the great giveaway.

Tuesday was my adoption day.  32 years and 2 days ago the woman who carried me for nine months gave me to a couple who would pretty much carry me for the next 32 years.  Me being adopted is really nothing unique or extra special in my family.  Of the fourteen grandchildren on my mom's side, seven of us are adopted.  It is our norm.

I don't think much about my adoption.  Not even on my adoption day.  It's a day that we celebrate me becoming a part of this family...and my mom usually takes me out for a free lunch.  We had done this since I was a little girl.  But, yesterday it hit me that I don't really think of my biological parents much at all.  There is no anger or resentment, there's just nothing. 

When I was a kid I would fantasize about being in class when all of a sudden two men dressed in expensive Italian suits, sunglasses and ear pierces (much like the secret service) would walk into the classroom and request that I leave with them.  They would lead me to a kick ass limo and inside there would be an older, sophisticated, handsome gentlemen...dressed also in a very nice suit.  He would introduce himself as my father and say he had been looking for me for years.  He was a reformed member of some criminal family in Columbia.  That's right, as a kid I fantasized that my biological father was a hit man with a heart.  This hit man would then tell me that he had millions of dollars he wanted me to have and he would take care of all my expenses and I end up being fabulously dressed throughout my school days and fast become the most popular girl ever in the world and Donnie Wahlberg would take me to prom.  But, that's the extent of how much I wondered or thought of my biological parents.  And I only had this fantasy when my mom or dad wouldn't let me have that pony I always wanted.

I'm not sure if this lack of interest should bother me.  The fact is, I know who I am.  I have no void to fill when it comes to having parents.  We weren't the Cleavers by any means.  There was divorce, remarriage, moving, rebellion, kids out of wedlock...blah, blah, blah the whole sha bang.  Through it all I never thought of myself as anything other than a Clark/Goodson.  Their history is my history. I wouldn't want it any other way.

I will admit that on the rare occasions I do think of my biological parents it's for superficial reasons.  Who do I get my curly hair from? Or is it just that spiral perm that wouldn't die?  Who do I get my machine gun laughter from?  Who gave me this nose?  Who gave me the straight teeth? (thanks for that by the way) What am I going to look like when I'm 40, 50, 60?  This information is important because every day the chances that I'm either going to have to become a cougar or an old maid are increasing drastically.  It'd be nice to be ready for either scenerio.

Please don't misunderstand my feelings for them.  I am grateful and I am proud.  From what I know I was a bit of a surprise for my biological mother.  She wasn't in a good situation in her life and it is not lost on me that it would have been easier for her not to have me.  But, she did.  She followed through, and she stayed in the hospital for the three days until I had a home to go home to.  I never thought that I was so much 'given away' as I was given a chance.  She decided to give me a chance.  I think that's pretty amazing.  I hope she's never thought she was otherwise.  There's great strength in giving up something that you love.  And I do think she loved me. 

My adoptive parents are amazing.  And I am their child.  I get my independence, loyalty and strength from my mom.  My humor, my desire to please, and my bit of humility from my dad.  They are my family.

But, this week I think of you...my biological parents.

To my mother,
Thank you.  That's what I want you to know.  I am so grateful.  You did the right thing and I pray you have never regretted it.  You shouldn't.  My life is incredible and you gave me all I needed to have that life.  Whatever you have gone through, whatever pain was felt, I hope you are happy now.  I hope you have peace.  Don't ever worry about me.  I'm fine.  Again, with no better words to use....thank you.

To my father,
I don't know if you know about me or not.  I'm also not sure what part you had in my adoption.  But I'm grateful to you also. I hope your good to women, good to any other children you may have, and I hope your good to yourself. 
Anything I have that comes from you, thank you.

Thank you for everything.