Adoption
Someone I have never met donated a large sum of money, for no other reason than they felt it was the right thing to do, to help my family feel safe.
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I remember the day I met my son for the first time as if it was yesterday, instead of almost five years ago.
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Life is pretty normal now — whatever that means — but I’ll always look back on our first few weeks home with our newly-adopted kids and compare it to surviving some kind of parenting boot camp or extended sorority hell week.
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I’m adopted. It’s one of those things that has been a major force in shaping my identity, but that’s hard to talk about authentically almost anywhere.
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It's a funny thing, being a birthmom. People ask if our two boys are my only children and I'm stuck momentarily in this place of, "Should I share my story?" I imagine parents who have lost a son or daughter feel a similar conflict. You want to be truthful and honor that child's place in your life, but most days it’s just easier to just say, "Yes. These are my only kids," because in reality they are.
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It's a funny thing, being a birthmom. People ask if our two boys are my only children and I'm stuck momentarily in this place of, "Should I share my story?" I imagine parents who have lost a son or daughter feel a similar conflict. You want to be truthful and honor that child's place in your life, but most days it’s just easier to just say, "Yes. These are my only kids," because in reality they are.
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