Adoption

As a baby, I was adopted.  I remember when my mom told me--I was 5, we were driving down the road in the family pick-up.  Dad was driving, my brother, Mom and I were all riding along.  I had seen something on the news that said children who are breastfed were healthier. 

Being not athletically gifted, I was one of the slowest runners in PE.  I was also one of the youngest in my class--an August birthday--so that probably had something to do with it as well.  Anyway, I made the connection that perhaps I ran slowly because I hadn't been breastfed.  I doubt I even knew what that meant. 

I asked Mom and she told me I had been adopted as a baby so no, she hadn't breastfed me.

I've always known I was adopted.  I've always understood that my birth mother did it because she loved me and knew she couldn't provide the best life for me.  She did it as a gift of love.

There came a time when I was about 14 that I realized that I felt like I had been rejected by her and because of it, I was unworthy of love.  When I realized that, I made the choice to give that insecurity to God and let Him fill that hole in my heart.  I forgave my birth mother (in my heart) and chose to accept God's full, complete love for me.

Wow.  That was 20 years ago now.  I had been warned that when I had children I could possibly have to deal with "adoption stuff" again.  I think if I would have had girls it may have been more of an issue.  But I still struggle from time to time.

I read a book last summer that says many Christians are like the older brother in the parable of the prodigal son.  We look down our noses on others who don't follow the rules or measure up to our standard.  We work to achieve salvation.  By doing so, we miss the whole point of Jesus:  he came to earth to save us.  Instead of accepting his free gift, we choose legalism.

I grew up trying to prove I was good enough.  As an adult, I accept that I'll never be good enough.  I can only give my best daily to follow Jesus so that His light can shine through me for others to see.

All this was stirred up by my silly Australian soap opera I watch.  The current storyline is that the heroine had a baby at 15.  (Ironically, about the age of my birth mother) and her dad forced her to give the baby to her sister to raise as her own.

Now, the girl is 14 and ticked that this secret was kept from her.  The thing that jarred me was the even as a child, I understood that my birth mother loved me more than herself by giving me away.  She made a very hard choice, and did it as a gift of love to me.  The teen on the show was just very mad that her aunt hadn't kept her. 

I realize that drama has to happen for good TV, but it made me wonder why it's so deep inside me that adoption was the best choice for me.  I think it had a lot to do with the fact that I was raised that way.  In my parents' eyes, financial security and godly values = a good home.  My birth mother, for whatever reason, chose to provide those things for me by choosing another family for me.

Mine was a closed adoption.  I know very little and what I do know was told to my parents by someone at the adoption agency.  As far as I know they never met her.  I know she is red headed, had a Czech descent and was "curvy."   She was short.  My birth father signed the paperwork, so we know he was in the picture.  I have the impression they were still in high school.  And she chose my parents for me.

I promised my Mom back in high school I wouldn't go about finding my birth mother.  For us to meet up, I would have to pursue her and she would also have to pursue me.  In many ways, it's easier not knowing.  I have a full life, filled with a family who loves me.  By marrying into Aaron's family, I have found such joy.  His family is wonderful and they accept me just as I am.  I always wanted a sister and in my sister-in-law, my wish came true.  Also, my church family is an amazing extended family to me that provides many fulfilling female relationships.

But sometimes I wonder.  I grew up fantasizing that Reba was my mom.  I later found out she's way too tall and not the right age.  I've heard this "Cinderella complex" is common for adopted kids.  Now I wonder if she's like me.  That would be nice.

More than anything else, I wish I could say thanks.  Almost 35 years ago she chose to provide for me in the best way she could.  That's an amazing thing.  May the Lord bless her richly for her decision and may He grant her His peace that I turned out just fine.