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Adoption Blog: Double Vision

The Truth Be Told

When I adopted my twin daughters, Banana and Little Bit, domestically, we spent the first week of our life as a family in a hotel room in Delaware.

I think it's safe to say that every maid, every delivery person, and pretty much nearly every guest in that hotel knew that I was an adoptive mom after years of infertility and then nine months ago we decided to adopt and now here they are and I am their mom and we are a family and we have an open adoption and their birthparents have 10 business days to change their minds in this state but I don't think they will because they made the adoption plan after parenting for nine weeks and no they didn't give them up they placed them with us and so now we are the parents. Then they would say something sweet or kind and validate that my family was fine, I was fine, and adoption is every bit as good as birthing babies yourself.
Flash forward nine years: A couple of months ago I found myself in a new circle of people, one of whom commented on the color of Banana's skin, wondering aloud how I (who hopes to tan to a dark white each summer) could have a child with such gorgeous, tan skin.
"She gets that beautiful skin color from her birth parents," I said. And then almost as an afterthought, "Banana and Little Bit are adopted."
"She's beautiful," she said.
I nodded in agreement and we went on to discuss scrapbooking.
Why the change in disclosure?
I stopped telling everyone the details of my daughters' adoption when they were about four years old for reasons I didn't really understand until much later.
I didn't stop telling it because it wasn't my story to tell. We built this family together so we all -- the girls, their birth family, my husband and I -- have ownership of it.
And I didn't even stop because my daughters could answer the questions about how we became a family without my help.
I really stopped because I no longer needed to speak those details to validate or define our family to others, so that it would reflect back on me as the truth. For me, the absorption of adoption into our life was our own alchemy. Something that started off as one concept, then became something beautifully organic in its own right.
Do I still talk about adoption? Of course. I love how we became a family. And I tell those stories the way my friends talk about their hospital stays, their false labors, and their spouse fainting in the birthing suite.
We tell funny, sweet, and sometimes sad stories as friends bonding over the experience of being moms.
But, once I felt that our adoption was OK and I was no less a mom and we were no less a family, I didn't need to proclaim those truths to strangers.
And for that I am sure the random lady in the grocery store checkout line is grateful.
I know I am.

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God, I pray I will get there someday. I have been waiting to adopt for 32 months now after 2.5 yrs of infertility treatments.

By gottadance on Wednesday, May 09, 2012 at 4:32 am.

I am definitely in that same place as well.  My kids are 9, 6 and 2.  I don’t feel the need to explain all the details anymore.  Part of it is because it’s my child’s story, and it’s personal.  Two of my children are bi-racial, and I’ve gotten over the “looks” from strangers a long time ago.  I’m sure our family is confusing to most since our oldest is caucasian and the other two are not.  Usually the only comments I get are about my two youngest’s curly hair and who did they get that from?  I just say, “Not from me!” and wait for their confused look and sometimes just walk away.  It’s our story, and I don’t feel the need to tell all the details anymore.

By momof3inwi on Wednesday, May 09, 2012 at 6:19 pm.

I was shopping in a department store when someone commented about my beautiful children and then asked if my husband was Mexican.  I replied, “No, but they are.” and kept on shopping.  My brown eyed girl was shopping with her blue eyed dad when she was about 4.  Another shopper said she must get her brown eyes from her mom.  My daughter replied, “My mom’s eyes are green.”  The shopper laughed, assuming my daughter must be mistaken, tried to joke back, “Well then, you must be adopted.”  My daughter answered, “Well, DUH.”
Sometimes we try to be patient and educate but sometimes we just have to have a little fun with it too.

By lovebeingamom2 on Friday, May 11, 2012 at 11:59 pm.

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