. But I suspect I felt different to her – not because of her, but because of me. Well, really because of the separation from my natural mom and the reaction I would have had to it as a baby. But, you get the point. Something was different, and she knew it.

I knew it too, but I didn’t understand it. I thought it was because we are so different and because moms bond more with sons and dads bond more with daughters. But I’m sure those are explanations I created in my head to deal with an issue that made no sense to me. And, despite bristling against the suggestion that I was somehow mistreating my mom, I admit I have felt bad about this matter most of my life. While I never tried to live up to the image I had in my head of what her natural daughter would be like, I wished my mom could have had a natural daughter who would be more like her. And, yet, was hurt when I saw that natural bonding play out in genetically stamped relationships with my brother’s daughters – hurt not because they had it, but because I didn’t.

I love my mom – strongly and deeply. But I know we are not as bonded as we could have been. And, in fact, I have to ask myself if I ever truly bond with anyone in the manner that most people bond. But that is another post for another day. Today, I finally get why things have been a challenge for my mom and me – I get it and I let the frustration of it go, so that I can just love my mom the way I love. I think that will be enough.

The Primal Wound – Abandonment

A friend (who is an adoptive parent) recently suggested I read “The Primal Wound” by Nancy Newton Verrier. I have read numerous books about adoption, but most focused on search and reunion processes because I began reading as I was seriously considering my search (again) a couple of years ago. While Verrier’s book includes information about search and reunion, the core of the book is about the impact abandonment has on babies. I marked significant passages in the book and will likely write several posts about my reactions to those passages. I have not spoken much about the “wound” that I experienced as an adoptee, but I hope doing so now will give me peace in the matter and serve as a reminder to all adoptees that someone understands. Here goes…

The adoption process – a beautiful, loving experience – always begins with an abandonment. Those are not the exact words in Verrier’s book, but that’s how I interpreted what I read. Abandonment. It’s a word we don’t like to throw around much in relationship to adoption, which is why my adoptive parents took great pains to explain to me that only a mom who loved me so much could actually give me to another family. Turns out, they were right. My natural mom made her decision because she believed I would be better off with a two-parent family. But the abandonment occurred nonetheless.

As a kid, I intellectually acknowledged this loving natural mom who gifted me to my family, but emotionally I couldn’t help but process the feelings of it too – I was abandoned. Period. At times, I was so concerned about being abandoned again that I was basically paralyzed. I cried every day of first grade because I was afraid my parents wouldn’t pick me up from school. Literally cried. And made myself sick because I was so worked up. I waited anxiously every single day for a car I recognized because that was another day I would have a family. My adoptive parents never gave me any legitimate reason to question whether they would be there, but I questioned it anyway and likely drove them crazy trying to find solutions to my angst.

Verrier explores the power of the abandonment from an interesting perspective – it’s based on the bond a baby feels to her mother. A bond that is deep and strong regardless of whether the baby ever saw the mother or was held by the mother. The 40-week pregnancy experience is the source of the bond and allows the baby to know its mother’s smell, voice, touch, and, interestingly, allows it to pick out it mother’s face from a gallery of photos within minutes after birth (see page 5 referencing work by Dr. David Chamberlain). I wouldn’t have understood this idea prior to reuniting with my natural mom, but I get it. I get it because there is something about her voice that is soothing and washes peace over me – and it happened the very first time we spoke. We both wonder if it’s because of the countless hours she spoke to me while she was pregnant.

In my experience, abandonment is real. And it doesn’t go away. I still have abandonment anxieties that are played out in my every day life. For example, I have very few friends. That is driven, in part, by the fact that I am an introvert, but a piece of it is because I don’t allow myself to engage with people I don’t trust to keep me in their lives for a long, long time. Another example is in relationships. I have sabotaged several dating relationships because I was going to be the one doing the leaving. I knew it at the time, though I wouldn’t have admitted it then, but I didn’t feel like I had other good choices. Now, I am married to a great guy who, even in our toughest times, has never talked about giving up, but I have talked about throwing in the towel several times so that if he says “yes” it was really my idea. Intellectually, the whole thing is bizarre. If abandonment is so bad, why would I be willing to do it to someone else? But that’s just the thing. Abandonment isn’t about intellect. It’s about emotion. Emotion that comes from a child, a baby even. And that isn’t logical. And it’s all about self-preservation.

If you are the loved one of an adoptee who is dealing with these issues, please be patient with him/her. And if you are an adoptee and are experiencing these feelings, please know that other people have experienced them too. The wound is legitimate. And it’s okay to talk about it.

