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Originally Posted by Oliver1
While my initial response to Chielu consisted of a two word response, one of which was a very naughty word, I thought it more productive to just share how I personally feel as an adoptee, to show how everyone has their own experience and own story to tell.
I am so thankful my birthparents placed me. I didn't "lose" a family. I was never lost. My God knew where I was meant to be from the moment I was just a twinkle in an eye. My family and I found each other; we claim each other and love each other. I am their own. There's not a doubt in my mind that I belong to them and they belong to me. Had they been forced to let me go, even after that first minute, their hearts would have broken into pieces. And there would have been no joy or celebration at the thought that my birthparent's would raise me instead of them. And I respect and understand that.
I have no "people". I have only family and friends and community. These people are "my people".
I wanted to be a parent not so I could pass on my blood and my ancestry. I am not so vain to feel my genes are so gosh-darn wonderful that they should continue on and spread throughout the world. My husband and I wanted to be parents, to love a child as we were loved and be loved in return. To grow and nurture a family. OUR family.
I understand very, very well the pain of loss. The pain of losing a child. The pain of losing in general. While everyone's losses are different, there is no sliding scale of whose pain is more. There's just pain. My birthmother's pain at "losing" me is not greater than my own pain of "losing" two babies through miscarriages. It may be different, but it is not greater or more meaningful. She does not get to wear her pain as a badge for sympathy and a sign of her courage. And neither do I. All we can do is get through it and try to move on as best we can, learning from the experiences and trying to keep faith.
While I am not the physical "flesh and blood" of my parents, I am most certainly the spiritual flesh and blood of my parents. My brown eyes came from my birthfather. My thick black hair came from my birthmother. That's wonderful. But what's even more lovely is that I know my empathy, inner strength, and sense of humor came from my dad. My passion, conviction, and quick temper came from my mom. Every worthy and important trait I possess I inherited from their love and wisdom, their discipline and faith, their strength and courage, their failures and successes, and their wonderful example of marriage and parenting. I can't imagine loving any parents more.
While my heart aches for adoptees who are confused, bitter, and desperately searching for roots, I am so thankful that I consider my own roots to have been planted and nurtured by my mom and dad from the day that I was placed in their arms. And you know what? My birthparents taught me courage and strength without having to speak a word. Sure, there is sadness and wonderings of "what might have been". But when one is blessed to be raised by kind and loving parents such as my own, "what might have been" always seems to pale in comparison to "what is". And yes, I feel sad for the tough choice my birthparents made. Yes, I empathize with their pain. But their pain is not my pain - nor should it be my parent's pain. I don't feel I need to take on the pain of their decision. That is their own to manage and live with. I respect it and acknowledge it, but it doesn't make me feel despair. Without their pain, I would not know my own joy.
I don't ever want anyone else to speak for me, as if adoptees all have only one voice. We have many voices. And mine is filled with joy and peace regarding my adoption.
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