An Everyday Adoption Story

I was born in May of 1965 in Springfield, Illinois. I have never searched for my birth parents, but have thought about it all of my life. I am the third (and last) adopted child of a farming family. My mom and dad have always been very good to us and always tried to treat us equally, although my brother was babied more than any of us (the “only boy” thing, I guess). We never wanted for anything that we needed. We always had food on the table, clothes on our backs, and were rarely, if ever disciplined. Mom & Dad loved us all, and that was it!!

All three of us kids were different, personality-wise. My sister was a little hellion most of the time growing up, but very intelligent. I have always thought of her as “the Princess” because she always wanted things her way. Still does.

My brother was the rebel. He wanted everything the easy way and felt that life “owed” him because he was adopted. He is, and always has been, let’s say, not so hot with books. He “always got in with the wrong crowd” (so says Mom), and always wants something for nothing.

Then there is me! I am your every-day, normal (as possible), average, well-adjusted woman. I wasn’t a “brain child”, nor am I an idiot. I was shy as a child, but not seriously so. I am married, and my husband and I both work to make ends meet. I have always known, as long as I can remember, that I was adopted. I also always knew in my mind that my birth mother had to have made the hardest decision in anyone’s life, the decision to give up a child. I can’t remember how I found out that I was adopted. I’ve always known. It really never mattered to me.

My adoptive parents were always there for me, but one thing we never really discussed were the stories about our adoptions. My questions (to myself, or my friends…not to my parents) was always, who do I look like? Am I like one of my birth parents, or my extended birth family? Do I resemble “Weird Aunt Edna” or do I enjoy something like “peanut butter and cheese sandwiches” that only my father/grandfather/aunt/grandpa likes? What is my medical background? Do I have brothers and sisters that I don’t know about? Are they still out there? Do I have their personality or talents? Do they want me to contact them?

I guess I have never wanted to hurt my mom and dad with questions, and I do think that it would crush my mom to tell her that I wanted to find my birth parents, even now that I am grown up. I’m not sure she would understand my curiosity, even now. Our family was not what you’d call open with things like that, but Mom and I have always been pretty close.

I have always wanted to get to know my birth family, but the scary thought is that they are weird, or dishonest, or something like that. But then on the other hand, maybe I would finally understand why I feel the way I do, and do things the way that I do.

My sister on the other hand wants nothing to do with her birth family. She says that if they gave her away, then she wants nothing to do with them, except medical information, maybe.

My brother doesn’t really care either way. He is curious, but not curious enough to go searching. He also blames most of his life’s problems on our adoptive parents, saying that he wanted them to adopt another child, a boy, so that he could have had a brother. He never quite warmed up to me, even though we were all just weeks old when Mom & Dad brought us home.

My feeling is that if you do adopt a child, then I feel that it is best to let them know that they are adopted as early as possible. But in the same breath, let them know how much you love them, and eventually (when they are old enough to understand), how much their birth parents must have loved them, to be able to give them to you.

To me, that is one of the most important things, to let a child know that he or she is loved.

Now I’m not saying that life is beautiful all of the time, I mean, no one’s is. I have dealt with life’s adversities…the loss of my father, being overweight, losing a job, suffering from depression, my mother’s illness…but who of you out there hasn’t had to deal with some of that at some time in your life. Adopted or NOT!!

I would say that thus far, I’ve had a pretty good life, and I would like to thank my birth mother for having me, and also for her to have the courage to give me to someone who would love and take care of me, when she wasn’t able to.

So Mother, if you’re out there somewhere, THANKS!!

So you see, Lane, not everyone has a horror story to tell about adoption. It can be truly wonderful. And I’d like to leave you with a thought…Maybe your child will have a lot of questions that he/she needs answered in order to grow more as a person. Always be open to that, no matter how much it may hurt you. Just try your best to be open to questions, no matter if it is “Why is the sky blue?” or “Why don’t I look like you and daddy?”. The questions will always be there, along with their love.

I would love to find my birth parents, but my real parents are my “adoptive” Mom and Dad, and they always will be. They loved me, were there for me, kissed my little scraped knee when I was small, and hugged me when I had a bad day. That will never change.

Sincerely,

An “every-day” adoption story.

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