Rebel or Compliant?

I spent the summer and fall of 2011 reading books, blogs, and articles about adoption – studying may be the more appropriate word. I wanted to understand the experiences of others who found their families so that I could “prepare” myself for my experience and understand more about the experiences of the others impacted by my decision to seek my natural family. In the midst of reading, I encountered (over and over again) a very intriguing notion – that adopted children have a tendency to become a “rebel” or a “compliant.” The literature suggested that most adopted kids choose one of two paths – they are “hellions” within their adopted families and society in general or they are “perfect angels” in those same circles. And I had to ask myself, “which one am I”?

I’ve been thinking about that question for almost 2 years and I think I’m both. Growing up, I did some things that I am not proud of today. Made some bad choices, some known to my parents and some not. Found myself in some situations that I am lucky to have survived. But I also got straight A’s in school. Won more debate trophies than I can count. Earned scholarships to college (where I did more of the hellion stuff). And (finally) “settled down” to a life of law school, marriage, and then a real job. Bottom line? I had some great moments and some not-so-great moments in my youth. And I figure my story isn’t that much different from yours.

Except for one thing – the “why.” You see, I knew what I was doing and why I was doing it. In every good choice, in every bad choice. And the reasoning went something like this…

“If I do X (insert bad choice) and people give up on me, it just proves that people don’t really care, that I’m disposable, and I should get out before they can hurt me.”

“If I do X (insert good choice) and people think I’m great, they’ll always want me around.”

As I type the words (and consider erasing them and this entire blog post because I’m not sure I’m ready for the world to see this much of my psyche), I waiver between laughing and crying in my head. Laughing because it’s all pretty laughable. People are much more complicated than I am giving them credit for – a few bad choices won’t make people who love you stop loving you and a few good choices won’t make people who don’t love you start loving you. Crying because it’s all pretty sad. People aren’t always more complicated – they have a tendency to love those who are easy to love and reject those who aren’t.

I was blessed to be raised by parents who were more complicated. My highs and lows never seemed to rile them too much. They praised me appropriately for the good stuff and punished me appropriately for the bad stuff (at least the stuff they knew about). But they taught me that love is love – and it remains in place regardless of what you do because love is about who you are.

And I believe that. And I don’t. And I trust that. And I don’t. And I want that to be true. And it’s scary to rely on it.

So at 38 years old, I wear more earrings than my professional colleagues think appropriate, while I deliver the best leadership content I can create. And I am careful not to show off my tattoos to those who might be offended by them, while I plan my next two to honor my natural families. And I cautiously enter friendships with people, while I hold my best friends very close. And I look like a slacker, while I pride myself on my work ethic. And I wear t-shirts of my favorite rock bands and comedians (some you likely would think are inappropriate), while I read my Bible and pray. And I keep my inner-most thoughts to myself, while I write a blog that I hope will help people like me.

I don’t know about most adopted kids, but I am neither a “rebel” nor a “compliant.” Those “boxes” aren’t quite big enough to contain the complicated, nuanced juxtaposition that is my life. And I doubt they are for you either – adopted or not. So, here’s my advice – just take what God has given you (including your nature and your experiences) and be the best version of you that you can muster. It’s enough for the people who matter. And you need to know the ones who really matter – sooner than later.

The Meeting of the Moms

One week ago, I had one of the most interesting experiences I’ve ever had – I introduced my mom, dad and brother to my natural mom. My husband (Jeff), my natural mom and I arrived to my parents’ home in Nashville around 9:30 p.m. The first moments went as I thought they might – my parents made sure my natural mom was comfortable in their home by showing her around and letting her know where everything that she might need was located. My parents are, and always have been, gracious hosts – their home is comfortable and they strive to make anyone who walks into it comfortable as well. After we got settled, we watched a bit of TV together and then hit the sack.

Sunday morning dawned and with it the prospect of attending worship with my family. Pretty cool experience really. Faith is a huge part of my life story (in both my natural family and my adopted family), so it was cool to sit in worship with 3 of my 4 parents. My brother, Shawn, was there as well and that made it even better. The preacher, Joe Beam, talked about warriors in the Kingdom of God – he even managed to address our situation when he said that parents who allow their children to be adopted and those who adopt are warriors as well. I thought that was pretty slick – especially because he had only been informed of the reunion at hand a few minutes before it was time for him to speak.

Lunch brought time for conversation about my adoption and the events that led to it. While I had felt a bit of tension during the first moments of lunch, at some point that disappeared as my parents talked with each other about their stories. I wish I could eloquently describe what I heard, but my synopsis is simple – I have two families and I think it was part of God’s plan for my life. I’m still trying to sort through why that might be true, so stay tuned for future blogs on that topic.

