Monday, October 4, 2010

"My Adoption Story" Part 1...

Guilt: awareness of wrongdoing: an awareness of having done wrong or committed a crime, accompanied by feelings of shame and regret

Logically speaking, I understand the “definition” of the term. Then why do I feel guilty. I have no reason what so ever to feel “guilty”. I have committed no crime, none at all. But in throwing most of my energy into my search, I feel guilty.

My mother knows that I look. But I don’t think she knows how it’s affecting me emotional and how I have viewed myself most of my life because I was adopted.

My mom is a wonderful caring woman, who could not have children. She had no control over that. None at all, in fact between 6 lost pregnancies and stillborns I feel like I was that final missing puzzle piece. She wanted to desperately to be a mother; she nearly died in the process.

Later, came the idea of adoption, they were approved, now a child. My mom said at that point in her life (she was 38) any child, of any age, would have been her final piece.

As it happens I was chosen…there was no matching, “no waiting”. She saw a Catholic Charities commercial In Virginia, remember how they used to show the kids they had in foster care waiting for placement..? Well, I was one of those babies.

She called my dad, and they talked she called Catholic Charities, and they came to see me. Funny thing about me, as an infant I didn’t take so well to most adults. My foster parents were left handed. So when everyone held me, I guess it didn’t feel right. Well, my parents came to see me, my mother says when she saw me, and she knew immediately that I was supposed to be her child. =)

Now her being right handed, she picked me up, and I screamed! So my dad gave it a try, he was left handed, I guess I felt comfortable with him; he likes to say I chose them. I was nearly 3 months at the time I got to go home with them. Just in time to be home for my 1st Christmas.

I have the most beautiful card from my 1st mom (you will learn I hate adoption terminology). I cry when I think about it and I cry when I read it every time! She wishes me a Merry Christmas, and tells me that she loves me, I wish I had her hand writing, she calls me Baby Rachel, and even though it’s no longer my name, I connect with it only then. Maybe one day when I find her, since I have so many different nick names that can be “our” special thing.

Okay I’m drifting back to “my life story thus far”

I’ve always know I was adopted so there is no dramatic “when I found out story” and I guess I can’t stay that looking at my parents that I looked different, they are a biracial couple and I myself are biracial, my dads mother Grandma Deloris, she was mixed to so everyone said I looked like her. Lol!

Me being adopted is what I felt made me special! I was different and I loved it. As a kid that seemed to be what defined me. My mom would even make comments, "you know I bet you're just like your birth mother" refering to the fact that i'm kind of ADHA about finishing things! lol

You see I grew up being able to ask questions, and my mom would always answer them to the best of her ability.

When it came time to go over genetic traits in the 7th grade is when the questions really started. I remember the teacher saying, "For your assignment, I want you to go home and look at the physical traits that you have inheirted from your parents," that was the very 1st time I ever left like my "adoptee" status was holding me back....

I know this post is long and I'm sorry I will end here and post the rest of MY story at another time. Thank you for reading.

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