Monday, November 3, 2008

OK, OK, I Confess!

Today is my adoption day. Well, the anniversary of my adoption day.

I'll be expecting a call from my mom this evening, since she says today is more like my birthday, since this is the day I was new to her and Dad.

There's a lot of pride in being adopted. A lot of that philosophy comes from how the whole situation was treated in my family. My sister and I have always known we were adopted. It was a badge of honor, and I wore (wear) it with pride.

I can't imagine being one of those teens whose parents sit them down on their eighteenth birthday and start the conversation with, "Son, there's something we need to tell you.." Talk about feeling lied to!

As I look back, it probably wouldn't have been too hard to figure out. While I could have passed for their natural son physically, when it came to the rest, there's quite a difference. For example, my mom is wicked smart. Me? Average. My dad likes history and infrastructure, airplanes, and boats. Me? Gardening, art, reading, and the outdoors.

With my sister, though, there's no doubt we had different parents. I'm six feet tall and 175. She's 5'2",and probably about the same weight as me. I have (ahem. had) blond hair, she has dark brown ringlets. My eyes are blue, hers are deep brown. I was in Honors classes and tutored her in the evenings. Never the less, we shared a close bond growing up. And despite our different paths now, we're still brother and sister when we get together.

The most FAQ, however, is Do I ever want to meet my biological parents? That's a tough one. I would say 98% no and 2% yes. No, because I have the perfect family right now, and I don't need another one. Our low level of dysfunction (every family's got it - admit it!) suits me just fine - I certainly don't want to inherit someone else's! Besides, that's just one more birthday card to send and one more Christmas gift to mail.

Yet 2% of me wants to know about them. At my adoption, my parents were given
an itty bitty paragraph that describes them. But sometimes I want more. Like medical records. Like who does my daughter resemble? (No one on my wife's side, really, and not like either of us, really. She's probably some spitting image of a long lost auntie...) Like personality traits (although I must say it's awfully convenient to blame all our kids' quirks on my side!).

But I love my family. That's my adoptive family. They're the only family I have, and I wouldn't trade 'em.

Until tomorrow!
Pastel Guy

1 comment:

Travis Erwin said...

Nice post. Gave me a good sense of your feelings.