Sunday afternoon and evening were filled with a celebration of my niece’s high school graduation. Hannah, the younger child of my brother and his wife (Vida), was cheered by family (including her sister, Sarah) and friends as she completed that phase of her education and brought a chapter to close in her life. I am thankful we had the opportunity to be there.

Monday was the Memorial Day holiday, which means a cook-out in my family’s tradition. We all sat on the screened-in porch at my parents’ home and relaxed. At some point in the mid-morning, my mom asked my natural mom if she would like to see photos of me growing up and the true bonding began. I have no idea how many hours they sat together looking at photos, but I know I spent at least 2 hours scanning pictures for my natural mom. Thankfully, my mom had some duplicates and was happy to share them with my natural mom or I would have spent all day doing that activity. My dad and Jeff, sensing the importance of the moment, disappeared to grill and my two moms just spent time together. I popped back up occasionally to get more photos to scan and I saw two moms – both equally important – joining together to talk about their daughter.

While I call my natural mom “Mom” when we are together, I had intentionally chosen NOT to do so in front of my mom, but about mid-way through the day, my mom pulled me aside and said it would be okay for me to call Carol “Mom” because I have two moms – the only caveat was that I should be clear which one I mean so they both wouldn’t be responding at the same time. I understood the caveat, though I must admit the idea of saying “Mom” and have two awesome moms running to see what I need was pretty appealing.

The day wrapped up with photo-taking and a movie as we all just got comfortable with my reality – I have four parents. And I love them all.

I’m posting some photos from the day – they include:

My two moms together
My two moms, my dad, my brother and me
My two moms and me

Oh, I’m also including a few photos of me as a child – just a sample of what my two moms spent all day viewing.

Meet the Parents: The Parent Edition

In two weeks, I will have a unique opportunity – I will be introducing my parents to my parents. Yep, you read that correctly. My natural mom is moving to WV (so that we can spend more time getting to know each other) and the trip from Pensacola, FL to Parkersburg WV, with its natural stopping point in Nashville, TN, will give me a chance to introduce my mom and dad to my natural mom. Unfortunately, my natural dad (now affectionately known as Pop) won’t be there, but more on that in a minute.

I’ve told several people about this opportunity and the reactions have all been fairly similar:

“Wow! This is cause for a celebration” – true
“Stuff like this only happens in movies” – also true
“God is definitely directing your course” – definitely true

I agree with all of those sentiments, but I am still nervous. Why? Because this is just a little awkward and weird. There, I said it. I’m very excited to have my family meet my family – it’s actually an awesome chance to bring together people who I love and who love me – but it’s also just a little strange. “Mom, meet my mom.” Yeah, I think you see what I mean.

I’ve been doing what I do, which is dissecting the potential reactions of my family members upon meeting each other. Thing is, I’m not sure what will happen. I hope it all goes really smoothly (like my natural mom thanks my parents for raising her baby and they all laugh and cry and that’s that), but what if it all goes horribly wrong? What if there is crazy tension in the room? Yep, I thought about that too and here’s what I’ve got:

1. My natural mom will cry and thank my parents for raising her baby – she’s consistent like that 🙂

2. My dad will talk about the situation – talk about how unique it is and how numerous emotional responses are appropriate – he’s a counselor, so he gets clinical about stuff at times – something that is actually comforting when you aren’t sure how to handle a situation

3. My mom will make small-talk and then distract us from the tension with one of her best desserts – yeah, don’t mock it, you’ve never had her red velvet cake – it’s awesome and very distracting!

As for me, I think I’ll just be standing there thinking, “This is awkward….” which is where my Pop comes into the discussion again. I really wish he was going to be there too – not only because it would be cool to get all the introductions accomplished at the same time, but because he would GET how awkward it is and probably just admit it. Yep, I come by that naturally.

How do I know this would happen? Because when we met the first time, he hit “head-on” the topic of being nervous (“didn’t think I would be but after we made plans, I got a little nervous, though I’m not now” – a sentiment I echoed almost word for word) and why he didn’t stick around when he found out my mom was pregnant (a story that is his to tell, but one that I definitely understand and can even relate to in some ways).

You see, while I CAN react like my other parents would react (except I don’t really cook, so it would be “let’s go get frozen yogurt”), I WOULD react like I think my Pop would – just admit what’s up and see what happens next.

Please be praying that this reunion is just another in the long line of happy reunions that have taken place thus far in my adoption journey. I love all my parents and want them to appreciate each other as well.

