No story is like another. My story started before I began. Biologically, I came from abusive and neglectful parents. I was lucky enough to have been immediately placed in foster care following my birth. The biological mother, however, did everything she could despite the abusive and alcoholic father. My brother was taken from the home after spending about a year of his life being abused and neglected. I spent the first 15 months of my life in foster care, along with my brother. Eventually, we were adopted by the most loving couple. This couple spent about 25 years of their lives trying to have a baby. Eight of those years were spent waiting for that phone call from a social worker telling them the good news that their biggest prayer was finally being answered. There's no doubt that these two were the perfect match for my brother and me.
For the first 10 years of my life, everything was normal. I grew up, my parents taught me right from wrong. Everything felt just like a family should. Then, one day as my brother asked questions like all kids do, he asked the question of, "Are we adopted?" I wasn't expecting the pause from my parents that followed that question, and I definitely wasn't prepared for their answer. They looked at each other and then answered, "Yes." My heart sank. My head flooded with a million feelings. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. Betrayal. Why me? Everything I believed to this point was a lie. My parents have lied to me my whole entire life. I started bawling as my parents told us about the adoption. I was crushed. I felt so betrayed by them. How could I ever think of them as my parents again?
I was wrong. Being adopted didn't make me any less their daughter. It didn't make them any less my parents. After I understood everything, everything else became clear to me. They CHOSE me. They chose to love me when they didn't have to. They chose me to be their daughter. I may not share the same DNA as them, but I share the same family. They are my family. They have been there for me and raised me. They are my parents.
After knowing that I was adopted, I shared the news with my friends. To no surprise, I got the same response of, "I'm sorry." No. Do not apologize to me. Because of my adoption, I have been blessed with opportunities I wouldn't have had. I have been blessed with parents that adore me, not drugs or alcohol. I have been blessed with parents that have shown me attention and made sure I was (am) always fed. Even at 22 years old, my mother always makes sure I never leave their house hungry. I had the opportunity to play whatever sport I wanted to in high school. I had the opportunity to attend college without having to worry about how I was going to pay for it. So don't you dare apologize to me for having a better life than I would have if I hadn't have been adopted.
The strange thing is that there have been several times that my mother was asked, "Is that your daughter?" To which she would reply with, "Yes." Then, they would say, "Well she looks just like you!" I always loved to see the smile come across her beautiful face every time someone said that to her. The strange part is that it's true.
I love my parents so much. There's no doubt that my story was written by God. He knew I needed them just like they needed me. So don't you dare tell me that you're sorry. Don't you dare tell me that they're not my real parents. Don't you dare make fun of the fact that they're 41 years older than me. Those years were spent waiting for me. Those years were spent with many tears and doubts that they'd ever meet me. Those years were spent with many prayers. They love me, and I love them. No, I'm not ashamed of them. Stop asking me. No, I don't consider my biological parents my parents. They are not my parents. Blood doesn't make you family. I'm happy that I'm adopted. I'm blessed that I was adopted.