And, Pop, if you’re reading this, I will happily buy you a flight to Nashville to bring this event to completeness – and so I can have a “wing man” who gets EXACTLY how I’m reacting to the situation if it all goes horribly wrong.

You Can’t Be Replaced

You can’t be replaced. Read the words again. You. Can’t. Be. Replaced. If you haven’t heard that in your life, you need to know it’s true. It’s one of the many things I have learned by being adopted. In order to explain myself better, I’ll need to tell you the respective stories of my adoptive parents and my natural mom. I don’t pretend to tell the story from their point of view, but am expressing what they have shared with me.

My adoptive parents were young when they married – 18 to be exact. They had my brother shortly thereafter and tried to have other children. They wanted at least 5, but there were other plans for their lives. My mom was 22 or 23 when she miscarried a baby, a tragic event by itself, but it was made worse by the discovery that she had cancer and would be unable to have additional children. They had my brother (who was 4 or 5 at the time), but were determined to have more children. So, while in the midst of battling cancer, they set out to adopt.

My natural mom was 16 when she found out she was pregnant with me. She was five months pregnant by the time she shared the information with her parents and after a couple of weeks of discussion, she moved to Memphis, TN to have me and put me up for adoption. She labored over the decision for the final months of her pregnancy – frequently wavering between keeping me and letting me be adopted. She was told I would be better off with another family and that she would have other children, which would replace me and relieve her anxiety about having me adopted.

Meanwhile, my adoptive parents waited patiently for a child. The primary battle with cancer was over and my mom was getting healthier and healthier, which enhanced their prospects of receiving a child.

After I was born, my natural mom waited 10 days to finally “sign away” her rights to be my parent. And shortly thereafter my parents received word that they would become my parents.

My natural mom did have additional children – my brothers – but she never stopped wondering about me – because people aren’t replaceable.

My adoptive parents raised me, but I am confident that did not resolve the grief they experienced in losing a child – because that child wasn’t replaceable either.

As for me, despite having amazing parents and the coolest big brother anyone could ask for, I lived with a hole in my heart – a hole that demonstrated my natural parents weren’t replaceable either.

Now, I have all the people I was supposed to have in my life – my natural parents, my natural brothers (and, at some point I hope, the sister I have thanks to my natural dad), my adoptive parents, and my adoptive brother. I have lived without some of them in my life in the past, but now I can’t imagine what that would be like in the future.

My natural parents couldn’t be replaced. I couldn’t be replaced. I couldn’t replace the child my adoptive parents lost. Because no one can be replaced.

And that goes for you too. You are who you are, where you are, and with the people you are for a reason. You can’t be replaced. Trust me, I’ve been part of a process that seems to suggest it’s possible, but it’s not. Please know that – you are unique, special, important, irreplaceable.

A First 38th Birthday

Today is my birthday – my 38th to be exact. I don’t remember my first birthday, but I’m sure it was pretty cool. My adoptive parents always made birthdays special for my brother and me. We were allowed to choose a restaurant for dinner (for inquiring minds, I chose Long John’s for a long time – yeah, I know, greasy, fried fish, but I was a kid). And, my mom would make a cake of our choice. Mom and Dad even had a party for me one year, but I’m not much of a party person, so we discontinued that tradition as soon as it started. Celebrations are a big deal in my family – Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, 4th of July – so it’s no surprise that birthdays would be cause for celebration as well. I always enjoyed “my day” but I also typically felt a little sad because I wasn’t able to be with my other parents too. In fact, for a long time, I thought my natural parents might show up for my birthday at some point. I don’t remember exactly when I gave up that thought, but I think I was in middle school – the only other times that thought surfaced was when I turned 16 and 18, pretty pivotal years. Today, my birthday is unique because my natural Mom showed up. Okay, not quite in the dramatic fashion I always imagined, it was a pre-planned visit and I picked her up from the airport myself. But, still, she showed up. Because she’s sitting in the room with me as I write, I thought it would be cool to have her to speak to you as well – about what she views as my first birthday, despite the fact it’s my 38th. The rest of this blog is her voice, with my fingers typing. Meet my natural Mom, Carol.

“This is the first birthday I don’t have to wonder if Becky’s smiling when she wakes up because I saw her smile this morning. It’s the first birthday I don’t have to wonder if Becky’s had a good year because I’ve been blessed to share the past year with her – even though not always face-to-face. It’s the first birthday I don’t have to wonder if other people know how special Becky is because I’ve seen for myself all of the birthday wishes from Becky’s family and friends. It’s the first birthday I don’t have to wish Becky could know that I love her because she knows that now. It’s the first birthday I get to make Becky’s birthday cake – and it’s cooling in a heart-shaped pan (how appropriate!) as I’m talking – and I actually get to celebrate her birthday on March 20. Showing up for Becky’s birthday is something I’ve wanted to do for each one of them, but I wasn’t able to, so it’s awesome I’m able to this year. I’m hopeful that I will be blessed with the opportunity to show up for the rest of them – at least in my lifetime. You would think I would have a million more things to say, but if I allow myself to say them now, I will flood Becky’s office with tears and that might dampen the spirit of her birthday. So, the bottom line is, it’s an incredible joy and delight to finally be present with my daughter for her birthday. And hopefully, showing up this time will help make up for all the times I wasn’t able to be there before.”

It does, Mom. It does.

A First Christmas

Tomorrow I will celebrate my first Christmas with my natural mom and family. We’ll Skype, open presents, and enjoy being active in each other’s lives for the first time in 37 years. I don’t know everything that our moments together will hold, but I am excited to have this first Christmas together.

I wish all kids could have an appreciation for “a first Christmas.” If you think about it, parents are typically the only ones who “get” that experience. Yes, the kids are there, but they are usually too small to understand the significance of what’s happening. They see the pretty packages and flashing lights on the trees, and open the cool toys (only to play with the empty boxes), but they can’t yet understand just how important it is to be with family – to be in a place where you belong and where your identity is validated.

Now that I’ve written these paragraphs, I wonder just how many adults understand what I’m writing about as well. I think for many of us our depth of understanding comes after we lose the people we love the most. It’s then we reflect on the memories of our times together and find great joy in those moments – only to have them quickly fade into a sorrow that acknowledges we will not re-capture those moments on this earth.

I’m experiencing a first Christmas tomorrow with my natural family and I think I’ll look at my time with my adoptive family through that same lens.

Merry Christmas!
Becky

Crazy Questions for an Adopted Kid

Turns out, when people discover you are adopted, they ask some very crazy questions. I’ve had my share over 37 years, and I thought I had heard all the crazy ones UNTIL I reunited with my natural family. The questions got even crazier at that point. My personal favorite crazy question from the “reunited” set of questions comes in a pair – how do your adoptive parents feel about your reunion with your natural family AND is it weird having two sets of parents?

Let’s see – how do my adoptive parents feel about my reunion with my natural family? Well, I think they feel fine. Turns out, we don’t spend all of our time talking about that reunion. We have our own family traditions, conversations, etc. that typically are the focal point of our time together. While they will ask how things are going, they don’t seem interested in “prying” for details. I know they support me – in fact, my dad said he was surprised it took me almost 37 years to go exploring – and they have genuine care and concern for my natural family that is expressed in asking how they are doing. So when people ask how my adoptive parents feel, I’m not sure what they expect me to say. Maybe they are hoping it’s turned into a “free-for-all” worthy of the Jerry Springer show when I mention my natural family – people LOVE drama. Perhaps they imagine hurt feelings expressed in long silences and tearful glances – again, people LOVE drama. Maybe they imagine we are all one big happy family in the less than 10 months since the reunion – the thing people love MORE than drama is a HAPPY ENDING. Perhaps it’s even their way of saying, “How dare you look for your natural family?! Don’t you know your parents wanted you when they didn’t?” – yeah, that one really irritates me and I’m pretty sure I’ve experienced it from people who seem a bit judgmental about the reunion process.

After we settle the “how my parents feel” question, the next most common question is whether it’s weird having two sets of parents? Seriously?!? THAT is your question? Nothing about how the reunion is going? Nothing about how much I have discovered about my identity because of the reunion? Nothing about how great it is to discover you have a grandmother again (because all of your grandparents in your adoptive family are now gone)? Nothing about how cool it is to have two more brothers and aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.? You want to know if it’s “weird” having two sets of parents? I don’t know – is it weird having more than one kid? Because that’s how I like to think this thing works. I have two sets of parents – four parents total (not including my parents-in-law). They are all different. I have a unique relationship with each of them. I love each of them for who they are and value what they mean to me. I am blessed. Is it weird? No more than you having more than one kid or dog or friend. It’s my reality – and I love it.

Now, for those of you who have asked these questions – please don’t be offended by this post. I know you mean well in asking – so do all other adopted kids. It’s just funny when you are on the receiving end of the question, trying to figure out how to answer it. No harm, no foul, no worries. Okay?

Becky